The Girl in Gold: A Vox Swift Mystery (Vox Swift Mysteries Book 2)

by Beth Lyons

  I felt Boleian’s eyes on me as I took a sip of chocolate. Might as well drink it before Miles Edjrest kicks us out.

  “You are uncouth, plain-spoken, rude to your elders, out of step with society—”

  “Mr. Edjrest, Vox is—”

  Miles held up his hand. “Let me finish. You have no respect for authority or for societal conventions. And that is exactly what I loved about Helena. You ask me about the real Helena Grimwell, that’s her. Unpolished but brilliant. Lively, challenging, ready to debate me on any topic.” He shook his head. “Every topic.” Miles took a sip of chocolate. “Ask your questions.”

  Hastily I set my cup and saucer aside and pulled out my notebook. As I flipped to a blank page I saw the sequin from Helena’s dress, the one that had clung to my pants at the Morningstar’s. It sparkled in the firelight. Dimly I heard Boleian say, “Who are her known associates? Close friends?”

  I couldn’t stop looking at the sequin. Sunday morning I’d hoped that it would tell me its secrets, and maybe it still could. The shimmer – complete opposite of the room I was in, of the man we were talking to. Why in the world would a man like Miles Edjrest befriend a girl who’d wear a sequined dress?

  But that’s just the costume, Vox. Who knows? Maybe the real Helena dressed in plain skirts. Maybe she wasn’t so different from Fara Fram. Two blonde girls just trying to live their lives in the city. Both dead within the span of a few hours. Coincidence? Thornbury is no stranger to murder, but—

  “… Vox?”

  I looked up to see Miles and Boleian staring at me. “I’m sorry. Would you repeat that?”

  “Miles doesn’t have all night – what did you want to ask?”

  So it’s Miles now. What had I missed while I was thinking about dresses? I sat up straight. I couldn’t help but think that Helena knew her killer. No signs of struggle, no bruising. But how could I bring up the supposed boyfriend, Beltine Byrd? I played it safe. “Why would anyone want to kill Helena?”

  “Jealousy? Spite? Thrills?” Miles seemed to shrink in his chair as the words left his mouth.

  “We were just talking about Helena’s friends,” Boleian said to me.

  “Everyone liked her.” Miles picked at the blanket covering his legs. “She would have been magnificent in the boardroom.”

  “The boardroom?” Boleian sat forward. “Were you thinking of hiring her for one of your businesses?”

  Miles gave a short laugh. “I was going to adopt her, not hire her.” He gestured to the far side of the room. “Papers were all ready. She just didn’t have time to sign.”

  “Wait,” I said, “you were going to adopt Helena Grimwell. Who else knew?” We suddenly had a prime suspect: Farley Edjrest. I took a deep breath, but before I could say the son’s name, Boleian mildly said, “I am sorry for your loss, sir. I wish I’d know her. Helena sounds like a singular young woman.” He paused. “She and Farley got along?”

  “Don’t be coy, wizard! You want to know if Farley killed her. Why would he? He didn’t stand to lose a thing by her adoption. He controls over 75 percent of my business interests. Helena wouldn’t have wanted anything handed to her anyway. She was a fighter, that one.”

  A fighter, huh? Would she fight Farley for control when the old man died? 75 percent isn’t 100 percent. Not to mention the rumor that Farley and Jana Grimwell were an item. How did that play in?

  Jana and Farley… “He couldn’t have killed her!” I slapped my forehead. “He was at the Lamplighter until two o’clock with Jana. He got thrown—” I stopped short, realizing that the younger Edjrest might not care for his father to know the details of his night life. “The pallys said that Helena was killed sometime between 10 and 2.”

  “But that’s not right,” Miles frowned at my words. “Helena was on stage until midnight. How could she be dead when she was on stage singing?”

  “It’s a range. Time of death is an imprecise science at best.” Boleian set his empty cup aside. “And in this case Vox should have said, ‘Between 1 and 2.’ After Helena left the Lamplighter. Obviously.”

  Miles shifted in his chair, and I remembered why I’d wanted to come originally – the Edjrest estate shared a back fence with the Morningstar estate.

