Three Charms for Murder (The Case Files of Henri Davenforth Book 5)

by Honor Raconteur

  I doubted anyone would be able to, but I hoped they would. This case would not be an easy one, not in any sense.

  Phil, for whatever reason, liked Henri.

  If Henri sat down, Phil jumped in his lap. If Henri moved, Phil rode on his shoulder. The kitten never said much, but wherever the man was, Phil was sure to be there. Frankly, I found it adorable. At first Henri seemed bemused at having this furry shadow. Now he just rolled with it.

  We had our own private cabin on the train, which was just as well. It was a six-hour ride to Deems, and we’d need to discuss the case in a private setting on the way in. Henri and I sat on one bench, Gerring and Penny on the other. The cats took full advantage of having cooped-up humans to get all the pets. All.

  Clearing my throat, I pointed to Clint, who was stretched across both Penny and Gerring’s laps. “Stop distracting them, it’s time to work. Alright, guys, let’s figure out how to tackle this. We need a lot of answers, and getting to the right place to ask the right questions means we’ll be going in about a dozen directions at once.”

  “I thought Weber was coming with us,” Penny said, already pulling out a notebook from her breast pocket. I had unduly influenced her when it came to dress code—she’d dropped skirts entirely about three months ago, and her navy-blue suit with the pin stripe looked sharp on her. I approved.

  “He informed me he couldn’t make the early morning train,” Henri answered, stroking Phil’s head. The kitten sat like a ball of fur in his lap, eyes closed, purring loudly enough to be mistaken as a vibrator. “But he’ll be on the next one. Our first step will be to go directly to the Deems Police Station and transfer the case formally into our hands. Doing that will preserve both bodies so he can perform a clean autopsy.”

  “Got it. He’ll start that later today?”

  “Perhaps not. It will be evening before he reaches Deems. But he’ll be able to get a good start in the morning. I think that’s his plan. After we gain control of the case, we should go straight to the house.”

  “I want a really good look at the murder scene myself. I think we all do. We’ll set the cats loose on the scene too, see if they can find any sniffies for us.”

  Tasha, in my lap, perked up sharply. “Lots of sniffies?”

  “That’s for you to tell me, kiddo,” I said. “I hope so. Lots of sniffies means lots of clues. But we’ll see what’s there. I want you to see if anything else stands out. The police said there was no sign of forced entry, but they found one door unlocked, so why they even said that is beyond me.”

  “Shoddy.” Gerring shook his head in disgust. “So shoddy to jump to that conclusion. Now, Ms. Gwyneth Atwood said the housekeeper came in to clean the floors before the house was shown. Did he see any tracks leading in from something other than the main entrance?”

  “That’s a good question.” I approved. Gerring really did have the right mind to make a good detective. It was part of the reason why I so quickly took him on. That, and I just liked him as a person. “I really want to sit Drummond down and get the full account from the horse’s mouth. Let’s check the outside, too.”

  Penny tapped a pencil against her notebook in a quick rhythm. “Does anyone find the posing of the corpses to be very strange? Do murderers normally do that?”

  Henri shook his head immediately. “No.”

  “Well, serial killers do sometimes,” I qualified. “People with obsessions are known to do this. Sometimes, a particularly clever murderer will do it just to throw off investigators.”

  “And our job is to figure out which of the three this is?” Penny sighed. “Oh, this will be fun.”

  “We should be able to rule out serial killer rather quickly,” Gerring observed. “Look up how many other cases had this particular oddity. We’ll have a yes or no answer within a few hours.”

  Gerring was right there. “I’m going to let you two look into that. It might not be pleasant, as it’ll mean going through Deems’ police records, but it has to be done. If this is part of an ongoing murder spree, we really need to know. The Atwoods are putting together a list of everyone their father has sued in the past five years. While we’re waiting on that, we need a timeline of events.”

