Normally, Benedict had no trouble concentrating on his work. Concentration was something that, over all the years he had been working as a cop, had become second nature to him. Once he had sunk his teeth into something, he was like a pit bull that wouldn't let go until he finally had what he was looking for.
As on every day of the past week, he had also made himself a small list today of things he absolutely wanted to get done before moving on. But this Saturday morning, it just wouldn't work. It was simply too loud.
Benedict had ignored the fact that most people would have the day off and that there was a chance they would go to a café to have breakfast, chat, or simply rest for a moment before continuing their shopping trip.
The café was very centrally located, so close to the shopping street that people liked to stop by for their coffee to go or a hearty breakfast in a pleasant atmosphere. At the same time, however, it was far enough away from the shopping street that the loud noises from outside carried inside.
Over the past week, Benedict had come to appreciate the quiet of this café. Whether it was due to the thick windowpanes that kept the noise outside at bay, or the calm Isaac, who now prepared his breakfast almost every day, he didn't know. What he could say, at least, was that he didn't really get along with the manner of the other staff here. They seemed very charming, friendly, and genuinely eager to please.
But for what he was doing here, they were definitely too loud.
Chief among them were the two young people named Noah and Ashe. They talked nonstop, mostly with each other. They teased one another and playfully bickered, as if they were in puberty rather than in their early to mid-twenties. On the one hand, it was nice to see that people could still openly flirt with each other. On the other hand, it annoyed him immensely.
Even the café owner, Kieran, seemed to be no exception to the rule. He wasn't nearly as loud as the two younger ones, but he was all the busier tending to the female guests with practiced elegance. Meanwhile, Noah and Ashe took care of everything else that needed doing, and somehow this chaos worked surprisingly well. It was almost entertaining to watch.
Still, Benedict couldn't help comparing them to Isaac, who carried out his job alone far more professionally than all three of them combined—even if the young man never smiled and was rather aloof. Nevertheless, he did his job damn well, and it never took long before he had taken care of his guests.
With a quiet sigh, Benedict let his gaze wander over all the people who had meanwhile gathered in the café. Parents with small children, couples exchanging lovestruck glances, and smaller groups of students who were either studying or taking a break from shopping. There were too many people present for his taste.
He could no longer concentrate. So he packed his laptop into his backpack.
Benedict could easily imagine Isaac calling the three to order and bringing a bit of control into the chaos. At least he seemed like someone who always had everything under control—otherwise he wouldn't occasionally run the café on his own. Benedict would've liked to finish his coffee. He didn't know what Isaac did differently, but whatever he made tasted far better than what his coworkers managed to whip up.
For a brief moment, Benedict paused as he thought of the quiet man with the unusual appearance. He hadn't expected that, in just this short week, he would already have become so dependent on the coffee he had consumed here in such large quantities.
It was strange, and yet he missed the man's calm, professional manner and everything he prepared for him. In any case, it had become very hard for Benedict to enjoy any coffee other than Isaac's. Even the coffee he had at home, which he had always liked, now tasted like the cheapest, most watered-down swill compared to Isaac's.
Maybe he should admit to himself that, on top of all his other problems, he had developed an addiction that went beyond his usual coffee habit—one that was now tied to a single specific source. He was glad that this café happened to be on his route to work for when he'd be allowed back at the office next week. He also considered himself lucky that he hadn't fallen into drinking or smoking during the worst phase of his grief, when he could barely think straight.
Because now that he was trying to regain at least a bit of control over his life, the hot shower after waking up and Isaac's coffee were the only things that got him out of bed at all. He was tired, and ever since he hadn't been allowed to return to the office, his body had claimed what it so desperately needed: sleep. Longer sleep, along with many nightmares he could process during it.
He felt a little physically fitter, but his heart was still cold and tightly clenched from the grief that still hung over him like a silky cloak. More than once he had jerked awake drenched in sweat, and more than once he had reached for a sleeping pill. It helped him sleep a bit better, even if the rest it gave was deceptive.
There were, after all, reasons why he still avoided his apartment during the day.
Maybe he really had developed more than just one addiction, but at the moment there didn't seem to be any other way for him to function.
