Charms and Death and Explosions

by Honor Raconteur

  I blinked at this. The timing of Timms’ death now made more sense, the separation of the killings.

  The odd hours of their business, where they generally worked in the afternoon, would have made later in the day prime time for the bombing. But it hadn’t happened that way. Why? That question had bothered me, but here was the answer: the bomb hadn’t detonated as planned on the first try. Simple.

  “At first I was relieved, because Garner was stopped. Timms was stopped. They couldn’t do more harm.” Parkins shook his head slowly, hands clenching and unclenching. “But I keep hearing and seeing the explosion. Even with my eyes shut. Even when I’m kissing my wife. I can’t see anything but that. I thought it would bring my little girl some peace. Instead it torments me. I’m not sure if it’s worth the price.”

  Murder generally wasn’t. Not to good men like this one, who had too gentle of a nature to handle carrying another man’s soul. “Mr. Parkins, I promise you that you will make peace with that eventually.”

  “If it’s any consolation, his work has done a great deal of damage and caused multiple deaths,” Henri added, words carefully tactful. “I wish you hadn’t resorted to murder, of course, but the idiot was using Destroying Angel mushrooms to add power to his charms. That’s why this round of sickness was so quick and horrendous. If we hadn’t been called in to investigate, it would have taken over and potentially killed thousands.”

  Parkins looked at him as if Henri had handed him some measure of grace. “Thank you for telling me that, sir. I do feel better knowing it. I wish I hadn’t killed him, either, but I suppose there’s some good out of this mess after all.”

  All of the details lined up. He wasn’t trying to bring fame into this in any way. I believed him to be our man. And relief washed through me, as I hadn’t been sure we would have been able to find him on our own. There were just too many suspects to comb through. “Mr. Parkins, who else helped you?”

  He shook his head immediately in denial. “I’m sorry, Detective, but I won’t betray that confidence. I came in because I couldn’t handle the guilt of it anymore. If they choose to do the same, I’ll understand, but I can’t drag them in with me. I don’t think they regret it.”

  “I had a feeling you’d say that.” Although I didn’t think he realized that by coming in he would be the lynchpin that let me solve the case. I would catch at least most of his associates. I tried rephrasing, coming in with charm, reasoning, all of those interrogation techniques they teach you at the academy. He just kept shaking his head, over and over, mouth pressed together in a firm line.

  Finally, I relented with a sigh. Just pushing wouldn’t get me an answer at this point. I needed different leverage, and right now, I didn’t have it. “Alright. We’ll come back to this later. For now, I’d like a full list of every officer you talked to on this case. Every professional that failed to help you. I will personally ream them out for this.”

  That put a smile on his face, a brief, passing pleasure. “I will, Detective. I’ll be happy to do that.”

  Jamie slumped forward in a dramatic groan, her forehead thumping against the top of the report. McSparrin and I shared a look over the top of her head, and I sympathized, as I knew how difficult it was for Jamie to skim reports. We had little recourse in this matter, however. Our one witness to the crime refused adamantly to name his co-conspirators. There was no other witness to the murders, and Jamie felt certain that at least two others were involved, a feeling I did not disagree with. Nothing about Parkins’ narrative mentioned Timms at all, a very telling thing indeed. It meant he had been outside with the car, that he’d had nothing to do with the other murder, and it was hard to imagine Timms just docilely allowing himself to be tied up in that rather elaborate manner without trying to break free. There were no signs of struggle on his corpse, making this scenario unlikely. There must have been two people in that basement with him—one to hold the gun, the other to wield the rope.

  Two murderers on the loose—even if I was sympathetic to their motivations—sat ill with me. I wanted them properly behind bars before something else untoward happened. We’d already had an additional thirty-six deaths to add to Gerring’s earlier tally of seventy-two. But the only other lead we had to pursue were the complaints issued at the other police station, which meant a great deal of digging through reports, not all of them relevant to our case. Gerring’s efforts notwithstanding, we’d learned that many of the complaints had been deliberately mislabeled. He’d pulled everything that looked remotely relevant, but the complaints he’d brought with him didn’t reveal our culprit. We’d interviewed all the mechanics and found them all with alibis. Gerring was disheartened by this and swore to go through every file in the Third Precinct if that’s what it took.

