CHAPTER 25: TALK WITH THE WIDOW

The walk to the widow’s home was short, only a few narrow streets away from the shuttered tavern.

The festive noise of the eastern quarter carried faintly on the air, as if mocking the grief that lingered here. The homes stood tighter together, their lanterns dim, doors barred against the night.

The chief slowed his pace as they reached a modest stone house tucked between two taller buildings. Its shutters were closed, though a faint glow slipped from a crack beneath the door. He hesitated for a moment, his expression softening, before raising a hand and knocking gently against the wood.

A rustle came from inside.

The door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged woman with reddened eyes and a face streaked with tears. She clutched the frame for support as though her knees might buckle at any moment.

"Alda," the chief said softly, bowing his head. "Forgive the intrusion—"

"Did you catch him?" she interrupted, her voice raw and strained. "The monster who killed my husband—did you catch him?"

The question cut straight through the chief’s words.

He faltered, his shoulders sagging. "I... I am sorry. Not yet. We came to ask you a few questions, if you can bear it. It may help us find the person responsible."

Alda’s lips trembled, but she nodded, stepping back to let them inside. The three entered a small sitting room. A fire flickered in the hearth, casting weak light on the worn furniture. A half-knitted shawl lay abandoned on the armrest, its needles skewed as though dropped mid-stitch.

Edward took a step forward, inclining his head. "Forgive the intrusion, ma’am," he said quietly. "I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you some things."

Alda clasped her hands together, knuckles white. "If it helps you find the killer... I’ll answer."

"Did your husband ever mention anyone giving him trouble? Any arguments at work, maybe someone who held a grudge?" Edward asked, his tone steady.

Alda shook her head. "No. My husband... he wasn’t the sort to make enemies. He kept to himself."

Edward nodded slightly. "Did you see him with anyone unusual lately? Any new acquaintances? Perhaps a stranger he spoke of?"

Her gaze flickered away, toward the floor. "N-No. My husband was a loner outside work. He spent all his free time here, with me."

Edward’s eyes lingered on her face for a beat before he continued. "Did you notice any change in his mood recently? Anything different in how he acted?"

"I don’t think so," Alda whispered. "He was tired, maybe. But no more than usual."

"What about at work?" Edward pressed.

"At work?" she echoed, blinking rapidly. Then her eyes watered again as memory surfaced. "He did say... There were a lot of new people coming to the tavern lately."

"New people?" Edward prompted.

She dabbed her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. "Normally, it’s all locals. Regulars he’s known for years. But over the last few weeks, he said it was different. Groups of newcomers. Quiet. Not very talkative or friendly."

Edward’s brow furrowed. The words itched at his mind. Newcomers, silent, keeping to themselves.

"Have you seen any of them? Do you know what they looked like?"

Alda shook her head helplessly. "No. I haven’t been to the tavern in a long while. I’ve been taking care of our daughter." Her voice broke at the last word, her gaze drifting toward the stairs in the corner of the room.

Edward’s expression darkened at once. He followed her glance, picturing a small figure sitting at the top of those steps, listening to every broken word her mother spoke. He clenched his jaw. In his world, he had seen too many children left behind like that—stranded in grief, bearing scars no one could see. Each case had been brutal to watch, and this was no easier.

"That will be all," Edward said softly, his tone final but not unkind. "Thank you for your help. I promise we will find whoever did this."

He turned on his heel, unwilling to linger further, and stepped back toward the door. Aeris followed close behind, casting one last sympathetic look toward the widow before stepping out into the night.

The chief, however, stayed behind a moment longer, murmuring words of comfort to Alda. His voice was low, almost paternal, though it trembled with guilt he could not conceal.

Outside, the street was quiet.

Aeris adjusted her cloak against the chill as Edward’s boots struck the cobbles in steady rhythm.

"Well?" she asked, her brows drawn. "What did that conversation give us? I don’t see how it helped."

Edward’s eyes remained forward, his face impassive. "The newcomers," he said simply. "We need to find out who these newcomers are."

She frowned. "The newcomers? How are we supposed to find them? You don’t expect us to walk the streets asking every drunkard where they’re from."

Edward finally glanced at her, his gaze sharp. "Of course not. We’ll go to the nearby taverns. If the one her husband worked at is closed, those newcomers will have moved on to other establishments. Somewhere nearby. We’ll blend in and watch for anyone unusual."

He slowed, turning his full attention on her. "But before that... there’s something else we need to do."

Her brow furrowed further. "What do you mean?"

Edward was already walking, his stride deliberate, retracing their path back toward the darker alleys they had crossed earlier. His silence spoke louder than any answer.

"What about the chief?" Aeris pressed, hurrying to keep pace.

But Edward did not reply. His focus was fixed on whatever course he had just set, his jaw tight, his eyes carrying that familiar, haunted distance.

Aeris, seeing the determination in his face, sighed and fell into step beside him. Wherever he was going, whatever he meant to uncover, she would not let him walk there alone.

The night closed in around them, the faint hum of tavern life carrying from beyond the alleys as they vanished into the deeper shadows of the city.