Valverna

by A Clarkson

  “How did Maureen know who was after her?” Ira asked with a frown.

  Blake shrugged again. “Like I said, I don’t know what happened. John already paid for it, so I just sent Francis off to meet with her.”

  Ira took a deep breath. Calling him a heartless greedy pig wouldn’t get them anywhere. If he put so little value in the lives of his staff there was nothing she could say to change that.

  Magnus on the other hand apparently couldn’t let the comment slide, “If you throw your men overboard when the boat begins to sink, soon you will find yourself alone at sea, with nobody to help you paddle back to shore, and nobody to blame but your own selfishness.”

  Blake just looked at Magnus as though the southerner was a few screws short of a toolbox.

  “Ok,” Blake said as he turned to give Ira a confused glance, “thanks for that.”

  Ira stood to leave. Blake Stevens wouldn’t be able to tell them anything else, and they still had so many questions.

  As Magnus and Ira made their way back through the city toward the barge, she considered what they still didn’t know.

  How did David find the killer? Did Maureen know who was after her? Had John suspected who would come after him? Was this why he set up protection for Maureen?

  Ira didn’t know the answers to any of these questions. All she knew was that whoever David was looking for, whoever Maureen sent him after, found him first.

  Was it luck? Or, Ira supposed, bad luck, that David found the murderer?

  And none of this explained how Clarisse was involved. Her visit to the cottage confirmed what she already suspected, Bill wasn’t the target. If he hadn’t been home, it was very likely he would have survived.

  Clarisse would probably still be dead, Ira thought, and she didn’t think Bill would have been able to bear losing Clarisse in this way. Not if he could have done anything to prevent it.

  Ira tried to find comfort in the fact that Bill’s presence may have alerted Clarisse to the attacker, and given her the chance to fight back. It was a small solace, but right now, she would take what she could get.

  This still brought her back to the main question, why were Bill and Clarisse victims? So far there seemed to be a clear trail that the murderer was following. Clarisse just didn’t seem to fit.

  Thinking about what Blake said, Ira considered aloud, “It sounds like the murderer didn’t know who John’s contact in the city was.”

  Magnus nodded in agreement, “They knew information had been snuck into Valverna, but didn’t know by who or how. It certainly looks as though Maureen may have given herself away when she hired David, and led the murderer straight to her.”

  “I wonder if the murderer wouldn’t have found her if she stayed under the radar,” Ira mused. “Instead, she got antsy and rather than taking John up on his offer for protection of a bodyguard, she sends out a hit man, who somehow gives himself away, and proceeds to give her up as well. Now our murderer knows that Maureen is hiding from him, painting a big red target on herself.”

  They walked for a few more minutes in silence as the streets around them slowly emptied as the night drew in. It seemed strange to Ira that life continued in Valverna. In the last few days her world had been thrown upside down, and yet for everyone else, it continued as usual.

  She wasn’t sure if she envied or pitied them their ignorance. Ira hated everything that happened, and yet, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was doing something. As though she was more than just some slugger. That her life meant something.

  Ira had the sudden sense they were being watched, and turned a few times to look back over her shoulder.

  “Do you see anything?” Magnus asked, following her lead and glancing discreetly around them.

  Looking behind them to the sea of heads moving down the street nothing stood out, aside from the occasional brightly coloured hat, or one large man with a flash of bright red hair. “I’m not sure,” she responded slowly.

  The sense of being watched tingled the back of Ira’s neck a few more times before they finally reached the barge. Although it made her uncomfortable, she didn’t get the sense that the eyes watching were malicious. If anything she sensed a curious gaze. Like a bird in the woods watching her pass below.

  Turning to face Magnus before they boarded the barge, Ira asked, “What is the plan for tomorrow?”

  Things were newly awkward between them since their dance at John’s compound. Ira felt as though they moved a step closer, only for Magnus to suddenly pull away. She wasn’t sure where they stood now, but felt that they had lost the easy camaraderie they previously shared, and didn’t think she could just sit and chat with him over a drink in his rooms as before.

  Ira wasn’t sure what she wanted, and perhaps that was the problem.

  When they kissed at the cottage she wanted him. His mouth, his tongue, his body. All of him to overwhelm her and help her forget about the half finished book on Bill’s nightstand.

  But now? Now that she gained some distance from her grief, had been able to push it down once again and save it to be dealt with at a later time, she didn’t know what she wanted.

  Did she want Magnus? Or did she just want anyone. Any warm body to distract her from her mind.

  She didn’t know. And understood, albeit begrudgingly, that it was this uncertainty that caused Magnus to turn her down.

  This will keep, he had said.

  She wasn’t sure what that meant either.

  Did it mean he would wait? Did she even want him to wait for her? What did he expect? That she would grieve, and then what? Be back to normal? Turn around to him and say, ‘Hey, all better! We can be together now’.

  She didn’t think she would ever be normal again. She wasn’t even sure she had ever been normal to begin with.

  ***

  MAGNUS hummed in thought as he considered her question. What was the plan? Where did they go from here? “They never did find any groceries with Maureen’s body that night,” he finally said.