  “And there’s some curiosities we need answers to, as well.” Henri made his own checklist on a small hand-held notebook. “Why were Luther and Mariel at the house at all? No one seems to know. And did they travel by train or car?”

  “One of us might end up going to the other Atwood house, talking with people there to see if anyone knows the answers to those questions.” I personally hoped not. This case already involved a lot of travelling, and we’d already lost the golden time by coming in three days cold. The best leads disappeared within twenty-four hours, as a general rule. I could only hope trace evidence hadn’t been casually destroyed by incompetent police work and unknowing witnesses.

  Yes, I was aware that was wishful thinking.

  “If we can make phone calls and do the interviews that way, I suggest we do.” Henri grimaced, of the same opinion about all the travelling. “I do have a foreboding feeling such methods will not work out in our favor, however. Whoever murdered them must be familiar not only with the family, but with the house itself. Posing them in such a manner means the murderer knew of the statue. He came prepared with the right magical charms to enact his plan.”

  An obvious—but valid—observation. “And he knew how to get in. If the wards are still functioning correctly, and there’s no sign of forced entry, that means he had access somehow. All this speaks of familiarity.”

  “If the murderer wasn’t familiar…” Gerring trailed off with a snort. “Sorry, this image of a murderer frantically running through the house, looking for something to use as a model, just crossed through my head. Surely they didn’t do that. I would think they’d have come in with a firm plan.”

  “You’d think. But people do strange things under pressure. Let’s keep our minds open.” Pursing my lips, I studied my two ducklings, knowing they were seasoned investigators, but also knowing they’d never been in a situation quite like this. We’d had some high-profile cases, but this was a different kettle of fish. This one entered high society, which would entail a whole new level of media coverage. Considering that, I felt it only fair to give them warning. “We’ll run across reporters on this case. Not like the last ones you’ve worked with me. This will be a whole new breed.”

  Henri grimaced, making a sour face. “Unfortunately true. The best way to handle it is to say the family requested further investigation and that the police department chose to call in a magical examiner. Our reputation is such that no one will question us investigating a case with magical peculiarities.”

  I think they’d have questions, but that was probably the safest thing to say.

  Gerring glanced back and forth between all of us, his dark eyes reflecting concern. “This case is going to be one giant headache, isn’t it?”

  “See, Gerring?” I gave him a too-bright smile. “You’re catching on already.”

  To my surprise, someone waited for us at the train station. Posed just outside the platform, standing next to the low wooden fence, stood a short man with a bushy beard and a sign held in front of him that read “Davenforth and Co.”

  I stepped off the train, a bag over one shoulder, a basket of cats in my arm. It wasn’t too crowded on the platform, so I was able to descend without being jostled, fortunately. The air was a touch cool but not as cold as Kingston. Then again, we were further inland and south of Kingston, so of course it would be warmer here. It was nice to breathe fresh air after being in the stuffy, circulated air of the train car for six hours straight. Being so far from Kingston and that irritating smell, I left the nose guard off and stowed in my suitcase. It left me free to breathe in fresh air and I took advantage of it.

  Ahead of me, Henri spotted the man at the same time I did.

  “Drummond,” he said with relief. “Bless that man. Everyone, follow me!”

 
; We did, like we were playing follow the leader, straight to the waiting man. I took the opportunity to study him. He did look well past retirement age, as there wasn’t a trace of color in his beard, eyebrows, or what I could see of the hair poking out from underneath a brimmed cap. He was well dressed, wearing a three-piece brown day suit that had seen some wear, as it looked comfortable on him instead of sharp. Frankly, he looked like someone’s grandfather, which gave me good vibes.

  “Mr. Davenforth,” he greeted with a smoke-aged voice. There was a sad smile on his face, barely visible beyond the beard. “I’m so glad you came. Thank you, sir.”

  “I’m sorry I had to,” Henri returned, extending a hand and clasping Drummond’s. “But I’m happy to help. Let me introduce my colleagues. This is my partner, Detective Jamie Edwards—”

  I shook hands with the man, surprised by the strength of his grip.

