by P. S. Power
Gwen didn't bother lying, not having another plan.
"I paid her to do it, to check her story of being a whore. We need to check her friend too. I suppose you're married though?"
The man shook his head, but looked disapproving. "I'm not, but... I rather don't think that I fancy her sort."
"Oh? Do you mean you don't fancy prostitutes, or you would prefer a man?" She didn't know why she said that, but the fellow only glared at her for a bit, and then sighed.
"The latter. I'd prefer that not get around however? Business reasons."
Bethany assured him that they'd keep it to themselves. Gwen made a note of it however, since it might prove relevant later. Anything might. Really, she was very surprised the man had admitted to it at all. Most men here wouldn't have, even if they spent half their time doing what Sally was probably doing at that very moment in one of the sleeping cabins.
Then, to be complete, she questioned Martin, still sitting right there. He was on the train, going to exactly the wrong area, after all.
He said he didn't know anything in particular that hadn't been in the press. That made some sense to her, but Beth seemed baffled.
"It's an odd place to go for a visit, isn't it? An area that's suddenly having problems with murders and magic failing?"
The bigot flipped a single palm.
"Not at all. The murders are clearly being done by some rather powerful magic types. Those are the only ones that do that kind of thing. Low magic people aren't perfect, but they don't sacrifice anyone. I'm hoping to capitalize on that fact. The magic going out, well, it's interesting, but I'd only heard rumors. Trains stopping and lights not going on? Is it connected to the murders do you think?"
Gwen nearly growled at the man, because he was trying to act like he wasn't a suspect.
"Where were you for the other murders, Cordell?" She was nearly ready to hit him, but he just listed off engagements that he'd had, some of which had been covered in the press. Bethany remembered two of them herself. It didn't mean he was truly free and clear, but he also wasn't wrong about the sort of murders that they seemed to be looking at.
It smacked of power generation and ceremony, rather than psycho-sexual mental illness. Not that she had enough information to rule that out. No one had gotten pictures of the crime scene and they hadn't been provided with any notes at all. Most Detective work here was done by finding someone that seemed guilty enough, and then beating a confession out of them. If you got the right person it was pretty efficient, but if you got the wrong one, then it muddled things. Almost everyone confessed after all.
Oddly enough, it seemed like no one believed that an innocent person ever would, even at the cost of great pain or their own life. Gwen was willing to bet that the people in prison were a lot less likely to think that was true than the average man or woman on the street.
The idea of taking good notes wasn't unheard of, but having a photographer come in was only used in a few places. Forensics were pretty much an unknown too. There was a new process being tested for that, but it would take twenty to forty years to really get a foothold, she'd been assured by people in the know. A lot of them, actually. So for now it was all about her and Beth riding the rails and questioning people.
This part of things might not even be needed, since once they were actually in the right area, they could just have Beth open up and try to pick up any thoughts of murder and catch whoever was doing it, if they tried again. It might take some months of doing it that way for it to pay off, but Gwen figured it would. The ceremony would need some pretty specific things to make happen, and probably more than three girls. How many they didn't know, not having a clue what the end goal was.
If it was some moron trying to open up the voidic plane to get the Elder Gods out again, then it would take a lot more than a few dead girls to manage. If however it was something else, a person using the deaths to collect personal power? Or gain wealth? Those things might well not need too much more than a few casualties to make happen.
At least if she were right and not just making up stories to try and get things to work in her head. She was probably doing that though. After all, she only knew a little about that kind of magic, and even those that knew that sort of thing could be at a loss, if they didn't have the specifics. It was kind of the reason that most of those kinds of things were solved by other means. Normally beating people until they found ones that had the right kind of garb in old chests in their attics or whatever it was that meant they probably had the right people.
You just kept doing it until things stopped happening, she guessed.
After a while Sally and her University friend came back. It hadn't taken that long, but the boy was a little mussed looking and the lipstick that Sally had been wearing was gone. It was a good sign. Not a perfect one, but short of watching herself, what was she supposed to do to test what she'd been told? The two moved back to their old seats, and Gwen moved to intercept the kid, who wasn't that much younger than her body was, she was sure.
Calling him a kid was probably a bit rich then, wasn't it? Well, she felt old, inside, so that had to count.
"Hello. I take it that things went well with that?" Her head tilted toward the whore that she'd paid. The man blushed a brilliant scarlet.
"I... don't know what you mean."
Beth waited for Martin to take his seat, still playing male guardian, suspect or not. As soon as he was in place, she leaned in, conspiratorially.
"Miss Farris paid Sally to use her mouth on you. It was a test of her professional claims. Did she deliver the service?" This was all whispered, as if it were shameful and illegal. Since it probably was, that made sense. There was just no way these people, the ones in the Western Kingdom, would let that kind of thing just go unchecked.
It just wasn't the Special Service's job to find or harass women for such things. Just like outing gay people wasn't their business. Not unless it was important to their other work. Then again, Beth was technically not there in that capacity, they were just using the uniforms for the time being, to make their own lives easier.