  He and Gibson took great delight in shuffling records back to us to check, and while it was helpful of them to do so, I think they did it to avoid the eyestrain currently threatening to make my eyeballs bleed out of their sockets. Of course, they had other excuses too. ‘We have to check on Parkins’ neighbors to see if any of them are mechanics,’ and ‘We’ll verify how many of these complaints actually resulted in a death,’ and so forth. But really? They wished to avoid the eyestrain. I was not oblivious to their tricks.

  A full day into this, with only two hours left on the clock, my shoulders were locked in a hunched position, my buttocks numb from the hard wood seat, and a definite crick settled into my neck from the position. Tomorrow did not promise to bring any answers, nor relief, and I did not relish the prospect of doing this again.

  “He has to know a mechanic somehow,” Jamie repeated for the nth time, a near wail of disgust.

  “We’ve interviewed all of his family members, all of his colleagues and friends, and none of them are of that profession,” I reminded her patiently. “We spent three days doing that. I’m sure he does know the mechanic, but their acquaintance obviously isn’t one that we can trace.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for social media right now,” Jamie muttered to herself caustically. “I’d be able to find the answer if we had Facebook. I guarantee it.”

  I labeled that statement under its usual title of, Earthling, Strange Sayings of and let it pass. I signaled for McSparrin to do the same when she gave Jamie a glance askance. An uneasy silence descended once more in the small conference room as we returned to the work. It was eerily silent in the room aside from the turning of the pages, even our breathing unnaturally loud. I wished the room had some sort of window, a way to open a breeze and stir the stale air, but it did not and I was unwilling to leave the door open to the bullpen. That would just invite distraction and unwelcome noise.

  McSparrin straightened from her slouch abruptly and read aloud, voice climbing in excitement, “Mr. Harmum Lees, mechanic at Craig’s Motor Garage, reported a bad charm at his residence on 11B Summers Lane. Mr. Lees attempted to turn over charm as evidence, quality reported as shoddy by Magical Examiner, who disposed of it. Mr. Lees demanded pursuit of charm maker, claims it killed his father. Case dismissed without evidence. This was dated four months ago.”

  Slamming a hand against the table, Jamie pointed at the report in McSparrin’s hand with a victorious air. “Yes! If that isn’t it, it’s at least a reason to get out of this office and go hunt the man down. I’ll take that at the moment. Let’s go, Henri.”

  “Wait,” I stilled her, asking McSparrin, “Did the report happen to mention where the charm was purchased from?”

  “No,” she denied thoughtfully, then dug through her pile of ‘read’ reports until she found one three down. “But this one did. Mellor Charms and Spells. It’s in the same neighborhood.”

  “Let’s combine trips,” I suggested to my partner. “I’ve seen that same name several times now, and if nothing else, I want to prevent another outbreak and claim all of the bad stock from that store. If we’re supremely unlucky, there might still be some of Garner’s work amongst their inventory.”

  Jamie grimaced. “Lovely thought.
Fine, let’s do that. I’ll message Gibson, have him meet us there. He’s itching to do something aside from interviews anyway.”

  I agreed to her logical choice, as Gibson was already in the neighborhood. He’d chosen to go door to door, collecting names and faces in his own way of narrowing down who our mechanic might be. I had no idea which tactic might prove more efficient, and hadn’t argued over methods, although I think my partner would have vastly preferred being out on the street with Gibson over locked up with reports she could barely read. For that matter, I was uncertain how the work had divvied out this way in the first place.

  “I’ll try and wrap it up here before heading home,” McSparrin volunteered with a long sigh. “Maybe we can organize getting the read reports returned, help clear this out a little.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Jamie agreed, head already buried in her texting pad.