  “—Detective Penny McSparrin, and Officer Gerring. We have Jamie’s familiars with us, which are Clint, Phil, and Tasha. Everyone, this is Mr. Drummond, the housekeeper for the Atwoods.”

  “You are all very welcome.” Drummond cast the cats a curious look but didn’t comment. “I took the liberty of booking a hotel for you. Mr. Atwood was especially keen on seeing to your comforts. I am completely at your disposal while you are in Deems.”

  “You are kind, Drummond, and we appreciate it. Right now, we’re very anxious to go to the station and transfer the case into our hands.”

  “I will drive you.” Drummond turned to indicate a town car parked behind him. It was the luxury model, with three row seating and a foldout boot. Perfect for transporting this many people, and as close to an SUV as this world could get. “I am happy to chauffeur you wherever you need to go.”

  Music to my ears. Finding transportation in this town would be interesting, especially since none of us were very familiar with the area. “Thank you, Mr. Drummond. Please do.”

  We all loaded our bags into the boot, then found our seats. Henri insisted I get in front, as I needed more room to accommodate my longer legs, and I didn’t argue with him. I did appreciate the leg room, and it gave me a chance to talk to Drummond without trying to be heard over the motor. Sound quality in a vehicle was always dicey.

  As Drummond started up the car, I settled the basket of cats between us. Clint and the kittens poked their heads out, taking in the scenery, which was fine by me. I just wanted them to stay in the basket instead of darting about. Drummond looked one surprise away from a heart attack. Better not chance it.

  “Mr. Drummond, I have far too many questions and not enough answers. Do you mind if I ask a few things?”

  “Please do, Detective. I’m very anxious to have this terrible murder solved.” He spared me a look before backing out of the parking space. “Though I’m not sure how much I can tell you. I have contacted my colleague at the main residence. Ms. Erin is standing by ready to speak with you. There is a phone there and at the Deems House, so you can speak with her by telephone if you prefer.”

  “We’ll certainly do that to start. Right now, I need a timeline more than anything. And I want to know why they chose to come down to the house. Did they take the train? I understand they normally drove.”

  “Miss Erin informed me the car was in the shop. They’d had a minor fender-bender over the weekend. Because it is a foreign model, they’d by necessity ordered a new part that would take some weeks to ship in. I believe their intent was to come down and fetch this very car we are in to use in the meantime.”

  I noted this in my notebook. It was a reasonable thing, actually. Come get the car that wasn’t being used while waiting for the other to be fixed. Nothing nefarious there. Although it spoiled the idea the murderer had used it for a getaway, which was a dirty rotten shame. I loved cars. All that evidence in one contained space.

  Henri leaned in from the back seat to ask, “They came down to get it themselves? Not send someone down to fetch it?”

  “Mr. Atwood didn’t like for most people to drive his cars. I was one of the few he trusted to do so.”

  Ah. Good question to ask. I wasn’t really used to thinking in terms of servants doing things for me. “Was anyone aware of this plan?”

  “Only those of us on staff. I wasn’t aware they were coming, but it could be a matter of us missing each other. It was something of a spur of the moment decision on their part. They might have called to inform me, but I haven’t been home much in the past few days, nor at the Deems House. Too many errands took up much of my time.”

  The fun part about not having cell phones was that it was easy to miss people. And they didn’t have answering machines yet—I was working on that with Ellie, believe me—so if you missed a person, you missed them. Try again later, dude. “Was this car left at the Deems House for your convenience?”

  “In part, yes. In part because they always drove down to the house themselves, so it wasn’t feasible to bring a second car back with them.”

  Penny made an inquiring noise and pitched her voice to carry. “So, did Mrs. Atwood not drive?”

