Nash gestured through the open door. “Sorry. She said now.”
Nightshade snarled as Emma got to her feet and followed Nash out, then hurried after them. “This had better be good,” Nightshade muttered as they approached Emma’s mother.
Stone-faced, Maria pointed to the top of the middle row of shelving.
Emma looked up and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?”
16
Nash wheeled a set of safety steps to the end of the warehouse shelves.
Nightshade gestured to them. “Off you go, darling.”
“Me?” Emma shook her head.
Nightshade looked up. “We need your observational skills.”
“Emma’s afraid of heights,” Maria said. “Ever since she was little.”
Nightshade rolled her eyes. “Get over it.”
Emma scowled at her. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Emma folded her arms. “Both.”
Nightshade huffed. “Fine.” She faced Nash. “Would you mind? I’d be ever so grateful.”
Nash climbed the metal steps and as soon as his head reached the level of the highest shelf, he peered over the top.
“Is it?” Maria asked.
“I think so,” he said.
A pair of Gothic candlesticks, each two feet high, sat side by side: brass, with barley-sugar stems and trefoil-pierced galleries enclosing the drip pans. Nestled between the candlesticks sat a black cube, two inches on each side, with a circular lens on the front.
“Yeah, it’s definitely a camera,” Nash said. “No wires, though. Must run on batteries.” After a quick check, he pulled a pair of gloves from his belt and slipped them on. Nash then lifted the camera from the shelf and climbed down.
Emma pulled her sleeves over her hands and took it from him. She flipped the camera over, but apart from the lens on one side and a battery door on the other, the device was unremarkable.
Maria’s eyes shot daggers. “Who the hell put that there?”
Emma set the camera cube down on the nearest bench. “Is it worth dusting for prints?”
Nightshade leaned over Emma’s shoulder. “Maybe later, but our killer has been careful so far.”
Emma opened the battery compartment. “Is that a memory card?” She leaned in. “No. It’s a phone SIM.” She glanced at Nightshade. “So, it’s been streaming the whole time?” Emma straightened up and shuddered at the thought. “Someone’s been watching us.”
“Who?” Maria demanded.
“That is something we will find out.” Nightshade gestured Emma to the office door. “Let’s continue with our questioning.”
Emma removed the SIM card and handed it to her mother. “Can you put this in a phone and see if it’s got any useful information on it?”
“Of course.” Maria said. “I’ll ask Carlos to take a look.”
Back in the office with Jacob, Emma returned to her seat behind the desk.
Nightshade resumed her pacing. “Okay, Jacob,” she said. “Did you know about the camera?”
He slurred, “W-What camera?”
Emma shook her head at Nightshade. She’d gone too far, drugging him without his knowledge.
Nightshade swatted Jacob’s question away, obviously realising they had little useful time left. “When did the last person leave the warehouse yesterday?”
“Ten past six.” Jacob’s eyelids drooped, lifted, and drooped again.
“That was a quick response.” Nightshade faced him.” How are you so sure?”
“It’s the same time every night.” Jacob pushed himself up on the arms of the chair. “I check the warehouse at six, make sure all the doors are locked and everyone’s out, and Ruby leaves right after that.”
“Today is Sunday,” Nightshade said. “Meaning yesterday was Saturday. There was someone here that late on a weekend?”
“People here do shifts; the warehouse has staff working six days a week. At the moment, I have Wednesdays and Sundays off.”
Nightshade folded her arms. “Help me understand the security staff’s shifts.”
“There are five guards.” Jacob wiped sweat from his brow. “Between us, we cover the warehouse twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“What time did your shift start yesterday?”
“Six in the evening. I was here a little before.”
“And when did the crate arrive?”
Jacob sighed. “According to the manifest, four thirty in the afternoon. Before I got here.” His words slurred more, and his head bobbed. “Can I go now?”
“No.”
“Would you like a coffee?” Emma asked. Even though Jacob needed something a lot stronger than that.
He forced a smile that didn’t make it to his eyes. “No, thanks.”
