Three minutes later, the police arrived. Two burly uniformed hobgoblins arrived first, riding on two shiny black mountain bikes with police lights mounted on the handle bars. They started taping off the scene. While they were working, two tall narrow black vans drove out onto the beach and parked. Half a dozen cops crawled out of one, and the city’s crime scene investigation unit came out of the other.
CSU went to work on Flick and the detectives went to work on me. Being cops, they took it as their duty to implicate me in the crime even though I was obviously not the killer. The lead detective, a bearded satyr in a trench coat named Chaz Malone, led the interrogation.
“Are you the one who called?” he said, pulling out a notebook.
“Yes.”
“So you found the body?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing here, Steward?”
“Flick called and asked me to meet him.”
“I see.” He sketched down some notes. “Why would he want to meet you in a place like this? And at this time of night?”
“I have no idea. He wouldn’t say on the phone. He just said it was important, so I came.”
“I see. What kind of sword is that?”
I cocked an eyebrow and stared down at him. “I don’t have the slightest idea,” said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
He tapped his pen against his lips. “You seem hostile, Steward. Are you worried about something?”
“Yeah. I’m worried about the fact that my friend’s body is getting colder by the minute and his killer is getting further away, and you’re wasting time harassing the person you should be asking for help.”
A wide sneer broke out across his face. “Help? From you?” he laughed. “That’s a good one. Steward, if I need somebody to find my lost puppy dog or spy on my ex-wife, I’ll give you a call.”
I sighed. It sounded more like the low rumble of a lion’s growl. I was doing my best to hold my temper in check, but Malone knew how to push my buttons. The smile vanished from his face. “In the meanwhile, I want to know where you got that sword and why you killed Flick Hunter.”
I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against the front of his van. The axle creaked under my weight. “Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t lean on my van.”
I rolled my eyes and stood upright, taking a deep breath. In the background, the CSU group let out a universal gasp as Flick’s body evaporated into a fine gold powder. Detective Malone glanced over his shoulder at them. “What was the time of death?” he called out.
“Fifty minutes ago,” one of the investigators replied.
The detective looked at me. “Well?” he said.
“I was at The Lounge. I have witnesses.”
“Detective!” one of the CSU investigators called out. “Can you give us a hand?”
Malone looked me up and down. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said. He walked over to the crime scene and I followed a few steps behind. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s the sword. We can’t get it out.”
“You already dusted it?”
“Of course. Our tests are done. We need to take it for evidence.”
Malone grumbled as he stepped up to the rock and latched onto the hilt. He grunted as he tugged at it. It didn’t budge . He walked around the side, propping his crooked goat-legs up against the rock. He grunted some more, and this time his face turned bright red.
“I’ll be,” he murmured. He stepped back, wiping perspiration from his brow. “Must be enchanted.”
“But that’s illegal,” said the investigator. “Enchanted weapons have been forbidden for a thousand years!”
“Yeah,” Malone said with a grimace. “Illegal things happen though, don’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
Malone shot me a look. I was grinning because I already knew what he was thinking. “All right,” he said, motioning towards the sword handle. “Have at it.”
I thought about making a smart comment but I knew I was already treading on thin ice. I stepped up to the rock. I wrapped one massive hand around the sword hilt and the other around the blade just below the guard. Instantly a cold chill crawled across my skin and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I released my grip, frowning.
“What is it?” said Malone.
I shook my head and latched back on. The feeling returned. “It’s definitely enchanted,” I said. I took a deep breath and yanked on the handle. The boulder shuddered and the cold chill turned to ice in my veins. I stepped away, blinking.
“You don’t look so good,” Malone said. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.” I looked down at my hands and shook them to ease the tingling sensation. “Magic doesn’t work with me,” I said absently.
“Yeah, we know,” Malone said with a chuckle. The rest of them shared a quiet laugh. Fae creatures generally think of me as an idiot because I can’t do magic.
I ignored them. “No, you don’t get it. Magic doesn’t work on me. When I touch magic, I kill it. I’m like a lightning rod. But that thing…” I pointed at the sword, staring. “The magic is still there. It’s not leaving.”
Malone cocked an eyebrow and stared at me. “You sure?”
I had never handled an enchanted weapon before, so I didn’t know if that was normal or not. In the past, I’ve ruined wands and wizards’ staves just by touching them. I steeled myself and gave it another shot. I put everything I had into it. I reached out and grabbed the weapon with both hands and channeled all of my strength into one explosive movement. This time the six hundred pound boulder gave a shudder and lifted off the ground.
Everyone around me gasped and took a few steps back. The boulder was big enough and heavy enough to crush half a dozen of them at once. I had lifted the enormous rock three feet in the air.
Ice-cold lightning raced up and down my arms, skittering through my nerves until I thought I might go into convulsions. I dropped the thing and stepped back, my hands shaking. The boulder hit the ground with a boom that sounded like a car crash.
