by Gina LaManna
We sat there in silence for a long time. Rob was sipping a frosty mug of dark beer. I took a few gulps of my tomato juice. We didn’t look at one another.
Finally, I pulled the Christmas card from my pocket and tossed it on the counter. “It’s a match, but you already knew that.”
“Is this your idea of an apology?” Rob muttered. “You’re good at many things, Dani. Asking forgiveness isn’t one of them.”
“A part of me doesn’t feel like I need to apologize at all,” I said. “I was just doing my job. I’m trying to catch a killer.”
“Right. So, am I under arrest?”
“Don’t be stupid.” I swiveled on my seat to face Rob. “I know you didn’t kill Mason White. I always knew that. I don’t know why you’ve got to be so stubborn about it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said dryly. “Just doesn’t sit right when my sister comes flying into the room, accusing me of killing a man when I come home for Christmas.”
“I got an extension on the report,” I said. “But I’m going to have to let Felix turn it in. I can’t hide evidence.”
“I’m surprised you even took this out of the lab.” Rob reached out, fingered the edge of the card. “Doesn’t it need to go in your fancy evidence case?”
“I don’t plan on needing it. I’m going to catch this guy before that report is ever filed.”
“That won’t keep my name out of things,” Rob said. “You’re a straight shooter. You’re not going to hide evidence.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m just saying it won’t be necessary to include this particular detail,” I said. “Can you please talk to me, Rob? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at you with guns blazing. It was wrong of me, but when that kid from the library ID’d you, it just threw me off. Until that point, I was so sure that the guy who wrote my name down was our killer. Nothing else had even crossed my mind—and that was my short-sightedness. I’m sorry.”
Rob gave a deep nod and then took a long pull of his beer. “I wish I was as innocent as you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I did talk to Mason White the night he died.” Rob nodded, stared deeply into his beverage. “I didn’t know that was his name at the time, nor did I know that he died just after I talked to him.”
I waited in silence, sensing there was more to come.
“I guess I owe you a bit of an apology myself.” Rob tilted his head toward me, gave me a sideways smirk. “I’m sorry, little sis. I guess you shocked me too, and I got defensive. Once I dug my heels in...”
“It ain’t the DeMarco way to give in easily,” I said with a grin. “Thanks, Rob. And for what it’s worth, I knew you never did anything. I mean, I knew you didn’t murder anyone.”
“I know that.”
“So, we’re good then?” I asked hopefully.
To my surprise, Rob hesitated. “Hear me out before you decide that.”
My fingers clenched around my tomato juice. “I’m listening.”
“I sold him the Hex.”
“What?”
“The Heartstopper Hex,” Rob said. “I sold it to Mason White a week before he died. Maybe it’s a coincidence that he died from the same thing, but I doubt it.”
“The spell can’t be traced to you,” I said. “I was there myself. I saw the Residuals. It’s anonymous.”
“I didn’t create the Hex,” Rob said with a shy smile. “Consider me a third-party salesman for your records.”
“Ah.”
“Having a sister who could spot Residuals and tattle on her big bro when we were growing up taught me a lot about how to make spells invisible.” Rob winced. “Sorry.”
“You can’t help being good at your... uh, job.”
Rob gave a caustic laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Too good.”
“That doesn’t make sense though,” I said. “Mason wouldn’t have purchased the Heartstopper Hex to use on himself.”
“No,” Rob said. “I didn’t think so, either. In fact, I thought he was an odd choice to be coming to me for a charm in the first place. He didn’t know how the system worked and was clearly a newbie when it came to buying, shall we say—”
“—illegal?”
“—gray area magic.”
We both lapsed into a quiet smile. And for old time’s sake, we silently agreed to disagree.
“I looked into it after I learned of his death,” Rob said. “There wasn’t a ton to find, but it seems like that was the only hot Heartstopper Hex on the market. I sincerely doubt there were two of them. If you ask me, Detective, whoever murdered Mason White used his own spell against him.”
“Why did Mason need the spell?” I asked. “And how did he find you to purchase it?”
“People have a way of finding me when they need me,” Rob said. “My name’s out there. You could call me a specialist in finding things for people.”
“Like illegal spells?”
“I didn’t say illegal things. More like specialty things. Obviously, Mason was resourceful enough to dig around, ask the right questions to get my name. He sent me a Comm to set up the initial meeting. I’ve seen the guy three times.”
“The first time?”
“We met at a little roadside bar in Texas. Best burger I ever had.” Rob grinned at the memory. “My companion was a little twitchy though. He’d never done anything like it before. He wasn’t a killer, I can tell you that much.”
“What other reason is there to purchase a Heartstopper Hex?”
“That’s what I asked him. I don’t sell to murderers, Dani. That’s why I have these meetings.”
“I might not agree with what you do, but I believe that,” I said. “I know you’re a good guy, Rob.”
He curled his lips into a thin smile. “He said he wanted to study the effects of deadly spells for a class he was taking in the Sixth Borough.”
“You did some checking around after his story,” I said. “Found that he was enrolled in classes at the Campus of Magic, figured he was telling the truth.”
