I shook my head grimly. “No. They were sitting in cold storage with their clothes still on. Still stuck in that statuesque position, no less. I had to undo the charm and set them somewhat to rights.”
Weber stared at me, a man waiting for the punch line of a joke. “Davenforth, that joke’s in poor taste.”
“I truly wish I was jesting.”
His expression darkened like an approaching storm, and he swore in curt, stiff tones. “I’ll have their coroner strung up by the balls for that!”
“Please do. It’s incomprehensible, that entire station. I’ve put a ward over the bodies to prevent any evidence tampering. I’ll need to go in with you tomorrow to remove it.” And likely guard him so he could work without being interrupted. I did not trust the men in that station to allow Weber in without any hassling.
Weber gave me a sharp nod. “We’ll leave immediately after breakfast. I don’t have much time to spend here, only a few days. With the state of things, I’ll need to do my own lab work as well as the examinations, which means more time here. Still, I want to get things done quickly.”
“Then we’ll rise early.” I understood the time constraints. On any given day, Weber had just as much to do as I myself. The examination of both Atwoods would definitely shed some light on matters, and right now we needed answers. “I won’t hold you up any further. Do go in and get some rest.”
“Thank you.”
We followed him in through the main door but split so he could check in at the counter stretching along the right side of the foyer.
Seaton leaned into my side, his tone soft but incredulous. “Did you really put up a ward around their bodies?”
“I truly did.”
“Is the state of the station that awful? I know they bungled the investigation, but do you really think they’d tamper with evidence?”
I cast him a wry look as we headed upstairs. “Seaton, I trust the Deems PD to make the wrong decisions and nothing else.”
“Does that mean we are, in effect, behind enemy lines?”
“I wish I could refute that.” Anger and sadness collided in me, a heady mix that was hard to swallow. “I’m afraid that’s hitting it squarely on the head.”
“Oh. Oh dear.” Seaton looked around as if just now realizing what he had gotten himself into.
My smile at him was all black humor. “Welcome to Deems.”
I went with Gerring to get the files from the Deems Precinct for two reasons. One, I wanted a one-on-one conversation with him. Two, I didn’t like the idea of any of us going into that station alone to haul out files. A bad atmosphere hung in there. And Gerring was a sweetie. Definitely not as mean as I am.
We went early in the morning, before breakfast was even served, as I hoped to catch the station at its sleepiest. A police station was never unmanned—shifts overlapped by an hour or so usually—but right around seven o’clock in the morning, it tended to be pretty dead. Criminals were not really known to be early risers.
Gerring drove, which was good practice for him, as he didn’t drive very often. Plus, neither of us had the heart to yank Drummond out of bed this early. No one was really up and about much, the streets barely waking to life at this hour, and I let the town pass us by as I focused on him. “So, Gerring. I thought I should tell you, I finally have official approval to mentor you.”
The Svartálfar shot me a blinding smile, teeth white against his black skin. “Do you really?”
“Yeah. I’ve been unofficially mentoring you for months now, so I’m glad that finally got the stamp of approval. I think Gregson was under the impression I couldn’t mentor both you and Penny at once.” I shrugged. That didn’t make sense to me. “You are now my duckling until I release you into the big pond.”
“I’m really happy about that. I want to make detective before the end of the year. Do you think I can?”
“Hmm, maybe? Penny did it in about six months. That seems pretty standard. And you already know more than she did before I officially took her on.”
He just about did a booty dance in his seat. “I’ve still been at home, you know. I’m really anxious to move out and have my own house.”
I blinked at him, startled. “No, I didn’t. I thought beat cops made enough to live on their own?”
“Maybe the ones smart enough to buy a house three years ago. But now? The market’s gone insane. I can’t afford it. But if I make detective, I can.”
Right, the pay raise would be substantial. “Then let’s definitely get you through and promoted before the market loses its mind completely.”
“Sounds like a viable plan.” He gave me another one of those sweet smiles. “Thank you so much. Really. I know you had to advocate several times to make it happen.”
“I did, but you’re worth the investment.” I meant every word. I did not teach closed minds. And Gerring was a sharp cookie underneath that cuteness.
“After I make detective, do you think I can partner up with Penny?”
I blinked at him, taken aback by this question. I knew those two got along, but I hadn’t expected this. “I don’t see why not. Why?”
“I know she’s had some trouble finding a regular partner. The men don’t seem to really know how to respond to her. Much like they didn’t know how to respond to you. For different reasons, though. I think.”
True. “Is that the only reason why?”
“Well, no. It’ll be easier on me too. Because she’s trained to handle a crime scene the way I am, I won’t be butting heads with her about it. Your methods are different than what we learn in the academy.”
Ahhh, good point.
“And,” Gerring added prosaically, “by that point, she’ll be just senior enough to take on a junior partner.”
“You’ve clearly thought this through. I think you should ask her now if she’s willing to wait for you.”
“Sure thing. But do you think she’ll agree?”
“I think she’ll be excited to have you as a partner.” Not to mention relieved. Gerring was as fully trustworthy as Henri.
