Page 6 of The Toymaker's Son

“How was he found?” I asked.

“Well, that’s not for me to say.”

“Why not?”

“Perhaps you should speak with his son?”

“Hm.” I probably should, and that would come next, but I’d have preferred to be armed with more knowledge before attempting to converse with Devere again.

“Terrible business,” Miss Couper muttered. “Who in Minerva would want to hurt Jacapo?”

“Did you know him? Personally, I mean.”

“Didn’t everyone? He was a dear. Always so kind, always smiling.”

“Who do you believewouldwant to hurt him, Miss Couper?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? There’s not a soul in town who’d want to hurt this man. We’ve all grown up with the toy store. Jacapo was part of our childhood. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body, the poor soul.”

“What about his son? What can you tell me about Devere?”

Her demeanor cooled. “I don’t think I’ve said six words to him in all these years. He’s always been quiet. Nothing like his father.”

Little had changed, then. Devere had been right about that. He’d always been the quiet, odd child. Nothing like his father.

A service bell tinkled somewhere in the building and Miss Couper hurried toward the door. “Customers. I’ll be right back. I’m assuming I can trust a man of your stature not to touch anything he shouldn’t?”

“Of course.”

She left the room, and a few moments later, voices sailed down the corridor. Alone, I studied Jacapo’s face again. He looked like a stranger, nothing like the larger-than-life character I remembered so fondly, with his deep belly laugh and booming voice. While my family had never had enough money to purchase toys from his store, he’d let us browse. One day, he’d called me over by name and given me a mechanical toy bird. A wind of the key, and that bird had clonked along, wings flapping. I’d cherished the trinket, placed it in my bedroom window and stared out alongside it most nights, wishing we could both fly away.

I had gotten away, eventually.

A buzzing chirped near Jacapo’s body. I frowned and checked under the table. Nothing. But the buzzing went on. It was muffled, as though the source were inside something. I circled the table, listening as the sound ebbed and flowed, then stopped at Jacapo’s shoulder. The buzzing was coming from him.

I glanced at the door. The voices still flowed from elsewhere in the building and there was no sound of Miss Couper’s boots clopping back to me.

Taking Jacapo’s chin in my left hand, I pinched his cold, slightly loose jaw between my thumb and fingers and opened his mouth. A glittering green beetle crawled from between his lips, down his cheek, and toward my thumb. I yelped and jerked back. The beetle wandered down Jacapo’s neck, onto his collarbone, and down over his chest. It buzzed with tiny wings, then stopped, almost motionless, with just its tiny antenna twitching.

I leaned closer. Not a creature, but a toy. A mechanical one. Small metal wheels were hidden behind its legs, and its clockwork mechanism gleamed, almost hidden under semitransparent wings. Miss Couper should have found it during her examinations. The fact she hadn’t suggested the beetle had been deep within the man upon his death. But what had activated it? Mechanical workings, like those found in watches, were wound with a key. They ran until their springs lost their coiled energy. Something had triggered this one.

The sound of Miss Couper’s heels striking the floor alerted me.

I snatched the beetle up and dropped it into my coat pocket. The alternative had been to leave it, but the beetle would be of no use sitting among Jacapo’s personal items. Perhaps I’d take it to Devere and ask him about its origins, or return it to him as a peace offering in the hope he might answer my questions.

“My apologies, Mr. Anzio,” Miss Couper said, gliding back into the room.

“No need. I’ve seen all I need to. Thank you. Are you sure you can’t tell me how he was found?”

Miss Couper swept a loose curl from her forehead and frowned at Jacapo’s corpse. “I suppose someone will talk, and you’ll find out eventually.” She sighed, and her shoulders dropped. “He was found in the town square, naked as the day he was born. Right by the fountain, as though he’d taken a seat to feed the pigeons.”

“Naked?” I queried.

“Yes.”

“Was he bound when he was found?”

“No, I don’t think so. I hadn’t heard that.”

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