I looked down at Mickey’s watch. “That’s a nice watch. Where did you get it?”
Mickey put a hand over the time piece, the gesture defensive, as if hiding it from me. “Anton Winters.”
Well, that explained that. Anton Winters was protecting Mickey—his investment. And didn’t that just make this entire case a little more frightening?
I took all that in, then tried to steer the conversation back to tonight. “So you were expecting Siobhan, but Raichel showed up disguised as her. Andy said you looked like you didn’t want to go with her. If you knew Raichel, then why struggle?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘struggled,’” Mickey hedged. “Siobhan told me she was coming herself, and like I said, she was very specific about her instructions. If she’d wanted me to go with Raichel, she’d have said so.”
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I’ve been around the Otherworld enough to know strange things happen, and people aren’t always what they seem. I wasn’t going to risk not being here when Siobhan showed up. Especially since I was just late to the track two weeks ago. I missed my first race.” He rolled his shoulders. “Mr. Winters doesn’t seem like the sort of man you disappoint more than once. Not that he was mean about it, or anything,” he added quickly. “He’s not as scary as some people make him out to be.”
“Are you afraid of Siobhan?” Liam asked.
Mickey leaned back. This time, I caught it. A slight deepening of the lines around his eyes and mouth.
“You don’t like her,” Liam said.
Mickey crossed his arms. “I owe Siobhan a lot, and I’m grateful she gave me a chance at all of this. That said, I’m not saying I agree with every decision she’s made regarding Turning Tides.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because she was getting greedy. Racing has to be pure. It has to be about skill, otherwise it’s just a way to separate a fool from his money. But Siobhan was starting to care more about money and winning then she did about the race itself, and that’s the death knell of any racetrack.”
“Sounds like you would prefer it if someone else took over,” I pointed out.
Mickey shrugged. “Sure. But not so much that I’d risk trying to kill Siobhan, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
The thought had crossed my mind. Mickey was human. Unlike fey he could lie as much as he wanted. And he might be willing to risk the consequences of murdering someone he thought was hurting the business he loved—especially if he thought the vampire’s favor would protect him.
“I’m not accusing you,” I assured him.
He waved a hand. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you, and I don’t have anything to hide.”
“You said Siobhan was supposed to pick you up tonight. What for?” I asked.
“I was supposed to ride for a potential investor tonight,” he said. “Rowyn was going to take me out to the racetrack so we could give them an idea of what went on, schmooze a little. But then Siobhan called me and switched the meeting place. And instead of her showing up here to escort me onto the usual boat with Rowyn like she told me, Raichel showed up. And she kept trying to get me to leave, but Siobhan was crystal clear that I had to wait for her. So I held back.”
After a beat he hastened to add, “I’m not worried Siobhan would hurt me, mind you. But you can never really be too careful with tempers, especially among the horses.” He glanced from me to Liam. “I’m not trying to be racist. It’s just something I’ve noticed. Especially the each uisge. So I was trying to resist, without being insulting.”
Now he glanced back toward the boat. “Then that cop guy came rushing out.” His brow knit. “He gave me the weirdest look. I tried to tell him everything was fine. But then all the emotion sort of drained from his face. And he just…shot her.” He shook his head. “Then a blond guy came out of the bar and tackled him, and I ran to the boat at the pier. I figured Siobhan’s orders to stay put didn’t apply under those circumstances, so I ran around back for Rowyn.”
Liam prompted, “Did Rowyn run out to help restrain Agent Bradford?”
“I don’t know. He had me get on the boat, but I don’t know where he went after that. He could have run around to the front, I guess. Later he helped bring Agent Bradford onto the boat and Siobhan told me to wait in the bar for the Vanguard.”
“Why aren’t you wearing your silks?” I asked suddenly. “You said you were heading for a meeting with a potential investor. Seems like you might want to give them the full treatment. So why the street clothes?”
Mickey shook his head. “I don’t put my silks on until just before the race. You never know what can happen on the way to the track, and you don’t want to show up to a race looking like you crawled to get there.”