“Pretty much. And that made my decision for me. I don’t pretend to play God, Dani. I sell dangerous potions—I get it. But the people buying know the risks. I just do my best to make sure they’re not intended to harm anyone else. I had no idea that this Heartstopper Hex would be used to kill anyone.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” I reached over and rested a hand on my brother’s arm. “It’s not your fault. None of this. I mean, I’m not a fan of you selling such dangerous stuff—it’ll get you hurt someday, Robbie—but it’s your decision. Just know this wasn’t your fault. Whoever was going after Mason wanted him dead, no two ways about it. If they didn’t use the Heartstopper Hex, it would’ve been something else. Possibly worse. You can’t blame yourself.”
Rob just shook his head. “The second time we met it was a quick exchange the week before he died. We met in New York. We were probably both on our way here, as a matter of fact. Didn’t talk. Met at a Starbucks and pulled off the exchange like usual.”
“How’d he seem then?”
“A little calmer than the first time, but still twitchy. Not unusual for the drop. The less nervous a person is, the more nervous I am to sell to them. It means they’ve done it before.”
“You know, if you ever felt like changing careers, I really think your instincts would fit in well with the precinct.”
“Right. Like they’d take me.” Rob snorted.
“Are you interested?”
Rob didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward me as if to test out whether or not I was serious before shrugging it off entirely. “I never intended to meet White a third time, but he asked for it.”
“He asked to meet you in the library?”
Rob nodded. “I thought he had a question on the Hex itself. How to use it, something to do with his research—maybe he got cold feet and wanted to try and sweet talk his way into a refund.”
“It wasn’t any of those things?”
“He wanted to know a cop he could trust.”
“And you gave him my name?” I studied him. “After you’d sold him a ‘gray-area’ hex?”
“I’m not afraid of consequences,” Rob said. “I do what I do. I face what I need to face. Something about Mason told me he needed some real help. So, I pointed him to the best cop I know.”
I shrugged off the compliment and took another gulp of my juice. “Well, your instincts were right. He needed help, he just didn’t make it to me in time. Listen, Rob, this next question is really important.”
“You want to know if he gave me any hint why he was looking for a cop?”
“Yes.”
“I think you probably already know why.”
I squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Dani, you’ve got this case figured out. You’re so close, I can see it in your eyes. You always get like this when you’re there. In answer to your question, no, he didn’t say anything that would give his troubles away.”
“Not a thing? Think, Rob, this is important.”
“He said he needed to warn someone,” Rob said. “That’s all. He asked to meet, I popped into the library at the designated time. We didn’t even get into a private conference room before he nabbed me and pulled me off to the side.”
“He was nervous?”
Rob took his time answering. “On edge, yes, but different—not twitchy nervous like when he was meeting with me to buy the spell. Sure, he was on edge, but he was calm. Resolved. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” I murmured. “I think he figured out what he needed to do—the right thing, if you will—and got a certain level of confidence from it, even with the knowledge that it was dangerous.”
“Exactly,” Rob said. “He told me he’d discovered something big, and he needed to let someone know, someone who wasn’t crooked.”
I considered. “Do you think that means something? Did he discover a crooked cop and get scared off?”
“I sure as hell hope not,” Rob said. “And I don’t think that’s necessarily what he meant. I think what he was intending to say was that the information he was going to share, in the wrong hands, could be dangerous.”
I nodded.
“You’re not surprised,” Rob said. “I was right. You already know what he was going to say to you.”
“I think so. But even that confirmation still doesn’t explain why he was in Orientation. He could have just come to the precinct and talked to me.”
“I thought that was weird, too.” Rob jerked his head up in surprise, glanced at me. “I actually asked him that when I saw him in the library. He said he was investigating something.”
I went stock still. “That’s it. The Campus is the key. The students or the teachers—it has to be.” I shot to my feet, pulled money out of my pocket and tossed it on the counter. “I’ve got to run.”
“I figured as much.”
“Rob—” I hesitated. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
“Hey, be careful out there, sis.” Rob leaned over, kissed me gruffly on the forehead. “Using that Heartstopper Hex is no easy task. Especially because I fingerprinted it to be in Mason’s possession. Whoever’s out there... ain’t a good guy.”
I gave a dark smile. “They never are. And hey, Rob—I’m glad you brought some Christmas cheer this year. We could all use a bit of it.”
Then I turned, left The Dirty Charmer behind, and pointed my footsteps in the direction of our killer.
Chapter 25
“Primrose,” I said into my Comm. “I don’t have time to explain, sorry. And I don’t have time to meet you just yet, but I need to know what you found out from Renola.”
“Where are you?”
I hesitated, glanced behind me to the crowded marketplace. “I was out interviewing a witness.”
“A witness to what?”
“Primrose. The information.”
“Right,” she said. “Okay, the students in question all had alibis. There was an event going on at the school the night White died—some free dinner or whatever, and you know college kids. They were all there for the food. Lots of alibis.”
“The teachers?”