Nightshade motioned for Jacob to hurry with the answers. “What time does your shift usually end?”
“Two.”
Nightshade frowned. “Two in the morning? If that’s the case, how come you were on a shift late enough to see Sophie?”
Jacob loosened his tie and undid his collar. “Ruby messaged. She said Grant had called in sick, and asked if I’d cover his shift.”
Nightshade looked at a clock on the wall. “It’s ten forty-five now. You’re into the third shift. Where’s the next guard? The one after Grant?”
“Nash,” Emma said. “He’s the guy who grabbed the camera for us.”
“Right.” Nightshade addressed Jacob again. “So, Ruby, the warehouse manager, was the last person to leave the premises?”
Jacob nodded.
Nightshade turned to Emma, eyebrows raised.
Emma snatched up the Magic 8-Ball. She shook it and the message ‘It is certain’ appeared at the window. Emma wasn’t sure if Jacob was telling the truth about Ruby being last out, as his lethargy had made him hard to read, so she shrugged.
Nightshade huffed and faced him again. “How sure are you that no one else was in the warehouse, Jacob? There are plenty of hiding places.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “I checked.”
“The whole place?” Nightshade scratched her head. “You say the crate came at four thirty yesterday afternoon, before you got here. Sophie didn’t arrive at the warehouse until when?”
“Five to four in the morning.”
“Wow.” Nightshade looked at Emma.
That surprised her, too. It meant the killer had hidden in the terracotta warrior for almost twelve hours, in a hot environment, with only a few gaps in the statue and crate to breathe.
But if the killer was inside the statue all that time, how did they know someone would open it? And do so at a point when they’d be able to escape and steal the casket without getting caught?
“When did you tell Sophie the crate had arrived?” Nightshade continued.
“About six fifteen yesterday evening,” Jacob said. “I sent her a message once Ruby had left. Sophie said she couldn’t get here for a long time because she had another engagement.”
“The Broadstone Ball.” Emma pulled Sophie’s phone from her pocket. “They go every year.” She double-checked the text messages and their time stamps, which confirmed Jacob’s story.
“When did you open the crate?” Nightshade asked.
She’s trying to get him to slip up with the times, Emma thought. So far, he hadn’t. Which meant it had all happened when Jacob said. Either that or he was well rehearsed.
“I opened the crate as soon as Sophie said she was leaving.” Jacob glanced over his shoulder at Mac and Neil.
“According to this, 2:37 a.m.” Emma held up the phone.
“And it took her what?” Nightshade asked Jacob. “An hour and fifteen minutes to get here?”
“About that. Yes.”
Nightshade sighed, obviously realising she wasn’t about to trip him up. “Tell me about the CCTV cameras.”
“No use.” Jacob rubbed his eyes. “The power cut out before Sophie arrived.
”
“They don’t have backup power, like the rest of the security?” Emma asked.
Jacob shook his head and yawned.
“Convenient.” Nightshade looked him up and down. “Let me guess: the warehouse’s power went down soon after you opened the crate.”
“Around fifteen minutes later.”
“Our killer saw to that,” Nightshade muttered. “So, the crate arrived at four thirty yesterday afternoon; around six fifteen you messaged Sophie, but she didn’t get away from London until gone half past two this morning. Once she says she’s on her way, you open the crate, the power kicks out a short while afterwards, and then Sophie arrives a little before 4 a.m.” She scratched her head. “Who would want her dead?”
Jacob’s eyes glazed over. “I don’t know. No one.”
Emma shook the Magic 8-Ball and a response floated to the surface: ‘Very doubtful’. She agreed with the toy and showed Nightshade.
“Come on, Jacob.” Nightshade rounded on him. “There must be someone in the Hernandez family who knew of Sophie’s visits and wanted her murdered. We’re looking for a motive. If she used to work for Maria and defected to the Greco side, that’s a setup for plenty of hard feelings and simmering animosity.”
