My heart is racing. I have to take several deep breaths to calm myself. Girlfriend, indeed. Typical of the perv to think I was a lesbian just because I hadn’t flirted with him like Rosalie had. What a fantastically tiny ego the pig had.
I cannot believe I’ve finally told the prick to shove his stupid job. And I never have to see him again. I could dance a jig!
I giggle at the thought of telling Remi that he had thought we were girlfriends. She would get a kick out of that. But then my smile fades. If she’d forgiven me for my behavior last night, that is.
I push open the door of Grimshaw’s and step in.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” says a smooth and very posh English voice.
I blink in surprise. A man is standing behind the counter. In his mid-forties, his brown hair is peppered with a dash of grey at the temples. He looks good in his brown tweed suit, even with the cute little glasses perched on his distinguished nose. A veritable silver fox, not that he knows it.
A book is in his hand and he has a distracted air as if his mind is still in it. I’m sure he hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He seems to have appeared out of nowhere.
His smile is slightly nervous, as if he is socially awkward, but that doesn’t stop him from launching into speech. “No, let me guess.”
He reaches into the window display and extracts one of the boxes of jewelry there and holds it towards me with a flourish. It contains a glimmering necklace with a large red pendant nestling on black velvet. “It was this beautiful necklace which caught your eye. You noticed the magnificence of this fire ruby. It comes from Otherworld, you know. It belonged to a—”
I slide his business card across the counter towards him. He looks at it and stops speaking. He puts his finger on it. Worried he might take it, I snatch it away. He smiles and there is a twinkle in his eye. He puts the box with the necklace back in the window display.
“Ah,” he says. “I should have known a young lady like yourself would be here for something a little more out-of-the-ordinary. Please, come this way.”
He comes out from behind the counter and walks straight through a wall. Feeling disconcerted, I warily follow him, putting my hands out before me to touch a wall that my fingers tell me is not there. I follow them through to the other side of this illusion, and emerge into a larger room filled with books and jars and ornaments and shelves full of all kinds of weird stuff.
He marches straight to a rack of glass bottles and tubes and vials, all filled with concoctions of different colors and consistencies.
“These are the potions and elixirs the young ladies are usually interested in. Make up and love spells and the like. We don’t deal in anything contentious or dangerous here.”
He gestures around the store. “Everything else you can peruse at your leisure. Unless there was something specific you already had in mind?”
“Actually, yes,” I say. “What I am after is the key to this.” I hand him the slip of paper with the ornate circular symbol on it.
I don’t even know if what I have said makes any sense, but I thought it was important to sound like I know what I am talking about.
Fortunately he does not seem confused. He is looking at the paper with an expression of severe distaste. He quickly folds it up and hands it back to me.
“As I said, we don’t deal in anything contentious or dangerous here,” he says.
He had picked up a crystal vial of purple stuff to show me, but he drops it back into its slot with a clunk. He’s not smiling any more. He is ushering me back towards the exit.
“Wait!” I say. “Look Theodore, or is it Theo? I know my friend was here so there’s no point hiding it.”
“I’ll tell you what I told your gentleman friend. There is no key to that,” he says bluntly.
I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I sense that if I admit this to him, he will refuse to cooperate entirely. So I say with perfect confidence, “Of course there’s a key to that. You’ve just admitted my gentleman friend was here. Unfortunately for you he’s also dead.”
This has the effect I had hoped for. Theodore Grimshaw looks startled.
Satisfied, I continue, “And while I know your connection to him, the Special Agents investigating his murder have no need to know anything about you. So long as you tell me what I want.” I inject a hint of menace in the last few words. That’s how they do it on TV.
“Well!” Theodore Grimshaw seems to swell up in dignified outrage. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’m terribly sorry to hear about your friend, and if you wish to send the agents here you are welcome to do so. I have nothing to hide!”
Damn it. I got so worked up that I’ve used entirely the wrong approach with him. The guy doesn’t seem a bad sort. I bite my lip in regret.
“Look, I’m sorry. I tried to play hardball and overdid it.”
He looks a little mollified. But he is still ushering me towards the exit.
“Please! My friend’s name was Raif Silverstone. You might have read about him in the papers? All I want is your help to find his killer.”
“Then you should’ve gone to the Agency, not come here.”
“I did! But they didn’t want my help.”
“Young lady, you should give that paper to the agency and be done with it,” he says briskly. “You are out of your depth.”
“Please? Can you just tell me what I need to know and I won’t bother you again.”
He sighs. “Young people,” he says under his breath. “This is not some exciting adventure. You may think your magic makes you invincible, but it does not. That’s right. I can sense it. And if I can sense it, so can others. You really should be setting yourself on a course of education—”
“Seriously? I didn’t come here for a dad lecture,” I tell him. “And I don’t have magic.”
