Not wanting to fall back to sleep, I got up instead, feeling the coolness of the apartment brush against my sweaty skin. “Hey, Clint. How about I wash up a little, then we have a midnight snack. I’ll read to you some.”
Clint adored books. It frustrated him that he didn’t know the words, but he could learn them, as I could. In fact, we were almost on the same reading level now, as he had more time to study than I did. He perked up immediately. “Books! And snuggie.”
“You gotta explain this to me, Clint. I mean, you’re covered in fur. You can’t possibly feel a blanket through all of that. So why do you always go for the softest one in the house?”
He pulled back to give me a superior look that adequately expressed how stupid that question was. “Snuggie.”
“Yeah, okay.” Heaven forbid Lord Furball not have his blanket. Notice how he dodged that question? Far be it for a cat to explain anything to us pitiful humans.
I’d only gotten three hours of sleep, and I might be able to go back to bed at some point tonight, but for now I was going to do nothing more complicated than curl up with my cat, a blanket, and a book.
Because Henri had a stack of other cases that needed his magical assistance, I took Penny with me the next morning and let him catch up on his workload. I’d hoped that with an additional Magical Examiner now at the precinct it would lighten his workload, and it did seem to. Slightly. Sanderson was throwing more fits than usual, though, and that showed. I do wish someone would fire that man. We’d work more efficiently as a whole without him stumbling around causing trouble.
Penny had the file in hand, perusing it as I drove to Garner’s ex-wife’s house. Yes, house. She’d gotten that as alimony in the divorce proceedings.
“Says here they were married for barely more than a year,” Penny noted. “Filed for divorce for ‘irreconcilable differences.’ Catch phrase for they’re not being abusive or cheating, but I don’t want to be married anyway.”
“Basically,” I agreed with a shrug. Morning traffic was dying down, now that most people were already at work. It made fighting my way through the four-way a little easier. I hoped they’d put in a traffic light at this corner next. “Henri and I did go and talk to Timms’ family yesterday. I didn’t report, it as there wasn’t much to report on. They were horrified to learn their son is dead—apparently Peter Timms is a popular name in Kingston, they thought it was someone else—and there was so much crying I couldn’t get a sensible word out of anyone. Not that I blame them. As far as they knew, though, Timms worked as a printer and made a good living from it. He didn’t have anyone in his life romantically, and he showed up every other weekend for family dinner with his parents.”
Penny shook her head, sighing. “Poor people. Did you tell them how he died?”
“No. Just that he’d been shot, and we were investigating who’d done it and why.” That was the strange thing about this whole case. Why shoot poor Timms? If it was a jealous lover, or what have you, then why Timms too? I’d followed up on the connections of the people around these two men because only a stupid investigator wouldn’t, but the continual lack of evidence chipped away at that ten percent chance of the motive being non-charms related.
“I’m not sure if the ex-wife had anything to do with Garner’s death.” Penny drew a finger down the page as she read. “She’s the one who filed for it. They’ve been divorced nearly eight months. She’s already changed back to her maiden name, too.”
“Sometimes, Penny, people divorce someone and then belatedly realize they don’t want to be divorced. They get back together.”
“Why? I mean, the relationship failed enough that you went through months and a lot of money to get divorced in the first place. If it didn’t work the first time, why would it work the second?”
“You know, I ask that question a lot. I never have gotten a good answer.” It seemed to be a universal truth no matter what planet I was on. I wasn’t sure what that said of our species as a whole.
The house of Ms. Aimee Williamson was a cute little cottage on the eastern section of the city, right at the outskirts and along the channel. She had an excellent view of the water, although paid for it by having a miniscule yard. I pulled up in front of the white picket fence, parked, and we crossed through the colorful flower beds to the sunny yellow front door.
