‘You are most welcome, Wanda Wayfair,’ said Sixteen before dropping his head and closing his eyes.
Gretel shuddered. ‘I don’t know why, but I’ve always found robots creepy,’ she whispered. ‘Paul’s especially. They’re always so lifelike. Androids, really. Don’t you think that one looks like a creepy version of Max?’
Finn rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t need to whisper so he won’t hear you Gretel. He’s a robot. He doesn’t have feelings.’
I glanced over at Sixteen. Maybe he didn’t have feelings, but I wouldn’t bet my last slice of apple tart on it. Not when our resident cheese wizard was the creator.
‘Oh, here’s Paul now,’ said Finn.
I smiled into my juice as Paul strode towards us. Now that he was here, they’d be so busy talking about Mack’s car and the tour bus that they’d forget all about the mysterious little elf.
‘Hey Wanda,’ said Paul, giving me a friendly wave. ‘Thanks for cleaning all of my screens last night. You even did my keyboards, too. I owe you a drink.’
Gawd yammit. ‘You must be mistaken,’ I told him. ‘I wasn’t here last night. I was at home. Eating pretzels.’ That was mostly true. I was at home eating pretzels. It just so happened that I didn’t get there until four this morning.
‘Oh?’ Paul scratched his head. ‘But I saw you on my desk cam. Should we be worried about this? Maybe it was an enemy spy, using a doppelganger spell to get in here as Wanda and get a look at our files.’
Okay, even I couldn’t let this go on any longer. ‘Fine, I admit it,’ I said with a groan. ‘I’m the mysterious little elf. I’ve just had trouble sleeping lately, so I’ve been coming in here to work at night. And when I ran out of my own work, I started doing some stuff for you guys.’
The three of them fixed me with near-identical frowns.
‘If you’re worried about the remaining members of the Dark Team, then wandering around here at night alone isn’t the best idea,’ said Finn.
He was right, and I knew it – but good advice or not, I wasn’t about to put it into action any time soon. So I did the mature thing. I ignored Finn, and focused on Paul instead.
‘So? What have you found out?’
He pulled a packet of cheese sticks from his pocket and opened it up. ‘Right,’ he said through a mouthful of processed cheese. ‘I’ve gone through the equipment the band used last night, checking it off against their inventory. There’s definitely a mike and some cord missing, and I’d bet my last slice of Stinking Warlock that it’s the one that was used in the murder – but I’ll have to wait until I get it off Dennis and Shane to be sure.’
Gretel gritted her teeth. ‘So it was someone connected with the band who killed her – or at least someone who had access to their equipment.’
‘It looks that way,’ Paul agreed. ‘Shane sent over Caitlyn’s prints, and her DNA profile and magical signature. I got the impression he was kind of excited to be able to have it all back from the lab so quick.’
I smiled. ‘So maybe his hatred of witches could be overcome by his joy at our quick as lightning procedure?’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Paul said. ‘Because I’ve known necromancers before, and I do not want to work with one. Anyway, there’s no trace of Caitlyn on the tour bus. And seeing as that bus was just about the filthiest thing I’ve ever seen, I think it’s safe to say she was never there. But as for Mack’s car.’ He gave us a troubled frown. ‘That one is a puzzler. Murphy’s prints and some of his hair are in the car – but it looks like he only touched the driver’s door, the steering wheel, gearstick, handbrake and light switch. If anything, that confirms that he didn’t do anything other than park Mack’s car. I’ve pulled Caitlyn’s prints and DNA from the boot, but no magical signatures. So whatever happened, witches weren’t involved.’
‘But not just that,’ I said. ‘If Caitlyn’s prints and DNA are only in the boot, and there’s no trace of her magical signature, either … then she probably didn’t get anywhere near Mack’s boot until she was already dead.’
‘That would be my conclusion,’ Paul agreed. ‘Well, either that or somebody managed to clean all evidence of her from the rest of the car while leaving Murphy’s prints and hair behind – but that would take some serious talent. There’s organic residue in the boot as well. Traces of mud and grit. But no prints or DNA other than Caitlyn’s – which is really weird. Someone cleaned that boot before Caitlyn wound up in there. But why would Mack clean his own prints off his car boot?’