  “What connection did Helena have with the Morningstars, sir?” I gestured toward one of the windows. “Why would she be found in your closest neighbor’s library?” I tried to keep the emphasis off the word closest. No need to give the game away.

  “Someone’s idea of a sick joke, perhaps? Everyone knows that the engagement was called off.”

  I blinked. “Engagement? Farley and—”

  “Jesskah Morningstar, yes. He seems to have recovered, but it was rather embarrassing. She broke the engagement.”

  I set that information aside for the moment. Miles Edjrest had been entirely too comfortable through this whole interview. For all his words, he might have killed Helena himself. If he was the killer, I needed to spook him into making a mistake.

  “Must be hard, being stuck in that chair. Don’t you ever just want to...” I swung my arms forward. “Get up and move?”

  “Vox! Really—”

  “Yes. All the time.” Miles grasped the large wheels on either side and pushed. His chair glided across the space in a moment. “Is there something that you wish you could do, Vox Swift?” His eyes pierced my own, and I wanted to look away.

  I thought about the scry spell, about Marilye, about the two men dead at her hands. I thought about the murdered girls, left crumpled on the floor like used napkins. “Yes,” I whispered. “All the time.”

  Chapter 14 Connections

  I hadn’t expected to tell Miles Edjrest the truth, but when he looked into my eyes and asked me if I ever wished I could do something that felt impossible, I had to tell him yes. It left my mouth before I could think it through.

  For a long moment after I’d spoken, Miles stared into my eyes. Then, just as abruptly as he’d joined me, he wheeled himself back to his original spot and rang a small bell.

  The man Vance stepped into the room almost immediately. Miles murmured something in his ear. Vance nodded at his employer and left.

  Boleian’s expression hadn’t changed through the whole exchange, but I wondered if I was going to get an earful on the way home.

  “I’ve sent Vance to get you another few days’ pay. We’re nowhere near done, are we? Missing person is quite different than a murder victim.”

  “I feel certain,” said Boleian, “that tomorrow will bring new information. We will keep you updated as to—”

  Miles held up a hand to cut him off. “Find her killer. That’s all that matters. Reports be damned.” Vance returned with a small bag, and Miles gestured at Boleian. “Hand that to the wizard, if you please.”

  “You will have justice,” Boleian said quietly.

  “Yes, I will. And as to updates. Send this one. She’s as unexpected as a bumblebee in a thunderstorm, but I like that. Keeps me feeling young.”

  ###

  Wednesday morning found me eager to hit the streets. I had a morning messenger shift, but I had to time to swing by Dewey’s place in Brewer’s Ditch.

  We met on his doorstep. “Just getting in, Dew? A new lady keeping you out late?”

  He laughed, “You know what they say, Vox. Once you go fae….”

  “I will take your word for it, thanks.” I follow him into the apartment. “Any word on the Grimwell murder?” I moved a pile of wrinkled clothes to one side of the couch and sat down.

  “Yeah, been asking around.” He moved into the small kitchen area. “Hungry? I think I got…. Yeah I do! Want half a sandwich? Sally and Sissy’s.” He brandished a wrapped package at me.

  Knowing Dewey, it was likely a hunk of bread slathered with honey. “No thanks.”

  He threw himself into an armchair opposite me. “Clearwater Avenue.” He nodded at me. “People are pissed, elf. Place is like an angry anthill. Like a buzzing beehive. Like a—”

  “Ri
ght. What does that mean to me, Dew? Who’s angry? Why?”

  “The working people. The proletariat, yeah? Police coming through and busting heads all because the ruling elite went and killed someone.”

  The proletariat? Here was a new side of Dewey. “Alright, hold up. Start at the beginning.”

  He took a huge bite of his sandwich. “Like, you mean when the mines were first centralized, cutting off the people’s access to—”

  “Like, after I left you yesterday. That beginning.”

  “It’s all a piece, Vox. I’m telling you. The police, the butlers, even the killing.” Dewey shook his head. “The world is a house on fire.”

  “Start with the butler. You mean Selendir, the Morningstar’s butler?”

  “Nah. Billows.”