  “So whatever she was up to that night, she wasn't on a grocery run.” Ira said, looking out over the water, beyond the barge. He knew she hated staying here. It was dark and crowded, but it gave him comfort knowing she was nearby.

  “Exactly,” he agreed absently.

  “Well then I guess we need to figure out what she was up to.” Ira said, before adding under her breath, “and see if we can somehow find the link to Clarisse in all this.”

  Magnus watched her descend into the belly of the boat. He wasn’t sure if he made the right call in deciding to push her away.

  The issue was that she was a raft with no tether right now. She was lost out at sea with no bearing. And Magnus didn’t want to be a ship she passed in the night. He wanted to be the port she came home to.

  A dark shadow broke away from the barge and moved to stand beside Magnus.

  “Alpha team diverted three more attacks today. All fairly minor, seemed like amateurs,” Rhys informed him.

  “So where are the professionals? This was a good contract.” Magnus asked, looking out at the waters surrounding the barge. They found a quiet stretch of water near one of the central bridges to dock. It was convenient, well lit, and thankfully wasn’t as rowdy or smelly as the port.

  “We’re guessing they’re either setting up an ambush, or waiting to take Ira when she’s more vulnerable.”

  Magnus nodded. “Have you been able to find out anything about her past? Or who really put that contract out on her?”

  Rhys shook his head. “Not yet. But I’m confident the Kid will find something. He is good. His reputation is well deserved.”

  Magnus frowned. “I’d like him better if he wasn’t such an opinionated little rich kid.”

  “You dislike anyone you think is entitled,” Rhys said with a chuckle, slapping a hand on Magnus’ shoulder. The big man sobered slightly as he shook his head. “Whoever wants her dead is doing a good job of hiding behind the smoke screen the murderer is causing.
So far, we have no leads.”

  Heaving a sigh, Magnus moved to enter the barge. “Well, we’ll just have to keep her safe until you do.”

  Chapter 16

  The Jeweler

  An old man stood hunched over a workbench in the corner of a messy office. It was dark, the only light was a small candle on his desk. He looked haggard and stressed, and mostly scared. The light coming from the candle flashed in the lenses of his rounded spectacles like twin spotlights highlighting his anxiety whenever he jerked his head up at a passing sound. He seemed to be waiting for something, both anxious for and terrified of its imminent arrival.

  There was a rap on his door and the man jerked to his feet, almost knocking the contents of his desk to the floor.

  Rushing over, he leaned against the door as he whispered fiercely, “Who is there?”

  “It’s me Alistair,” said a female voice.

  Alistair quickly opened the door just wide enough for the woman to slide through, before promptly closing and barring it once again.

  “You have to take it tonight. It can’t stay here anymore!” He looked frantically around as though convinced he was being spied on from the shadows. “People are dying Clarisse!”

  “I know Al. And you’ve done enough. I’m here to collect it.”

  Nodding vigorously Alistair skimpered over to a small cupboard behind his desk to retrieve a small wooden box.

  “No matter what happens,” said Clarisse, taking the offered box from his hands, “you have helped save many lives by doing this Al.” She gently touched the top of the box now held in her hands. “This is going to change the world.”

  Alistair allowed himself a momentary flash of pride, before his fear overwhelmed him once more, and he quickly moved to usher Clarisse from the room.

  Ira jerked awake. This dream was new. Or mostly new. She felt as though she had seen fragments of this before. Something about the dream was niggling at her, but the details were already beginning to fade.

  She sighed and rubbed at her temples. She always had nightmares when she was stressed. It shouldn’t surprise her that the nightmares would now include Clarisse. Afterall, Clarisse was the star of Ira’s real life nightmare.

  Rolling over, Ira tried to return to sleep, but found that it eluded her.

  Her leg was now almost completely healed. The ‘magic’ from Magnus’ ointment had done the job, and it healed up in record time. Her shoulder wound where she had taken the crossbow bolt was also almost gone. What had been a gaping wound, was now a small cut that cleanly scabbed over, as though the injury was months old, rather than a matter of days.

  Feeling well enough, Ira decided to go through her morning exercises. They always helped after a nightmare, and she felt like she could use the workout to clear her head.

  Ira began to go through the motions, arms and legs working in unison as she sliced and kicked through the air. Occasionally a movement would pull at one of her still healing injuries and she would pause to assess the damage.

  She had worked herself into a full body sweat when a knock sounded on her door.

  “Come in!” she panted, moving to grab a towel to wipe herself dry.

  Magnus opened the door, “Oh good, you’re already up,” he began, before pausing when he saw her.

  Ira had chosen to work out in her bra and tights, wanting the freedom of movement as well as the cool clothing. But with Magnus now standing mute before her as she towelled off her shoulders and chest, she was both pleased and slightly embarrassed by her lack of clothing.

  Clearing her throat, Ira asked, “Did you want something?”

  As if shocked from a stupor Magnus blinked a few times, before blushing furiously.

  Now Ira was the one struck mute. Magnus blushed! Faced with his embarrassment Ira found that she no longer felt uncomfortable, and could only laugh.

  Coughing to cover his reaction, Magnus rubbed the back of his neck as he awkwardly averted his eyes. “Sorry, yes.” Seeming to have recovered, he met her gaze and said in a somber tone. “You better get dressed. We have another crime scene.”

