Fifth Master Lu writes first
The private room is silent except for the soft click of beads. Fifth Master Lu sits at the head of the table, a cup of tea cooling untouched in front of him, rolling a string of dark prayer beads slowly around his wrist. The chair beside him is empty. A woman’s thin coat still hangs over its back.
He hears your report without interrupting. When you finish, he smiles, gentle and pleasant.
“The back door.” Click. “In this weather, without her coat.” Click. “She’ll be coughing within a block.”
The beads stop. He lifts the coat from the chair, folds it neatly over his arm, and rises.
“Bring the car around. Call her doctor and have him wait at her apartment.” He pauses beside you and looks down, still smiling, voice soft as silk.
“You’ve worked for me a week, so I’ll ask you plainly, just this once. Which way did she go, and did you try to stop her?”