Benedict glanced at his smartwatch. It was already 11 a.m., so the museum he planned to visit that day would at least be open by now. But what would he do once he was done with everything?
He could hardly stay in the museum all day without drawing attention. And then there was the evening he somehow needed to fill. Maybe he should just go out to eat. But going out to eat alone was one of the saddest things he could think of, so he scrapped that idea.
Enough time wasted, he thought as he stood up to settle his bill.
He still had plenty to do, so he would continue with his plan. He needed to review several videos from the website, look over the current security standards of the museums, and get everything down on paper so he wouldn't forget anything.
Benedict was good at keeping track of everything, but even his brain couldn't remember every tiny detail. That's what paper and boards to scribble on were for. In that regard, he really hadn't arrived in the current century. While students and pupils did everything on laptops and tablets these days, he still liked doing things the old-fashioned way—with paper. But he felt like this worked better for him. At least he could remember everything better that way.
He wasn't even thirty yet, but he behaved in some parts like an old man. Dan had always amused himself with it and told him how cute he found his behavior. When he felt the lump in his throat again, he briefly closed his eyes and pushed the thought away.
He forced his thoughts back to the museum he was now heading toward. It was a place that regularly changed its exhibitions and often supported new artists.
They rarely displayed anything truly valuable, yet half a year ago they had hosted a small exhibit of precious jewelry. The pieces came from Thalaris, an oasis in the desert far to the south of Magnolia. Supposedly, they were more than a thousand years old and once worn by a king. Even though they were called jewelry, they looked to Benedict more like ornamental pieces of armor. Golden arm and leg guards set with gemstones; heavy armbands that must have been worn high on the upper arms; a wide necklace ending in an artfully crafted collar; matching earrings.
Taken together, the pieces looked very warlike and weren't the kind of thing anyone would wear nowadays. He could understand why people were fascinated by them and wanted to see them. But owning them?
Ink Phantom had some serious taste issues if he liked something like that.
His thoughts were abruptly cut off when his smartwatch vibrated. The display showed that Sebastian was calling him. He put an earbud in and answered.
"What's up?" Benedict asked.
"What's up?! I wanted to know if you're even still alive, man!" Sebastian shot back, annoyed. "I haven't heard from you in a week, and I just dropped by your place only to find out you won't even open the damn door!"
"What the hell are you doing at my place?" Benedict asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
"Because you're my damn partner and maybe I was worried about you?" Sebastian snapped. "Where are you?"
"I'm out," Benedict replied. There was absolutely no way he could tell Sebastian he was secretly working on his new case. "Stop worrying. I'm fine."
"Good. I'm waiting here. When will you be back home?" Sebastian asked, undeterred.
"It'll be a while. Go back home, you really don't need to check up on me."
"No chance. I'm not going home until I see for myself that you're actually okay and not looking like some damn zombie."
Benedict exhaled slowly, thinking about how to handle the situation.
"I'll be out for at least another three hours, and afterward I still have a few things to take care of," he said, continuing to consider his remaining options.
"You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?" Sebastian said dryly. "Sorry, partner, that's not how this works. But fine—if you're busy right now, I can't do anything about that."
"I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you," Benedict promised.
"Oh?" Sebastian suddenly sounded amused. "Who says I'm letting you off the hook? Tonight. Eight o'clock. Our favorite bar. If you stand me up, I'll come to your place—and then you're in for it."
Benedict couldn't help but laugh. It had been ages since they'd gone out for a drink together, and the thought of a cold beer in good company appealed to him far more than sitting alone in his apartment and forcing himself to sleep with another pill.
"Okay, okay, you win," Benedict said, as if he had lost a bet and now had to face the consequences. "But I'm not drinking more than one beer, understood? I'm allowed back at work on Monday, and I don't feel like spending all of Sunday lying on the couch."
Now it was Sebastian's turn to laugh.
"Sure, one beer. Nothing more," he promised, though his tone made it obvious to Benedict that he had absolutely no intention of sticking to just one.
"I mean it. One beer, no more," Benedict said firmly.
