by Mark Hayden
‘That’d be champion. Saves a trip with the sheep.’
‘Talking of Middlebarrow,’ said Hannah, ‘I need to give you the deputy’s Badge, Conrad. Amongst other things, it disables the boundary Wards. And because we’ve got Mina here, you can take the new oath now, while we’re outside.’
‘Why me?’ said Mina.
‘You’re an officer of the Cloister Court, to witness it. Francesca, would you mind being the Salomon’s House witness?’
‘An honour, dear.’
Hannah had made the announcement about my appointment and promotion at the extended brunch after having a private word with Myfanwy first so that she didn’t panic. The most gratifying thing about everyone’s response was that no one was surprised, and the only one who showed any disappointment was Saffron: she quite fancied a posting away from Mercia with me.
Hannah passed me her phone. I have sworn a lot of oaths over the years, but reading the words off a phone was definitely a first. She had even gone to the trouble of customising it for me.
‘I, Conrad Clarke, call upon the Allfather to witness my oath to be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, Her Heirs and Successors, and that I will, as in duty bound, preserve the Peace of His Majesty King James and serve the Peculier Constable in the Office of Deputy.’
I got a round of applause, and Hannah took back her phone after we’d shaken hands. She passed me a velvet lined box, as used to hand out MBEs and such like. It contained a medallion, mostly bronze, with the image of Caledfwlch on the surface in silver.
‘When you get to Middlebarrow,’ she said, ‘you’ll find a spring in the gardens. Make it your first job to take the Badge to the spring and then drink the water. After that, the magick will be inside you and the Badge will be a souvenir.’
‘That sounds rather alarming, ma’am.’
She grinned. ‘You’ll cope. Now where’s this tea?’
My phone chose that moment to interrupt proceedings. It was Hannah’s sister, Ruth. ‘Hi, Ruth.’
‘Hi Conrad. My nephew, Moshe’s oldest brother’s son, has just sent me a video.’
I could hear barely suppressed rage in her voice, like a steam boiler about to burst. ‘Oh yes?’
‘It’s a video of a party, with everyone in Indian dress. My nephew was more interested in Tara Doyle doing a solo at the front, but he couldn’t help noticing me in the background. Please tell me that one of your friends did this.’
Most people had gone inside. The Boss was towards the rear, and I shouted, ‘Hannah!’ She turned round. ‘Are we friends?’
She laughed. ‘On a day-by-day basis. Today, yes. What’s going on?’
I put the phone back to my ear. ‘A friend. Yes.’
‘I heard that, as you no doubt intended, Conrad. Put her on.’
Hannah was lingering to see what was going on. I walked through the back door and passed her the phone. ‘For you.’
‘What…?’
I moved quickly to get out of range and dodged into the house.
The back door of Elvenham leads to a passage with the scullery, the old kitchen (now a utility room) and the old servants’ staircase, as well as the new kitchen and the original green baize door to the Upstairs part of the house. Li Cheng was waiting there and intercepted me.
‘You missed a video, Cheng, and it ended up with Ruth Kaplan. I wouldn’t want to be you on the drive home.’
‘Aah. It’s good that Hannah is going with Vicky, then. Conrad, could I show you something before we eat?’
‘Of course.’
He led me through the upstairs door to the passage where he’d used Occulting, now discharged, to hide the safe cupboard. ‘I took the liberty of integrating an Image Capture into the Work I made. See?’
Cheng is the leading human expert on the integration of magick with technology. He created the sPad (Sorcerer’s iPad), among other things. I’m reliably informed that it’s the future of magick. He opened his sPad and showed me a picture. ‘I do not know these people, but I did see you talking to them at the party.’
It was a still image of Stephen Bloxham, running his hands over the panelling, while Juliet stood in the background, keeping a look out.
‘Well bugger me,’ I said. ‘I didn’t think they’d have the nerve. Thank you, Cheng. Could you copy that to me? I owe you one.’
He closed the sPad. ‘A pleasure. They say it is good discipline to suppress your curiosity. I’ve always found the opposite to be true.’