  With hands on her shoulders, I steered Jamie out of the room. I’d learned it was safer that way, as she typically bumped into things like desks, her attention completely taken up by the device. We got a few funny looks and some snickers, which I ignored. Jamie either chose to do the same or didn’t hear them. Upon reaching outside, she put it away and beelined for one of the motor cars. Resigned to my fate, I followed.

  Jamie harbored a terrible tendency to speed when frustrated or jittery. Knowing this, I braced my foot and hand against the side of the car and still nearly slid out of my seat as she floored our way out of the back parking lot. “Jamie, do remember that I enjoy living.”

  Snorting a laugh, she eased back on the throttle. Just a touch. “If I ever get around to figuring out how to soup one of these babies up and get it going eighty, you’re going to lose you’re frakkin’ mind.”

  “What a terrifying thought,” I drawled, unconcerned. She’d already admitted her lack of engineering ability to me before. Then I remembered that Ellie Warner shared her love of speed and paled. Perhaps I shouldn’t dismiss that thought so quickly.

  Entering mid-afternoon traffic, Jamie wound our way down and around, heading to the docks before cutting over. It was the only sensible approach, as the docks had one of the broader roads, and thereby the clearest route of traffic at any time of the day. As she drove, I inquired, “How goes Warner’s production of the rubbing alcohol? I meant to ask earlier.”

  “It’s going rather well, or so she told me last night. Aside from the doctors field testing it right now in our quarantined areas, she’s gotten seven doctors to field test it in their hospitals, and they’re so pleased with how clean it gets things, they’ve all ordered batches of liters. Three doctors signed an endorsement of it on the spot when she asked, and she’s in talks with a pharmaceutical to mass produce it and sell it in their stores. Leonard’s Drugstore, I think she said.”

  I nodded approval. Leonard’s Drugstore was very well-stablished, having been an icon for medicines even in my father’s youth. The new head of the company, I understood, was the grandson of the founder, and he held no compunction about trying new products. Warner had indeed approached the right person with the right ware. “Excellent. I hope that spreads quickly. Has she found a way to keep production costs down?”

  “She’s still working on that, but she said it shouldn’t be too difficult; she just has to get the right factory set up for it. After that, it’ll basically pay for itself. More demand, more supply, and the basics of economics will take care of the rest.” Jamie lifted a shoulder in a shrug, not worried, nor should she be. “It’ll take a while for it to spread, but it will. Good things always do.”

  “Indeed they do.” I eased the death grip I had upon the side, daring to think I could actually relax into my seat. “I’m often glad for your Earthly knowledge, as you bring excellent inventions to us, but this is by far one of the better ones you’ve introduced. It will cut down on rampant diseases and infections in a breathtaking manner. I can’t wait to see it.”

  She shot me a small smile. Pleasure lurked in that expression but sorrow mixed in as well. “Silver lining.”

  My own expression turned bittersweet. For my sake, I was selfishly glad she was here with us. This amazing woman changed the world in better ways on a near constant basis. I shuddered to think how many lives we would have already lost if not for her interference. And yet…and yet. The price of that was substantially high. I could not pay it for her. I could only offset it so that the regret was not so bitter of a pill to swallow.

  We rode the rest of the way in silence, until I had to provide directions to Craig’s Motor Garage. Jamie didn’t know this section of the city as well, nor should she, as she’d rarely needed to venture out this direction. Even I barely knew my way around it. At this time of the day, we knew Lees should be at work, making the garage the opportune place to stop. It seemed a successful enough place, as it had three cars up on the stilts in the bays, two others waiting, and a half dozen mechanics in blue overalls scurrying about working. Jamie parked in one of the few open spaces—the garage had little in the way of a parking area—before climbing out and striding toward the open door, myself on her heels.

  The small reception area inside might have been nice at some point in time, but it was nothing more than wood and grime now. The many greasy fingerprints left a residue behind, and while I was not particular about cleanliness, the idea of brushing casually up against something made me vaguely ill at ease. Did the employees here never clean the place?