“It ain’t comin’ out,” I said breathlessly. I rubbed my hands together to warm them.
Malone scratched the back of his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s the point of that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “That sword isn’t coming out of that rock for anyone, except the person who put it there. That sword is Excalibur.”
Malone’s jaw dropped. He pulled his gaze away from me to stare at the shining weapon. A blanket of silence fell over the scene. “It can’t be,” he finally mumbled. “It’s been a thousand years… It’s not possible.”
“This is the undercity,” I said. “Nothing’s impossible here.”
One of the CSU investigators spoke up. “Um, if this really is Excalibur, does that mean he’s back?”
“He?” said Malone. Then he realized what the investigator meant. “Are you suggesting that King Arthur took a time machine to the future so he could kill a newspaper reporter? If King Arthur was back, do you think he’d be sneaking around in the dark, running people through with Excalibur and then leaving his sword behind for us to find?”
The investigator grinned sheepishly. “I guess not.”
“Who kills somebody with Excalibur?” Malone mumbled, scratching his head.
I had seen enough. I took my leave because there wasn’t anything Malone could do to stop me without arresting me, which he couldn’t do because I’d already proven myself innocent because I couldn’t remove the sword from the stone. Only the killer could do that.
As I was walking away, he shouted something about not leaving town. I chuckled. Then he added, “And stay off this case!”
“Fat chance,” I muttered under my breath.
Someone had murdered my friend. I wasn’t about to sit still while the killer got away. And If Malone didn’t want to play ball, so be it. I’d be better off solving this case without his help.
Malone could have invited me into the investigation, but instead he’d treated me as a suspect. He could have asked for my help and advice. Instead, he’d mocked me and warned me to back off. I wasn’t about to walk away from this one. I knew Malone would try to stop me, but I had to do my best to find the killer anyway. I owed Flick that much.
As the Steward, my role in law enforcement is subject to interpretation. Traditionally, ogres are the law, period. Now that the fae have formed human-like communities with town councils and mayors and police, my role is subjective. It’s a gray area. For the most part I try to respect the undercity’s police force and stay out of their way, but this time it was different. This time vengeance was mine.
Chapter 2
I had two reasons for visiting flick’s widow Nya that night. The first was to break the bad news to her. I didn’t want her to hear it from a jerk like Malone. If there was any way to make Flick’s death even worse, it was to let Malone deliver the news.
The second was that I wanted to see her reaction. I didn’t know Nya very well and even if I had, it would have been impossible to rule her out as a suspect without talking to her. I wanted to look her in the eyes. I wanted to know that she didn’t have anything to do with Flick’s murder.
I didn’t have far to walk because the inner city tram made a stop in her neighborhood. Even so, after making the six block hike up the hill I realized that I was getting out of shape. Too much red wine and human food, I supposed. Having a girlfriend was making me complacent. Not that my relationship with Annie could have been classified as a real relationship, since she’s kindred and I’m an ogre.
It’s possible for me to knock her out cold just by touching her skin. Despite that, Annie had latched onto me and she was convinced that somehow we’d find a way to be together. I was skeptical, but even an ogre is smart enough not to argue with an attractive woman who says we’ve got something special. She wanted to give it a shot so I was willing to wait and see how it turned out.
Flick and Nya lived in the Heights, a ritzy neighborhood on the north side of the lake, not at the top of the hill where the ultra-wealthy have their mansions and swimming pools and their bird’s-eye view of the undercity, but in the middle-class suburb about halfway up. The place was definitely a step up from the Hallows, with a nice view of the lake and the lights of downtown, but not nearly as nice as the mansions at the top.
When I got to the house I took a few seconds to gather my thoughts before I rang the doorbell. I admired the view for a moment. It was nice. The perfect place for a young couple to start a family, to build their careers and climb the social ladder. If they’d had the time, maybe Flick and Nya would have made it to the top of the hill. Thinking like that didn’t make my job any easier. Reluctantly, I pressed the doorbell button.
I wasn’t eager for what was about to come next. My mind started searching, grasping for words that I didn’t have the heart to speak. I sank further into despair as I heard children’s voices in the background and I realized that Flick and Nya now had children. That wasn’t going to make things any easier, knowing that Flick hadn’t just left behind a young bride, but an entire family. Nya struggled for a moment to get to the door. I heard her chastising the children and then stomping across the living room. When the door opened, a look of surprise swept across her face.
“Oh, my. I haven’t seen you in a long time, Steward.”
She wore a waitress uniform and had her hair pulled back in a tail. It looked like she was getting ready to go to work. I did the math and assumed Nya must have taken a night job to help pay the bills. That knowledge didn’t make my mission any easier. If they’d been having money problems already, what would Nya do without Flick’s income? Would she even be able to put food on the table? Pay the mortgage?
