I believed him. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask a few more questions and check out his alibi. “I understand your construction crew used ward badges. Can you—” I cut myself short as all three cats started sniffing around, their noses in the air. “Uh, guys? What’s up?”
“Scent,” Clint answered absentmindedly, heading for the corner of the room.
“What scent?” Henri asked, already following him.
Tasha leapt lightly onto the top of the desk before answering, “Woman’s scent. Mrs. Atwood’s. Strong scent.”
Oh really, now? I inhaled deeply myself and sure enough, I caught a whiff of it. Now, wasn’t that suspicious, especially from a man who had just told me he avoided the whole family?
Morton sounded bewildered as he protested, “There’s no Atwood scent in here, there can’t be! They haven’t ever been in this building.”
“My cats have keen noses, sir, better than mine. And that’s saying something. If they tell me there’s a scent, I’m willing to believe them. Show me, guys.”
They started poking their noses around the back of the desk, trying to pinpoint it. Henri was right there with them, opening and closing the desk drawers, shifting things in the file cabinets that lined the walls.
“What is going on in here?” a stringent voice demanded.
I turned to see another werebeaver, a portly woman in the same red vest as Morton—must be a company thing—and a wide, pleated skirt. She stopped dead at seeing the two of us, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And who are you?”
“Detective Edwards,” I said. “We’re here to ask a few questions regarding the Atwood murder—”
“Atwoods!” She scoffed, whiskers bristling. “That’s all everyone ever does with us, is throw the Atwoods in our face. Well, we don’t have anything to do with that family anymore. And—hey, get away from there! Those are my personal belongings, and you don’t have the right to search through there.”
From behind a coat, hanging on the coat rack, Henri drew forth a woman’s purse. All three cats sat underneath his feet, looking up with satisfaction at finally finding the source. As soon as Henri turned and I got a full view of it, I understood why.
Embossed black leather, gold clasps. I didn’t even need the picture from the file to know it.
“If you don’t have anything to do with the Atwoods,” Henri posited while holding up the back with two fingers, “then why do you have a dead woman’s purse?”
Morton stared at his wife as if he didn’t even know her. “Bronwyn, what did you do?”
His wife whirled on him. “You stop talking! They can’t pin this on me. I have an alibi.”
Yup, we’d found the right person. Her reaction confirmed it for me. But this just got tricky, as I needed to separate these two and compare stories before they got their heads together.
Pulling out my pad, I scrawled a quick message to Sherard asking him to portal to my location. The necklace I wore acted as a beacon he could easily trace. I’d need a little support to pull this off. After interviews, we’d likely need to portal people around. I certainly couldn’t trust the jail here. Putting that away, I indicated toward the small meeting room I could see through an open door. “Through there if you would, Mr. Morton. Sit and wait while I ask your wife some questions.”
He looked at the purse in Henri’s hand for a moment longer. I think he knew, too, that his wife was responsible somehow. With a sad shake of the head, he turned on his heel without looking at her and did as directed. I checked to see if there was any other door or window in the room—only a picture window that didn’t open—and then shut the door behind him. Clint immediately sat next to the door, putting himself as a guard.
Sherard appeared in a snap, looking around anxiously. “What’s happened?”
Bronwyn Morton flinched back from him, a flash of fear darting over her face. “W-who is this?”
“RM Seaton,” I introduced briefly before answering Sherard’s question. “We found Mrs. Atwood’s missing purse here. I don’t think her husband is involved, but can you sit and interview him while I interview her? He’s just through that door.”
Sherard gave me a nod, taking in the purse Henri still held with an arched brow, before going through the door. All sound abruptly cut off, and I had a feeling he’d put a silencing charm in place so neither spouse could hear any hint of what the other said. Smart of him. I did love him because he was smart.
“Sit down, Mrs. Morton,” Henri requested in that soft tone that made you think of graveyards at midnight.
She was belligerent but scared, too. She sat in one of the visitor’s chairs in front of the desk and refused to look up from the floor. Her hands clenched into her skirts.
I settled in the other chair, notebook out. “Where were you on the 14th, Hex Day?”
“Here, working.”
“And in the evening, after work?”
“I went out with my brother for dinner.” Her tone stayed belligerent even though she refused to look at me.
“And where did you go?”
“Garden Café.”
Henri and I shared a look. She had named the same place as her husband.
“Did you see anyone you knew there?” Henri asked, setting the purse back down on the desk before coming to stand near my shoulder.
“No. Why?”
She’d already tripped herself up and didn’t seem to realize it. “And your brother’s name?”
“Gradey Lawler,” she answered promptly. That brought her head up, and she stared at me with a sort of vindictive sneer. “He’s a policeman. You can’t doubt his word.”
Oh, lady, I certainly could. Especially when he was already a suspect in all the burglaries in Deems. She also didn’t seem to realize she’d just explained how she’d gotten into the Atwood house. Her brother’s badge had made it possible to escort her through the wards. “So, you went to dinner with your brother, who’s a policeman, at the Garden Café. And then what?”