The poor boy in front of them rather choked then, making a gasping sound.
"I... yes?"
Gwen wrote that down, and then asked him for his name.
"Carter, Miss. Carter Palmer." There was a subdued quality to it as if he were really still embarrassed about the whole thing from earlier. Gwen didn't see why. Oh, well, he might have just been embarrassed that they knew, or that she'd paid for him to have that done. Or it could be something else all together. She would have been embarrassed if it had been her in the same position, but she was kind of a prude, personally.
Not the kind that didn't admit that sex ever happened for regular people, but the kind that just figured it probably wouldn't for her. That was wrong now however, and she knew it. She just didn't know what to do about it. Get married, probably, and let the rest work itself out?
"Age?" She tried to make herself sound chipper, and like it was all a philosophical question.
"I, er, twenty-six."
Gwen had figured him for being a lot younger than that, years even.
"Are you a graduate student then? Radiatives?" She stared directly into his eyes and he looked away, then back as if trying not to seem like he'd done anything wrong.
"Yes. I work with Doctor Professor Grainger. We've met actually, about four months ago? Just in passing. The Doctor asked me to look into several of your ideas for new devices. I've been coordinating with other students on the topic."
That was a thing that she'd known about, after a fashion, but had to look at Carter again to understand why he looked so familiar. He'd been in her hallucination. The one that had made a small light device that she'd suggested he turn into either a clip-light or a flashlight. They didn't really have those here yet, for some reason, even though their technology basically meant it was part of the natural progression.
"Great. We can go over that stuff later. Were you one of the people working on the showe
r head?" One had simply shown up in her shower one day, weeks before. It was a godsend, and she was about to thank the man in front of her for it, if he'd had a hand.
Except that he looked incredibly uneasy about the idea for some reason. Then she remembered something else from her hallucination, which she was starting to think had a lot more psychic precognitive function involved than she'd been thinking. Of course it had been at the hands of one of the most powerful non-Westmorland precognitive people in the world, and her own mind might well have been doing that too, tying everything together.
In that scenario the University students had pooled their money in order to set up the manufacture of the devices for sale. It had been, as her mental image of Doctor Grainger had said, great initiative, if not strictly legal. He'd seemed to think it was funny at the time and so had she. After all, she pretty much had money taken care of for a long time, thanks to the Vernors and her investments. It was worth it, just to get the shower heads.
Carter sighed, and then confessed. He eyed Beth the whole time too, clearly getting that what he'd done was wrong.
"We, myself and a few others," He didn't go on, looking down at his lap. Then he flushed, probably remembering what had just happened, not too long before. He looked over at the back of Sally's head too. Then he rushed through the incriminating words. "We started making them for sale, but didn't solidify the transaction with you first. I had the device sent to you for testing, but the honest truth is that we have them for sale in several parts of the Kingdom already. It isn't strictly lawful of us to do that. We have kept half the mets made for you aside, so we aren't trying to cheat you, it was simply that no one wanted to wait or bother you, being that you've been so busy. We aren't trying to cheat you at all. I don't have them with me, but I can telestat for the funds, if you wish?" There was an eagerness to that last plea, as if almost wishing for her to simply take the money now, in order to protect the others from prosecution? Was it that big of a deal? Apparently it was.
The admission had Martin looking ready to throttle the guy, and Beth glaring as if she planned to hold him down for that very action herself, but Gwen just flipped a single palm.
"I already knew all that. Reinvest my part in the other projects? Let me know what's coming out next first though, will you? I'm especially interested in the running shoes that..." She had to think, and realized that her imagination might have just produced the name and even the young lady attached to it, out of whole cloth. "Regina Botstein? The one doing the special treads for shoes." She said it as if she'd had a real report on everything, probably from Doctor Grainger, and Carter looked ready to run away.
That made sense. After all he'd just been serviced by a professional woman, and if Gwen's memory was right and not just something she invented, Regina was the man's girlfriend.
He tried to cover at least, which told her a lot about the situation. "Correct. I was under the impression that Doctor Professor Grainger wasn't that impressed with the quality of her efforts yet, however. Did he mention her to you?"
"No. That's correct however, about her work, but I have some ideas that might help her. I was also planning to hire her on as a tutor and lady's assistant, part time. She's a friend of yours, isn't she?" Gwen realized that, after she said the words there was no way for the poor guy to not take it as a threat from her to blackmail or extort things from him. A dark letter. Blackmail. Duh. The connection just clicked in her head, which probably meant she was being far too distracted to have not gotten that before.
Carter sighed.
"Well, we were close, but recently had a falling out. She'd make an excellent assistant however, if you don't mind a rather outspoken woman at your side all the time. She... took up with another fellow in the program. It wasn't my choice, but in such things you never really have one, do you?"
Gwen felt relief pour over her and smiled, actually meaning it.
"Good. I'd have hated to think I was sending Sally after someone already taken. Well, all we need then is your alibi, which means your whereabouts for the murders that took place, and why you're going to that region now?"
The man looked away again.