  “Not unless dire circumstances demanded it, and frankly, we were all grateful. She was a very nervous driver, and the more nervous she became, the more she pressed on the gas. Mrs. Atwood had four accidents within the course of a year. After that, Mr. Atwood drove her wherever she needed to go. Or their chauffeur in Jordane did.” Drummond gave a sad smile. He clearly had loved both of his employers. My heart gave a twinge for his sake. This situation had to be hard on him.

  This was all good information. Not enough to reverse the situation yet, though. Right now, I had ten percent answers and ninety percent questions. I wanted to resolve them as quickly as possible. “Okay, so they rode the train down to snag the car. That means they didn’t intend to stay overnight, correct?”

  “Correct. They live—lived—in Jordane. Their house is next to Ms. Gwyneth’s. It would be a matter of a two-hour drive or so, and Ms. Erin tells me they left early afternoon. Joseph, their butler, dropped them off at the station. They should have been home no later than eight o’clock in the evening.”

  “And when they didn’t show?” Henri asked. “Did no one think it odd?”

  “I think they all assumed the Atwoods chose instead to stay overnight. We’re still getting snow even in this early spring weather. Mr. Atwood’s reflexes not being as they were, he had become more cautious about driving.”

  Reasonable. The man had been seventy-three at his death. “So, it snowed that night? How heavily?”

  “I believe we got two inches or so. It’s been snowing off and on for nearly two weeks. It was why I was worried about the state of the floors.”

  I noted it all, wincing at the snow amount. I hated snow when it came to investigating. It either wiped out clues or obscured them. Snow was evil. Pretty, I grant you. Still evil. We drove into the center of town, the scene picturesque, like one of those touristy towns in Germany with the cobblestone streets and perfect buildings all resting snugly against each other. With the snow covering the roofs and lining the streets, it looked like a postcard.

  Funny, how looks could be so deceiving.

  I moved to the next item on my agenda. “I have a few questions about the badges and keys to allow access to the house. Aside from you, who all has access?”

  “Miss Gwyneth does, and our maid Julia. The gardener has access through the wards but no keys to the house, as he didn’t need them. The rest of the staff having been let go, I collected their keys and ward badges from them.”

  “And they’re all accounted for?”

  “I believe so, Detective. I can certainly double-check. You’re trying to ascertain how someone got into the house, I presume?”

  “You presume correctly. At this point I don’t believe Mr. Atwood killed his wife or himself.”

  Drummond gave a sad nod, eyes a bit bright. I could tell he was grateful to hear that. “None of us do, Detective. Thank you for saying that. As for how the murderer got in, I should mention
, there has been a string of burglaries in the past year.”

  I almost snapped around in my seat, facing Drummond. What gives, seriously?! And no one thought to mention this? “Really! How many?”

  “I don’t know the number. But every house in the neighborhood has been burglarized, and the thief is still at large. It was part of the reason why the house was put up for sale. Mrs. Atwood was especially nervous about staying in the house, and the ward’s security had been enhanced twice for her sake. Still, she wasn’t comfortable there, and they came down to visit less frequently. Mr. Atwood, I think, gave up on the idea of vacationing and chose to sell it instead.”

  I turned my head to share a speaking look with Henri. Really? A string of thefts in these houses for the past year and the police still closed the case that fast? Didn’t even pause to consider that maybe this was a robbery gone wrong? And why hadn’t the Atwood siblings said something about this? “Was there a robbery at the house as well?”

  “No, not prior to the murder, at least. I’ve found several things missing since the master and mistress were found. There wasn’t much of value left in the house, but there were a few things that just hadn’t been boxed up yet and moved out. I have a list of missing items.”

  “I’ll gladly take that list. Is that why the Atwoods were so adamant about locking all the doors?”

  “Indeed. I thought their concern a trifle groundless, I’m sad to say. Anything of real value had been taken out of the house, and anything valuable remaining would be very hard to move. I didn’t see how it would attract a thief in its current state. With the ward still up, we believed the house secure enough. The police made the assumption it wasn’t the work of the thieves because they couldn’t find any indication of forced entry.”