Free A Pocket Full of Murder by R. J. Anderson

dropped to one knee atthe far edge of the steps and was retying his bootlace.
    â€œShould we talk to that woman over there?” she asked in a low voice. “I think she works for one of the news-rags. She might know something.”
    â€œThere’s a thought,” said Quiz, not looking up. “Wait a second and I’ll come with you.”
    Except his lace must have knotted, because it took him a long time to untangle it. By the time he straightened up, the woman was gone.
    â€œIt might be for the best,” Quiz said, shrugging off Isaveth’s look of reproach. “She’d probably just have squeezed you for information anyway. Besides, don’t you think we’ll get farther with our investigation if the news-rags don’t know who you are?”
    Which was a fair argument, but Isaveth was still disappointed. It would have been more pleasant to talk to the woman than to go inside that cold fortress and confront the Lawkeepers. Still, she had no choice now, so she sent up a silent prayer for courage and climbed the steps to the door.
    Quiz hurried to open it for her—his way of apologizing, no doubt. She gave him a smile, which brought a tinge of color to his thin cheeks, and the two of them went in.
    Inside it was cooler, and their footsteps echoed asthey crossed the polished floor. Smooth granite pillars loomed over them, and the bronze-and-iron crest of the Lawkeepers gleamed high on the opposite wall. Halfway across the chamber stood an imposing wooden barrier, and behind it sat two officers, a man and a woman, stamping papers and stacking them in piles.
    â€œExcuse me,” said Isaveth to the female Lawkeeper, but the woman didn’t even glance up. She gestured impatiently at her partner, who rose to greet them.
    â€œWell, kids,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
    Something about his gaze made Isaveth feel as though he were staring straight through her and counting all her bones. “I—I need to see the officers who arrested Urias Breck,” she said. “I have . . . information for them.”
    She’d meant to say “questions” but changed her mind at the last instant. Surely the Lawkeepers would be more likely to talk to her if they thought she had something to offer in return.
    â€œI’m afraid that’s not possible,” said the officer. “You can fill out a report, and we’ll contact you if we have any questions.” He took some papers from a pile beside him and slid them toward her. “Name and address here, date and time of the incident here . . .”
    â€œBut it’s urgent,” said Isaveth in desperation. The form was covered with lines and boxes, and looked to be atleast three pages long. “Isn’t there anyone I can talk to right now?”
    The Lawkeeper shook his head. “No public interviews on Trustdays except by order of the Lawkeeper-General. Duesdays and Fastdays by appointment only.” He opened his ledger. “You might be able to get in next Duesday, if I put you on the waiting list.”
    Isaveth hesitated. She could see several names on the list already, and she hated the thought of waiting four more days for an interview that would be brief at best—if she got in at all. What could she do?
    Quiz slouched beside her, rubbing his nose and gazing dully about as though he’d never had an original thought in his life. She was about to poke him to get his attention when he muttered, “Advocate.”
    Of course! Like anyone accused of a serious crime, her father was entitled to a legal adviser. Isaveth turned back to the desk. “We’d like to speak to Mister Breck’s advocate. Could you tell us where to find him?”
    The officer retrieved a second ledger, opened it, and ran his fingers down the column of names. “There’s no advocate listed,” he said shortly. “He must have refused counsel.”
    Isaveth