“I know what lying is.” Treble wriggled around to see what I was doing.
“Then why ask?” I moved around the front of him so I could see his face. “What’s going on?”
“You’ve assaulted an officer of the law, that’s what’s going on.” Treble jerked his head from side to side. I assumed he was trying to find a comfortable way to move so he could see me.
“Yeah, well I’ve been attacked by at least two officers of the law, so you know what they say about payback.”
I walked around behind Treble, grabbed his free leg and dragged him toward the lift.
“What are you doing?” Treble asked, twisting and jerking, trying to look behind him.
“We’re going upstairs to talk this out. My parole officer made a good point about communication the other day. I forget exactly what it was, but it was a good point. So I thought we could all do some communicating, some murderous finger-pointing and work out who’s responsible, okay? Okay.”
I dragged Treble into the lift, rode it up to the next floor and dragged him all the way to the cluster of GBs. I dumped him facing Richards, who now looked to be wide awake.
“Okay, boys, let’s talk this through,” I said and then everyone started talking at once. I banged my metal bar on a fixture. The clanging echoed sharply around the floor. “One at a time. I’ll go first.” They all started talking again, so I banged my metal bar on the fixture again until they stopped. “I’ll go first. Now, I thought it was Janice and Treble—”
“I’m the good guy here,” Treble snapped.
I pointed my metal bar at him. “That tone is not convincing me of that. Richards has my shoe print on the side of his trouser leg, where I’m pretty sure I stomped on the person who tried to strangle me in the stockroom—”
“You stamped on my foot when I first got here,” Richards reminded me.
“Be quiet. I was about to say that although you had my shoe print on you, Treble has got scratches on his wrists where I possibly scratched the person who tried to strangle me. So, you look as guilty as him to me.”
“I told you it was him. I told you it was Treble,” Fredrickson said.
“This is what you’re basing my guilt on?” Treble ignored Fredrickson and addressed me. “Scratches? I have a cat.”
“Yeah, well, I have a bed stuffed with fifty pound notes,” I countered with a shrug.
Treble angled his head to look at me. “What?”
“I knew you were a criminal!” Neals said.
I waved my metal bar at Neals. I knew I should’ve gone for a head blow. “No, you idiot. Treble has a cat. I have a mattress full of money. I meant that I could say stuff that, in this moment, I have no way of proving either.” I turned to Treble. “And cat or no, you lied to Sean to get him out of the filing room because you don’t have a key but you knew I was in there and he wouldn’t lock me in, right?”
“Bang to rights,” Fredrickson said.
Treble nodded and tilted his head back to look up at me. “Yes, okay, that’s true, but the files were already gone. Richards had already taken them.”
“Whoa, I’m the killer now?” Richards asked.
“You were always the killer.” Treble twisted to the side so he could look at Richards. “You added an extra sheet to Janice’s file to implicate her. That’s why I said earlier that I saw her at Arrivals. To let you think that I bought your frame. But I didn’t. It was you. If we still had the files I could prove it.”
“How would I get into the filing room?” Richards asked.
“Christina lost her keys,” I supplied and turned back to Treble. “But that doesn’t prove Richards did it. And why did you tell Fredrickson I was the killer?”
“I didn’t,” Treble said.
“Yes, you did,” Fredrickson replied. “I asked you who attacked you and you said ‘Bridget Sway’.”
“I meant, you needed to find Bridget and get her to safety, you idiot,” Treble gritted out.
“Well, you didn’t say that,” Fredrickson snapped. “I asked you who attacked you and you said her name. You said she was up here. What was I supposed to think?”
“Treble, if the files didn’t implicate you then why were you looking for them?” Neals asked. “Unless you already suspected Richards, why would you even risk yourself in that filing room?”
Treble sighed and rested his forehead on the floor. “I’m I.A.”
“No! I don’t believe it,” Fredrickson said.
“He’s lying! There’s no such department,” Neals said.
“I.A.? What’s I.A.?” If it surprised the GBs it was definitely something I needed to know about.
“Independent Authority. We’re not governed by the bureau or its rules. We’re like a sort of ombudsman.” Treble spoke as if I’d dragged the words from him.
“You’re an outlaw,” Neals said. “It’s illegal to look in the files of The Fates.”
“How did you stop the laser beams from disintegrating your eyes?” Fredrickson asked.
“I’m I.A. I’m not subject to your rules or your punishments.” Treble angled his head to look at me. “I wanted to check to see if the deaths of the mediums had been ghost related. More and more murders are happening—”
“You’re preaching to the choir, there,” I interrupted.
“Some GBs, like Richards and Fredrickson, think if we had more mediums we could track and foresee better. Fredrickson is the loudest voice in the movement inside the GBs for action.”
“Then why are you blaming me?” Richards asked.
“Because Fredrickson is all mouth. He’s a great orator but he’s not about action.”
“I am all about action,” Fredrickson pipped up.
“Okay, this is getting us nowhere. Can the murderer please admit it so I can go home?” Nobody spoke. “I’m disappointed in you, murderer. This was your chance to gloat. As far as I can see, you all had opportunity and motive.”