  Alistair Wong, seventy-five years old, was found in his home earlier this morning by one of Magnus’ men. They sent a few people to track down Maureen’s whereabouts on the night of her murder, and ended up at a jewelry store in the city’s lower ring.

  When they stopped by Wong’s Rings to ask about the woman’s visit they were told by an anxious shop assistant that the owner himself had been working that evening, and hadn’t been seen since. The clerk was more than happy to provide the owner’s address, clearly a bit worried as to the old man’s whereabouts.

  From the look of the body, Mr Wong had indeed been gone for weeks. The odor as Ira entered the old man’s home was horrific. She had been around dead animals, and even humans, in the past few weeks, but she had never seen one so far into the stages of decay that remained cooped up inside a house. The putrid smell seemed to permeate every surface. The very air itself seemed to be a thicker, an almost viscous consistency that clogged the throat as you breathed it in.

  Alistair Wong himself was looking less like the man he had once been, and more like an unidentifiable corpse. Liquid oozed from various orifices, mingling with the blood already pooled around his body, as the skin across his frame sagged like an over inflated balloon that lost its air.

  The body’s state of decomposition did nothing however to conceal the fact that Alistair Wong had been brutally murdered. Signs of torture riddled his body, like lines of a story written into his skin detailing the long and drawn out abuse he suffered in the lead up to his death.

  Ira stood over his body for several minutes, unable to process what she was seeing. She couldn’t understand how anyone could do this to another person. How could someone stand where she now stood, and inflict such pain and anguish on the body of an old man unable to fight back?

  She felt her blood boil in outrage at the indignity of ending such a long life in such an atrocious way.

  Nobody deserved this, but for some reason, seeing this frail old man’s body butchered with such precision and focus so as to draw out the torment for as long as possible, made everything that came before crash into Ira all at once.

  Rage swept through her body, eating away at the world around her, until all she could see was a white haze of anger.

  She was so angry.

  Her body clamped up, frozen in motion as the world spun around her in a dizzying haze. She needed to move, she needed to scream, she needed... something!

  How could this keep on happening? How could this beast of a man still be out there breathing when he had caused this?

  It didn’t make sense. How had the world not simply imploded around a creature who could treat life so callously?

  Ira felt the air around her disappear as her lungs seized up. She needed to get out of here. She was going to be sick.

  Turning on her heel, she pushed back onto the street, and threw up until there was nothing left but bile.

  “Are you ok?” Adrian asked from behind her.

  Ira didn’t even jump. Too strung out from the combined emotional and physical toll her body had just been through.

  A flask of water was pushed into her peripheral vision, and she nodded her head in thanks as she took a few small sips, rinsed out her mouth, and drank more deeply.

  “My mum says sometimes it helps to talk about why you are upset,” Adrian said softly, as though unsure of his welcome.

  Ira closed her eyes and nodded. She hadn’t been very good to this kid. He was nothing but nice to her, and everytime she pushed him away.

  But then again, maybe that wasn’t to do with him. Hadn’t she pushed everyone away? When was the last time she actually let someone in?

  “Will you promise me something?” she asked him softly, as she raised her head to look at him.

  He nodded eagerly, a confused expression on his face, but happy to promise anything to cheer her up.

  He was so innocent, she though
t. Still just a kid.

  He wanted so desperately to be older, bigger, wiser. She could see it in his face, and the questions he asked. But looking at him now, eager to promise whatever she wanted just to make her feel better, she saw just how young he was.

  “Promise me that you won’t let greed guide your choices.”

  He frowned slightly in confusion, unsure of what he was agreeing to, but nodded all the same. “I promise.”

  “Good”, she said, nodding tiredly at him. This day felt like it had already lasted an eternity, even though it had just begun. “Because when you are powerful, and one day, you will be powerful Adrian, making choices guided by greed only hurts innocent people.”

  “I don’t really understand,” he said honestly.

  Reaching out, Ira smoothed his messy hair back from his face, “That’s ok kiddo. You will when it matters.”

  She handed back his water. “Look, I need to head back inside, but you can’t come with me. I don’t want you to see what happened in there. I don’t need your nightmares on my conscience. I already have my own to worry about.”

  Seeming curious, but also slightly afraid of what was in there after seeing Ira’s reaction, Adrian agreed and returned home.

  Glad that he listened, Ira took another fortifying breath, pulled up her big girl panties, and went back inside.

  ***

  Magnus and Ira spent the next few hours going through Alistair Wong’s home. Ira was not present at any of the previous crime scenes during their initial inspections, so she took her time watching and learning as Magnus guided her through the process.

  It was an activity that Ira understood may lead to finding evidence that could lead them toward the murderer, even if it was an incredibly tedious task that she would happily never endure ever again.

  After sorting through an array of unhelpful documents in the study, Ira moved into Alistair’s bedroom. It was a modest room with a comfortable looking bed and a dresser. The bed was unmade, and a pair of glasses sat on the bedside table alongside a framed portrait. It looked as though the murderer disturbed Alistair after he already retired for the evening.