“That actually looks like a better motive, knowing that.” Seaton looked up from his own file with a grimace. “Depending on how much that lawsuit cost the company, it might have sent them out of business. And I could see how someone would be outraged she still used the purse, perhaps killed her to take it back.”
As crazy as that had sounded initially, I could see it too. “Let’s definitely talk to them, get some alibis.”
Gerring popped up to write names on the board.
I wrote mine next—a case of custom-made china that didn’t pass muster for some reason—and then reached for the next file. This one was thicker than all the rest, but I was trying to skim and just get the gist from the first page.
The first page got my undivided attention pretty quickly. “Huh. This is interesting.”
Henri leaned back in to read over my shoulder. What cologne was he wearing? He smelled like warm spices. It was nice but distracting.
“It’s the Deems property lawsuit,” Henri said aloud, eyes skimming over the page much faster than I could. “Apparently, after the initial lawsuit some eight years ago, the contractor appealed the decision. Or tried to. The original judge who sat in on the case didn’t rule in his favor. The appeal ends with the contractor having to pay all legal and court fees.”
“Ouch. That couldn’t have been cheap.” The Atwoods’ solicitor was a high-roller and very expensive. His fees alone could bankrupt most people.
“No, indeed it wasn’t. There’s a note here attached to the file that says the contractor agreed to pay in installments, as he couldn’t afford to pay for everything at once.” Henri frowned, disturbed by this.
I think he saw now what I did, that there was something not right about this behavior. Everyone had told me how sweet and loving these people were, made them out to be paragons of virtue. And they probably were, to the people they liked. But they’d been far from perfect, too. They’d clearly had a vice, and that vice may have come back to haunt them. These two hadn’t done themselves any favors. I had mixed emotions about all this.
Fortunately, it wasn’t my place to judge. Just to find the guilty party.
I stood and added the contractor’s name to the board. That pile of boxes looked somehow doubled what it had before. Was it lunch time yet? Food and a twenty-minute nap with my furballs sounded very appealing just then.
Sherard sat back with a stretch, his arms over his head as he worked his torso and head back and forth. “Working up a possible suspect list is all well and good, but do any of these people have the ability to thwart the wards around the estate?”
“Probably not,” I allowed as I looked over the names again. These were all businesspeople, manufacturers, or tradesmen. Not magicians. “But as we’ve already proven, the Deems PD is pretty corrupt. I can see how someone could ‘borrow’ a policeman or fireman’s badge and waltz through the wards with no one the wiser.”
Head wagging back and forth, Sherard indicated he didn’t think I was wrong, but he didn’t openly agree, either. “And what of the thief’s statement that he saw someone in a policeman’s uniform at the murder scene?”
“I give that fifty-fifty odds of being truth,” I admitted.
Penny balanced the two options on her hands. “On one hand, there’s a policeman using his badge and uniform to enter empty houses and steal out of them. If caught, he can always claim he stopped a burglary in process and was retrieving the stolen items dropped as the thief ran away. On the other hand, we have a clever individual dressing like a policeman in order to avoid suspicion. He’s perhaps found a uniform with the badge on it and has stolen it for his own purposes.”
“On yet a third hand,” Gerring pitched in over the top of his folder, “there’s the possibility the thief was throwing a red herring at us. That he didn’t see who it was, only the bodies, but he made up someone so we wouldn’t keep pressing for an answer he didn’t have.”
Jamie was proud of her duckling just then. Gerring was becoming more and more shrewd about psychology. She summed it up for Sherard, “Until we have proof otherwise, we’re going to take the sighting of a policeman at the murder scene with a grain of salt. I don’t want to bark up the wrong tree.”
“Bark up the wrong tree?” he repeated blankly.
“I don’t want to make an error in judgement,” I rephrased. Ahh, idioms. How I curse thee.
“Oh, yes. I see.” Pointing to the board once more, Sherard asked, “I assume you want to interview these people?”
“You assume correctly.”
“How? Not everyone is here in Deems. Auden’s Automobiles is out past Brixton, I believe. So is Kimana’s.”
I frowned at the list of names. That was a good point. Logistically, it would mean a great deal of travelling around.
“Can we split up?” Penny suggested. “Say, Gerring and I can take the ones out of town? We planned on escorting the bodies up to Jordane, anyway. We can just keep going, spend a few days doing that.”
“While we tackle the ones local to Deems?” I nodded, not seeing a flaw with this plan. Penny was well seasoned enough to handle the interviews, and Gerring could back her up if things went south. And it wasn’t like I could leave in the morning, as I had a dinner party with Henri this evening. I turned, checking with Henri how he felt about this.
He was already looking at me, judging my response to the idea. He apparently read how I felt about it, as he gave me a nod before telling Penny, “I think that’s a splendid notion, McSparrin. Let’s go with it. Shall we break for lunch now? I, for one, could use some sustenance.”
A mutual groan of agreement rose from all parties, and people abandoned files without a backwards glance. I went to the window to check on kitties. “Clint?”
My feline slanted open one eye at me. It was a classic who-disturbs-my-slumber sort of look.
“You okay here?”