On the other hand, financial troubles are often a solid motive. Was it possible that Nya had killed Flick to collect an insurance policy or some sort of inheritance? Possible, but I doubted she could have committed the act alone. I guessed that Excalibur weighed as much as her entire body, or close enough. If Nya had anything to do with Flick’s death she must have been in cahoots with someone else. She wouldn’t have been the first young bride to become disillusioned with married life and then get caught up in something stupid. I couldn’t see it, though. It just didn’t fit with what I knew about her and Flick.
All of those thoughts flashed through my mind in about half a second. I smiled weakly. “Nya, it’s good to see you,” I said. “Do you mind if I come in?”
She looked frazzled. I could tell the night job was tough on her. I heard the sound of pots and pans crashing in the kitchen. She jerked her head around and shouted, “Kelv, get out of there!” She turned her attention back to me. “Look, Hank, it’s nice to see you but this is really a bad time. I’m trying to get the kids into bed. Flick was supposed to be home hours ago but he’s late, and now I’m late for the night shift. My mother was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, and it’s really just a bad time.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “That’s why I’m here.”
She fixed her eyes on me and I could see her putting it together. I saw a tremor pass through her body and tears began streaming down her cheeks. She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together. “What happened?” she said in a trembling voice.
I glanced over her shoulder, making sure the little ones were out of earshot. I knew the kids were probably too young to understand, but elves mature more quickly than humans and I didn’t want to risk it. “I’m not sure yet,” I said reluctantly.
“Hank, be honest with me.”
I took my hat off and stared at it. “Flick was murdered,” I said.
Nya put a hand over her mouth and stared at me, her eyes glistening with moisture. I think she was going to say something, but at that moment a police cruiser pulled up in front of the house. It was a small Volkswagen painted to look like a police car. The undercity’s full of cars like that. Tiny little Volkswagens, Mini Coopers, Teslas; the smaller the better. Detective Malone stepped out of the Volkswagen and approached the house. As he did, another car pulled up behind him.
“Mossberg, I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.
“I didn’t want her to get the news from a stranger,” I said with a frown.
“I see. Or maybe you just wanted to get your story straight ahead of time.” I clenched my teeth and bit my tongue, fighting the urge to knock him down.
He came up the stairs and stood facing Nya. “Mrs. Hunter?”
She was doing her best to hold it together. Her face glistened with tears and her hands were shaking. “Yes, officer?” she said in a quivering voice.
“Detective,” he corrected her. “I see the Steward has already told you about your husband.”
She nodded slightly and a whimper escaped her lips. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. “My children….” she said. “I have to… I’m sorry.” She started to close the door, but Malone stuck his foot out. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“One moment,” he said. “I need to give you this.” He handed the paper over. Nya accepted it and unfolded it, a frown creasing her brow as she looked it over.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s this about?”
“It’s a warrant. My team and I are going to search your home.” He gestured to the rest of the cops and they pushed past her, stomping into the house.
“I don’t understand. What are you looking for?”
“I can’t discuss it, ma’am. Suffice it to say that your husband had some dark secrets.”
Nya looked on the verge of a breakdown. “This is insane!” she said angrily. “What are you talking about? You can’t do this!”
I took the warrant from her and looked it over. “They’re not going to hurt anything,” I assured her. “Why don’t you finish getting the kids ready for bed? Let me deal with this.”
She stood there a moment, almost catatonic. I
thought she might come unglued, but then she pulled it back together when the kids came running out of the kitchen, their faces and hands smeared with something purple and sticky.
“Who got into the jelly?” Nya scolded. “Come on, let’s get you two cleaned up.”
I knew she’d be okay for a few minutes, so I stalked upstairs and found Malone in the master bedroom with his squad of uniformed goons. “What do you think you’re doing, Malone?” I said angrily. “Do you know what that woman’s going through right now?”
“I know, I feel terrible about it,” he said without a hint of sympathy. “Problem is, I’ve got a murder to solve.”
“Yeah, you do. So why are you here?”
“Because the sword that killed Flick Hunter was stolen.”
“So?”
He gave me a reprimanding look and I met it with a hard glare. I wanted an explanation. He didn’t want to give me one. There was a battle of wills going on between the two of us, and he lost. “It had Flick’s fingerprints all over it,” he said reluctantly. “And not only that: Flick met with the owner of that sword the same day it was stolen, so he could examine it.”
I shook my head, confounded. “What are you getting at? Flick was investigating that sword? That’s why he was killed? That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here!”
“I’m here because Flick stole the sword, you idiot. And then he went to meet with the fence who was going to sell it for him, but obviously killed him instead.”
I clenched my teeth together. “You must be joking,” I said in a quiet, angry voice.
“Here it is!” one of the cops shouted. We both turned to see him pulling a large suitcase out from under the bed.
“Open it up,” Malone ordered.
Death in the Hallows (Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre Book 2) Page 2