I chewed my lip in frustration. This was not going well. If Mickey was telling the truth, then Andy had gotten a good look at his face before he shot Raichel. “Did you see any kids around the parking lot? Maybe the parking lot next door?”
“No.”
“Were you wearing a glamour?” Peasblossom asked.
“No.” Mickey winced. “I’m sorry. I know your friend has a thing about the kelpies, and I get that they can seem really scary. But I wasn’t in any danger. And I did tell him that.”
“Mickey, was there anyone else in the parking lot when Andy came out? Anyone else who might have seen what happened?” Liam asked.
Mickey nodded. “Deacon was in his car at the back of the lot. He’ll have seen everything.”
I gave Mickey a small smile, trying to look as if I were encouraged by the information he’d given me. “Thank you. I might have to talk to you again later, if that’s all right?”
Mickey looked as if he knew damn well that if I wanted to talk to him again later, he’d have little choice in the matter. When I took out a notebook and pencil, he dictated his cell phone number. Then he nodded to me and headed back to the bar, draining his second energy drink first and tossing the can into the trash before going inside.
“Who do you want to talk to next?” Liam asked. “Deacon?”
I shook my head. “No. I have a few questions first. For Siobhan.”
Chapter 5
The reek of the bar swamped me as soon as I stepped inside, infusing my clothes with the scents of rotting wood, alcohol, unwashed bodies, and a general fishy scent that lived up to the bar’s name. It was bad enough to make me wrinkle my nose, and I could only imagine how much worse it was for Liam.
“Mother Renard! It’s good to see you again.”
The heavily accented Slavic voice boomed around me as soon as the bar door closed behind my group. I looked up in time to see Oksana push away from the bar and stride over to greet me.
Even without the shouting, Oksana was hard to miss. The female Vanguard member was a strix, a humanoid creature with enormous feathery wings and long sloping ears not dissimilar to a bat’s. Her skin and wings were a blue so dark it looked black in the bar’s shadowy interior, and the shock of white hair on her head matched her milky eyes. Her pale lavender tunic was barely thick enough not to call sheer. She didn’t wear shoes, so it was easy to see that she had the same sharp claws on her feet that she had on the tips of her fingers.
She didn’t try to shake my hand, which I appreciated since claws like hers could be tricky. She nodded to Liam. “Detective Sergeant Osbourne, I had hoped you would come along as well.” The lines around the corners of her mouth tilted downward. “I am afraid it does not look good for our friend.”
Normally it would have unnerved me a little to be around someone who was this boisterous at a murder scene, but for some reason, it just seemed to fit the strix.
“So Agent Bradford is a friend of yours, too?” Siobhan said. She pushed off the wall she’d been leaning on near the patio door, probably eavesdropping on my conversation with Mickey. “How convenient.”
Oksana flicked her gaze to the kelpie. “Do you have something to say to me, my equine friend? You wish to slander my honor? To suggest that I am
not fair?”
“I’m suggesting that you were there the night her FBI partner killed Bradan. No one seems to think that makes him a murderer.”
“I see.” Oksana tilted her head, the birdlike gesture looking natural against the backdrop of her large wings. She raised them, making her seem to tower over the kelpie.
“Tell me, Siobhan. How many humans have you eaten this year?” She lifted a clawed finger. “I will know if you lie to me.”
The kelpie leader didn’t have an answer for that one. The Vanguard wouldn’t go after a kelpie for one missing human. They were unlikely to ever notice a single human went missing. But if it were confessed—brought before them out of sheer chance—Oksana could bring her in for it. When she didn’t respond, Oksana grinned, baring her teeth.
“Is it possible that you are nervous? It’s difficult to prey on the weak when the weak have found themselves such a…persistent guardian. Is it not?”
“He killed Raichel for no reason,” Siobhan seethed. “She didn’t eat anyone.”
