The Tailor Who Stitched the Truth for the King of the Underworld
At first glance, it looked like a standard shipping manifest for the harbor.
But as a tailor, I knew how to look at paper.
I knew how to feel for the grain and look for the inconsistencies.
I held the first page up to the light of the flickering bulb.
“Look at the texture,” I said.
Aries leaned forward, his face close to mine.
I could smell the rain on his wool coat and the faint scent of cedar.
“What am I looking for?” he asked.
“The paper is heavy bond,” I said.
“But the watermark isn’t standard.”
I pointed to the faint, translucent lines pressed into the fiber of the page.
It was a pattern of intersecting circles and a stylized anchor.
“That is the crest of the dock authority,” Aries said.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Look closer at the center of the anchor.”
“The crossbar is curved differently.”
“It is a double-headed serpent.”
Aries stiffened, his eyes locking onto the tiny detail.
“The Moretti family,” he muttered.
“Your rivals,” I said.
“They manufactured this paper.”