Gerring parked in an open spot in front of the station, and we both mentally girded our loins for battle. I had a copy of the paperwork, transferring jurisdiction to us, just in case I had to wave that around again.
We stepped through the front doors and, as I hoped, the station was very dead. People were still in the waking-up process. I smelled a lot of coffee circulating the room in various cups. We received more than a few suspicious looks as we walked through, but I ignored all of them. I wanted the file room. Just the file room.
We passed through the bullpen and into the narrow hallway in the back. The stairs down led directly into the morgue, so I had to assume the stairs up led into the offices. We went up. At the top, we found precisely four rooms, all with brass plate labels. Captain’s office, file room, evidence locker, interrogation. Just one interrogation room, really?
Man, this place was small.
I let myself into the file room and then stopped short in dismay. It was a tiny, tiny room. File cabinets lined the wall and then there were six standing back-to-back in the very center of the room. You’d have room to walk and pull out drawers, but only just.
Oh, did I mention nothing was labelled?
Gerring stepped inside behind me and asked in bewilderment, “Where’s the labels on the drawers?”
“Excellent question. Next excellent question, where’s the file catalogue? There has to be one.”
Gerring spread out in the other direction, looking about for the tell-tale binder. “Not seeing one.”
“Of course the thing’s MIA. Alright, start opening drawers. Maybe we can figure out this system.” I turned and opened the nearest one. The first divider was neatly labelled: Arson. Okay, not what I was looking for, but a hopeful sign. I closed it and opened the drawer beneath it. Burglary. “Bingo. They’ve got it broken down to types of theft in alphabetical order.”
“That means some of those files are likely too old
. But I’ll look for murder.”
I rifled through the burglary files, trying to find the recent ones. It meant pulling each one far enough out to do a quick date check. The first twenty or so were definitely too old, going back decades. I was honestly surprised to see something that old in here. Most stations didn’t keep anything over ten years. Mostly because they didn’t have the storage capacity for it.
Deems really had that little crime, eh? At least until the past couple of years.
A lot of drawers opened and closed before Gerring grunted in satisfaction on the opposite side of the room. “Found it. Heh. Well, this should be quick. There’s maybe thirty files here, and none of them are thick.”
I groaned. Of course they weren’t. “Take them anyway. We might get a miracle and find something handy.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”
“Nor would I.”
“Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?” a belligerent voice demanded from the doorway.
I looked up to see a werebeaver in uniform, outrage all over his face, and internally groaned. Same Lawler who had closed the Atwood case? Oh boy, here we go. “I’m pulling files that might tie in with my investigation.”
He shook his head. “No. You don’t have the right to do that.”
“I have jurisdiction, and if these cases tie in with—”
Jabbing a clawed finger at me, he cut me off. “If you want to take the murder case files with you, fine. That does tie in and is part of your bloody jurisdiction. But the burglary files are not covered, and you’ll leave them there.”
I locked eyes with him and tried to buy myself a second. Technically, he was right. The wording on the paperwork I had didn’t cover the burglaries. An oversight, since we hadn’t known about the burglaries before Gregson pitched his case to the commissioner. I could argue a good case with any cop and they’d see my point.
Any cop but this one. My spidey-sense tingled. Something smelled here, and it wasn’t fried chicken.
“Every house in that neighborhood has been burglarized, despite the wards,” Gerring argued. He came around and into view, his hands full of files. “The murderer likely got in via the same method. We need to examine those cases.”
Lawler’s jaw worked. “You saying I ignored that when I worked the case?”
“Didn’t you?” Gerring had balls, I gave him that.
Lawler’s face morphed from angry to enraged. He seriously looked a trigger reflex away from punching someone. “You watch your bleeding mouth.”
I would dearly love to punch this guy in the throat, but this wasn’t the right timing for it. Or the right place. If we started a fight up here, it would be completely blamed on us, and the already sour mood between us and Deems PD would turn volcanic. Sounded like a headache I could skip.
As much as I wanted those burglary files, it didn’t look like I could have them today. I motioned for Gerring to collect the rest of the files, and then I looked Lawler dead in the eye. “Fine. We’ll leave these for the day.” To show him, I closed the drawer with a final snap of metal on metal. “And we’ll take those with us. Move.”
He moved, but he wasn’t a happy camper. I stood between him and Gerring as Gerring slid past me, and I stayed in guard position going down the stairs. Lawler almost burned a hole in my back, that’s how hot his glare was.
I held my breath all the way to the car. Opening the back door, I held it so Gerring could put the files on the back seat. Only then did we look at each other.
“Just what is in those burglary files he doesn’t want us to see?” Gerring demanded.
“You know, that was my first thought. It could be that he’s just mad we’re making him look like an idiot, so he’s trying to get in our way, though.”
Gerring eyed me judiciously. “You don’t actually believe that.”
“Naw, I’m playing devil’s advocate. If he was trying to thwart us, he’d look more smug.” In fact, under that anger, I’d say he looked scared. But that was just my opinion. I really had to figure out how to get my hands on those burglary files. Something fishy was in those. I’d bet my left hand on that.