"Of course. See you tonight then!" Sebastian replied, clearly satisfied. Before Benedict could say anything else, his partner and best friend simply hung up.
Annoyed, he let out a breath. Still, he couldn't help smiling. The little change of pace was something he genuinely looked forward to.
With lighter steps and a better mood, he continued toward the museum. He would use the time until his appointment to add to his notes.
___
Later that evening, Benedict drank the last sips of his beer and set the empty glass down in front of him with a satisfied, audible clack.
The bar was, as always, filled with a jumble of voices. There wasn't a single free table left; the place was crowded with people pressed together, laughing, arguing, and cheerfully clinking their glasses. Everything seemed just the same as the last time he'd been here. The glasses still tasted faintly of dish soap, the floor was sticky with spilled alcohol, and the air held a light smell of something fried.
It was really nice to be back in this rustic little bar again. He had buried himself in his work for so long that it felt like an eternity since he'd last gone out. Long enough, at least, that his cheeks felt warm after just a single glass of beer.
"You look a lot better than you did at the beginning of the week," Sebastian remarked as he emptied his own glass. "Those days off seem to have done you good."
He was far from truly rested, but the reason for that was nothing he wanted to talk about. Sebastian knew exactly what he was going through. He had known Dan, and the three of them—and sometimes the four of them—had spent many evenings like this together.
A lump formed in Benedict's throat as he remembered the last time he'd sat in this bar with Dan, carefree, sharing a few beers after wrapping up a case.
That familiar emptiness spread through his chest—an emptiness he had no space for right now—so he forced himself to swallow down the grief and hopelessness and tried to enjoy the evening somehow.
Even though that was going to be damn hard.
Benedict let out a heavy breath. "You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to working again."
"I can imagine," Sebastian said as he ordered the next two beers—without asking whether Benedict even wanted another one. It was perfectly fine; he could really use this second beer right now. "Tell me you at least managed to switch off a little this past week and didn't keep working."
Benedict decided it was better not to answer that question. Not that it mattered—Sebastian would see right through him anyway. Even the best lie wouldn't help. Sebastian's eyes stayed fixed on him until he grimaced and cursed under his breath.
Benedict raised his hand before Sebastian could continue.
"Calm down. I am working, but not on that case," he said quickly.
"You weren't supposed to work at all. That was the whole point of this," Sebastian replied accusingly. "Why can't you, just once, do what you're told?"
"Then Jasper shouldn't have given me the file," Benedict countered. "He knows perfectly well that I'll always examine everything thoroughly until I've broken it down to the last detail."
Sebastian twisted his mouth in dissatisfaction.
"He gave it to you so you'd accept your new case and push the other one out of your head for at least a while. You were barely recognizable anymore. I've rarely seen you that obsessive."
Benedict snorted. "I wasn't obsessive. I was focused on my work."
"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that," Sebastian said with an eye roll. "So what have you been up to this past week? Jasper assigned you that Phantom Thief case?"
"Ink Phantom, right," Benedict confirmed as he took a sip of the fresh beer that had just been placed in front of him. "A mystery all on his own. I can understand why the others are so annoyed with him."
"My daughter is pretty obsessed with him. We even happened to catch one of his shows live once. He's really entertaining. So much so that you almost don't want him to get caught."
A quiet, amused snort escaped him. "It feels that way, doesn't it? The guy definitely has skills. I just can't quite say yet what all he's truly capable of."
"What do you mean? I haven't really looked into the guy."
"Well, he jumps around the scene of his announced crime, nobody can catch him, and he still manages to steal the object before vanishing right in front of everyone's eyes. The timing doesn't add up, but it also doesn't look like he's using projections."
"I can at least confirm that Ink Phantom is flesh and blood."
"Right, you've seen him before. How does he do it with those drawings he brings to life?"
"Honestly? I have no idea. Whatever he's doing, he's doing it damn well."
"That's not particularly helpful."
"We're not here to talk about work."
"Right, you wanted to check if I'm alive. Which, as you can see, has now been confirmed."
"Indeed," Sebastian said. "So? Did you do anything besides work?"
