CHAPTER 9: Records Kept Colder Than Fish

The key turned on the first try.
The office smelled of dust, paper, and old coffee. One small lamp glowed on the desk, though the room had supposedly been sealed for years. Filing cabinets lined the wall. A framed photograph of Silas Whitmore stood beside a younger version of the stranger, smiling with fish scales on his sleeves and a crown made from paper napkins.
Daniel knew the face then.
Jonah Whitmore.
The founder's grandson. The boy newspapers had called troubled. The boy said to have run from rehab, from family, from responsibility. The boy whose absence had allowed Vanessa's employer, Celia Whitmore, to manage the market without challenge.
On the desk lay a ledger open to Booth 14. Daniel's own rent had been changed three times without board approval.
Beside it sat a note in old handwriting: If Jonah returns hungry, feed him before you ask anything.