‘They’re looking for something that doesn’t exist. I’d tell you more, but it’s a Clarke family secret. Even Mina doesn’t know.’
‘Does Rachael?’
I’d noticed Cheng dancing with Rachael last night. ‘No. There are only ever two of us who know it. Me and Dad.’
He bowed, ‘Then I shall respect your secret.’
We entered the kitchen, and I said, ‘Rachael is very high maintenance, you know. And she works very hard.’
‘She plays hard, too.’
I took my place at the kitchen table, and noticed an empty seat. ‘Where’s the Boss?’
Myfanwy went to get the tea pot and looked out of the window. ‘Still on the phone. Who was it?’
I grinned. ‘Vicky will be able to tell you all about it later.’
‘Eh? You what?’ said a suspicious Vicky.
‘When you get in the car, just ask what Ruth wanted.’
Vicky put her head in her hands. ‘Why me? What have I ever done to upset anyone?’
4 — On the Case
Scout jumped out of the car and looked around, sniffing and not knowing which way to turn. He took two wary steps backwards, towards me, and gave his worried bark. Poor lad, coming back to your birthplace must be unsettling. There were answering barks from inside the cowshed, and a brace of border collies scampered out to see who’d invaded their territory. From inside the trailer at the back of my car, a sheep bleated nervously.
We were en route to Lunar Hall in the Ribble Valley with a very special mission, one that necessitated moving fourteen sheep from one end of the country to the other. I wouldn’t mention the sheep at all if I hadn’t turned up with them at Ribblegate Farm. As well as being Scout’s birthplace, the farm is also the home of the Kirkhams, the first members of the Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars
The two resident collies were Scout’s mother and brother, and they weren’t exactly pleased to see the prodigal son. I wonder if he smelt differently to them since he’d been a Familiar. Did he have the lingering odour of Lucas on him? The dogs stopped at a distance and barked loudly. Joseph Kirkham, tall man in overalls and a flat cap, followed the dogs out of the cowshed to see what the fuss was all about.
‘Give over,’ he said to the collies. ‘Lie down!’
The mother obeyed him immediately, her son reluctantly.
Joseph walked steadily across the yard and shook my hand. ‘Conrad. How’s things?’
‘Good. Thanks for this. I’ll see you right afterwards.’
‘You always do. That dog of yours has grown up. He was the runt when you took him away.’ Joseph lowered his hand and let Scout smell him. I moved over to the farm dogs and did the same, after which a canine truce broke out.
‘He’s a good dog,’ I said. ‘Works well to the whistle. I’ll show you when the transporter gets here.’
‘It’s in the blood,’ said Joseph, which is pretty much the livestock farmer’s answer to everything. ‘Your namesake’s doing well.’
The Kirkhams had used some of the money I’d given them to keep a bull calf for breeding, and on my last visit, they’d named him Nostromo. They were investing a lot of time and money in that bull, and wouldn’t have an idea of its worth for at least a year. What with the English weather and Brexit, I sometimes wonder how farmers sleep at night.
A small hatchback drove into the yard and stopped by the farmhouse, away from the yard. Joesph’s daughter-in-law, Kelly got out of the driver’s seat and gave me a cheerful wave.
The passenger got out and nodded briefly.
Kelly is in her early thirties, a mother of two and played a small but significant role in getting Mina and I together. Her passenger is ten years younger and played a crucial role in getting Mina out of jail.
Stacey looked better than the last time I’d seen her. Her prison-black hair had been dyed brown, and she’d put on a little weight. She now looked thin rather than emaciated.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ shouted Kelly. ‘Where’s Mina?’
‘Picking up Vicky from Preston station. Won’t be long.’
‘Good.’
‘We’ve got the pen sorted,’ said Joseph, ‘and somewhere for that ram. Shame we can’t run them in the field.’
‘I doubt we’ll be more than an hour. Too much of a risk.’
‘Reckon you’re right. You never know what they’ve got. Welsh, you say?’
‘Black faced badgers.’