“Ms Sway. If you check in my front pocket you’ll find my I.A. identification,” Treble said.
I frowned down at him. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“Because we’re not supposed to reveal ourselves.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” Neals said.
“He’s trying to gain your trust, Ms Sway. To get you close enough so he can hurt you. Don’t listen,” Richards said. “Head on down to the front doors. Smash the glass—you won’t be able to mist through—go to evac point B. You won’t get in trouble. I’ll vouch that I told you to do it. The Italian Gardens. Do you know where that is?”
“That’s a good idea,” Treble said. “Come back with your parole officer and some more GBs and we can sort this out.”
“Salier is still at the station,” Fredrickson volunteered. “You’ll need to send someone to get him.”
“And bring Officer Leonard back with you too,” added Neals.
I looked between them all. “Why would you all be telling me to bring reinforcements back if one of you did it? Or did all of you do it? Are the Italian Gardens really evacuation point B or is your fifth partner waiting there for me?”
“Richards is trying to trick you,” Treble said.
“Oh, as opposed to you with your last-minute identification save?” I asked and then waved my hand at all of them. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t care which one of you did it. Officer Leonard can sort it out.”
Holding my metal bar, I picked my way between them and walked over to the escalators, scanning around me as I went. I wasn’t quite ready to believe that no more GBs were about to jump out at me. I tip-tapped cautiously down the metal steps. The coast seemed clear. As I stepped off the escalator shouting ricocheted down the column but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
I glanced longingly at the front doors and then moved to the fitting rooms. I was done running and hiding. I was going to metal-bar-to-the-head anyone who came near me. And if they didn’t deserve it? Well, we’d deal with that later. I hea
rd the elevator ping. I waited. And then a figure came to stand directly in front of me as if they knew where I’d be.
I pointed my metal bar at them. “I knew it was you!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t have a clue. And this is why they don’t let women in the GBs or any other type of law enforcement.” Richards fashioned his hand into a gun and fake shot me. “They got that right here. They’ve not succumbed to the pressures of political correctness. This is a job for men and filing is a job for women.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you serious right now? And how did you get out of that hogtie?”
Richards rolled his right shoulder back. “I dislocated my shoulder. A woman wouldn’t do that. She’d wait for her partner to come and rescue her.”
“This is a gender thing?” I snapped my fingers and pointed to him. “That’s why you always jumped in to defend me against Janice. It wasn’t about helping me it was about disregarding her authority. And that’s why you framed Janice, specifically, because she’s a woman.”
“A woman shouldn’t be in a position of power like that. You saw how she kept trying to abuse it with you. All of her fake complaints. She even tried to get those mediums blacklisted from receiving messages because one of her wards, that Olive girl, her family keeps going to them and they keep getting conned. There are procedures in place so the newly transitioned are unaware of what’s happening in the alive world. She’s not following procedure.” Richards slapped the back of one hand into the palm of another and yelled in a flash of temper. “She’s not following procedure. There are procedures in place for a reason. Procedures must be followed.”
“Yeah, but there are also procedures about who will be useful on this plane, right?” I asked.
“The Fates?” Richards scoffed. “What do they know? They’re not on the front lines.”
Something about the derision in his voice had the hairs on my arms standing up. If Treble had time to infiltrate the GBs, then this hadn’t started with Jeremy.
“These aren’t the first mediums you’ve killed, are they?” I asked. “You’ve been doing this for a while?”
“Jeremy was convenient. He happened to be here,” Richards said with a shrug. “And he was already breaking the rules by trying to get more messages from that girl with the stupid hair. We need more people who can bend the rules to get a job done.”
I frowned at him. “I thought you said people had to follow procedure?”
“People do,” Richards agreed in a disturbingly congenial tone. “And then there are other times when you need to bend the rules.”
“So, the other two mediums that were here that night?” I asked.
“I know.” Richards grinned and shook his head. “I couldn’t believe my luck. Three mediums in one place. All willing to bend the rules.”
“What about the fourth?” I asked. “And why Madame Zorina? No. I know why. You checked Olive’s file. You saw that Olive’s family had visited Madame Zorina and her husband. There was a note in Zendar the Mighty’s file, right? That he’d been fleecing families, one being Olives’. Killing him would give you another morally bankrupt medium for your team and attacking Madame Zorina as well would shove suspicion squarely on Janice and Olive. They were murdering people that had conned her parents.”
“Exactly. But you don’t get any points for working that out because I practically spoon-fed you.”
“I understand why you’d try and kill Madame Zorina, but why the husband? And if he was at Jeremy’s place with his nephew, why wouldn’t you kill the nephew?” I frowned at him. “I know you’re crazy but that seems like a huge misstep to me. You could’ve made Jeremy’s nephew’s death seem like suicide. His uncle had died. That would be reasonable.”
“This is what I mean about women being better at filing than police work. You’ve literally told me why I killed these people, but you’re still asking for an explanation.” Richards began slapping the back of his hand into his palm again to punctuate his speech. “I’m not a murderer. I don’t go around killing random people. I had no reason to kill the boy.”
