Free The Golden Specific by S. E. Grove Page B

go back down,” he whispered back. “Now.”
    She stared at him. “Why?”
    â€œJust come.”
    Sophia hesitated, more troubled by the moment. “Shadrack told us to go upstairs.”
    â€œThey won’t see us.”
    Theo tugged at her hand, and Sophia gave in. She thought for a moment that he was leading her back to the kitchen, but instead he opened the short door to the closet tucked beneath the stairs. He edged silently past a broom, a dustpan, and a precarious pile of hatboxes to kneel on the wooden floorboards. Then he turned to Sophia, a finger raised in warning to his lips. She stepped in after him and crouched down.
    â€œTake a look,” Theo whispered. He pointed to a crack in the wall.
    Sophia peered through and realized she was looking into the study—the closet was situated behind a set of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She pulled back. “This wasn’t here before!” she exclaimed as indignantly as whispering would allow.
    â€œShhh!”
Theo glared at her. “I cut the wallpaper in the study.It’s behind the shelf. Not even noticeable.” He turned back toward the wall. “What do you see?”
    Sophia shook her head, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you cut the wallpaper. What for? There’s nothing to see in there.”
    â€œWell, I think right now there probably
is
, if you would only bother to
look.
”
    Sophia took a deep breath, shelving her outrage for the moment. She leaned in toward the crack in the wall. She saw the tops of several books. Inching herself down, she saw the back of Shadrack’s chair, his shoulders, and the back of his head. Beyond him, in front of the curtained windows, sat a huge black-haired man whom she had only seen depicted in the Boston papers: MP Gordon Broadgirdle. He wore black and gray, with a charcoal felt hat that he held loosely in his lap. She realized then that the room was silent. Shadrack was staring at an open book.
    She drew back. “Shadrack is reading something. Broadgirdle is just sitting there.”
    â€œWhat does he look like?”
    â€œShadrack?”
    â€œ
No—
Broadgirdle.”
    She leaned back toward the wall. “Relaxed. Arrogant.” She hesitated. “Scary. I can’t say why.”
    â€œBut what does he
look
like?”
    â€œOh. Very tall. Broad-shouldered. He has black hair and a full beard and a wrinkly sort of mustache. I don’t like his eyes.”
    â€œWhat about his teeth?”
    â€œHis
teeth
?” She turned to Theo in astonishment.
    â€œYes, his teeth,” he whispered nervously.
    Then Sophia remembered when and where she had seen that look of panic on Theo’s face: Veracruz, almost one year ago, when a raider with sharp metal teeth had chased them through the market. “You recognize him,” she said, eyes wide.
    â€œI recognized his voice,” Theo replied. “I’ve never heard another like it. But I might be wrong. It could be a coincidence. Can you see his teeth?”
    Sophia tried again. “I can’t,” she said soberly. “His mouth is closed. But I think someone would have mentioned it if Broadgirdle had metal teeth. No one in New Occident has them.” She paused. “Why don’t you look?”
    Theo took a deep breath and wiped his palms on his pants. “Okay. Okay, I’ll look at him.” He dove forward and peered through the crack. After several seconds, he pulled back.
    Just as he did, Shadrack spoke; his voice, wary and more than a little defensive, reached them clearly in the closet. “I didn’t write this.”
    Sophia leaned in to watch. Broadgirdle was smiling, revealing a row of very large, very white teeth. “Not yet, perhaps.”
    â€œNo. Not ever. I have not written this and never will. This is not me.”
    â€œShadrack,” Broadgirdle said earnestly, bending forward so that his massive shoulders crowded the space between