A deep rumble up the lane signalled the arrival of the livestock transporter. The driver did a three-point turn and killed the engine. He got out and moved round the back to put the ramp in place. This wasn’t the final destination for the sheep, but they deserved a rest after their trip from Gloucestershire and before heading on to Lunar Hall.
I don’t want to go into detail about the sheep here because they have nothing whatsoever to do with Tara Doyle, so can you just take my word that they’ll be important one day?
Joseph moved to the end of the yard and opened the gate of a holding pen, already stocked with feed and water. The thirteen ewes bounded out of the transporter and milled happily around the yard like tourists released from a coach at the motorway services. ‘Come by, Scout,’ I said.
He shot off round the lorry and intercepted the sheep before they could make a break for the sweet smelling grass beyond the yard. Together, we had them in the pen before the driver had raised the ramp.
‘Always was a strange dog,’ said Joseph. ‘He’s not bad. You could win trials with him.’ He paused, conscious of his habitual understatement. ‘It’s not natural, Conrad. No pup should be able to work sheep like that.’
‘You’re right, Joseph. It’s not natural. As Vicky keeps saying, I’m a lucky bastard.’
I unloaded the solitary ram from my trailer and penned him as the lorry negotiated the exit, giving way to Mina’s car on the way in. Mina and Vicky got out and went to the back to pick up suit hangars.
‘Hello, Joseph, said Mina. ‘You’ve met Vicky, haven’t you?’
‘Aye. Kelly’s back with Stacey, and she’s got the kettle on.’
Mina turned to me. ‘I may never forgive you for this, Conrad. Why you had to meet in a farm is beyond me.’
‘Where else could I leave the sheep,’ I replied. ‘And we’re guaranteed privacy here.’
‘I just hope we have time to get changed before she turns up. In fact, you can stand out here and delay her until we’re ready.’
Mina turned on her heel and went into the farmhouse.
‘Who on God’s earth are you expecting?’ said Joseph. ‘The Queen?’
‘She has more Instagram followers than the Queen.’
‘Oh. One of them. Roll-up?’
‘Thank you.’
We stood outside the farmhouse and smoked and talked about his family, sheep and sheepdogs. When Kelly opened the door and said that they were ready, we went inside. I waited while Joseph took off his boots, and with perfect timing, Tara Doyle’s Bentley cruised into the farmyard. I hung back to welcome her and, yes, I did give a moment’s thought to what a multi-millionaire footballer’s wife and model would wear to a secret rendezvous at a farm.
The answer is ripped jeans, trainers and a leather jacket. Just so you know. And Mina and Vicky had opted for something you’d wear to a boardroom presentation (if you were a young woman). Even Joseph was impressed by his visitor. You could tell that because he took his cap off.
Once the introductions were finished, Tara led the discussion, starting with further thank-yous for the party last Saturday. She is a class act, is Princess Birkdale. She induced Stacey to speak (the poor girl was dumbstruck), she praised Kelly’s refurbished farmhouse and in five minutes, everyone without a Y chromosome was hanging off her every word.
When Joseph had finished his tea, he put his cap back on and said, ‘Best be off and check on that heifer.’
I nodded to Kelly, and she took Stacey’s arm. ‘We need to check on the bungalow. We’ve got a booking for the weekend. We’ll be back before Tara goes.’
When the door closed behind Kelly, everyone changed slightly: sitting straighter, crossing their legs or folding their arms. Tara checked her phone and gave a Fae smile.
‘I can see why you wanted to meet here,’ she said, ‘but why have you dragged that poor kid Stacey along, Mina?’
‘To check on her. To try to help her believe that the future can be different from the past. You have no vacancies in your entourage, do you?’
‘For a convicted thief? No, not in the sídhe. It would be all over the tabloids in no time. I can put her in the Gardens and give her a bedsit.’
‘Gardens?’
Tara gave a fixed smile. ‘The late Count of Canal Street liked to be unconventional. Liked sticking two fingers up at the People. His People. The jewel in his crown is a club called The Fairy Gardens, and that’s the only time I want to hear it referred to by its full name in my presence. It’s The Gardens. OK?’
‘Ooh.’