"Honestly? I'd heard that there was a problem with magics in the area and had traveled there to find out what it was. I was on the train, for each of the murders."
Because, Gwen thought, naturally he was.
Chapter nine
She nearly fell asleep while questioning the man. It took more than a few covert elbows from Bethany to keep her on task, and Carter finally called a halt to things, seeing that she really wasn't doing well. He hadn't provided any kind of proof that he wasn't guilty of the crimes, at all. In fact, if it were a movie, he would have looked pretty guilty about then. The red-herring meant to throw her off? In real life though, the people that seemed to be guilty normally were.
That would be sad, since they had friends in common, and the man had been in her hallucinated world as a minor player and everything. That didn't mean he wasn't a killer, and to be involved in that level of radiatives, he had to be knowledgeable about magic in general. That part kind of fit, didn't it?
It wasn't too great of a stretch to think that someone like him might know enough about ceremonial magic to have a project that needed some death to make happen. He'd probably had classes in the subject and everything. Possibly with Erin Debussey. Gwen just couldn't get herself to ask that, not yet. If the man was guilty, and Erin had gotten to him, then he might not even know it. Magically enhanced mesmerism should have worn off by now, however. At least that was the theory. Gwen wasn't really certain that was the case, in reality. Not given the fact that Erin had been using some psychological reinforcement techniques. If that was the case, then he might try to kill himself if he were about to be captured. It had happened before, and she didn't want to lose anyone else, if she could help it.
"We're going to have to pick this up later. I guess that it's incredibly rude to do, but I need to find a place to lie down soon. I know, I'm a wimp. Still, I'm going to sleep, and might as well do it while flat, or my neck will end up killing me." Gwen packed her notes away, by closing the little yellow pad, and stood, which had everyone else standing up too.
Bethany fixed Carter with a harder look than Gwen would have, and smiled. It wasn't a flirty or good-looking thing either, but told the fellow that he'd better not leave town. Gwen smiled too, if tiredly. What was the guy really going to do? Hurl himself off the train? It was physically possible, given the speed they were traveling, but she doubted that was his plan. He'd get all dirty, rolling on the ground if he tried, and he just didn't seem the type to risk it. Not that he seemed fussy, but he was just too well dressed for her to credit that at all.
It was, she figured, a mental failure on her part. People would do anything to avoid arrest, right? If he had to throw himself from a slow moving train, she had to guess that the man would do it, even if he wasn't a very physically oriented person over all. Everyone would. Hell, for all she knew the man could just float to the ground after he jumped, or even fly away. Almost no one could have done that, but she could, so didn't it pay to assume that everyone else might be able to as well?
Bethany, being a good friend and kinder boss than most people would have credited, took her by the arm and signaled Sam, the muscular porter, to attend them. He worked his way over with a smile, but didn't ask what they needed, just waiting to be told.
Beth smiled tightly.
"A sleeping cubby? One of the nicer ones, I think, if they aren't already taken?"
The man didn't blink about it, but started to try and take their bags again, stopping when Gwen glared at him a little. She wasn't letting him have her weapons after all. The man was bright enough to get that, without feeling offended, she thought. He smiled and nodded instead, then gestured smoothly toward the front of the rail car.
"This way please, ladies?" He didn't start into pricing until they were all the way out of the car they'd been riding in. At first she didn't get the re
ason for it, but it clicked, the mental fog slowing her uptake processes, but not stopping them all together.
It was so they could opt for a less expensive option, if they didn't have the funds needed, without being embarrassed in public.
"A sleeper is ten cents per night, per person. A top sleeper is twenty per night, per person, and it's forty for the best chamber. Per person." He looked slightly uneasy, and stopped as if he didn't know where to go.
Gwen handed him three singles. The ink and pattern was on only one side of the paper script, not both, but it was very high quality for all that. How they stopped counterfeiters she didn't know at all. She suspected there was some kind of magical process involved, but she'd never just sat and tried to figure it out. The paper was high quality, and not made of what people wrote on. Rag paper, she thought, like the cash back home was.
"We'll take the biggest one, whichever that is. Is that the best?" It made sense to here, since size, not anything else, would be the thing that was expensive on a train.
Sam should his head no, however.
"For space, if you don't have a price concern, I'd get two side by side Top Sleepers. You only have to spend forty per night that way, for the two of you, and you can leave the suite door open."
Gwen shrugged, not caring if he got that at all.
"Sounds like a plan then. Lead on, please?"
Sam took them three cars forward, since they had a lot more space than they had people to fill it. Then he let them enter the two rooms they were being allotted, and ran to get their keys. It gave Gwen a minute to look at what was in front of them. She'd expected small, even paying for space, and she wasn't disappointed. The room had two stacked bunks in it, and while they were padded, the things weren't exactly soft and high quality beds. They had sheets and blankets on them, but looked like military issue things, not anything better. There was nothing else in the room. It was about the size of a medium sized walk in closet. Really, she was glad she wouldn't have to share, even with Beth. They could have done it, and she wouldn't complain about it, but it wasn't much room, if they were going to be traveling for several weeks.