RAFFERTY BREEZED INTO his office the next morning, told a startled Llewellyn that the case was as good as solved, and handed him his Ma's astrology magazine. 'Take a look at that.'
Llewellyn glanced briefly at the page indicated, before he turned to the front of the magazine, raised his eyebrows, and asked perceptively, 'Do I detect the assistance of the indomitable Mrs Rafferty in the matter?'
'You do,' Rafferty told him sheepishly. 'We now know what that symbol means. It wasn't an attempt at an initial, at all, but the astrologer's way of writing the sign for Gemini. Jasper Moon was a professional astrologer—what more natural than for him to scrawl the identity of his murderer in the astrological language he used every day? Which is what Ma kept repeating all the way to that damn clairvoyant's last night. As I told her: perhaps if he'd written it more clearly we'd have got there quicker and without her assistance.' Still,' he rubbed his hands gleefully. 'All we have to do now is find out which of our suspects is a Gemini and we've cracked it.'
'Gemini.' Llewellyn frowned as he studied the page. 'But this says that the sign covers the end of May and most of June.'
'That's right,' Rafferty agreed. He felt a moment's anxiety at Llewellyn's doubtful expression, but even Llewellyn couldn't argue with accepted astrological fact, he reminded himself.
'No, it's wrong,' Llewellyn contradicted. 'Because none of our suspects was born during those weeks. I've got all their details in here.' He patted his breast pocket where he kept his notebook with its neatly recorded information.
Rafferty stared at him. 'One of them must have been,' he insisted. 'Obviously, whoever killed him recognised the significance of Moon's clue and lied to you. You're too trusting, man. You shouldn't believe everything you're told.'
Llewellyn's lips thinned. 'No-one lied to me. I checked their details. You know I always check everything.'
That was true, Rafferty knew. Llewellyn might frequently be a pain in the behind, but he was a painstaking pain.
'Virginia Campbell subtracted a few years from her age but she didn't worry about the month. The others didn't even bother to lie about the year.' It was Llewellyn's turn to look smug. 'Not one of our suspects was born during the dates given here. None of them is a Gemini.' Llewellyn took out his notebook, found the appropriate page and handed it to Rafferty with a flourish. 'Ecce signum. Look at the proof.'
Rafferty snatched the notebook and studied it, before throwing himself into a chair, all his jovial bonhomie sunk to his boots. He'd been so sure he was on the right track at last. He lost his temper and scowled at Llewellyn. 'You needn't look so bloody cocky. How many bright ideas have you come up with?' he demanded. 'All I get from you is smart-arse quotes. Why don't you try this one for size? Dun an doras mas e do thoil e.' His pronunciation was shaky; luckily Llewellyn wouldn't know that.
Llewellyn raised his eyebrows in that superior way he had. 'Irish?'
Rafferty nodded.
'Would you care to translate?'
'You're damn right I would. It means, put a lump of wood in the hole.'
'Pardon?'
'Shut the bloody door, man,' Rafferty translated again. 'And make sure you're the other side of it!'
His expression injured, Llewellyn retreated to the doorway, from where he fired a parting salvo. 'At the risk of getting my head bitten off, I was going to tell you that I finally got an answer from those Memory Lane people. They said Moon ordered four copies of the DVD and paid by credit card. The DVDs were posted to his office the week before his murder. Makes you wonder what happened to the other copies.'
No it doesn't, Rafferty muttered to himself. Between clients that don't exist and blood-red clues that make no sense, I'd rather have a rest from wondering.
As the door shut softly behind his sergeant, Rafferty slumped. He already regretted his outburst, but sometimes Llewellyn got right up his nose. Angry with himself, Rafferty took his temper out on the other departed; it was the only way he could be sure of having the last word. 'Not up to much, were you, Jasper old love?' he taunted the glossy photograph of Moon which he had pinned to the noticeboard at the start of the case. 'Not only did you fail to predict your own death, you couldn't even manage to give us a halfway decent clue.'
Chapter Ten
DEMORALISED AFTER RECEIVING such a knock-back, Rafferty gave himself a pep-talk. You're a copper, he reminded himself. And coppers 'cop', not cop-out. You've still got a case to investigate; still got suspects with shaky alibis, so get on with it. You can start by having another word with Ginnie Campbell.