His words have taken me by surprise. I don’t know what kind of magic he is talking about, unless he is somehow sensing my navelstone. My fingers twitch with my automatic instinct to cover it up. I try not to put my hand anywhere near it. The last thing I want him to know about me is that.
“Well, I don’t know how else I can help you. And if you’re not going to take that paper to the Agency, you should burn it. You don’t know what kind of trouble you’re meddling with.”
“But clearly you do. I know that Raif got the key. If he didn’t get it from you, where did he get it from?”
He shakes his head. “It is simply not possible.”
“It is possible. Raif has it.”
“You said he was dead.”
“Makes no difference. He still had it.”
He hurries back towards his wall, gesturing for me to come with him. “I want nothing to do with this. Please leave right now.”
I stay where I am. “I’ll leave after you tell me what you know.”
He contemplates me for a long moment. He takes a neat little handkerchief from his pocket and pats his forehead. The worried look on his face makes me feel uneasy.
He is shaking his head. “You really have no inkling what this is. I told your friend there was no way on this world or the other of helping his girl. Nobody would make him that sort of key. Not if the girl was the property of the Grey Queen. I said he should take the poor girl back before the fae caught them both and… Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. That poor girl doesn’t have a hope.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “The Grey Queen? You can’t be serious. She’s a myth. If you are going to tell me a story, at least make it a believable one.”
It now it is his turn to huff. “People’s refusal to believe a thing doesn’t make it not real. The Queen of the Fae is no myth. That symbol in your hand is her symbol. It marks the girl your friend was insistent on running off with as her property. Woe betide he who steals a drop of water from the Grey Queen, let alone a water sprite.”
“So what are you saying? That Raif was murdered by the Grey Queen?”
“Nonsense. The Grey Queen doesn’t n
eed to murder people. Leaving behind a crime scene is clumsy. I imagine if she wanted a thing done, one would never know it had been done. If I had to guess I would say the fae hadn't caught up with your friend yet. Some other person has murdered him.”
“Who?” I ask eagerly. His mind seems to be buzzing away, reaching some sort of conclusion.
He looks pained. “Your friend was very persuasive and at the end of his tether. I confess I may have referred him to a mage who may know a sorcerer, because of course only a sorcerer would even be able to attempt to undo a lock belonging to the Grey Queen. Nobody else would dare.”
He holds up his hand before I can interrupt. “If you plan to go after a sorcerer,” he says, “I’ll tell you now that you’ll never find him, and you’ll probably be barking up the wrong tree.”
“Because?” I nudge him impatiently.
“Because you said your friend already had the key, and to get a sorcerer to make that particular key would cost a fortune. And your friend seemed smart enough to know he’d need some running away money too. So if I were you, it makes more sense to look at where all that money came from. Because we are talking a small fortune, possibly a large one, which your friend did not have.”
“How do you know he didn’t have it?”
“Because of his despair when I told him how much it may cost. He reassured me that he could liquidate some business assets, perhaps properties. It would have been fruitless for me to pass on the name of my contact otherwise.”
I shake my head. “This all sounds like an unbelievable story. Raif seemed so sensible. And smart. Why would he do something this mad?”
He sighs deeply. “That is ever the question. Unfortunately people’s hope and madness are what keep me in business. The things people will risk for their child. It almost makes me feel lucky to not have one.”
My mouth drops open. People would do anything for their kids. Including trying to screw over the Queen of the Fae apparently. Zarina is Raif’s kid.
Chapter 15
DIANA
I head from Grimshaw’s straight to work my usual Tuesday evening shift at Luca’s. Once that is done it is past midnight by the time I am finally trudging towards home, yawning and ready to collapse into bed. I stop off at the little park near my apartment and find AngelBeastie waiting for me. She purrs as I scoop her up and deposit her into my satchel.
I talk to her as I walk. “Gosh, Beastie. Wish I had your life. I bet you’ve never been as tired as I feel right now.”
I can hear her purring contentedly. My satchel is vibrating. The feeling makes me giggle. “I hope you caught something tasty for your dinner, because all you’re getting tonight from me is kibbles again I’m afraid”
I reach into my bag to tickle her head. “But as soon as I get this consultancy paycheck, which I’m absolutely definitely totally going to get, I’m going to buy you a huge package of special treats and some juicy cat food with real meat in delicious jelly that all the adverts say you’re going to love. Or maybe I’ll get you some real fish. Some salmon so fresh that you’ll think you’re in heaven. Would you like that? Hmm?”
I stop talking to her as I get out my key to let myself into my building. Chatting with my bag is going to make my neighbors think I’m mad. Clutching my satchel securely against my chest, I jog up the stairs, eager to fall into bed, and let myself into my apartment.