“First of all,” I said, “Andy believed Raichel was you. And you’ve tried to kill him before. Second, we don’t know that Andy killed Raichel. Not yet.”
Siobhan paused. Suddenly, the anger melted from her face, replaced by an ugly smirk. “Then I’d better let you get back to your investigation. This will be a more satisfying conversation when you realize the truth.”
“That’s fine, let’s start with you then.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Me?”
“Why was Raichel disguised to look like you? And,” I added, “let’s skip the part where you dance around the question and lie without lying. I’m going to be speaking with Anton Winters about all this. Wouldn’t it be easier if you give me the answers now? So you’re not answering the same questions for him later?”
“I was held up. I thought if I met Mickey here, I’d make it in time, but then it became obvious I wouldn’t. Raichel was nearby on a separate errand, so I told her to swing by for Mickey.”
“Why?” I pressed.
She let out a huff of breath, annoyance pulling the skin around her mouth tight. “It looks bad for me to miss a meeting with an investor. I sent Raichel as me, so no one would realize I didn’t make it.”
“You really expect us to believe that?” Peasblossom demanded.
“I don’t care if you believe it or not,” Siobhan retorted. “This isn’t anything new. I’ve had Raichel go to meetings in my place before pretending to be me.”
“Why?” Liam asked.
“Various reasons. None of which are any of your business.” She shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, ask around. Jane can confirm it.” Siobhan gestured to a short woman at one of the tables. “Another of my assistants, a wererat. She was with me at my meeting tonight. In case you need to confirm my alibi,” she added.
There was a light in Siobhan’s eyes that rubbed me the wrong way. As if there were a joke I hadn’t gotten yet. It was the same look she’d had right before I found out Mickey was a fifty-year-old man, not a teenager.
She was trying to psych me out, but she’d have to do better than that. This had been one hell of a year for me, and right now, Siobhan wasn’t even on the list of top ten for people who freaked me out.
To be fair, it was a long list.
Siobhan retreated to the back of the room. A kelpie’s hearing wasn’t as good as a werewolf’s—not by a long shot. But the room wasn’t large, so she didn’t need to be close to eavesdrop.
“I need to talk to someone named Deacon,” I told Oksana.
She nodded and gestured to a corner table. “That is him. The one with the tattoos.”
I followed her gesture and raised my eyebrows. Tattoos indeed.
Deacon was not a large man. Even sitting down, I could see he was no taller than Mickey V. He had a mop of curly brown hair and the smooth, olive-toned skin that spoke of Greek origin. But even Deacon could never have been mistaken for a kid. Not with those knowing eyes, and muscular arms covered in tattoos exposed by rolling the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows.
The thorn vine design spread across his muscled chest into the deep V of his collar and down the lengths of both arms, spotted here and there with roses in different stages of bloom. There was languid sexuality in the way he moved, and I’d have bet his entire body bore the same markings. Like most tattoos, they probably held a deeply personal meaning for him, commemorative or something more abstract.
It took me a second to realize I was staring. And another second after that to realize Deacon had noticed. His hazel eyes held amusement without mockery and a small smile played over his soft, supple lips as he watched me. He seemed pleased I found him worth staring at. Then his eyes flicked to the front door. Toward the crime scene. And the smile died.
“Satyr-blood,” Liam murmured. “Faint, but it’s there.”
“So you’re saying he smells like goat?” Peasblossom asked.
I made my way to the table without waiting to see if Liam would answer her. Deacon rose as I approached, a gentlemanly gesture that was rare nowadays, but had been the norm in the world I came from.
“Good evening.” His voice was deep, almost musical.
I matched his formality. “Well met, Deacon. I’m Mother Renard and this is Detective Sergeant Liam Osbourne. We’d like to ask you some questions about what happened tonight.”
“Of course.” He gestured at the chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Liam pulled out a chair for me and I sat down.
The alpha didn’t sit, choosing to stand beside my chair instead. He kept his body turned toward Siobhan even as he scanned the room. Looking for threats.