“Well, I went home. My husband can vouch for that. He stayed in that night.”
Wow. She really hadn’t planned out an alibi, had she? “I see. And how did you acquire Mrs. Atwood’s purse?”
“I didn’t know it was hers,” she quickly said, words tripping over themselves. “I found it. At the petrol station. It’d been dropped and it was a nice purse, so I took it.”
“You didn’t turn it in?”
“I reported it to my brother, but he said no one had reported it missing. And there wasn’t anything in it to identify the owner. So he said I could have it.”
Henri sighed wearily. But then, he had little patience with stupidity. He knew as well as I did that a policeman couldn’t just hand over lost goods because you couldn’t readily identify who it might belong to. Especially something this expensive.
And the story of finding it at the petrol station was so bogus. The Atwoods had never been near it. If she’d said train station, it would have made more sense.
“Right,” Henri said in a tone that meant the opposite. “Now, do you want to tell us what really happened that night?”
“I just told you!” Bronwyn snapped defensively, hands bunching her skirt further.
I sat my notebook down in my lap to start ticking things off on my fingers. “The Atwoods took a train into Deems; they were never near a petrol station that day. Your husband didn’t stay in that night; he was out with his pals. Eating at the Garden Café, actually. Funny neither of you saw the other there. And your cop brother is already suspected of multiple burglaries. Pretty clear you’re lying, Bronwyn. Want to try again? Truth, this time.”
Tears shone in her eyes. Not tears of regret, but anger. She was angry we’d caught her. In a shaking voice, she demanded, “I want a lawyer.”
“You’re entitled to one,” I admitted, flipping my notebook closed. “But you won’t stand on trial here in Deems.”
Her head snapped up. “What? Why?”
“Because jurisdiction
has been transferred to Kingston. We can’t trust Deems’ judicial system right now. We’ll transfer you to the Kingston PD, and you can make your phone call from there. I wouldn’t recommend asking either your brother or husband for help. I’ll need to hold your husband until I can verify his alibi. Your brother I’m pretty sure helped you, so he’ll be in the same jail.”
She looked scared now as she hadn’t before. I’m sure part of the reason why she thought she could get by with it was because she had so many connections in Deems. With a brother on the police force, she could surely get herself out of this one way or another.
Not on my watch, lady.
Henri strode over to the door and gave it a soft tap. Sherard opened it a moment later and they conferred in a low tone before Henri stepped back. Striding through, Sherard informed me, “I’ll portal her over to the Kingston station and get her processed. I’ll get a warrant to search both Morton and Officer Lawler’s property while I’m there.”
I looked to Henri, saw him lift his wand and say, “Four walls, hear me. Door, obey. Hold in this position until I say.”
Ah, so he was going to magically lock Morton in until we could confirm his alibi? Not a bad plan, all things considered. I looked back to Sherard. “Okay. Keep me updated.”
Bronwyn was back to staring at the floor, her expression that of a woman who didn’t know how things had gone so wrong. The sad thing was, the greed had done her in. If not for that purse, I wouldn’t have thought to really look at her.
Sherard handed me his notebook. “List of friends Morton said he was with that night.”
“Oooh, helpful. Thanks.”
He drew the woman to her feet, throwing a quick locking spell over her hands. “Be back in an hour or so.”
“Please and thank you.” Sherard snapped out, and I rolled my head around on my shoulders. “Finally. Looks like we have the right people to pursue. Do you want me to sit here and try calling these men first?”
“It’ll save us some legwork. And while you’re doing that, I’ll contact McSparrin and Gerring, tell them to get back here. I think they’re chasing the wrong suspects.”
“Yeah, seems like they are.” But at least we had the right ones. Finally.
Morton’s alibi checked out perfectly. No fewer than six witnesses—including the restaurant owner—put him at the café for most of the evening. Then he’d gone to a friend’s house and played multiple rounds of cards late into the night before finally making it home. I had a feeling he regretted that sorely because he’d missed that his wife hadn’t been home until very late as well.
With that alibi in place, we let him go, but he didn’t seem any happier for it. Jamie gave him a sympathetic smile as she released him. He deserved some pity, in my view. From what I knew, Morton hadn’t done anything to deserve the string of bad luck that entangled him.
Seaton came back with the warrant far more quickly than I’d anticipated. We used it promptly to go through the Morton house, Drummond standing nearby to verify if he recognized something. We had a list of what had been taken from the Atwood house, but he was a far better witness than a description. He recognized nothing from the Morton’s residence.
Officer Gradey Lawler’s house was an entirely different matter.
He’d inherited his parents’ house, a rambling farmhouse on a large plot of land. The Felixes went on a hunt and found a treasure trove rather quickly. Stacked up in the corner of the barn, under a tarp, were the missing valuables from the Atwood estate. I stared at each item, checking them off the list, and exited the barn with a heavy heart.