He flicked his ear at his annoying human and went right back to snoozing.
Right. Well, clearly, I wasn’t needed.
After lunch, I headed into the Deems PD. Not that I wanted to, but I didn’t have the necessary forms to demand an interview. People were picky about that sort of thing. It wasn’t quite a warrant, but a demand for witness. I hadn’t thought to pack any forms, as I hadn’t expected the need for them. It felt about as pleasant as bathing a sore tooth in rubbing alcohol, but to the station I went.
If the tension the first time I had been in this station was bad, it didn’t compare to now. I kept waiting for someone to stab a knife in my back. Seriously, this was insane. I kept glancing over my shoulder, ready to duck and cover. I’d nipped out to grab the forms, letting everyone else wade through the files, but right now that seemed like a poor life decision. I really wanted Henri at my back just then.
No one moved from where they sat at their desks, but they glared at me as I walked past, as if willing me to drop dead on the spot. I didn’t ask anyone a single question. Heading straight for the wall with all the cubbyholes for forms, I found the one I needed and grabbed several before hightailing it out of the bullpen. After I checked on my thief, I was so blowing this popsicle stand.
The jail section was not technically in the same building, but adjacent to it, joined by a short, covered walkway. An officer was required to let me into the other section. Unfortunately.
I expected a fight on my hands to get in there, but leaving someone in their care sat uneasy with me. I frankly didn’t trust this bunch, not one iota. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but I had to check on Hartley.
But the uniform at the door didn’t argue, or glare, or make me fight to get in. He wore something of a smirk as he opened the door for me without a word. I eyed him suspiciously even as I walked in. Did he intend to trap me in here?
I wouldn’t put it past him. But I went anyway. I had a texting pad and could call for help, if it came to that. I sidled past, watching him the whole time, not relaxing even when he left the door open behind me. Seriously, what was his game here?
There were only four jail cells, no solid walls between them. I could see through the bars easily enough. Aside from a drunk sleeping it off on the cell bed nearest me, there was no one else to be seen.
Holy mother of—oh no, they didn’t. Whirling around, I marched right back out and got in the uniform’s face. He wasn’t pretty to look at, too bulldog with a bulbous nose and bad skin. His looks dropped another fifty percent when he gave me a nasty smile.
“Where’s my thief?” I demanded.
“Can’t hold a suspect without probable cause.” He paused and looked me up and down with a leer that curled his lip up. “Detective.”
“Really? I catch the man red-handed at the market selling stolen property from a freaking crime scene and that isn’t enough probable cause for you?” Disgusted, I didn’t wait for an answer. I just couldn’t. Even a second more, and I’d punch his nose in. With my strength, that wasn’t an exaggeration.
Spinning on a heel, I stalked back through the main building, swearing with every word I knew and a few I’d heard Sherard mutter. They’d done this just to mess with me, I knew it. They’d let a thief get off scot-free because they had their own agenda, and their own agenda was more important than the safety of the city they were supposedly sworn to protect.
I didn’t pause until I was back in the car, slamming the door shut before I sat there, hands clenched on my knees. I was boiling mad, so much so I could almost feel the steam coming out of my ears.
Drummond eyed me in alarm. “What’s wrong, Detective?”
“They let the thief go free.”
He spluttered incredulously, eyes so wide they were in danger of falling right out of his head. “They what?!”
“Oh, you heard me correctly.” I yanked my pad free of a pocket and scribbled out a message to Henri furiously, my handwriting suffering for it and becoming barely legible. Thief was released.
It took a minute, then Henri’s usually elegant scrawl came back looking like he’d stabbed the pad in the process of writing. They did WHAT?!
Said there wasn’t enough probable cause. He’s in the wind now.
Henri did something he rarely ever did. He initiated a voice call. “Jamie, dear, breathe.”
“Oh, I’m breathing,” I answered flatly. “I’m also completely pissed. Our one possible witness, gone. You know Hartley didn’t stay in Deems. He’s boogied by now.”
“I have no doubt of that. And I’m just as upset. But what worries me more is….”
I groaned, already anticipating what he was going to say. “We can’t trust them to hold anyone for us.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that was exactly what I was going to say. Especially if it turns out the murderer was of this community, they won’t hold them. We have no ready resource to hold a suspect.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better.” I slumped in the car seat, out of energy for the moment, and whined, “Henri. I neeeeed chocolate.”
“Come back to the hotel. I’ll have something ready for you.”
“Henri, I love you.”
“You always do when chocolate is involved. Come back and let’s put our heads together.”
“Okay.” I ended the call and waved to Drummond wearily. I was so done. Just absolutely done. “Back to the hotel, please. Unless you know where I can buy sanity.”
“I sadly don’t, Detective.” Drummond looked just as pissed as I did, but also worried. “But what will you do? You have to be able to hold a suspect if you find the murderer.”
“I know. We’ll figure something out.” I hope.
I sat in the windowsill with the cats, a slice of double chocolate cake resting beside me, a file in my lap. I was ostensibly reading through yet another court case’s records, but in reality my ear was trained on the door. I expected Jamie at any moment.