Jacob blinked hard, balled his fists, and addressed Emma. “Since your parents’ divorce there’s been bad blood in both families.”
“How do you know there’s been bad blood in the Greco family?” Nightshade asked. “You work for Hernandez.”
Jacob looked away. “It could be anyone, for any reason.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
Jacob shrugged. “I heard rumours.”
“From?” Nightshade asked.
“Sophie mentioned a couple of times that Richard would be angry if he knew about her warehouse visits.”
“She still could have told Dad,” Emma said. “The divorce was a very long time ago. He knew how important Chinese artifacts were to her. He would’ve understood.” Although, Emma wasn’t so sure about that.
Jacob’s gaze wandered away again.
Nightshade clicked her fingers. “Stay with us.”
He shook himself. “Most of the employees here now are the same people from back then. They’re . . . trustworthy.” His head lolled.
“I think that will do for this session.” Nightshade scratched her scalp and smiled at him.
“Wait. What about this?” Emma held up the clear bag with the piece of parchment inside. “Have you seen this before, Jacob?”
He took a few seconds to focus, then shook his head.
“No idea what the letters and numbers could mean?” Nightshade pressed.
Jacob looked again. “No.”
“Thank you for your time,” Nightshade said. “Go straight home and don’t talk to anyone else. We will need to talk to you again once we have investigated further.”
Nightshade held back questions. Perhaps, she planned to trip Jacob up later, after she’d gathered more evidence. Maybe Nightshade thought he might try to warn someone else about their line of enquiry. Will Nightshade have him followed?
Jacob tried to stand but fell back onto the chair and slumped forward.
“We’ll find someone to drive you home,” Mac said.
Nightshade addressed Mac and Neil. “Ask the driver to stay with Jacob today. We’ll be in touch.”
Jacob waved a hand. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not for your benefit,” Nightshade said. “You’re a suspect. We must endeavour to keep an eye on you.”
And protect him from Dad.
Neil grabbed Jacob under the arms, lifted him, and together with Mac, walked him out.
“He’s still lying about something. I’m sure of it.” Emma slipped the Magic 8-Ball into her hoodie pocket. “Can’t figure out what, though. His responses feel off to me.” She cleared her throat. “Of course, Jacob wasn’t in much of a fit state to answer questions after what you did.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Nightshade straightened her military jacket and adjusted her scarf. “We would have gotten even less out of him if he hadn’t chilled. The guy was going to have a heart attack.” She waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, we’ll ask Jacob the same questions again later and see what changes.” Nightshade faced Emma. “So, we now have at least three people missing from your parents’ summons?”
“Yes,” Emma replied. “Ruby the warehouse manager, Grant the sick guard, and mum’s underboss, Uncle Martin.”
“All members of the Hernandez family,” Nightshade muttered.
Mac returned to the office. “Can I see those numbers? The ones on that paper you showed Jacob?”
Emma slid the parchment across the desk.
Mac stared down at it for a few seconds. “I know what these are.”
Emma’s eyebrows rose. “You do?”
“They’re GPS coordinates.” Mac stepped behind her. “Bring up a map on your phone and I’ll show you.”
Sure enough, under Mac’s instructions, the maps app allowed Emma to type in the numbers from the parchment, giving an exact location.
She showed Nightshade the result.
Nightshade’s eyes widened. “It seems Sophie has left us her own mystery to solve. Maybe it’s linked.”
“To the murder?” Emma’s brow furrowed. “You think it has something to do with the robbery?”
“I’m not sure,” Nightshade said. “But right now, it’s all we’ve got to go on. Especially while Jacob avoids truthful answers. I suggest we go and see what’s at those coordinates.”
“Shouldn’t we ask Dad?” Emma said. “He might know something about this.” She held up the parchment. “Could have the keyword, so we can decipher it.”
“Somehow, I doubt that very much.” Nightshade pursed her lips as she considered. “No. I think, for now, we keep this to ourselves, see where it leads, and then adapt to our findings.”