“I’m sorry to say that I don’t think you’ll be pleased with what I have to say. It’s my understanding that Agent Bradford is a friend of yours?”
I must have looked surprised, because he winced. “Siobhan talks about you. And Agent Bradford. A lot.”
“What does she say?” I leaned forward, then forced myself to sit back and not crowd him.
“Mostly she just talks about some auction she thinks you cheated her brother out of. She says Bradford killed Bradan and stole what was his. And you and the Vanguard helped him get away with it.”
“Did she ever talk about getting even?” I pressed.
“She’s never discussed specifics in front of me, but I’d be surprised if she wasn’t looking for an opportunity.”
“An opportunity like tonight?”
Deacon’s gaze flicked to the door again and lingered for a moment before returning to my face. “Perhaps.”
I folded my hands on the table. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
Deacon wrapped his hand around the squat glass of bourbon on the table in front of him, fingers caressing the glass before he swirled the liquid inside. “I drove Mickey here to meet Siobhan so they could go to a meeting at Turning Tides.” He paused. “Do you know about Turning Tides?”
“It’s a racetrack Siobhan started,” I said, nodding. “Go on.”
“Siobhan told me to wait in the car until she got there. Mickey can’t sit still long, so he got out to pace around out front. I’m not a fan of cold weather, so I stayed in the car with the engine running and the heat on. A little after seven, a van pulled up and Siobhan got out.”
“You saw Siobhan,” I clarified.
“Yes, but it was odd. Siobhan never drives a van. She never drives at all, she prefers to be chauffeured around now that she’s leader of the team. Normally, that’s my job, but tonight it would have been Jane, since they were coming straight from a business meeting. But Jane was nowhere to be seen. It seemed strange, so I stayed in the car to see what was going on.”
A frown furrowed the skin between his brows. “It looked like she was having an argument with Mickey. Which also didn’t seem right, because Mickey never argued with Siobhan. Not that he didn’t want to,” he clarified. “Mickey had plenty to say about her. But to her face, he was always the sp
irit of good faith.”
“Did you hear what they said?” Liam asked.
“No. But it seemed to annoy Siobhan, because suddenly she grabbed him. He leaned away like he was trying to make her let go.”
“Was either Siobhan or Mickey holding any sort of weapon?” I asked.
“Not at that point.” He met my eyes. “That’s when your friend came rushing out. The FBI agent. He spotted Siobhan and Mickey by the van and I heard him shout ‘Stop!’ and he bolted right for them. Siobhan dragged Mickey back a step, then they were behind the van, out of my sight so I could only see them through the windows. Agent Bradford followed, then a second later, I heard a gunshot.”
Deacon pointed to a man in the opposite corner of the bar. “Then that guy ran out and tackled the agent. I got out to take a closer look. It wasn’t until I saw the body that I realized it wasn’t Siobhan. It was Raichel.” After a sip of bourbon he added bitterly, “Pity, that. Raichel was a typical kelpie, but although I wouldn’t call her a good person she was still a sight better than Siobhan.”
It was almost exactly the same story Mickey V had given us.
“Did you see anyone else in the area when Raichel was shot?” I asked. “Any kids? Was Mickey wearing a glamour, something that made him look younger than he should have?”
The satyr-blooded man shook his head. “I’m sorry. Mickey looked every bit his age the entire time.”
I studied him closely. “Did Siobhan tell you what to say?”
“No, in fact she’s been uncharacteristically absent from this evening’s events, in more ways than one.” His gaze traveled to Oksana. “She doesn’t want to give the Vanguard any reason to think she’s manipulating the investigation. She wants Agent Bradford to be found guilty—beyond a shadow of a doubt.” Deacon leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Believe me when I say, I take no pleasure in any of this. If I had any information that would help your friend, I would give it to you. In a heartbeat.”
“You don’t like her.” I didn’t phrase it as a question.
“No,” he answered, his voice low and hard.
Conviction Page 5