Finn scratched his head. ‘A double bluff? He wanted to make it look like he was being set up?’
‘Or,’ I said, ‘someone else wanted us to think that way.’
‘Someone like Murphy?’ suggested Paul.
Although I didn’t say it out loud, I really hoped that it was Murphy. Melissa might not have been romantically involved with Mack, but I knew it was only a matter of time. If Mack murdered Caitlyn, Melissa would be devastated.
5. The She-Wolves
Marion had arranged for Gretel and me to meet with all of the Call of the Wild’s superfans in her bedroom. Marion was a tall, thin twenty-nine-year-old woman, and she was the official leader of the She-Wolves. We knew for sure that she was the leader because she told us ten times. But even if she hadn’t, her bedroom would have clued us in. There was Call of the Wild memorabilia everywhere – signed books and posters, limited edition records, cardboard cut-outs of the band, and even model figures that played their latest album on a loop.
‘So, do you share this house with others?’ I asked Marion. I assumed she must do, because otherwise, holding our interview in her bedroom seemed a little odd, considering there had been at least three large reception rooms downstairs. Maybe she just wanted us to see her enormous collection. As it was, we were all a little cramped, and my bum kept bumping into one of the Jasper dolls.
‘Only with my husband,’ she replied with a touch of irritability. ‘He told me he’d leave me if I didn’t start clearing out my Call of the Wild stuff, so right now it’s limited to the bedroom.’
Sure, I thought – because having it in the bedroom was bound to make her husband feel a lot more secure. I mean, that life-sized cardboard cut-out of a shirtless Mack McAdams hovering by the bed was a perfectly normal thing to have in the marital sanctum.
I searched in vain for photos of Marion’s husband – or any sign that the poor guy even existed, but other than the (many) pictures of the band, the only other photos were of Marion and her girlfriends at various Call of the Wild concerts and events.
I peered closer at one of those pictures.
‘Is that you kissing Murphy’s cheek in this one, Lisa?’ I asked the youngest-looking girl in the room.
Lisa’s face grew as red as her hair. ‘He gave me one of Jasper’s old T-shirts,’ she said quietly. ‘I was kissing him to say thanks.’
As disturbing as the thought of someone wanting to own one of Jasper’s sweaty T-shirts was, there was more to be concerned about. ‘What age are you, Lisa?’
‘Sixteen,’ she mumbled.
‘And how well do you know Murphy?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Not well. He told me he could get me into one of their after-parties if I gave him another kiss, but I knew he was talking out of his behind. The band only let over eighteens in. Murphy’s a bit of a creep, if you ask me.’
‘If you ask all of us,’ said Marion. ‘I intended to have a word with Mack about him. Mack’s the sensible one in the band, you see. He’s the one who keeps the rest of the lads on track. Before Mack became their singer, they changed band members more often than they changed their underwear. He’s had a steadying influence on all of them.’
‘But from what I hear,’ said Gretel, ‘Mack doesn’t stick around very long at these after-parties. How can he keep the other guys on track if he’s not even there?’
Marion smiled patronisingly. ‘Oh, Mack would know. He’s very much the leader. None of the others would dare disobey him.’
> I tended to believe that. Yeah, he was quiet, but he didn’t need to be loud. Some people had leader written all over them, and Mack was one of those people.
‘He’s the pack alpha, actually,’ said Barbara, another young girl. ‘I’ve taken a lot of photos of them at full moon. Would you like to see them? My album is at home, but I can drop it off at the Wayfarer station.’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Sure. Why not?’
Why not indeed? Who knew what she could have snapped without knowing?
‘And what about Caitlyn?’ Gretel went on. ‘How well did she know Murphy?’
Marion looked thoughtful. ‘Caitlyn’s been a She-Wolf for a few months now. About the same amount of time as Murphy’s been the band’s roadie. Actually, now that I think about it, he started a little bit after Caitlyn joined the group, didn’t he girls?’
They nodded.
‘I used to joke that he must have been stalking her before, and only became a roadie so he could see her,’ Lisa said. ‘He was obsessed with her. But then again, she was gorgeous.’
