I emerged from the access shaft to find Irina perched on one of the benches, wielding tiny pliers and a roll of green florist’s tape. “Is he gone?” I said.
“No one’s here but you and me,” Irina said. She bit off the end of her tape and tucked it away somewhere within the blooms of her display.
“Oh. Well…thanks.” I took a few steps toward the exit. “Um, does the Athenaeum ever talk to people?”
Irina looked at me as if I’d sprouted another head. “I’ve never been down there,” she said, her faint accent growing briefly stronger.
“Ah. I see. Well…later.”
I called another cab to take me to where I’d left my car last night, then drove home pondering what I’d learned. Nothing new, since it seemed Malcolm had followed the same path with rather more success. But I did have access to something he didn’t: Abernathy’s augury records. Maybe there was something the victims had in common, the magus victims at least. If I could figure out how to predict who’d be attacked next, maybe Lucia could set up an ambush or something. She could capture the killer, and force him to reveal that he’d been working with Guittard, and Malcolm would be exonerated. I’d just have to work quickly. Malcolm didn’t have much time.
16
The first thing I did when I returned home was email Lucia, attaching copies of Malcolm’s files from the Athenaeum. It wasn’t enough to clear him of a crime, but it revealed his motives and I was certain Lucia could do something with the information. I didn’t tell her I’d seen Malcolm, as I was still afraid she’d be furious with me if she knew, and I didn’t want her yelling at me. Then I called and left a message. “It’s Helena,” I said. “I emailed you some documents I found in the Athenaeum. Malcolm didn’t kill Ms. Guittard out of anger or a desire to start a war.”
I hung up and tapped my fingers on my desk. My headache had almost faded away, and I felt energized by having made progress. What to do next?
I printed out the document that had all the victims’ names on it and took it downstairs to the office. It was time to see if these magi had anything in common.
I pulled their augury records and sat at the melamine and chrome desk to go over them. The first thing they all had in common was that none of them had ever come in to Abernathy’s for an augury. I opened Judy’s database and brought up their customer records. Based on their addresses, they all lived within no more than ten minutes’ drive of the store. I found a blank piece of paper and a pencil and made a note of this. Bannister and McNally had lived south of Foster Road, and Lavern lived off Deardorff. That made them virtually neighbors. Maybe the killer lived in that area.
Their auguries didn’t tell me much. We didn’t keep track of people’s questions, just the books we sold them, so all I could tell was Bannister had requested only three auguries in the last fifteen years, while Lavern and McNally each had seven in the last twenty. None of them had requested auguries since I’d become custodian, so I’d never sent them anything and wouldn’t be able to remember if their questions had been unusual or similar.
Discouraged, I filed the three folders away and sat staring at the computer monitor. Hmm. Why not? I typed in AMBER GUITTARD and pushed Enter. There was her file, with a series of addresses—she’d moved around a lot—and a thumbnail photo of her. I’d questioned whether this was necessary, and Judy had just said “The more information we enter, the more effective we’ll be,” and I’d shrugged and let her have her way. I looked at Guittard’s face, open and smiling. No one would ever suspect her of being a murderer. But then, that was how people got away with crimes, by not looking like criminals. “Who is your accomplice?” I murmured. “What kind of man is he? Or woman, I suppose. Though I’ve heard most serial killers are men.”
Guittard hadn’t had many auguries, either. I checked her file and found that the last one she’d requested had gone out the day of the first murder. She’d come to Portland that night, so it was likely she never even saw that book, since we’d sent it to Seattle. How to Win Friends and Influence People. I wished I remembered her question. I couldn’t imagine the outgoing and friendly Guittard needing that book for itself.
My phone rang. Lucia. I took a deep breath, bracing myself, and said, “Hello?”
“How in the hell did you find this?” Lucia shouted.
“I was looking for information on the killings and the list of names came up.” A nice, safe, generic lie.
“You were, huh?” Lucia’s voice went marginally quieter. “I guess it’s not so weird that you’d care about this case.”