A woman opened it after the third knock, her auburn hair done up in a twist, dressed in a delicate ensemble of linen and white lace that made her the ultimate soft beauty so popular in Kingston. She looked quite taken aback to see me and Penny, both of us in pants, Penny in the black uniform of a policeman. I pulled out a badge and introduced us both. “You’re Ms. Aimee Williamson?”
“Why, yes,” she answered, her free hand fluttering at the base of her throat, blue eyes wide with alarm. “Officers, whatever is the matter?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Trevor Garner.”
Her expression and demeanor instantly changed. She went from being a delicate flower in distress to a scornful woman with the potential rage of a dragon. “That two-bit charlatan has done something again, hasn’t he?”
Wow. No love lost here. “Yes ma’am, you can say that. He died.”
She blinked at me. “Died? When did this happen?”
“Several days ago. There was a notice in the paper. You didn’t see it?”
“I actively avoid the man,” she admitted openly. “Any mention of his name, and I firmly direct my path and attention elsewhere. Please, come in. I’m not sure if I can be of any help, as I don’t necessarily see his death as a detriment in this world.”
In my experience, when people freely admitted their dislike for someone, they were not usually the culprit. Complaining to your friends and family was one thing, but saying that sort of crap in front of a policeman? A guilty person would never do it. They’d try to gloss over the relationship, make it seem trivial, and try to end the conversation quickly to move you along. She was inviting us in. It meant she was very, very clever or entirely innocent. Gut instinct said the latter.
So I went in to her beautifully appointed sitting parlor with its doilies and white furniture, sat on a settee that did not look strong enough to hold my weight, and gave her a charming smile. “I am sorry to bring this trouble to your door. I have to ask a few impertinent questions.”
“Yes, of course,” she assured me, sinking into a chair near mine. Every move graceful, not a hair or line of her expression out of place.
“Do you mind if I ask why you and Mr. Garner ended your marriage?”
“Two reasons, really,” she answered in a forthright tone, a moue marring her mouth. “First, I learned that he was a charlatan of the first water. His magical license was a fake, he’d made it himself. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was marrying a man with a good education and occupation and here he was, a fraud. I demanded he turn himself in at once, that I wouldn’t stay married to a man like him. He scoffed, like my opinion was worth nothing but a drop in the bucket. I tore his license right in half and walked out.”
Interesting. So she’d known. “I see. You said two things?”
“There were a great many complaints about his charms.” Aimee’s eyes shifted to the window as if remembering something. “It’s why I actually questioned the license to begin with. Multiple complaints came to our door, strangers I’d never seen before claiming they’d been swindled. That the charms weren’t working. It got to be that the stores didn’t want to take his stock anymore. He was stressed, constantly shouting at me and throwing things. His temper scared me, frankly. I thought his business failing, and while that alarmed me, I would have stood by him through it. I thought it was an error on his part. But when I learned he didn’t actually have the skills to be a charm maker, and that Mr. Timms knew that, I was horrified. They could hurt people with their shoddy knowledge of charm making. And they didn’t seem to care. That was the second nail in the coffin, as it were. There was no remorse, on either of t
heir parts. I heard them talking about it one night over coffee, that they’d have to shut down the business and set up another one in a different section of the city and where to put it. I put my foot down that night. We had a terrible row. That’s when I tore the license and walked out. I never saw either man again.”
In her shoes, I’d have done the same, but more. “You didn’t report either Mr. Garner or Mr. Timms to the police?”
“Well, I did, but it didn’t seem to do much good.” Vexed, she gripped her hands tightly enough the knuckles shown white. “I had no proof, just my word against theirs, and they’d already shut the business down by the time I’d arranged an attorney and made it down to the station. The police said there was nothing for them to investigate, and they wouldn’t take the word of a soon to be ex-wife in any case. I felt defeated by the attitude and didn’t press it.”
I shared a glance with Penny. Even if it was from a woman on the cusp of a divorce, with that many other complaints against the man, they should have looked into it. I certainly would after this. “I see. Which precinct did you go to, Ms. Williamson?”