Gretel lifted a brow, shooting a concerned look at Lisa. ‘Being gorgeous does not give a guy an excuse to stalk you. If Murphy – or anyone – is following you girls around, you need to report it to the Wayfarers.’
‘Like I said, it was just a joke,’ Lisa said, her face reddening. ‘Murphy’s a creep, sure, but he’s not any creepier than most guys we know. I can handle him. And I’m sure Caitlyn could, too. I doubt he killed her. He’s not really a suspect, is he? Because he promised me he’d get me backstage tonight.’
I felt my jaw hinge open as I looked at Lisa. If she was at the gig tonight, then I’d be keeping my eye on her the whole night long. The last thing we needed was another young woman to die.
‘Did Caitlyn ever attend an after-party?’ I asked. ‘And please, be honest. I know you want to protect the band, but she was your friend, and someone murdered her. Perhaps someone sneaked her in against Mack’s rules?’
Marion shook her head emphatically. ‘Definitely not. I told you – none of them would go against Mack. Caitlyn was hoping he would let her come last night, seeing as she’d just turned eighteen. And if he had, then it would have been her first. But she never turned up, not even to the gig. She texted me around midnight to say she was on her way, but I never saw her there. She didn’t miss much, though. It was in the bar at Swanks. The parties the band members hold in their houses are much more exciting.’
‘Were any more of you there?’ I looked around at the girls.
A couple of the older ones nodded.
‘It was a bit boring, like Marion said,’ said a girl called Alicia. She was wearing a leather cat-suit and full make-up, and she had her sandy-blonde hair teased to perfection. ‘But to be honest, I don’t think the parties in their houses are much better, these days. Mack’s like a strict parent – he told me to put a cardigan on last week! And Callum sits around lamenting about some witch called Melissa. And Jasper’s just as bad. I was in one of his hot tubs with him last week and he didn’t even look at my new bikini. He went on about the cakes at Caulfield’s the whole time, and how he thought some girl called Dollface was the best thing since sliced bread.’
I glanced at Gretel. Her face was just as shocked as mine. We knew Jasper had tried his luck with Emily in the past, but seeing as he couldn’t even get her name right – and had almost let her go down for murder when he could have helped with the investigation – we were fairly sure it wasn’t serious. I hoped it would stay that way. With Jasper and Max sharing custody of Wolfie, the last thing they needed was to be at odds over Emily.
‘I’m thinking of becoming an Alpha Babe,’ Alicia went on. ‘Stacy Marley left our club for theirs a fortnight ago, and she’s having a great time. Their keyboard player took her out for dinner and bought her a diamond bracelet.’
‘An Alpha Babe? Is that what I think it is?’ Gretel questioned. ‘They’re superfans of that new band, Alpha?’
Marion sighed. ‘Yes. Some of our members have defected. But they were never really superfans. They were just groupies all along.’ She gave Alicia the sort of look that said she’d come to the same conclusion about her. ‘A superfan isn’t there to try and date a rock star. A superfan is there because the band’s music is her life, her soul, her everything.’ She shivered. ‘And that’s what Mack’s lyrics are to me. Everything.’
Alicia rolled her eyes and passed her phone to me. ‘Tell me that these guys aren’t a hundred times better than the Call of the Wild.’
I looked down at her phone. There was a video playing on her screen. The song that the band was playing was the same painful tune I’d heard on the radio that morning.
Marion snatched the phone from my hand and gaped at it. ‘You’re playing an Alpha song?’ she cried at Alicia. ‘Here? In my inner sanctum. How dare you?’
Alicia smirked and stood up, taking her phone back. ‘How dare I? I dare because it’s just like I said – the Call of the Wild have gotten boring. And seeing as Alpha are playing tonight, too, I won’t be seeing any of you lot for a while. I’ll be too busy lounging about on Frenton’s yacht.’
She stalked from the room on her high heels, while Marion’s face grew furious.
‘She … how could she say that? Mack is worth a million Frentons!’
Gretel looked as confused as I felt. ‘Frenton?’ she enquired. ‘Is that an actual person?’
