by A Clarkson
Chapter 21
The Necklace
“First of all,” Magnus began once they were both seated comfortably and Ira was rubbing more ointment onto her leg, “what are the odds of Maureen having a similar necklace and Suzie being mistaken?”
“I would say highly unlikely,” she conceded, thinking of the Brotherhood. “It is an unusual amulet, one I haven’t come across before. And Suzie seemed fairly certain it was the same.”
Ira thought about sharing Francis’ story but decided not to go into details about the stone just yet. Francis told her that the stone had strange properties, that it could absorb information from its surroundings. It sounded exactly like one of the new technologies Magnus talked about. She wanted to understand more first, and didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone that she was supposedly wearing a priceless stone that others have killed for. Even Magnus. He had, after all, purchased a dragon eye from that scruffy kid in the desert. How did Ira know that Magnus wouldn’t just sell both stones to the Brotherhood. Wasn’t that his job after all? To find and trade rare unusual goods?
“If that is the case, what are the chances Maureen had it? Did you lose it recently?”
Ira shook her head sadly as the pieces began to come together in her mind, “Not lost, but it was broken. I only just got it back the morning I saw you in the lock.”
“Got it back? Did you take it to a shop?”
“Bill,” Ira explained with a heavy sigh. “The clasp broke a few months ago when I was over at the cottage.” She thought for a moment, “It was the last time I was there before…” she trailed off. He knew what she meant.
“Anyway, I was at the cottage and the clasp broke. Clarisse asked to see it, and the thing was clearly on its last legs as opening and closing it a few times broke it clean in half.”
Ira’s mind flicked back to the memory of that day. Clarisse and she were harvesting and bundling up bunches of herbs to hang from the ceiling.
It was a chore that Ira loved, and always volunteered to help with.
They spent the day in the sunny garden, clipping the plants back into tidy bushes, before organising the stalks into bunches that could be hooked up to the rafters. It was a relaxing activity that left the cottage smelling of the sweet and woodsy aromas of rosemary and thyme.
Over lunch, Clarisse commented on Ira’s necklace. Ira couldn’t remember really speaking about it with the other woman on many occasions before. It likely came up over the years, Ira had owned it all her life after all, but on this day, Clarisse was admiring it, commenting on how beautifully the green brought out the colour of Ira’s eyes.
When Clarisse asked to see the amulet up close, Ira obliged, removing the necklace from her throat, and passing it over for Clarisse to inspect. The older woman hummed appreciatively, trying it on herself, before returning it to Ira. It was only when she tried to put it back on that Ira noticed the clasp had snapped.
Apologising profusely for damaging the chain, Clarisse offered to have it repaired. At first Ira refused, saying that if it broke this easily, it was bound to happen sooner or later, and therefore Clarisse was hardly to blame. But she insisted to the point that Ira felt obligated to accept.
That was the last time Ira saw the necklace until Bill returned it to her that morning in the jail.
Looking back Ira now felt that the exchange was strange and somewhat out of character for Clarisse. At the time Ira thought little of it, finding the conversation awkward and wanting it to be over. That in itself was unusual. Clarisse wasn’t a pushy person, or someone who tended to gush with apologies. The fact that she was so contrite made Ira uncomfortable, to the point that she simply accepted Clarisse’s offer and changed the subject as quickly as possible.
Was it all an act? Did Clarisse want Ira to surrender the necklace for another reason?
“I gave the necklace to Clarisse when she offered to have it repaired,” Ira said sadly, watching the realisation dawn in Magnus’ eyes.
“And Clarisse took it to a jeweller,” Magnus guessed. “A jeweller who also happened to encounter Maureen.”
“Magnus,” Ira breathed suddenly terrified, “What if Clarisse had nothing to do with this? What if the murderer simply saw her picking up my necklace from Alistair’s shop and thought it was related?” The blood drained from her head, her heart racing and breath coming in pants. “Oh god, what if she wasn’t involved at all?!” she asked almost desperately.
Magnus was out of his seat and around the desk in a heartbeat. Crouching in front of her as he had in the cottage, “Breathe Ira. In and out, just breathe.” He placed his palms on her knees and said calmly, steadily, “We don’t know anything yet. We don’t know what happened, and we don’t know why or even if Clarisse was involved.”
“But what if it was an accident!” she choked out on a sob. “What if she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and this -” she stuttered, searching for the words “- this all happened for nothing!”
“It doesn’t matter if she was or wasn’t involved, Ira. Clarisse is not responsible for her death. Whether she was part of some big conspiracy or not, she was innocent and did not deserve to die,” he said sternly. “You cannot think of her as more or less of a victim based on her own actions. Either way she was a victim in this.”
“But at least there would have been a reason!” she cried desperately.
“Would it matter?” he asked softly, almost tenderly. “Would any reason be good enough? Would any reason take away the pain you are feeling?”
Ira turned her head away and squeezed her eyes closed, unable to look at the compassion shining from his. “I don’t know.”