AS RAFFERTY OPENED the door of The Psychic Stores, he snatched a glance at Llewellyn's face. The Welshman, still put out over Rafferty's angry outburst that morning, was barely talking to him. Even an apology had done little to thaw the air. But instead of throwing him deeper into the glooms, Llewellyn's 'nasty smell under the nose' expression filled Rafferty with a new determination to catch Moon's killer. It was just going to take longer than he'd thought, that was all.
There was music playing in the background. Strangely soothing, it sounded like a rushing wind interspersed with the cries of sea birds and the calls of whales and dolphins.
'Do you like it, gentlemen?' Mercedes Moreno materialised beside them, and fixed Rafferty with her great dark eyes.
'It's—unusual.'
'It's designed to relax the stressed mind,' she told him. 'Would you like a copy? It's a very reasonable price.' She paused and added softly, 'I'm sure even Edwin would be happy to offer a discount in your case, especially if it calms your mind sufficiently to enable you to catch Jasper's murderer.'
Rafferty smiled. 'Very good of him. But I think it will take more than my listening to the dolphins' greatest hits to secure a conviction.'
'I see you are a sceptic, Inspector. Perhaps our stones and crystals would be more to your taste?'
Rafferty, remembering the claims for these trinkets painted on the shop window, shook his head. 'I don't think so. I don't believe in such things.'
Mrs Moreno stared at him as if he'd just uttered the psychic equivalent of blasphemy, before commenting, 'Even a sceptic can't totally deny the wonderful properties of crystals. Their use in radios and watches; their ability to "oscillate" at specific vibratory rates. Surely you're aware of this?'
Rafferty was forced to admit that he was.
'Then why are you so ready to reject their powers in other areas of life? It is not logical.'
Llewellyn could have told her that logic had never been one of his strong points, but as this would have forced him out of his standoffish mood, he said nothing, and merely twitched his lips downwards in a way that more than adequately expressed his thoughts on the subject. Rafferty ignored him.
'You must at least let me try to convince you of their qualities before you reject them,' Mrs Moreno insisted. Her voice filled with the fanatical conviction of the true believer. 'Tell me what areas of your life are causing you anguish, and I will tell you which of our gems and crystals has the power to help you. If you have money problems, you should wear Jade, as it promotes a long and prosperous life; if you have love problems,' she gestured at a stone with a pale, pearly sheen, 'a Moonstone exchanged with your lover will ensure your passion is returned; if you have health problems,' she pointed at another stone, 'a Bloodstone will stimulate physical strength.'
From childhood, Rafferty had rejected the Catholic Church's automatic assumption that they owned his mind, his soul, and any other bits they fancied. Now, as a matter of bloody-minded principle, he always firmly resisted the arrogant insistence from any other empirical quarter that he should do this, think that, believe the other. To reinforce his stance, he brought out his sharp cynic's pin and applied it. 'I've got a murder to solve,' he reminded her bluntly. 'I don't think trinkets will help me with that.'
It seemed he'd only succeeded in pricking her professional pride, for her voice rose on a triumphant note, as she told him, 'That is where you are wrong. I shall prove it to you.' She looked down at the selection o
f gems and crystals displayed on the counter. 'I will prescribe for you a suitable stone.' After a few moments, she placed a violet-pink stone in his hand and commented, 'Most people, at first, do not believe in the power of the stones. I simply tell them to wait and let the stones convince them.'
A likely story, thought Rafferty. And if they needed further convincing, no doubt she bashed them over the head with the biggest stone in the shop. The threat of physical violence was the greatest persuader of all; as most of the world's religions had discovered centuries ago.
She glanced down. 'This is Sugalite. It aids in the development of the Third Eye, seeing or inner vision. It unclogs the mind and enables it to get to the heart of things. You will find it beneficial, of this I am certain.' She closed Rafferty's fist over the stone and moved his hand close to his head. After a few moments, she asked, 'Do you get any sensation from it?'