“Third Precinct.”
“Do you happen to remember which officer you spoke with?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
Darnit. No one ever remembered that. “Thank you, Ms. Williamson. By any chance, do you know of a specific individual who would like to see your husband dead?”
“Detective Edwards, I’m afraid in this case, I know too many.”
We left shortly after that, having learned some things but not enough to put the picture into proper focus. I stared at the house thoughtfully as I started the car up. “Penny, I got the sense she told us the bare truth.”
“So did I.” Penny put the folder onto the bench seat between us, matching my look with one of her own. “She disliked him, but not enough to kill him. And there’s no other motive that I can see. You think one of his new girlfriends did him in instead?”
I shook my head slowly. “No. I still believe it was charms-related. Still, let’s go check out the three girlfriends, see what they have to say and if they have an alibi for the day in question. Maybe we’re wrong.”
“I doubt it,” Penny opined.
“Yeah,” I sighed, putting the car in gear. “Me too.”
Seeing a room full of Kingsmen interact with Jamie was an eye-opening experience in several ways. I’d heard the story, knew of her history. She had lived the first six months in Kingston with Seaton, and had many of the Kingsmen either teaching or training with her. She had many close friendships among the Kingsmen and met or spoke with all of them regularly. I knew all of this intellectually.
Still, seeing these veteran crown agents come in and greet her with wide smiles and hugs made it seem more like a family reunion than a meeting. I naturally was introduced to them as they came in, and was able to put faces to names. They shook hands all around with Gerring and McSparrin as well before taking seats at the narrow conference table.
Gibson was the last to arrive, a large bear of a man who dwarfed every other man in the room. He swept Jamie up in a bone-crushing hug, which got her to laughing, then set her back down again before regarding the rest of us. “Cheers, mates! I hope you’ve had better luck than I, as it’s been piss poor going.”
“Not really,” Lewis answered dryly, stroking at the bushy mustache he sported. The auburn red mustache made an interesting contrast to his very dark brown hair. “But come in, take a seat, we’re about to compare notes. You met either Officer McSparrin or Gerring yet?”
As Lewis handled the introductions, Seaton put the finishing touches on the Kingston map on the table, comprised of the two sections we were investigating and nothing else. As he did so, I made a timeline of events on the blackboard. When it was completed to my satisfaction, I turned, then started to find Gibson standing right behind me. My heart threatened to leap into my throat at the frank way he loomed over me. “Kingsman Gibson, I believe?”
My steady response amused him, or at least I took the twitch of his mouth as a sign of amusement. “I am. Dr. Henri Davenforth?”
“Yes, quite.” I offered a hand, not surprised when his hand practically swallowed mine.
“We owe you,” Gibson informed me in a low voice, expression sincere as he released his hold on me. “Jamie told us how you kept her breathing last time she went down. And the Felix, of course, that’s been good for her. I’m a touch mad, don’t mistake, as I’d nearly convinced her to let this whole nonsense of being a detective go. We’ve wanted her in our ranks from the beginning, despite her objections that she didn’t know enough of the world yet. I figured one more bad partner would make her come back to us.”
“It might have,” I acknowledged, a touch sadly. It was no surprise to me that the Kingsmen wanted to keep her—more that they’d let her pursue her own course to begin with. “Although the general opinion in the precinct is improving, as you see.”
“Yes, so I do. And I’m glad for her sake, but still mad, mind you. I’d rather have her with us.” Sighing gustily, Gibson glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression softening. “But she clearly adores you, and it’s good for her to have a dedicated partner who doesn’t patronize her. You’re a smart man, Henri Davenforth, for seeing her as she is.”
He said that, and yet I felt a threat lingering in the words. I gathered the impression that if my attitude or opinion ever changed, Gibson would be the first man on my doorstep to straighten me out again. “Trust me, Kingsman Gibson. I have stupid colleagues who couldn’t find their way out of a paper sack. Jamie is not one of them.”