“I know right now, you want a reason. You want to understand why this has happened. And I wish I could give you one. I wish there was something I could say that would make the pain a little bit easier to bear,” he continued. “But there isn’t. Clarisse and Bill’s deaths were a terrible tragedy. And no matter why they happened, their loss will hurt.”
He rose to his feet again, releasing her knees. “All we know for sure is that Clarisse was the intended victim. Whether she was a victim because she was involved in something larger, is yet to be determined. For now, we need to understand if there is a connection with the necklace. Is it the same one Maureen was wearing? And if so, why? These are our main questions right now. Focus on that.”
Ira nodded, grateful for the direction his words provided. Yes. She would focus on that.
“Let us presume for a minute that the necklace has nothing to do with the case. Is there another reason Maureen may have had it?”
Ira thought for a moment, before offering, “The most likely reason would be that she got it from the jeweller either by mistake or on purpose. Perhaps it was accidentally sold to her, and she just happened to return it the night of her death.”
“That is possible. If so, that would suggest that neither Alistair nor Clarisse were involved, but simply victims of circumstance.”
Ira considered his words, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wrong. Hadn’t her dream shown her that Alistair and Clarisse were involved in something? People are dying. That’s what Alistair said.
But were they speaking of the murders or something totally unconnected? Ira didn’t know. And she still wasn’t even sure that the dream was anything more than a creation of her subconscious.
Magnus seemed to sense her skepticism. “What is it that is troubling you?”
Running her fingers through her hair in frustration, Ira wondered the same thing.
“Something just feels wrong,” she finally admitted. “From the start of this Clarisse’s behaviour has felt out of character. Starting with her strange behaviour with my necklace, and then her showing up at my door? But mostly it was the fight in the cottage with the killer. Something about that is just sticking with me. The unlikeliness of it all. It just seems so strange. I almost feel like it was another woman all together.”
“Ok,” he said, nodding slightly, �
��Let’s pull on that string. Is there anyone we can speak to who knew Clarisse? Perhaps before you did?”
Reluctantly Ira nodded.
He raised a brow in question, “I’m guessing you are not happy with this?”
Sneering slightly, Ira explained, “We can go speak to Clarisse’s old employer. The orphanage headmistress.”
“Are you sure she will even remember?” Magnus queried skeptically.
Ira huffed a disdainful laugh, “Oh yes. That old bat never forgets a thing.”
Further conversation was halted by a tentative knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Magnus called with a sly smile.
There was a moment of silence before a somewhat uncertain voice called, “Prince Adrian of Sarcosia?”
Ira couldn’t help her smile at the question in his voice. She didn’t imagine Adrian often had to announce himself.
Flashing an apologetic look, Magnus explained, “He was worried about you last night, so I told him he could come back to check on you tonight.”
“But he had to knock?” she asked with a small smile.
His grin was all mischief, “I think it will do the Crown Prince good to have to knock every once in a while.”
Ira nodded in agreement, and tried to smother her own grin as she said, “It’s a good lesson in humility.”
“Can I come in now?” called an impatient voice.
Huffing a laugh Magnus invited the boy to join them.
Rising from her chair Ira moved to greet Adrian as he entered.
When she stood directly before him, she placed her fist to her chest, and met his eyes.
“My Prince,” she said solemnly, “I owe you a great debt. Thank you for coming to my aid by finding Magnus when I was in danger.”
Adrian blushed, but Ira withheld the urge to tease as she continued. “You saved the life of one of my friends Adrian. You did a very good thing. You have earned my respect.”
At the last comment, Adrian’s eyes lit up with delight, and a smile broke across his face.
“Really?” he asked in an excited whisper.
“Really,” Ira replied with a big grin of her own.
“So rescuing damsels in distress earns me respect?” he asked in an excited voice.
Ira chuckled a laugh and pulled him into a hug. “Something like that.” Looking down at his face she said earnestly, “Seriously kiddo, you did a good thing. You didn’t panic and charge into the fight, you told the people who were in the best position to help.” She released him when he started to blush again,“One of Magnus’ people almost died. We got her back here thanks to you.”
“Will you tell me what happened?” Adrian asked excitedly, as he followed her to the table.
She heaved a sigh of relief as she sat down and finally gave her leg a rest. Ira only sketched out in loose terms what happened for Magnus earlier. She hadn’t mentioned the Brotherhood, or that Francis believed they were on that street for a few days.
Ira knew Adrian would want more than a vague description of what happened, but at the same time Ira wasn’t keen to make the gruesome fight and deaths of five men into some kind of exciting tale. That wasn't how it felt. It was dark and dirty, and would stick with her for life. She had killed. And not in the way she had in the Blue Desert when she took down that sniper from afar. This had been up close and personal. Ira left that shop coated in the blood of those men.
It wasn't an event she was proud of. She felt sick to her stomach over it. She felt like she could barely recognise herself anymore.
Looking back at the face of the young boy she said seriously, “I was ambushed.”
Adrian was almost vibrating with excitement; he was so desperate for the details of some sordid adventure tale of villains and heroes. Ira wasn’t sure how to make him understand that these were real people. Real lives that were now lost forever.
Ira wasn’t even sure why it mattered to her so much. Why couldn’t she just regale him with a glorious tale of being ambushed by villains? Why did she want him to understand?
