A few days later, Mrs. Beatrice Croft invited me for tea at her mansion. Her home was an oasis of quiet elegance, a stark contrast to the sterile, tense atmosphere of Dr. Finch’s clinic. Mrs. Croft, a woman of sharp intellect and gentle demeanor, had been a loyal delivery client for years, always offering a kind word and a generous tip. She had seen me through my transition from esteemed trainer to humble delivery driver, never treating me differently.
We sat in her sun-drenched conservatory, delicate porcelain cups clinking as she poured Earl Grey. The air was fragrant with blooming orchids.
“Elias, you seem troubled,” she observed, her shrewd eyes missing nothing. “Is it about that beautiful German Shepherd at Serena’s?”
I nodded, grateful for her perceptiveness. I recounted my experiences, from the gut-wrenching realization that Kestrel was from my own lineage, to Serena’s casual dismissal, and finally, my horrifying discovery of the veiled sedation and Dr. Finch’s reluctant, partial confession.
Mrs. Croft listened patiently, her expression growing somber. When I finished, she slowly placed her teacup back on its saucer.
“Serena Caldwell,” she mused, her voice soft but firm. “Such an ambitious young woman. I remember when she first burst onto the scene. She was your protégé, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, a bitter taste in my mouth. “I taught her everything she knew about conformation and temperament. She had a keen eye, a ruthless drive. I suppose I mistook drive for passion.”
“Ah, passion,” Mrs. Croft sighed. “It can be a powerful force for good, or for… less savory endeavors.” She paused, stirring her tea. “Her ascent was rather meteoric, wasn’t it? One moment, a promising newcomer, the next, challenging the established names with her ‘perfect bloodline.'”
“It felt fast,” I admitted. “Almost impossibly fast, now that I think about it. She seemed to acquire champion stock with uncanny speed, even for someone with her family’s wealth.”
Mrs. Croft nodded slowly. “Indeed. I always found it slightly suspicious, how effortlessly she achieved such impeccable results. No breeding program, no matter how well-funded, consistently produces perfection without… shortcuts.” She gave me a significant look. “In this world, Elias, ‘perfect’ often means ‘perfectly managed.'”
I considered this. “Managed? What do you mean?”
“Well,” she continued, her gaze drifting out to the garden, “it wasn’t just Serena at the beginning. She had a partner for a few years, a rather brilliant but volatile young man named Leo Maxwell. He managed all the internal operations of her kennel, the pedigrees, the logistics, the marketing. He was meticulous, almost obsessively so, about records and data.”
“Leo Maxwell,” I repeated, the name unfamiliar to me. I had left the show dog circuit before Serena’s star had truly risen.
“Yes. He was her business partner, and for a time, her romantic one,” Mrs. Croft explained. “Then, quite abruptly, he disappeared. Vanished from the society pages, from the kennel club rosters. There was a very bitter falling out, I heard. Something about ‘irreconcilable differences’ and ‘ethical disagreements’ between them.”
Her eyes met mine, a knowing look. “He was the one who truly built her empire behind the scenes, Elias. He knew where every bone was buried, if you catch my drift. And he was very, very good with technology. All those digital records she keeps… I imagine he set up the whole system.”
My mind raced. A meticulous record-keeper. Someone who handled all internal operations. A bitter falling out over “ethical disagreements.” And he was skilled with technology, the very means by which I’d glimpsed Kestrel’s manipulated records.
“You think he might have witnessed something?” I asked, a spark of hope igniting within me.
“Witnessed, or perhaps even documented,” Mrs. Croft said, a subtle arch to her elegant eyebrow. “Leo was always one for self-preservation. And he certainly wouldn’t have appreciated being cast aside and disgraced. He might harbor a powerful desire for vindication, or at least, for Serena to face consequences for her actions.”
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He was a very clever boy, Elias. And people like Serena, they tend to leave a trail, especially when they think no one is looking. Leo Maxwell, I believe, would have been looking. And perhaps, even collecting.”
A new path forward, a glimmer of light in the deepening shadows of Serena’s deception. Mrs. Croft, with her quiet observations and subtle hints, had given me a lead far more valuable than anything I could have unearthed on my own. This wasn’t just about Kestrel’s present. It was about Serena’s past, and the hidden connections that might just be her undoing.
I finished my tea, my mind buzzing with possibilities. Leo Maxwell. The disgraced ex-partner. He was my next step. The image of Kestrel’s dull, suffering eyes spurred me on. Mrs. Croft’s words had planted a seed of treachery, and I intended to unearth what grew from it.
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