Rafferty was about to deny it, but then he became aware that his heart had begun to flutter, and that the hairs on his arms were standing on end. The stone seemed to generate a warmth on his palm, and now he realised that the headache that had been nagging at him earlier had faded. Irritated, and feeling slightly foolish at the admission, he told her what he felt.
Half expecting a triumphant 'Hallelujah', Rafferty was surprised that she restricted herself to a more restrained response.
'That is good,' she told him. 'It indicates there is a rapport between you.' He went to give the stone back to her, but she closed his hand over it and told him. 'Keep it. Carry it with you always. Call it my contribution to your investigation.'
Rafferty simply nodded. Apart from any other consideration, he sensed it would be foolhardy to offend the intense South American woman. She reminded him of an iceberg—nine-tenths hidden, and he wondered what lay concealed beneath that cool white exterior.
'Actually we came to see Mrs Campbell,' he told her. The forensic team had finished their work now and the offices as well as the shop were again in use. 'I imagine she's upstairs working?' Mrs Moreno's face tightened, and Rafferty realised just how little love there was between the two women.
'Yes. She has just returned from seeing a client. A very important man who was one of Jaspair's regulars. She hopes that if she retains his custom she will keep her job.' She smiled again, but this time her smile was one of cool gratification. 'Once she had hopes for a partnership, now she just hopes to stay in employment. Is sad, no?'
Rafferty pretended innocence. 'Is Mr Astell thinking of winding up the business?'
‘No.’ Her forehead creased as she considered his remark. 'At least, I do not think so. What I meant was that her services may no longer be required here. Edwin never took to her, though, Jaspair liked her a lot. I think this was because he found her outrageous, like himself. But I think even he was beginning to find her tiresome. She was too like him and made him aware of traits in his character that he preferred to ignore. She was also very impetuous and demanding. She wanted to prove to him that she could be good with the clients, but she got little more chance to do that than I. Edwin told me he had wanted to look into her background before Jaspair took her on, but Jaspair said he already knew as much about her as he needed. Besides, he felt fate had decided it for him. He wanted help with the natal charts; she wanted a job—fate he felt had decreed that the two should come together. It was the same with me. Six months ago I have no home, no job, and no money. Then, from nowhere I meet Jaspair, and before you know it, I have all these things. It was fate, you see, Inspector. Fate, Kismet, Nemesis. Call it what you will. You cannot deny its power.'
She was right there, at any rate. But Rafferty wished his experience of fate had been as kind as Mercedes Moreno's had apparently been. When he had once complained to Llewellyn on this very subject, solemn-faced, the Welshman had told him that by his rise to Inspector, he had put himself under the sway of Nemesis, the Greek goddess of retribution and vengeance.
Uneasily, Rafferty remembered what Llewellyn had told him—that Nemesis illustrated a basic concept in Greek thought: that people who rise above their condition expose themselves to reprisals from the gods. At the time he had assumed that Llewellyn's tongue had been firmly in his cheek. But now, as Llewellyn's dark eyes met his, their very expressionlessness made him uneasy. Did Llewellyn know something he didn't? Had Nemesis, or Superintendent Bradley, her current earthly form, discovered his little PIMP joke? Worse—was he about to issue reprisals?
Seemingly unaware of this by-play going on under her nose, Mercedes Moreno confided, 'La Senora Campbell has much ambition. She wanted to impress Jaspair with her skills, and she felt that Edwin was deliberately thwarting her. She accused him of sabotaging her hopes for a partnership. Was not true. She knew that her work would be on the postal side before she started here.' Her narrow shoulders executed a tiny shrug. 'She is foolish woman. Is it likely that Jaspair would allow such a one near the more valued clients? She has no subtlety, no discretion. The postal clients were generally, how you say—one-offs, or at the most, they would want a twelve month, once a year forecast. She could do little damage there. But the personal clients were repeat business. Some came every week.' She paused to light several joss sticks, and a delicious fragrance wafted under Rafferty's nostrils.
'Is sandalwood.' She threw the remark over her shoulder as she placed the sticks in jars dotted around the shop before returning behind the counter. 'Senora Campbell could not become a partner in any case,' she told him. 'She has no money. I believe she is in much debt and is being pressed for payment.'
