So a name was revealed by his own little slip.

The near-frown that Malachi had chosen to present before this Mr. Walters grew strained; he had to stifle his odd little victory for his sake. Still there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he gestured for Mr. Koch to go ahead.

He wasn’t all that sure why a name had to be a mystery – wasn’t sure what the detective supposed he’d do with it, if he’d known a full name from the start. Was that too much, to him? Too close, too personal; did he prefer to keep Malachi at so far a distance that their only time together should be holidays?

Malachi followed after him. Did his best to refocus his thoughts on matters other than the heart and dick. Succeeded only partly, until he found the thinning crowd strangely devoid of his niece.

Had she gone outside to wait for him? Oh, he hoped she had taken some of the other ladies to wait out there with her. He was hardly concerned about being out on the street himself, but the detective’s odd line of questioning had planted a seed of worry.

“She’s… not in here,” mentioned Malachi, loud enough to be heard over the stream of other voices. He knew for a fact that she wasn’t, because he could see over the heads of nearly everyone there and he didn’t see Nettie – or the sister.

That, for some reason, set him on edge.

“Neither is your sister.”

Malachi crossed towards the door instead, cutting a path through a crowd that (for the most part) parted easily.