But for now, we’d achieved our main objective. The side quests could wait a bit. “Let’s go back to the hotel, find breakfast.”
“Sounds good. My one cup of coffee has worn off by now.”
“Yours and mine both.” I slung myself into the passenger seat again. As Gerring started up the car, I debated the wisdom of messaging Gregson. This early, he probably wasn’t in the station yet. But I needed a secondary warrant to get those burglary files, and he was the right person to prod at the police commissioner.
Well, I could wait until after breakfast. Give the man time to at least put pants on and achieve semi-wakefulness. Requests tended to go over better when people were awake.
Gerring drove us back at a sedate twenty miles an hour, and yes, the speed was killing me slowly. He was doing the speed limit, though, so I couldn’t say much to him. To take my mind off the crawling speed, I asked him, “So, you wanting to move out of your parents’ house. Is it just because you want your own space?”
“I’m not interested in someone, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Gerring answered with a one-shouldered shrug. “But even if I found someone I liked, I wouldn’t be in a position to court. Not while still living at home. I want to be in a good place so I can make a move.”
“That makes sense to me.”
“Have you thought of—” Gerring cut himself off, eyes on the rearview mirror, his brows drawing together in a frown. “He’s going way too fast.”
I turned to see who he meant. A black car approached us at top speed, probably going a good forty, which impressed me. At first glance, the car could be mistaken for a civilian make, but only the police cars possessed the engine to go that fast. (Yes, the irony of describing 40 mph as fast was not lost on me.)
The car gained on us. Gerring started to hug the right shoulder, giving him room to pass.
The big black sedan zeroed in, aiming right for us.
My heart leapt into my throat as I realized they intended to run us right off the road. But on a city street, there wasn’t anywhere to go, the sides of the road all building fronts and streetlights. If we hit a streetlight in this thing, I wasn’t sure what the damage would be, but it wouldn’t be pretty. The cars in this world didn’t have seat belts. Or airbags. Or anything safe, really, except metal. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap—
Gerring, inexperienced driver that he was, started to panic. “He’s going to hit us!”
“BRAKE!” I commanded sharply. “Hit the brakes, stop!”
He immediately took his foot off the gas and slammed the brake, bringing the car to a screeching halt. The black sedan swerved, narrowly missing us, although it was by inches. If that. It took off even faster, hightailing it away from us.
Gerring and I sat panting for a second, adrenaline like a flash flood in my body. I looked him over. “Okay?”
“That was beyond scary.” He showed more than a little white around the eyes. “Who was that?”
“Police car, I got that much. Didn’t see the driver.” I suspected Lawler just because we’d had a run-in with him and left him pissed off.
Gerring rallied enough to give himself a full body shake. “Detective. Do you think he’s trying to scare us out of here? Or has his temper gotten the better of him?”
“You think it’s Lawler, too, huh?”
“It would make the most sense to me. He’s the only one we talked to in there.”
“Yeah. Pity we can’t prove it. And to answer your question, I think it’s a healthy mix of both.” My suspicions were definitely raised. Although what Lawler was reacting to, that was the question. Could be he was afraid of the fallout, if we found the actual killer to the Atwoods’ murders. I certainly would be in his shoes.
“Detective, can you drive the rest of the way?” Gerring tried for a rueful smile but it looked more like a grimace. “I
’m a little shaken up by that.”
“Sure. Sure, I can drive.” For his sake, I’d stick to the speed limit, too.
We put all the files into my room for now. I took a moment to write up a report of what had happened on the road, while it was all fresh in my mind. Honestly, my stomach was too upset to find breakfast tempting. I hoped after I cooled down a little, food would be appetizing again.
There was a knock on my hotel door and I opened it, not expecting to see Sherard on the other side. This was not a man who had come in the wee hours of the morning via train. He was perfectly put together, his dark hair combed back just so, the red coat freshly pressed and dramatic on his frame as usual. He threw both hands open wide, an irrepressible smile on his face.
“Jamie! I’ve come to surprise you.”
I stared at him a beat longer. “Well, you managed that. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I came to see the kittens.”
“Uh-huh.” I eyed him ruefully, waiting for the real reason. “Pull the other leg, it has bells on.”
“I don’t understand that expression,” he admitted cheerfully, already popping his head over to look over my shoulder.
“Focus on the important things.” I rolled my eyes but let him in. Clearly, he really did want to see the kittens. For that matter, the kittens seemed to want to meet him. They lined up along the footboard, staring at him curiously. Clint, however, lounged on the bed like a king, licking at his paw with great attention.
“They’re tiny!” Sherard exclaimed in surprise. “Has Felix gone miniature?”
“No, they’re just young. They’ll grow to Clint’s size. Sherard, meet Tasha and Phil. Guys, this is Royal Mage Sherard Seaton, one of my best friends. You’ll see him often.”
Sherard remembered enough of meeting Clint that he knew to hold out a hand first, letting them get his scent before petting them. Purrs erupted immediately as his hand passed over their heads, scratching gently behind the ears. But then, Clint had taught him well.
Three Charms for Murder (The Case Files of Henri Davenforth Book 5) Page 12