“Mr. Drummond, I think we found them. Will you come in and verify?”
The housekeeper looked grim as he followed me into the dusty space. Jamie had flipped the tarp completely off and away to give him an unhampered view. His eyes roved over the paintings leaning up against each other, the statues sitting on top of hay bales, the bric-a-brac, and anger stole over his features. “That’s it. Well, that painting of the sunset, I don’t recognize that. Likely someone else’s.”
Jamie kept her tone gentle as she said, “I need your help going through this. If we can find the owners of the other items, it strengthens our case against Lawler for the burglaries.”
“I’ll help, Detective. My heart’s breaking, but I’ll help.” He turned toward her, almost pleading, “Was that why they killed my masters? Was this a robbery gone wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Jamie answered frankly. Her own expression turned determined. “But I’ll wring that answer out of them if I have to.”
What with all the upheaval, I had immediate access to an arrest warrant. Our judge in Kingston was a genial man who never grew impatient about being woken up in the middle of the night. It often meant sitting with a man who was in his robe and slippers, having a slice of pie and drinking coffee at some unreasonable hour of the morning, since the judge wanted company if you woke him up. But he at least was amiable to signing a warrant.
I was thankful that in this case, Seaton popped over to get the warrant signed and saved us all the headache.
If the Deems Police Station had been unwelcoming on our first visit, it was nothing compared to the moment we walked into it once more. Lethal was probably the best way to describe it. Then again, I understood that with their captain under review, the whole precinct likely was as well. They’d be under review for months yet as the investigation ferreted out the corrupt. A few actually stood, as if ready to face us and have it out, and I kept a careful eye on them as we moved. The bullets would bounce right off of Jamie, of course, but the rest of us were not so immune.
Seaton didn’t even deign them a glance, his red coat billowing out as he stalked straight for Lawler. “Officer Lawler, I have a warrant for your arrest in the case of the Atwood murders.”
Lawler immediately popped to his feet, his reaction a juxtaposition. His eyes widened in fright, but venom poured out of his mouth. “You can’t just march in here and pin this on me! Don’t think you can point fingers because you can’t figure it out—”
Jamie sailed past Seaton and gave him that saccharine smile which put shivers in even the bravest of men. “We just arrested your sister. You think I don’t know precisely who I’m arresting and why? Think again.”
Lawler’s eyes closed in a fatalistic manner, the fight draining out of him.
“Stand and put your hands on the desk,” she commanded brusquely.
One of the other officers stepped forward, blustering, “He’s right, you can’t take him!”
“Have you forgotten so much you don’t even know what a warrant is?” Seaton waved it in the air like a flag. “We can, in fact, take him. And make no mistake, we’ll look into all of you as well. Too much is going on in this station that raises the hair on the back of my arms, let me tell you. I will not rest until I’m sure this station actually protects the law instead of enables the criminals.”
Well said, my friend. That was precisely the issue here.
We marched back out before anyone could get another word in edgewise. As soon as we reached the sidewalk, Seaton immediately portaled him to the Kingston PD. Jamie and I retreated to the hotel, a safer spot to wait for his return. In the name of expediency, Seaton came back immediately and transported both Jamie and I as well. I’d already arranged with the hotel to have our things shipped back on the first train, and Gerring and McSparrin were now on a train heading to Kingston as well. We’d need to go back in order to sort out evidence, but that wasn’t a priority today. We were running out of daylight, in fact. And I wanted the right people charged before the sun set.
My Jamie was apparently of the same mind. She wasted no time in getting an interrogation room set up and hauling Lawler into it. Seaton held up a wall as I took the seat next to her. Lawler’s hands were cuffed in front of him, his eyes focused solely on the cuffs and nothing else.
Jamie tossed the warrant to search his property down on the table so he could see it. “We just left your house and found
the stolen property in the barn. Save us the denials, okay? Just tell us why you murdered two innocent people.”
Lawler lifted his eyes, finally, and stared at her with confusion. “Who are you?”
Jamie stared back, eyebrow arched. “You know who I am.”
“No, I don’t. I thought I did. Some fancy female detective from the big city, that’s what we all thought of you. And this quiet man who followed you everywhere, we didn’t know what to make of him.”
That description of myself amused me. Was that really what I looked like?
“And then a royal mage appears out of nowhere to help, and he’s deferring to your opinion and does your bidding. And you can get warrants in hours and walk through high society like you own the place.” Lawler shook his head over and over. “It shouldn’t have happened like this. I’d closed the case. That should have been the end to it.”
“Why? Because that’s how it had worked for the past several years?” Jamie scoffed, more than incredulous. “You really think you could have kept going like that?”
“No one was stopping me. No one was interested in looking past the surface. Not until you lot came. Who are you?”
Three Charms for Murder (The Case Files of Henri Davenforth Book 5) Page 23