Mrs Moreno presumably had no money either, Rafferty reflected. Yet, she too, seemed to harbour ambitions beyond her ability to pay for them. If it wasn't for the fact that her alibi checked out, he would think she was trying to cast suspicion on Ginnie Campbell in order to remove any suspicion from herself. Yet her alibi had stood up to scrutiny. She had told them she had gone straight on to the Astells' home the evening of the murder. Originally leaving at 8.00 p m, she had returned just before 8.10 p m to collect her forgotten gloves ,and had stayed chatting with Astell in the kitchen till getting on for 9.00 p m. If Sam Dally and Ellen Hadleigh were to be believed, Moon had certainly been dead by then.
On the other hand, they already knew that Ginnie Campbell had an erratic personality; sufficiently thwarted, she could be capable of violence. She only had her "friend's" evidence to back her up, yet, if the friend's neighbours were to be believed, it was hardly a solid alibi. She could have returned to the office that night to speak privately with Moon. If Moon had brought one of her eruptions on himself by denying her hopes for a partnership, she might easily have physically attacked him. Rafferty doubted that Moon would have agreed to such a tempestuous personality having a share in the business. He had an emotional partner at home; he surely wouldn't want one at work as well. From what Mrs Moreno said, he had begun to regret taking her on at all. Yet he hadn't got rid of her. Why?
Rafferty recalled what the landlord of The Troubadour had said. Moon had guaranteed her a job as long as she didn't contravene his esoteric moral code. Was it possible he had caught her with her hand in the till? If he had, she would find not only her over-optimistic hopes for a partnership crushed, but her job would be likely to go, too. He looked up to catch Mercedes Moreno's smoky gaze fixed intently on him. It made him uneasy, and he headed for the stairs at the back of the shop. 'Thanks for your help,' he said. Remembering his manners, he hefted the stone. 'And for this. I hope it does the trick.'
'There are no tricks involved,' she coolly reproved. 'I am not a conjurer, Inspector. But I do have a certain professional pride. If you carry the stone with you always, you will discover its properties for yourself.'
'Right. Well, thanks again.' Perhaps, while he was here, he should take the precaution of obtaining a stone to charm away Bradley's wrath? It would be no use, though he realised. Nothing could be that potent. Besides, the woman gave him the creeps. He wanted to get out of reach of her mesmeric eyes. He had a superstitious suspicion she would se
t some hex on him if he turned his back on her.
As they climbed the stairs to the offices, he wondered if she was hoping that Edwin Astell would offer her a partnership. He would certainly need someone, and she was there, on the spot. Maybe she was hoping that Astell would be so desperate for someone reliable to help get the business back on its feet that he wouldn't expect her to put any money in.
He shook his head. Too many maybes, Rafferty, he told himself. He found he was still clutching the Sugalite that Mercedes Moreno had forced on him and, with a scowl, he thrust it in his pocket and promptly forgot about it.
Ginnie Campbell didn't appear to be working very hard. Her computer screen was blank, and the pile of post on her desk had yet to be opened. If she was set on keeping her job, it was hardly the way to impress Edwin Astell.
'Inspector.' Her violet eyes were watchful. 'What is it this time?'
'Just one or two little queries. You told us you were at your friend's house the entire night when Jasper Moon was murdered. Trouble is, none of your neighbours saw your car outside. Perhaps you can explain why?'
Her hasty temper flared. 'Are you saying you don't believe me?'
'No. What I'm saying is we have to check such statements, which is what I'm doing. I suggest you calm down and answer the question.'
Her violet eyes deepened to a stormy purple. Rafferty felt waves of barely controlled rage. It shook him, and briefly, he wondered if she was quite sane. He felt relieved that Llewellyn was there and that there were no blunt instruments handy.
'My boyfriend's neighbours are as unfriendly as mine,' she finally told them. 'They enjoy causing trouble. I don't suppose any of them mentioned that the people across the way held a party that evening? My boyfriend and I had been out for the day, as I told you. When we returned we had to park in the next street because the neighbours' guests had taken the nearer spaces.'
RAFFERTY & LLEWELLYN BOXED SET: BOOKS 1 - 4 Page 56