“Fewer alibis,” Primrose said. “Petri said he was home with his cats during Mason’s murder. Not exactly airtight.”
“The others?”
“Harrison was holding office hours. He gave us the name of a student who was apparently with him—we’re running down the lead now. Haven’t gotten ahold of student to confirm that yet.”
“And Bleeker?”
“That’s the odd part,” Primrose said slowly. “She’s nowhere to be found. First time in her career she didn’t show up for work today. Her classes were canceled—the school didn’t even know who to use for a sub. She’s never sick, Detective.”
“Shit,” I said.
“Is she on the run?” Primrose asked. “Is she our suspect?”
“I don’t know, Primrose. But it doesn’t smell right. I’m on my way to Campus—work with Renola to finish your interviews.”
“You’re loading me up with busy work?”
“If I can’t find Bleeker, we’re going to need to know where to look next. Find me that spot, Primrose.”
“Of course, Detective. And good luck.”
I could hear the tightness in her voice. She wanted to be in on the action, but I wasn’t sure there would be any action at all as of yet. If Bleeker was on the run, she could be anywhere. It wouldn’t be an easy chase. Still, things weren’t quite adding up—why had Bleeker killed Mason? Was she after the files, and I’d just missed the signs this whole time?
I jumped on a trolley and rode the short distance to the Campus of Magic. I hopped off, made my way through the lobby where the nervous pixie at the front desk looked up and sighed.
“Professor Bleeker,” I said. “I understand she didn’t show up for work today. Do you know anything about it?”
“N-no,” she said. “I mean, I heard. But I just work the front desk.”
“Who would know?”
“I don’t think anyone really knows anything. The dean’s been asking around, but if he doesn’t know, then I don’t know who would. Did something happen to her?”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I rushed past her down the hallway and through the chapel into student housing. From there, I burst through the first set of doors I could find to the quad at the center of campus. It took a second to orient myself, but once I did, I realized I was just a few paces from Bleeker’s classroom.
I hustled inside, made my way down the hallway and paused outside the door to the professor’s classroom. There was a sign posted that read ALL OF PROFESSOR BLEEKER’S CLASSES CANCELLED FOR TODAY. I ignored it, pushed the door open, and stood in the darkened, abandoned classroom for a long moment.
I hadn’t expected to find her here. I wasn’t sure what, or who, I’d expected to find. Renola would have already covered this territory, but at the time, Bleeker hadn’t been our primary suspect. I hadn’t informed anyone outside of Grey and Matthew about the attack on me, or her presence just before the Strangler Spell had launched.
I moved toward the teacher’s desk and tried to picture the blond professor standing there, impeccably organized, speaking to her students. Had she been distracted this semester? If so, what was so important it’d caused her grade average to spike?
I sat at the desk and tried to think. The moral of the story was that we didn’t have enough information on Professor Bleeker. I hadn’t been focused on her as a person. I didn’t know her story—I barely knew her first name. If I wanted to understand why Bleeker was after me, why she might have needed Mason dead, I had to understand her motives.
I opened the drawers and ruffled through. To my dismay, several of them were already messy. That struck me as the exact opposite of the way Bleeker had kept her things. I prayed Renola had rummaged through here and not someone else looking for the professor.
For
a moment, I wondered if it could have been Mason. If he wanted to investigate Bleeker, it made a ton of sense for him to enroll in Orientation so that he could take her class and study her up close and personal without suspicion.
I quickly dismissed that idea because Mason had died before Bleeker disappeared. If he’d rifled through her drawers, surely she would have put them back in order before taking off. Bleeker was a smart woman; she wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.
I gave a sigh, coming up empty handed. Nothing stuck out at me from the Professor’s drawers. I raised the Comm to my lips to get Primrose on the line to request a warrant for Bleeker’s personal residence. It was unlikely she’d keep private affairs at school where it was too easy for someone like me to stumble across it.
Before I could connect with Primrose, my Comm buzzed and showed it was the one and only rookie beating me to the punch.
“I was just going to Comm you.” I spun around in Bleeker’s chair and stared at the blackboard, which had been wiped perfectly clean. “Can you get a warrant in the works for Bleeker’s professional residence? I’m in her classroom now looking through her drawers, but it looks like I’m not the first person who’s been here. If there was something helpful, it’s gone.”
“Like a diary?”
“Yeah, like that,” I said, then stopped. “Wait, what?”
“I Commed you, remember?” Primrose said, a hint of smugness to her words. “Renola’s a smart cookie. She sensed something was wrong when Bleeker didn’t show up to work and had no history of doing so. She went through the desk, grabbed her scheduler.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I am not, Detective,” Primrose said with a cough. “That’s not all she found, either. Renola and I have been pouring over the class lists since we got back from The Isle. We’ve found something strange.”
I sucked in a breath. “What was Bleeker working on?”
“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s her alibi. When Renola couldn’t get ahold of Bleeker, she grabbed the diary on her desk. She won’t get in trouble, will she?” Primrose asked anxiously. “I know she didn’t have a warrant...”