“I don’t want anyone else killed.”
“Of course that’s your reason. What else did you find?”
I leaned back in my chair, some of my tension draining away. “I gave you all the documents Malcolm submitted to the Athenaeum in the last ten days.”
“No ideas about this list of numbers? Some kind of code?”
“I thought it was a code, yes, but I couldn’t figure it out.”
“I’ve got men working on it. We’ll crack it, assuming there’s something to be cracked.”
It probably wasn’t worth asking her to let me know when she solved it. “Did you know the three magi victims lived near each other?”
“Four victims, now. Sydney Eason was found dead early this morning. Another Ambrosite, like I need that kind of headache. And yes, Detective Poirot, I did know that. Eason lived east of Highland. Nowhere close to the other three. So that’s another dead end.”
“You did say you wanted anything else I’d found.”
“True. Sorry, you can imagine I’m a bit touchy this morning. We’re almost certain the killer was a wood magus, but other than that, the investigation is going slowly.”
Cautiously, hoping my inquisitiveness wouldn’t dry up her flow of information, I asked, “How do you know it’s a wood magus?”
“Many facts that won’t mean anything to you, Davies. And all the victims were killed outdoors, within a mile of their homes. Wood magi draw strength from nature the way steel magi draw it from metal. With as many victims as there are, it’s a reasonable conclusion.”
“I guess that narrows it down a bit. Mr. Washburn said there weren’t many wood magi in the city.”
“Washburn? Who’s that?” She was back to sounding suspicious.
“A customer. He has a safe deposit box. Judy knows him.”
“Really.”
“You don’t suspect him, do you?”
“I suspect everyone, Davies. I think I’ll have a talk with your Mr. Washburn.”
I wished I hadn’t said anything. I liked the man. “I don’t think he’s the killer.”
“Based on what evidence? Leave the investigating to me. Campbell hasn’t contacted you?”
“I haven’t seen him recently, no.” A more dangerous lie, if she thought to analyze my words.
“You tell me as soon as he does, understand? And tell him to turn himself in.”
“Are you really able to protect him?”
There was a pause. “I’ll put my own life on the line to see he’s unhurt,” Lucia finally said. It sounded like a noble but potentially untenable sentiment.
“If I hear from him, I’ll tell him that,” I said.
Another pause. “You’re not telling me everything you know, Davies.”
“I’m telling you everything I can.”
Lucia made a hmph sound. “Let’s hope what you aren’t telling me doesn’t kill Campbell.” She disconnected, leaving me with no one to deliver a scathing retort to.
I ruffled the pages in Guittard’s file, then put it away. I didn’t really know what I’d hoped to find. Maybe something in her file that screamed “I’m a serial killer, and here’s who I’m working with.” Still, Lucia now had Malcolm’s information, and she could use that to prove Guittard had been working with the killer—not that that would put her closer to finding the killer, unless it did…
I rubbed my temples and yawned. Maybe I could take a nap before I headed out to see
my family for one last dinner before Cynthia left tomorrow afternoon.
My phone rang when I was halfway up the stairs. “Did you see the news?” Judy demanded.
“No. What news?”
“Police had to stop a riot downtown. No one knows what started it—no one outside the magical community, that is. Nicolliens and Ambrosites got into a fight and it spread from there.”
“That’s terrible! Did they use magic?”
“No magic. Just fists. But several people were arrested, and Lucia’s refusing to bring magic to bear in bailing them out. She says they can sit in a cell for a while and think about what they’ve done.”
I snorted with laughter. “I agree with her.”
“So do I, for once. But my house is up in arms. Can I come to your place? I’m sick of my father repeating the same things in different combinations. It all amounts to how Lucia’s not doing anything to keep the peace and we’d all have to be murdered in our beds for her to care.”
“Okay, but I’m going to my parents’ house for dinner in a few hours.”
“Oh.”
She sounded so forlorn I said, “You could come with me. My mom always makes enough food to feed an army.”