  A gruff looking man in his fifties sat behind the desk. He gave us a quick smile in greeting, barely discernable under his bushy mustache. “Welcome. What can I do for you?”

  Jamie flashed her badge at him, professional smile pinned to her face. “Detective Edwards, this is Dr. Davenforth, from Fourth Precinct. We need to ask Mr. Harmum Lees a few questions about a complaint he filed a few months back.”

  Scratching at his thinning hairline, the man responded, “I’m Craig, the boss here. I haven’t seen Lees in days. I actually fired him yesterday, sent a note to his house, as he’d skipped work without saying for nearly seven days straight.”

  That…did not bode well. Coming forward, I carefully kept my arms behind my back to avoid brushing up against the counter even as I inquired, “We read in the complaint that he lost his father due to a bad anti-illness charm. Or at least, that’s what he claimed. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Some,” Craig allowed, “but his closest friend here is Wyatt, and he can tell you more than I can. Hold on.” Ducking out a side door, he bellowed, “WYATT! C’mere!”

  A thin man with hunched shoulders stepped in. I judged him to be tired, either from life itself or something else that prevented him from getting adequate rest. He looked us over with only mild curiosity.

  Jamie once again introduced us before asking, “You’re friends with Harmum Lees, right?”

  “Yes, Detective,” he responded politely, then stifled a yawn. “Sorry, got an infant keeping me up at night.”

  Ah, that explained his exhaustion. “Quite alright. We’re looking for Mr. Lees regarding a complaint he filed a few months ago. We believe there’s validity to his claim.”

  “The one about his dad dying?” Wyatt’s attention sharpened on us, his shoulders coming up. “About time. He was all bent out of shape over that. His dad’s the only family Harm had left, sad to say. Man’s a confirmed bachelor, he never did know what to do with women, and him losing his father…it was rough. Really rough. We couldn’t get the coppers here to investigate, though. Despite his not being the only case.”

  “We’re investigating that, too,” Jamie assured him with a grim reaper smile. “I’m sorry to hear about his father. We really want to ask him questions, get to the bottom of it. Do you know where to find him?”

  “Haven’t seen Harm in a week,” he admitted with a hangdog expression. “I meant to go looking for him at the house tomorrow, probably should have done it before now, but the baby’s been sick and…well. I can tell you where he lives.”

  “That woul
d be splendid,” Jamie encouraged. “And a basic description, too, that’ll help us make sure we have the right fellow.”

  “Sure, sure. 11B Seaboard Lane, just around the corner. He’s got three inches on me, bit of a beer gut, black hair thinning on top, and he was growing a beard last time I saw him.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wyatt,” I acknowledged. Lees’ disappearance from his place of employment without a word sat ill with me. It boded something dark and unpleasant. Was this our mechanic? It looked that way, although I struggled to keep from leaping to conclusions.

  We left the shop, Jamie pausing before climbing into the vehicle. She turned to study the garage behind us with a thoughtful finger tapping her lips. “What do you make of this?”

  “I find it suspicious,” I admitted frankly, leaning my forearms against the car’s door. “Why quit a perfectly good job without a word? Why fall out of touch with your friend? I know people don’t always make sound decisions when mired in grief, so it could be just that.”

  “But his father died almost four months ago,” Jamie returned, eyes narrowing speculatively. “People tend to make those decisions within the first couple months of losing a loved one. Not four months later, after the grief has had time to process. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, it’s just rare for people to do it. Did he somehow hear that Parkins turned himself in?”

  “I don’t see how he could have. We’ve done very well in keeping that quiet. Unless one of Parkins’ family said something to him. No, wait. Parkins came to us four days ago. This man’s been missing for seven.”

  “The timing doesn’t work out,” Jamie acknowledged, still thinking. “Unless Parkins announced his intentions to come confess seven days ago, and Lees ran for it then. I don’t know, I’m just throwing possibilities out there. It does look strange, this timing. It’s making me jumpy. Gibs is supposed to meet us here, let’s give him a minute to catch up before we try Lees’ house.”