Marion’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s the lead singer with Alpha. He’s a stupid little boy. Mack McAdams is a man. That voice. Those hips. That chest.’
Sure, I thought – it’s all about the music.
‘Mack is perfect,’ she went on. ‘He never would have hurt Caitlyn. She was his biggest fan – after me, of course. I believe in his innocence so strongly that I’d be willing to eat every single Call of the Wild T-shirt I own if I’m wrong. Without ketchup.’
6. Murphy’s Law
You probably take it pretty much for granted, in the human world, that the powers that be know everything about you. The wonders of modern technology ensure they know everything you buy, everywhere you go, and everything you do and say online.
With supernatural tech? Let’s just say we don’t need to look at your social media photos to find out what sandwich you ate for lunch.
Late that afternoon, I was using our tech to delve deep into the world of Murphy. His full name was Murphy Murphy. Really. No doubt you’ve heard of Murphy’s Law – the whole anything that can go wrong will go wrong idea. And looking through Murphy’s financial records revealed that he was wrong, in every seedy way a person could be. He was wrong in the head, heart and mind.
But had he gone wrong in the worst way possible? Had he actually killed Caitlyn? Paul’s tests had found his prints on the driver’s side of Mack’s car. But that was exactly where they would be, considering Mack had asked him to park the car. There was no trace of Murphy anywhere near the boot, the murder weapon, or Caitlyn’s body.
Finn and I were pondering the mystery together that afternoon. Gretel had to leave to work on a case in Riddler’s Edge, so Finn was going to be my interview buddy.
We had more than just Murphy’s questionable purchase history to browse, though. We also had Barbara’s photo album, which she’d delivered a short while after Gretel and I left Marion’s room.
‘She really needs to get another hobby,’ Finn muttered as he flipped through the album. Basically, every single photo was of the Call of the Wild. Some were of them on stage. Some were of them going to the bank, or the pub, or just for a cup of coffee.
I peered closer at one. It was of Jasper, talking to Emily outside Caulfield’s Cakes. Whatever he was saying had Emily in stitches. I bit my lip and turned the page. It didn’t mean anything. Emily was crazy about Max – possibly with a capital C. Laughing at Jasper’s jokes didn’t mean a thing.
The photos of the band on full moon were probably the most disturbing of all. I mean, Barbara snapped them peeing against lampposts.
> There was nothing evidence-wise in the album, so I looked at the digital photos instead. I was about halfway through more of the same when I finally saw something different. I zoomed in and pulled Finn over to my screen.
He shrugged. ‘More photos of Jasper? Really?’
‘No – look. See that bin over there. Look who’s behind it taking photos of his own.’
Finn gasped. ‘It’s Murphy. The sneaky sod.’
I nodded and pulled up more photos of the same. Every time Barbara was taking photos of the She-Wolves outside the Call of the Wild gigs, it looked like Murphy was taking photos of the girls.
I gritted my teeth. ‘Come on then. We’d better go ask the icky man why he was doing such icky things.’
≈
‘I hope you’re keeping the other roadies as long as you’re keeping me!’ Murphy spat as soon as we entered the room. ‘Because if you’re not, I’ll be making a complaint to the higher-ups.’
These days, the higher-ups were my mother and Christine, so if I had been doing anything wrong, I would be afraid. Very afraid. Sure, they loved the bones of me, but if I were ever to stray over to the dirty-cop neighbourhood, you can bet that they would do a lot more than just cut me off from home-cooked meals.
But seeing as I was being my usual good-as-gold self, I just shrugged my shoulders. ‘You are in here longer,’ I told him. ‘You’re in here longer because you’re the only other person who had access to Mack McAdam’s car. So go ahead. Complain. You’ll still be in here for questioning until we’re finished with you.’
He narrowed his bloodshot eyes. ‘I haven’t done anything. You’d better let me out. Now.’
Finn took a sip of his coffee. ‘We’d better do this, we’d better do that … and here was me thinking I was the one in charge of this interview. Oh, hang on a minute – I am. So just cool your jets, okay, and tell me … do you think it’s okay to go around taking sneaky photos of the She-Wolves without their knowledge?’
Rocking Out Page 4