  I knew the name; I just couldn’t place it.

  Dewey said, “Works for Hawktite. The dwarf professor? Word is Billows has gone sour. Used to be a great guy but this murder – well, you’d think he’s the one that died. And the cops, Vox. The cops will not let this go. Up and down Clearwater every day. You and me know that no one cares if one of the masses is killed. But money? Money talks.”

  “Why would Billows get the third degree? Who cares about Nori Hawktite’s butler? Selendir, now him I can—”

  “That guy.” Dewey rolled his eyes. “Class traitor for sure. Classic class traitor. Donning the robes of the elite so—”

  “Just stop, Dewey. What – who—” I couldn’t even begin to formulate all the questions flowing through my mind. Dewey’s always been kind of a laid back guy. Sure, the fae get the short stick in Thornbury, but I’d never heard Dewey use these words, express these concepts.

  Dewey smiled and nodded. “Miranda. She’s amazing, Vox. I never knew – I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know how to express my outrage at the system, yeah?”

  I nodded. Dewey had been through a few girlfriends in the time I’d know him. Each one left her mark on the beautiful but impressionable Dewey. “So,” I said, “Selendir’s a class traitor? How’s that play into my murder?”

  “He’s suddenly got extra money, but is he helping his brothers and sisters? No, Selendir’s buying suits and custom gloves and other stuff. Expensive stuff.”

  The Morningstar’s butler is flush with gold just days after a murder? Selendir and I needed to chat again, and I should stop next door at Hawktite’s and see Billows. What was stuck in his craw? Maybe he’d seen something the night of the murder.

  “Thanks Dew, I appreciate the help.” As I started to leave I thought about Fara Fram. Dewey would surely be able to dig up info on my dead orphan.

  “Sure thing,” he said when I asked. “I need some cash, though. Twenty silver.”

  “Twenty! Used to be you’d—”

  “Things will only improve when the proletariat realizes his worth. I’m valuable.” Dewey patted his chest. “Me, I have value in the marketplace.”

  I put two silver worts on the shelf by the door. “Twenty silver. I’ll catch you later.”

  I had my other job to consider now. Time for my messenger shift. I swung by the North station to grab my bag. “Pretty light today, Meren.”

  The elf behind the counter shrugged. “It’s Wednesday, Vox. Nothing happens on Wednesdays.”

  Shifting through the letters I saw that I could easily stop by St. Albec’s. If Even was there I could find out what the police had to say about Fara’s body.

  I raced through the first part of my deliveries and spied Even on the orphanage playground sitting beside a child. Tear tracks showed on his face.

  As I watched, Even touched the boy’s scraped knee and said something. The child nodded, and Even closed her eyes, tilting her face up.

  When she was done, I walked over. “If I get any dents or dings, I’m coming to you.”

  Even snorted. “Bard, heal thyself.” She gave the boy a hug and told him to run back to the group. She stood and dusted her robes. “What are you doing here? Don’t bring me more bad news.”

  “I was hoping you might have good news for me.” I bobbed my head. “Relatively good news. What did the pallys say about Fara?”

  Even grabbed my arm and walked me toward the playground gate. “The children don’t know.” She sighed. “The police don’t know anything. Gentle repose – that’s the formal name of the spell. It keeps a body stable for a few days, depending on the caster. So they have no idea how long she’s been dead.”

  “Fire trap and gentle repose – did he use a scroll or something? Can one spellcaster do both those kinds of spells?”

  Even nodded. “Sorcerer. These are not beginner spells, though.”

  “Could it have been two people? The murderer plus a sorcerer?”

  Even looked at me sharply. “A conspiracy? A conspiracy to kill an orphan?” She shook her head. “None of it makes sense. Why kill her so elaborately but then hide and stabilize the body? You’ve already killed, why not set the place on fire and destroy all the evidence?”

  “Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her.” I leaned against the gate and watched the children at play. The setting could not be less conducive to discussing motives for murder. “You said that fire trap is a weak spell—”

  “Boleian said that.”

  “Maybe it was a prank gone bad.”

  “No,” Even shook her head. “Someone set out to kill that poor girl, and I aim to find out who.”