The first thing I see is the envelope that someone has slipped beneath my door.
The sight of it laying not-quite-innocently on my carpet makes my stomach flip-flop. It is only Tuesday night. Rent isn’t due until Thursday night. Which means I have a whole day and a half to solve this case. So why is my landlady already sending me a message? My abdomen clenches. Smithers can’t have called her, can he? How the hell does he even know who my landlady is?
I chew my lip as I rip open the envelope. Inside is a gift card with an apple tree on front. The sharp scent of burnt apple rises from it and then disperses so quickly that I am not sure if it was real or not. Inside is a message.
Dear Diana,
What does a girl deserve who sticks her nose where it’s not wanted? How to make such a girl suffer? Oh, I know, I’ll destroy the thing you care about most. Like you’ve destroyed mine.
Still think you can save it? Here’s a clue. Catch me if you can.
Beneath the words is stuck a slim golden coin with a woman’s face on it. She is smiling. A single drop of red fluid, now dry, is dripping from beneath the coin. I unstick the coin to look at the other side and find the same face, this time not smiling. And where the coin had been is a tiny red clawed pawprint, the drop of blood coming from it.
The shock of finding it here in my home hits me like a hammer. My fist clenches as I stare at it, almost crumpling up the card before I make myself stop. This is evidence. I can’t destroy it. I drop the card and the envelope it had come in onto my bed. I get a plastic bag out of a drawer in my kitchenette and carefully put everything inside it. I should take this to Storm. He would know what to do with it.
And yet I can’t take it to Storm. Not until I’ve figured out what the hell it is. Because one thing is for sure. The real Devil Claw Killer would never give me a warning that he knew where I lived. This has to be from the copycat.
I pace up and down my room, reading the note inside the card over and over again through the plastic bag. One line stands out. “Like you’ve destroyed mine.” This person thinks I have destroyed a thing they care about. How could I have possibly done that? Is it because of Lynesse? Is there really a link between me and her?
What the hell is this? Why send it to me? Why now? There must be a reason.
AngelBeastie makes a little yowling noise inside my satchel, making me jump. Feeling a little guilty, I quickly let her out. She nips my hand to show her displeasure, and then leaps onto my bed, curling up quite comfortably, completely unaffected by my agitated state of mind. At least one of us feels comfortable right now.
I pour her some kibbles and fresh water, in case she feels like eating something later. And then I resume my pacing.
Gosh, I’m so tired. If only my head was clearer. The only name that comes into my mind is Beatrice Grictor. But the damn woman has the Ambassador for an alibi. I try to think who else might have sent me the envelope, but my mind keeps insisting that it is Beatrice. But Storm would say that I was being irrational, especially as I can’t answer why she would send it to me.
Because you trespassed on her private property, says the little voice. She pretended she was okay about it, but clearly she is furious.
I shake my head. Somehow I cannot imagine perfect pristine Beatrice Grictor in her kitten heels creeping up the stairs to my apartment to slide this under the door. How would she even know where I live?
You found out where she lives, says the little voice. Why shouldn’t she be able to find out where you live? And do you really think that a woman you believe capable of murder isn’t capable of leaving you a threatening note?
But the problem is Storm already thinks that I am hung up on Beatrice Grictor for no reason. Even I can’t fully explain why I feel the way I do about her. Something about her has got to my back up right from the start, and it isn’t just the way she was flirting with Storm.
Gosh you’re slow, says the little voice. In the morgue waiting room when you were talking to Raif Silverstone’s ghost, what did Beatrice Grictor do?
“She… She didn’t do anything.”
Exactly.
“She didn't react. She wasn't surprised!”
My mouth drops open. She’s right! Beatrice Grictor didn’t react at all when I started talking to Raif! She should have at least looked at me weirdly if I had been talking to thin air, and as far as she is concerned that is exactly what I had been doing. And then she had made that fuss about the water leak. What if she had broken that tap on purpose to stop me from talking to Raif?
I slap my hand against my forehead. That is exactly what she must have done. She broke th
e tap on purpose and I fell for it. And her ruse worked, because next thing I knew Raif was gone.
Stunned by this epiphany, I sink into the chair beside my little table. I can’t believe I was such a fool. Beatrice Grictor is as dodgy as they come. A manipulative sneak. And nobody else can see it. I stare the coin in the little plastic bag. So what does the coin mean? What is she going to do next? If she really is a killer, then she is capable of anything.
I realize that my leg is tapping on the ground with irritated anxiety. I feel full of pent-up energy and anger towards Beatrice. She sent me this letter because she wanted me to feel this way. She wanted me to know how helpless I am. She was so confident that I wouldn’t catch her. The arrogance of the woman. And Storm has his sights set on a different direction, and she must know that too. I bet she feels really smug right now.
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