Chuckling in a low tone, he agreed frankly, “That she isn’t. You, ah, do know of the importance of the anniversary coming up?”
“I’m well aware.” Knowing well what he was really asking, I added in a lower tone, “And she’s tired, no doubt having some bad dreams, but otherwise fine.”
“There’s more than—” he cut himself off and glanced over his shoulder. “I have a feeling we’ll talk more after this. For now, however—Jamie! Shall we get started?”
She’d been leaning over the table, conferring with Evans, but at this hail lifted up enough to give Gibson a nod. “We should. And I vote we all go for dinner afterwards, as I’m half-starved.”
As it was just past end of shift, I did see her point. “If we’re quick enough, we might beat the dinner crowd at Yorkshire House.”
“That’s an excellent thought,” my partner informed me happily. “Then let’s quickly get down to business. Evans, why don’t you start us off?”
“We visited every store listed on the invoices, took out all of Garner’s charms,” Evans answered with a grimace that drew his mobile expression upwards. “Bit not good, that. Some stores were happy to see bad charms gone, others were not happy having us do it openly. Said it was bad publicity. Anyway, after we hit them, Bennett said—”
“Might as well see what stores they used to use in the east end of town and if they have any charms still in stock,” Bennett pitched in as if reciting from rote.
With a nod of agreement, Evans smoothly picked back up in his surprisingly low voice, “And we all thought that a good notion, so we went ’round them too. Pulled anything bad, of course, not just Garner’s. Did find some of his, though. We’re a bit foot sore, but we’re sure we cleaned out the lot, at least. After that, hit every morgue on Rose, Watts, and Armstrong Road. I have a list of fifteen dead from suspicious illnesses, some of them surely a charm backfiring. I’ll interview families tomorrow.” For such a thin, short man, he had incredible lung power.
That was an excellent start. He’d covered a not insignificant amount of ground in six days. Seaton obligingly switched to a different hue of red and marked off the roads that he’d listed.
“Bennett?” Jamie prompted.
“West Street, Hudson Lane, and Newport Road,” Bennett answered precisely. He seemed to be a man of few words. In fact, I’d barely heard him
say more than ten altogether since his arrival. Leaning forward in the seat, his stocky frame made the wooden chair creak in protest. “I’ve got three suspicious deaths, but most were natural.”
I marked them off, noting that they were on the outside of the eastern section of the city where we knew the first charm business had distributed their wares.
Seaton apparently observed the same, as he noted, “You’re likely on the fringe territory. Might want to step in closer tomorrow.”
“Planning to,” Bennett answered succinctly.
“Marshall?” Seaton inquired.
“Thirty-six cases and I only went through Dunn Road,” Marshall answered flatly.
I paused in marking the map, giving him a sharp look. “You’re quite certain that all thirty-six are charm-related?”
“The reason I only managed the one road was that after inquiring at the morgues, I went to visit the families to double check. I found the same story with each family. In fact, three of them gave me a copy of the police coroner’s report as well as a copy of the report they’d filed with the police against the charms business.” Feral pleasure graced Marshall’s narrow face. “I’m sure.”
“I’d like to see those reports,” Seaton informed him, staring at him with sharp interest. “In fact, I think Davenforth would as well.”
“You’re quite correct,” I confirmed. “What else did you discover, Kingsman Marshall?”
“I did ask for occupations while I was interviewing the families, but no one was a powder monkey. A few mechanics, though.” Marshall shrugged. “I asked if anyone knew that the two charm makers had pulled up stakes and simply relocated. They hadn’t heard that and were blistering mad to learn of it. If anyone was guilty of killing those two men, they were too fine of an actor for me to spot them.”
Jamie accepted this with a judicious nod. “We’ll still want to look into the mechanics, though. Gerring?”
Charms and Death and Explosions (oh my!) Page 10