‘Ouch.’
The Fae do not like the word Fairy. Humans have been slit open for using it to their faces. For the Count to have done this was a monstrous, grotesque insult to every Fae in the North West. If he was like that about a nightclub, what else had he got up to?
‘Is Stacey Entangled?’ said Tara.
Mina shook her head. ‘No. She is not stupid and she has very sharp instincts when it comes to people. The first time she saw Conrad, she immediately stood behind me. She smelt the danger on him.’
Tara nodded thoughtfully. ‘Fine. I’ll take a proper look when we’re done here. What do you wanna know?’
‘Start with background,’ I said.
‘The Count was young. Only sixty-four. When he was made Knight, he saw an opportunity in the Gay Village and went in as he was. No changeling. He’s built up some property, a couple of restaurants and the Gardens. He also had a private members club. He really knew how to give people a good time. It was a gift. I wouldn’t have become Tara without his inspiration.’
‘What happened on the night he died?’
‘Assassinated. He was taken out deliberately for who he was, alright?’ She paused to make sure we’d understood. ‘He left the Gardens at midnight to walk to the private club. He took his latest pet with him.’
‘Pet?’ said Mina innocently. Then she looked at me and Vicky and saw the frowns on our faces. If Fairy is insulting to the Fae, referring to their human associates as pets is equally insulting to you and me. Assuming that you’re human, of course.
‘I didn’t say that word,’ said Tara, as bold as brass. ‘Sorry, it must be me accent.’ She looked at me and blinked her exquisite eyelashes. That was the closest we were going to get to an acknowledgement or an apology.
‘Carry on,’ I said. ‘We got the message.’
‘Right. Well, he was with one of his entertainers. Fake Lass.’
Vicky frowned. ‘A fake lass?’
Tara laughed. ‘Not half. She’s a drag queen. Fae Klass. Another of the Count’s little jokes.’
‘And they left together?’
‘They did. Five minutes later, he was dead. I felt it all the way over in Liverpool. I was at a charity gala and I had to run out to be sick. He was a part of me, and I can still feel the hole inside.’ She took a deep breath. ‘As well as losing the Count, the next morning I had to deal with Twitter telling me I was an evil bitch for drinking while pregnant. Celebs are not supposed to be ill in public. Oh, and I’m not pregnant.’
‘What do yo
u know about what happened?’
‘As soon as I could stand upright, I rang his Knight. Wayne. He was in bits, too. He still is. He messaged me Fae Klass’s number, and you know what, she answered. She was still alive.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Nothing. She cut me off and disappeared. Vanished in a puff of smoke. I think she’s up to her neck in this, but we can’t find her. Wayne got one of his tame bizzies to look for her, but without a real name it was difficult.’
Mina spoke this time. ‘You don’t even know her name? His name?’
‘No. The Count found her somewhere and took her in. She lived with him. She hasn’t been back to his place. Disappeared off the face of the earth leaving all her possessions behind. I think she set him up and whoever killed the Count killed her later.’
I didn’t think that at all. If this person had been guilty, they’d never have answered the phone. That didn’t mean they were still alive, though.
I took out my notebook and jotted down a couple of facts, then asked, ‘Who do you suspect?’
She threw up her arms. ‘You tell me. Could be anyone.’
‘With respect, my lady, we do not know your world. None of us even know the area, not even the mundane version. It would be useful to have your thoughts.’
One of those extended canine teeth emerged and stroked her lip. ‘I’m under a geas not to say.’
Mina frowned. A geas is a magickal imposition or compulsion, and it’s a Fae speciality. Only the Queen of Alderley could have done it, and it was humiliating for Tara to have to admit she’d been disciplined like that.
‘Who’s running the show now?’
‘Wayne is doing his best, but he’s not the sharpest pencil in the box. Head of security is about his limit. I want to know what’s happened before I consider who’s going to take over. I’ve already had two Knights kill each other over this.’
The People, to use their own name, have many junior members with ambition. A lot of their internal pecking order at the lower levels is decided with violence. Whoever took over from the Count of Canal Street would have a big leg-up.