Everyone was on break for a few minutes, taking the chance to stretch out their legs and get their own snacks. We still had more records to go through. I hoped to have Jamie here while they were out. I knew she would need to vent her frustrations, and I wanted to give her the space to do so without worrying about the impression she made on her younger colleagues.
I heard her before I saw her, talking in that brisk manner that indicated she planned out not only a murder but the funeral details as well. Oh dear. This didn’t bode well at all. I knew who she spoke with. We’d managed to get texting pads to most of the detectives and police captains in Kingston at this point, a sort of trial stage for the populace at large using them. She must have called Gregson to report in.
“—past corrupt, Captain. If they’re willing to let a thief caught red-handed go just to mess with us? Then they’re past corrupt. They are indifferent, and that’s a very dangerous mindset.” She sailed into the room with the pad held up near her mouth, much like a dragon would enter a town it had every intention of razing to the ground. Carnage was the only option.
Fortunately, I knew the trick to calming this livid dragoness. I cut off a bite of cake onto the fork and offered it as tribute.
Jamie leaned in, took the whole bite, and gave me a nod. I had done well, the nod said. I had done well. The cake appeased her enough to possibly delay carnage to another time.
“We’re investigating the captain of that station,” Gregson said in a taut voice, “and it’s not looking pretty. A great deal of bureaucratic shuffling has been going on, hiding complaints against him and other officers in the station. Someone’s trying to bury this, and we’re not sure at this point who. But right now, my main concern is you. Edwards, I don’t like that four of my people are in a tough situation with no backup available. Do you need me to send more people out there?”
“Possibly. We’ll be sending Penny and Gerring up north tomorrow to escort the bodies and deliver them to the Atwoods. They’ll stay up there about two days and do some interviews. It’ll leave me, Henri, and Sherard here to handle the investigation. I think we’ll be fine with just the three of us—assuming we don’t try to make any arrests.”
“Seaton’s there? Why?”
“Because he wanted to be,” I pitched in dryly. “I’d like to point out that if we do arrest someone here, we can always have him portal back to Kingston and hold the suspect there.”
Jamie turned, her expression alight. “Yes! That’s a great idea. Let’s do that. If it’s the murderer, we can even get on a train with them and just go back. Either way, it’s a win.”
“If he’s willing to?” Gregson sounded unsure on this point.
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t be. He’s just as upset about the situation as we are.” Seaton liked to be the one who rode to the rescue at any rate. He’d likely capitalize on the opportunity.
“Double-check that with him before committing. But for now, write all of this up. Keep very accurate records. I want to use it to hang people with later.”
“With pleasure,” Jamie responded, her smile vicious. “Thanks, Captain.”
“Keep me posted.” He ended the call.
I offered the plate of cake, and she took it, sitting directly at my side on the window seat and biting into the next forkful with a sigh of pleasure. “You’re my favorite.”
I snorted a laugh, watching her. She was really so easy to please in some ways. It was often my pleasure to do so, like now. “I’m sorry you went into the station yourself. I didn’t think it dangerous to simply pick up a few forms, but with the level of hostility coming from that station, we should have anticipated it.”
She groaned and kept chewing. Swallowing, she assured me, “They’re too cowardly to attack me one-on-one. Which is a pity. I’d have loved a good throwdown.”
Not much of the station would have been left after she was done. This woman killed a rogue witch with her bare hands. I had no illusions about her capabilities or strength.
Glancing about, she asked, “Where is everyone?”
“Taking a break. We all needed a good stretch of the legs and some snacks to fortify us. When we heard news of Hart
ley walking free, Gerring switched tasks and started going through the burglary reports. He’s only four in, but it was an interesting coincidence so far. Each incident was investigated by the same policeman, one Gradey Lawler.”
Jamie sighed in disgust. “Oh, come on. This is becoming ridiculous! Seriously?”
“Does that sound as suspicious to you as it did to us?”
“Oh, does it ever. Unless that pattern suddenly changes, I’m going to think all sorts of evil thoughts.” She finished the last bite of cake before setting the plate aside with a light clink of china.
Then she surprised me by leaning in against my side, her head resting in the crook of my neck. I startled a little before relaxing into it, letting my arm naturally come up to rest around her waist, pulling her in. She did this occasionally, just cuddled in and rested against me as if she was too shy to ask for comfort. But I liked that she was comfortable enough with me to know she need never ask for this. That she was always welcome.
I also, perhaps, enjoyed such contact with her too much. There were times when I was in danger of reading too much into her behavior. My Jamie was an incredibly affectionate woman who used touch to communicate. I often had to remind myself of this fact.
“Henri,” she grumbled against my throat. “I don’t like people.”
“Oh-ho, so you finally agree with me?”
“I do. I don’t like people, and I want to be a missing person today.”
My chest jerked with a subdued chuckle. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck on that today. We have a dinner party in three hours.”
“Oh, cripes. I’d forgotten about that. Can’t we just deliver the painting, wish them well, and skedaddle?”
“You know,” I mused aloud, “this is a sure sign we’ve spent too much time in each other’s company. You are now saying the words I normally do.”
Three Charms for Murder (The Case Files of Henri Davenforth Book 5) Page 18