“You’re killing mediums but you’re not a murderer?” I asked. I absolutely was not touching the whole Jeremy’s nephew being the Hulk of mediums if Richards didn’t already know.
“Being a woman I wouldn’t expect you to understand the complexities of the situation. Mediums are half dead already. It’s not murder. I’m simply helping them transition. I was helping Zendar the Mighty fulfil his potential. And he’ll be a great addition to the team. Even after the other mediums had transitioned he was still snooping around Jeremy’s things to try to find out how he gamed the system.”
“Okay, well, Zendar the Mighty saw you killing the others. He can identify you. So by killing him you’ve given the police a witness. If you’d left him alive they’d never have known.”
Richards laughed. “That’s not how mediums work. It’s almost a shame to kill you. I’d much rather put you on the stand so people can truly see why women should be given jobs with no responsibilities whatsoever.”
“Yeah, then I could tell them how Zendar the Mighty told me he saw you kill Magnificent Malcolm and Allseeing Eric.” Okay, so this wasn’t actually, exactly, technically true, but Richards didn’t need to know that. And I really wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face. Madame Zorina’s husband was part of the GB programme now, so he’d be protected. I was pretty sure he would be anyway. “And then you’ve got the three guys upstairs. How’re you going to explain them?”
“You’re crazy, Bridget,” Richards said with a shrug. The way he said my name had goosebumps rippling all over my skin. “Janice tried to kill you in the stockroom just like you told her ward. I heard you accusing her like you accused everyone else.”
“How?”
“I was in the stockroom the whole time. I just kept tunnelling out of your line of sight waiting for a good time to finish the job.” Richards said it like it was an obvious answer. “As for the boys upstairs. I came back to look for you and found that you’d already killed them. I had to subdue you. Unfortunately, that ended in your death. No one will question it. Everyone knows you’re crazy. You’ll be news for a day or two but people will carry on with their lives. They’ll forget you. They’ll move on.”
That last comment struck me like a slap to my face. Things I’d thought I was okay with. With my parents. With my dad coming back. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t okay with him coming back and playing house with my mam now I wasn’t in the way. I wasn’t okay that they were going back to the way things were before I was born. I wasn’t okay that I couldn’t wear high heels anymore. I wasn’t okay that I couldn’t wear a fitted dress like Olive anymore because I was always running for my life. I wasn’t okay that I was applying eyeliner with a homemade brush. And I wasn’t okay that I still didn’t have a damn watch.
A high-pitched scream that sounded a lot like a war cry echoed around the store. Richards’ face blanched and I realised it was coming from me. And then I pulled my anger for all the things the afterlife had stolen from me and charged at him.
He watched my approach and made no effort to defend himself. I was still a couple of feet away when I leapt at him. In my head I imagined I looked like a house cat. In reality I must have looked like the crazy woman he’d accused me of being because terror flashed over Richards’ face. Over the face of a multi-murderer. Fury quickly replaced it. He tried to sidestep, but it was too late and I was on him.
We hit the ground. The breath left him in a grunt. He tried to twist away to get some leverage but I rolled to the side and yanked his arm, the one with the shoulder he’d dislocated. I put my feet against his ribs and used them to push me away while yanking his arm out straight. He yelled in pain and rolled to his side. I tried to stomp my feet against his ribs but I’d pushed him too far away to do any real damage. Then he made the mistake of leaning over me. I had a vision of him smashing my head into the floor and that was it.
I pulled my knee back and let my foot fly toward his face. It hit him square in the nose. The sound of crunching bone echoed around the fitting rooms and he grunted in pain. I scrambled to my feet. Richards wiped his upper lip and his hand came away bloody. He looked up at me and I was pretty sure it was just pure crazy behind his eyes. He spat some blood on the floor next to him.
“That’s uncouth.”
“I’m glad you tried, Bridget.” Richards grinned at me, blood all over his teeth. “Makes it look more believable.” Richards grabbed his nose with both hands and adjusted it. Almost as if he were trying to realign it. My stomach flipped. “Let’s go again.”
And then he strode toward me. I scanned the area for something to use to defend myself with. I dumped some dresses onto the floor and pulled off another metal arm. He was almost on me. I raised the metal bat ready to swing. Richards paused a few feet in front of me for several seconds.
And then he lunged for me. Too fast for me to swing. Both his hands around my neck. I dropped the bat, gripped his wrists and lifted my feet off the floor. Richards was ready this time. He opened his stance to support my weight and didn’t let go. I swung my legs, trying to kick his shins. I landed a couple of blows but he held on. Black spots flicked up all over my vision. This was it. I was dead. Again. And people’s lives were going to move on without me.
But I would be moving on too. I would get to check out the next level of the afterlife well before Sabrina. She was not going to be happy about that. Would I be able to call across planes to speak to her? To my housemates? To Oz? If I were on another plane, then I wouldn’t be his ward anymore. Maybe we could go out on a date. No, that would never work out. But maybe …
Pain shot through my ankle as I landed on the floor. I sucked down gulp after gulp of air. And there was squealing. A lot of squealing. Had being strangled damaged my hearing?
Dead and Buried: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series Book 4) Page 25