Emma stood up. “I’ll at least let Mum and Dad know we’re heading back to London.”
17
Nightshade drummed her fingers on her knee and stared out of the Rolls-Royce’s side window as they drove through the London traffic.
Emma rocked back and forth, doing what she could to suppress the images of Sophie’s body, but unable to stop them playing over and over in her mind, reliving the sight of the bullet wound and the smell of blood. “Why did you do it?”
Nightshade looked at her. “Sorry, are you talking to me?”
Emma didn’t meet her gaze. “Why did you slip a pill into Jacob’s glass?”
“Who said I did?”
“Which one was it?” Emma said. “Blue?” She shook her head. “You shouldn’t do things like that. It’s out of order. It’s wrong to drug people.”
Nightshade faced her. “Look, darling, even if I had done such a horrendous thing, it was imperative that Jacob relaxed.” She gave a flippant flick of her wrist. “We didn’t have time to mollycoddle him.”
Emma glared at her. “But what did it achieve?”
“A lot.” Nightshade glanced at the Magic 8-Ball on the seat between them. “We know he’s holding something back.”
Emma’s phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her away from the impending argument. She pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, you,” a soft female voice said. “Hungover much?”
Emma sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Is that, ‘I’m fine but I have a thumping headache and I want to puke’ fine?” Olivia asked. “Or an ‘I really am fine’ sort of fine? If so, this must be the first moment in your life that you’re not hungover.”
It was true that Emma’s tolerance for alcohol was famously low. Despite this, she’d drunk a full bottle of red the previous night, along with copious amounts of vodka. Still, that wasn’t bad going for someone so petite, while Olivia had downed an entire bottle of sauvignon blanc. Emma massaged her temple. “Now you come to mention it, I do have a headache.” Which was no surprise, given her morning so fa
r.
“Ha. Knew it.”
Emma gazed out of the window as a black cab pulled alongside them at a set of traffic lights. “I seem to remember you staggering about all over the place.”
“I was not.” Olivia chuckled. “Well, okay, maybe a little. It’s your fault, anyway.”
“How do you figure that?”
“You’re the one who insisted on drinking games.”
Emma groaned. “Sorry. How did you get home?” She felt guilty for passing out on her best friend.
“Uber,” Olivia said. “No big deal.”
“Neil could’ve taken you,” Emma said.
Olivia was more than capable of looking after herself, though. In a pub a few months back, some drunk, sweaty guy had not taken no for an answer and become handsy. He’d found himself on the pavement outside.
“What are you up to right now, Em?” Olivia said. “Sounds like you’re in a car. Off somewhere interesting?”
Emma hesitated, glanced at Nightshade, and tried to keep her voice casual. “On our way to Charing Cross. Mum and Dad need something.”
“Both parents at the same time?” Olivia whistled. “Must be serious.”
Emma winced. “It’s nothing major.” She hated lying to Olivia, but didn’t want her caught up in the nightmare. Besides, Emma wasn’t sure how much Asher would tell her.
“You need my help?”
And there it was: Olivia to the rescue.
“Nah, I got it.” Emma smiled. “Thanks, though. I appreciate you.”
“I appreciate you too. How long will you be doing whatever it is you’re doing?” Olivia asked. “Want to go shopping? I’m not far away.”
“Can I call you later?”
“Hey, of course. Drop me a text when you’re done.”
“Will do.” Emma hoped Nightshade solved the mystery soon so that she could return to her normal life.
“Love ya. Bye.” Olivia hung up.
Emma slipped the phone into her pocket and stared out of the window, getting her bearings. They were several cars back at yet another set of lights, still south of the river. “If the coordinates are correct, what do you think we’ll find in such a public place?”
“No idea.” Nightshade said. “There may be no link between the coded note and Sophie’s murder, but we must follow all the evidence.” She paused for a few seconds. “The usual suspects in a killing are the ones closest to the victim, right?”
Death in London: A Nightshade Crime Thriller (Emma & Nightshade Mystery Series Book 1) Page 10