After a few moments, Ira asked, “Adrian? Would you be sad if I died?”
The young boy was taken aback. “Uh, yes? I guess so. Why?”
“Because I nearly died,” she said seriously. “That ambush wasn’t fun, or exciting, it was scary.”
His excitement turned into fear. That wasn’t really what she wanted either. Damn. She wasn’t handling this very well.
She hurriedly added, “But I survived, and I am very happy that I did.” She tried again to find the right words. “But not everyone from the ambush did survive.”
“Did the bad guys die?” he asked as a smile crossed his face.
Ira shook her head, “There were no good and bad guys this time Adrian. There were just a group of people, and some of them lived, and some of them died.”
“But weren’t you attacked by bad men? Bad guys are always the ones that do the attacking!” He said passionately.
Ira nodded her head as she said, “You are right, sometimes bad guys attack. But sometimes bad guys force other people, good people, to do bad things too.” She looked at him seriously, “If Magnus was forced to do a bad thing by a bad guy, would Magnus also be a bad guy? Or would he be a victim as well?”
The General raised his eyebrows at her in surprise, but Adrian simply laughed.
“General Karimi couldn’t be forced to do anything by a bad guy. He’d just kill him!” he cried happily, as though praising his hero’s victorious conquests.
Ira resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she said, “But there are people who are more powerful than Magnus. They could make him do something he didn’t want to do, isn't that right?" she asked the General with a smirk.
Adrian seemed subdued by this reality. Magnus simply pursed his lips at her in irritation.
"I suppose,” Adrian answered eventually, “But wouldn't he just fight against them?"
"I would certainly try," Magnus responded.
“Of course he would try. But not all people are as incredibly strong and powerful as Magnus,” she added with a wink at the General, causing him to choke on a laugh. Turning back to Adrian, she continued, “Some people aren’t strong enough to fight back, and get forced or tricked into doing something they otherwise wouldn’t want to do. ”
“And that was what happened with you?” he asked tentatively. His excitement toward the ambush thoroughly subdued.
“I think so,” she said with a nod. “I think someone lied to them, and tricked them into thinking I was a bad guy. But in the end they would have killed me. So I had to stop them.” She looked at him with a slight frown. “Am I making sense? Do you understand what I am trying to say?”
“That you killed a damsel in distress?” he asked quietly.
Ira couldn’t stop the laugh that exploded out of her. “Not quite. I don’t think any of those men would have considered themselves particularly damsel-like.” Sobering slightly she explained. “I think those men were sent to find me by someone more powerful than they were. I had to kill them, but I am still sad about it.”
He still looked confused.
“I just want you to understand that I am not proud of what happened the other night. I wish it hadn’t happened. I wish I hadn’t been there. I wish you hadn’t had to come find help. I wish Margo hadn’t gotten hurt. But mostly, I wish I hadn’t been forced to kill five men who would otherwise still be alive.”
As though sensing Ira was no longer in the mood to talk about the attack, Magnus smoothly reminded Adrian of the time, and suggested that he head back home.
The young boy stopped before leaving to turn back and give Ira another hug. She was startled for a moment, but quickly returned the gesture. Before letting go, he whispered quietly, “I did panic at first.”
Ira smiled into his shoulder as she whispered back, “I did too. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Giving him a slight squeeze she released him and he disappeared.
Chapter
22
The Orphanage
The Valverna Home for Reckless Youth did what it said on the box, provided a home for reckless and unwanted children. It was located in the eighth ring. Far enough out to be out of the way, but not quite so far that the city would be accused of abandoning these children into the slums.
The home itself was a large three-storey wooden building with a staircase that cut straight up through the interior. From outside the building looked like an old Georgian manor with a small courtyard and stables in the rear. The ground floor housed an industrial style kitchen, single sex washrooms and several offices and small bedrooms for the staff. On the top floor were the dormitories as well as a small apartment reserved for the headmistress. In between there were classrooms and a lounge area where the only candles would be lit in the evening. If you didn’t want to spend the hours after dark under the tender care of the evening teachers, you were left to your own devices in the unlit hallways or dormitories above.
Ira remembered with painful clarity the fear she felt hiding in small corners deep in the dark recesses of this building. She spent the first six years of her life here. Brought as only a tiny newborn babe and only leaving when she managed to escape at six years old.
She hated it here. Hated the teachers, the other children, but mostly, the vile old bag responsible for overseeing it all. Veronica Breckinridge. Known to all the children as either Ms Breckinridge or simply Headmistress.
Ira recalled that some of the older children called her Batty Brecky behind her back. A small act of defiance that when discovered always resulted in a severe beating.
Ira felt as though she had gone back in time by fifteen years. Veronica Breckinridge looked exactly as when Ira lived here as a small girl. Ira had no idea how old the woman was. She had been old then, she had to be ancient now. She was a petite woman, with fine features and bird-like bones. Ira imagined she would have been a pretty little thing as a younger woman. She still was pretty, if Ira was honest with herself. But it was hard to see the beauty in someone you hated so passionately.