“Could I? I mean, I don’t want to intrude.”
“I’ll bring Viv too and then it won’t be so much of an intrusion.”
“Thanks. Let me in? I’m downstairs.”
I hung up and, laughing, went back downstairs to open the door. “Come in and hear what I’ve learned.”
“About what?”
“About why Malcolm killed Amber Guittard.”
“What makes you think I’d want to hear anything about that?”
Too late I remembered Judy’s connection to the dead woman. “We can talk about something else.”
“No, now I have to know.”
I threw open my apartment door and gestured for Judy to enter first. “You’re not going to like it.”
Judy scowled. “Tell me now or I’ll spill sanguinis sapiens in your shoes.”
“What would that do?”
“Nothing pleasant.”
“All right. Malcolm had evidence that Ms. Guittard was an accomplice of the serial killer.”
Judy had been about to sit on the couch, and now she froze, half-crouched. “You can’t be serious.”
“I found his evidence myself and turned it over to Lucia. She’s taking it seriously.” I hope she’s taking it seriously.
Judy stood upright. “That’s impossible. Amber would never do anything like that.”
“Which is what Lucia’s investigating. But you can see how, if Malcolm believed that, he might have confronted her and started a fight. Or she did.”
“Don’t defend him to me.”
“Sorry. I’m just saying—”
“It’s complicated. I know.” She finally took a seat and clasped her hands in front of her. “It’s not true.”
“Lucia will find out if it is.”
“I hope so. Helena, can you imagine what this will mean if it’s true? A high-ranking Nicollien working with someone who’s killing off Ambrosites?”
“I wish Malcolm hadn’t killed her. He—I’m sure he wishes the same.”
Judy gave me a suspicious look. “You’ve heard from him, haven’t you.”
“I’d have told Lucia if I had.”
Judy sprang to her feet. “You have seen him! Helena, if you’re abetting a fugitive—”
“I’m not!” I exclaimed, though I knew my face had to be giving me away.
She waved a hand dismissively. “Look, if you want to break the law, who am I to stop you?”
“It’s not like that. I just let him sleep here. On the couch,” I added when Judy raised an eyebrow. “One night. And I’ve told Lucia everything he told me…just not that I’ve seen him.”
“You are going to be in so much trouble when Lucia finds out.”
“Which is why she’s not going to find out.”
In the face of my pleading expression, Judy threw up her hands. “Fine, I won’t tell her. But if you see him again—”
“I swear I’ll tell Lucia immediately. Now that she knows he didn’t just kill Ms. Guittard for no reason, she’ll be better able to protect him.”
“His motives don’t change anything. He could be wrong about Amber.” Judy sat and leaned back, stroking the maroon velvet with one hand. “He is wrong about Amber.”
“Lucia will find out.”
“I can’t believe I’m putting my faith in Lucia Pontarelli, of all people. But I have to admit, much as she irritates me, she does know her job.”
I sat in an adjacent chair and pulled out my phone. “I’ll text Viv, and we’ll hang out here until it’s time to go. We can watch a movie or something.”
“Not one of those dire old black and white films you’re so crazy about. You know I like action movies.”
“And Viv likes rom-coms. How likely is it we can find something we all agree on?”
Spending Sunday with my family and Viv and Judy was the perfect way to relax and forget about everything related to magery—except, of course, for Malcolm’s plight, which was never far from my mind. My parents made the appropriate unhappy noises when I told them I’d broken up with Jason, but didn’t push for details. Mom thought Judy was wonderful and said a couple of times how nice it was that I had such nice friends, an underhanded dig at Viv, whom Mom only barely tolerated. It wasn’t Viv’s fault we’d gotten into trouble so many times when we were younger. Well, maybe it was, a little.
Cynthia remained as pleasant as she had at dinner the other night and didn’t call me Hellie once. The subject of her pregnancy didn’t come up, but I wasn’t surprised she’d decided to let Ethan be the next to know. I hoped for her sake he’d be excited about the baby. Though, since I knew practically nothing about him, maybe him not being excited was best for both of them.