  While we were talking a familiar face came out of the building. “Speaking of the police, what’s Jesskah Morningstar doing here?”

  “Is that who that is?” Even shrugged. “She met with the Mother Superior this morning. You mentioned her yesterday. Friend of yours?”

  “Jesskah?” I shrugged. “We’ve worked a few cases together.” As with the last time I’d seen her, Jesskah was dressed in the blue patrol uniform. She headed down the sidewalk. “Excuse me,” I said to Even and ran to catch up with Jesskah.

  “Vox Swift. What are you doing here?”

  “I was deliv— I was checking with my client, Even Weymoor. She—”

  Jesskah let a half smile escape. “I know you still work for your family on the side.”

  “You do?” I couldn’t help but be pleased and stole a glance at her. She’d asked about me? Might be nothing. Professional curiosity. Or maybe Finn Hobrook mentioned me one night over a cozy dinner. Probably doesn’t mean anything.

  I said, “I’m trying to help my friend Even with the murder of Fara Fram – solving it, of course. Not the other kind of help….” I let my voice trail off since I stood dangerously close to babbling.

  “You do stay busy,” she said. “How do you find time?”

  Was that a dig on how slowly the Helena Grimwell investigation was going? I said, “I know that Boleian has been coordinating with your mother about the Grimwell case. We have some very strong leads—”

  “I don’t doubt it.” She stopped abruptly. “Can you – I mean, are you allowed to talk about other cases? Not mine.” Before I could answer, Jesskah went on, “I’m trying to make detective.” She waved at her clothes.

  “Yeah, I noticed the blue the other day when you hauled me downtown.” I smiled to indicate there were no hard feelings. “But when I first saw you in uniform at the apartment....” My voice trailed off.

  “At the apartment, yes.” Jesskah brushed her hair back from her cheek. “I had to ask questions, you understand. And I’m doubly glad now that they found the bod— found her.”

  “You asked more questions?” My step faltered as I wondered if she’d talked with the building manager. Did she know we’d bribed our way into Fara’s apartment? “Even was worried about the girl. That’s why we were there—”

  “You told me all this yesterday, Vox.” She touched my arm. “I believe you. But listen, I’m used to looking at crime in one way, and I need to – how do I put this? I need to see a crime scene like a detective, not like a paladin.”

  I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Well sure, I can see that.”
/>   “And I can’t ask anyone on the force.”

  “Right.” I thought about Finn calling her “Jess”, and I wondered if they’d had a quarrel, otherwise why not talk with him? “What does that mean, though – like a detective?”

  “My job, currently, is to see the facts of the situation.”

  “Detectives use facts!” I gestured at the shop we were passing. “This flower shop is—” The same one that Even and I had passed yesterday on our way to Fara’s apartment. This was about where Even said she saw Marilye.

  “Vox?”

  “The shop – this is the same—” Another thought struck me – was Jesskah heading back to the crime scene?

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Vox.” Jesskah crossed her arms. “Your mind is doing something. Making connections. How do you do that?”

  The blue in the uniform made Jesskah’s eyes a deeper green, which I didn’t think was possible. I said, “Would you like to have dinner later? We can talk about it then.” Had I just made a big mistake?

  She smiled. “Dinner?”

  That was only the third time I’d seen her smile. “There’s a little place near Central called Sunday’s Spoon. It’s not much—”

  “That’s not far from my apartment!” Jesskah looked down. “I have a place of my own.”

  “Your mother mentioned that to me.”

  Her face swung up. “When did you talk to my mother?”

  “Monday, I think.” Time was tromping along too quickly to keep up. This case felt all-consuming – these cases. Can’t forget about Fara Fram! “Yes,” I nodded. “Monday. I stopped by—”

  “What else did she say about me?”

  “I honestly don’t remember.” Jesskah stared at me, so after a moment I said, “She mentioned the apartment. She might have complained that you work too much.” I paused as if in thought. No way was I going to bring up the whole “Any day now my daughter is going to get married” conversation.

  “That’s it? She didn’t say anything else?” Jesskah waved her hand. “She didn’t—”

  “I was only there a few minutes.”