"I went to that new café," Benedict replied. Sebastian's expression made it clear he didn't want to hear more talk about cases. "The coffee there is really good."
Sebastian raised a brow. "You seriously expect me to believe you've learned to tell coffee apart by taste? Usually you just chug the stuff to stay awake."
Benedict had to laugh. "This is your fault. You brought me the cup that started it all. I Googled the logo on it."
"Don't you pin your new addiction on me," Sebastian grinned. "Not that I feel bad about it. The coffee there is divine. Have you tried the cake?"
"No. You know I'm not into sweets. But the other things are good."
"You sound like you've already tried the entire menu," Sebastian said, surprised.
Benedict thought for a moment, then shrugged.
"Maybe. I like the atmosphere there."
Sebastian's expression shifted. The mild amusement faded into concern. "Have you been there every day?" he asked quietly. "Ben… maybe you really should think about finding a new apartment. I can help you if you want, you don't have to—"
Benedict lifted his hand to silence him.
"Not now," he said softly. "We can just enjoy the evening and not talk about that, okay?"
Sebastian sighed in defeat. "Fine. I just hope you know you can't run from it forever."
"I'm more than aware," he murmured.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The murmur of voices in the bar swelled, glasses clinked, someone laughed loudly. Then Sebastian placed a hand on Benedict's shoulder.
"Dan would be proud of you," he said quietly. "He'd be glad you're trying to take back control of your life."
Benedict's breath hitched. "It's so damn hard, Bastian…"
"No one ever said life or love were easy," Sebastian answered gently.
Benedict ran a hand over his face, as if trying to sort his thoughts. "He would want me to keep going and not cling to the past. He always said that when we were heading into a tough operation. It was like he always knew he wouldn't be at my side someday…"
He didn't even know why he was suddenly talking about it so much. Normally, he kept his feelings under control and never let his innermost thoughts rise to the surface where everyone could see exactly what was going on inside him.
Sebastian sat down. His expression seemed a little distant, unfocused.
"He was always aware of the danger that comes with our job," he said quietly. "Dan was truly a good man."
Benedict sniffed and let out a hoarse laugh. "The best."
Sebastian lifted his glass so Benedict could clink his against it. "We'll find the bastard who killed him. First you catch that little thief, and then we dive back into the investigation together, okay?"
With his sleeve, Benedict wiped his damp eyes and cursed himself for allowing this moment of weakness.
"Promise me that in the meantime you'll do everything you can to catch that scumbag."
"You can count on it," Sebastian promised.
Benedict swallowed hard. "And promise me you'll take care of yourself. I can't lose you too."
Sebastian grinned broadly. "You know I'm not the type who loves taking risks. I'll be careful."
"Good," Benedict said, finally raising his glass.
The beer glasses clinked together. Benedict emptied his in one go and wiped his mouth.
"You've got time for another, right?"
He nodded. "My wife knows. I've got the whole evening free," he agreed.
So Benedict raised his hand to order two more glasses.
They talked for a long time about all sorts of things that had absolutely nothing to do with work, and when Dan came up again, it was only to talk about the happier moments.
It was both painful and liberating to talk about him. Benedict had kept the subject of Dan buried for so long that it felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest all over again. But at the same time, it felt like Dan was sitting there with them, joining the conversation.
The drunker he became, the less it bothered him.
But the grief never completely went away.
Before he could raise the beer to his lips again, every phone and screen lit up in a glaring red. They vibrated loudly, and the symbol of Ink Phantom appeared on the display: a white full moon with a black raven painted inside it, its edges bleeding slightly like an ink-drawn sketch. Benedict nearly dropped his glass in shock. In an instant, he felt sober again.
"What the hell…," he muttered.
"Looks like you'll have your first chance to wrap up the job quickly next week," Sebastian said, unfazed as he picked up his phone.
"So next Wednesday. He wants to steal Aurora's Tear? What's that supposed to be now?" Benedict asked. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his phone's screen. Even his smartwatch glowed in that alarming shade of red.
He had seen the message so many times that the symbol had become something familiar.
A smile played around his lips. Next Wednesday, then.
That's when he would catch this thief—and after that he could finally catch Dan's murderer.