But my pleasure didn’t last. Judy woke me Monday morning at seven to tell me there’d been another murder, this one conventional. “Rachel Dawson killed Morena Smittis about an hour ago. Rachel’s an Ambrosite and Morena’s a Nicollien. It looks like an ordinary shooting, if there’s anything ordinary about that.”
“So it can’t be linked to the magical world at all?”
“Not unless Rachel starts spouting off about magi and her aegis and the Long War. Which she won’t, if she wants to live to see trial.”
I shuddered. Magi could be brutal with each other in protection of their secrets. “What do the police think the motive was?”
“I don’t know. They’ll come up with something. Anyway, my father needs me this morning, so I’ll be in a little late. Eleven o’clock or so.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
I wasn’t looking forward to opening at ten. Saturday’s auguries, the constant stream of people wanting to know how to find Malcolm so they could kill him, had been a nearly unbearable burden. I wished I could scream at all those Nicolliens, tell them what their beloved Amber Guittard really had been, but I had no idea what use Lucia had made of Malcolm’s evidence and the last thing I wanted was to screw up her investigation.
I went through my morning routine, even checking my email in a vain hope that Malcolm might try to contact me that way. Nothing but spam. I really needed a better email filter. At nine thirty I went downstairs and busied myself tidying up, ignoring the growing line of Wardens outside the shop. Only a few of them brought their familiars, which I counted as a blessing, even as their presence horrified me. Maybe they wouldn’t turn on a human on their own, but Washburn had said they could be directed to do so. Malcolm, with his steel aegis, might be immune to having his magic drained, but he could be torn to pieces by a pack of invaders as easily as anyone.
At ten o’clock precisely I opened the door and smiled pleasantly at the magus first in line. “Welcome to Abernathy’s. Please form an orderly line and I’ll take care of your requests.”
“I’m not here for an augury,” the man said. H
e and the next three people moved toward me as one, like a four-headed bull. “We’re here for information on Malcolm Campbell’s auguries.”
I took an involuntary step backward. “You want what?”
“We want to know what his recent auguries were. The questions he asked.”
“We don’t keep those kind of records. And I wouldn’t give them to you if we did. Talk about a breach of privacy!”
“So long as the custodian performs the augury, a customer can have no assurance of privacy,” said the woman to his left. “You know what it is, therefore you can reveal it to others.”
“I’m sworn not to do that.”
“Custodians have given up privileged information in times of extreme need,” said the shorter woman to his right. “There is precedent.”
“What precedent?”
“In cases where the augury recipient had committed a crime, the custodian worked with the Gunther Node to disclose confidential information.”
I shook my head. This conversation had a huge audience, all of them eager to see what I would do. “You’re not with the Gunther Node. Lucia would have told me if she were sending someone.”
“No. We’re…an interested third party.”
“Even if I agreed with you, which I don’t, do you have any idea how many auguries I perform every day? I don’t remember any of Mal—Mr. Campbell’s.”
“That’s no problem. Our glass magus can do magic that will enhance your memory. It will only touch on Campbell’s auguries. Everyone else’s privacy will be protected.”
Sweat prickled beneath my arms. “You can’t force me to agree to that.”
The four heads looked at one another. “No,” the first man said. “We were hoping to persuade you to be sensible. If Campbell is the serial killer—”
“What?”
“He was in the vicinity of several of the deaths. He probably killed Amber Guittard because she knew he was guilty.”
“That’s insane. Who came up with this theory?”
“It’s common knowledge. Please, Ms. Davies. Your knowledge may be the key to stopping these murders.”
I raised my chin and stared the man straight in the eye. “Malcolm Campbell is not the serial killer,” I said. “Lucia’s investigation will prove this. And I won’t give up privileged information for any reason. Now, unless you want an augury, I suggest you take your common knowledge elsewhere.”
The Book of Mayhem Page 17