His quick and emphatic answer gave me hope. “How did you come to work for her?”
“I’m not her employee,” Deacon corrected me, closing his hand into a fist. “I’m her property. She won me in a race.”
“She races too?” Liam asked.
“She didn’t run the race.” The jockey sighed, then waved a hand. “Do you know anything about how Turning Tides works?”
“I only just learned of its existence a little while ago,” I admitted. “All I know is that it was Siobhan’s idea, and Anton Winters gave her the money to start it.”
“Turning Tides is a racetrack exclusively, as you would imagine, for waterhorses. The races are run mostly by kelpies, backahasts, neugles, and each uisges, but anyone with a horse form can enter. The jockeys can be human or Other. Besides that, it’s run like any other racetrack. And like any other racetrack, there are private events. Some with very high stakes.”
Deacon’s face darkened. “In one of those races, the horse owners wagered their jockeys. My mistress lost. Siobhan won.” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing with sudden anger. “She doesn’t even want me, for company or as a rider. I’m a feather in her cap, something to rub in my mistress’ face, to remind people she won. Mistress Julia loved me. She appreciated my passion.”
“You mean sex?” Peasblossom asked.
I gave her a withering look, but Deacon didn’t look offended or surprised by her sudden intrusion.
“Not just sex, little one,” he said honestly. “Intimacy.” He touched one of the roses on his arm. “Love is a magnificent thing. Not just true love, or love that lasts a lifetime, but even the small encounters between two people are beautiful. Worth remembering as moments they touched our hearts. Julia understood. She’s a woman of science, but she had an appreciation for that which cannot be measured as well.”
His voice softened. “I had thought she could be the one. She may still be, if Siobhan would release me.”
“If she loved you, why did she gamble with you?” Peasblossom asked.
Again, it was a rude question. But this time, a fair one.
Deacon shook his head. “It was a trick. A manipulation on Siobhan’s part.”
“To get you?” I asked.
“No. It was a power play, no more. A way to show up my mistress. There are those who would like to see her embarrassed. Who would like to see her leave America.” He smiled, and it was a genuine expression of affection. “It won’t work. My Julia knows her mind. And her heart.” He shrugged. “If anything, Siobhan’s possession of me has done little more than convince my mistress to stay.”
“If you tell me the truth,” I said, pressing my hands against the table’s scarred wooden surface, “I will do everything within my power to help you get back to her. Back to Julia.”
That was a tricky thing to say. I hadn’t exactly given my word, not formally, so technically I didn’t think Flint would object. If Deacon demanded a formal oath, then I’d have to call the leannan sidhe.
I really hoped he didn’t insist.
“You don’t mean that.” Deacon stared down into his bourbon, swirling the liquid with small, melancholy motions.
“Yes, I do,” I insisted. “I will try to—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He shoved a hand through his curls. “You don’t mean if I tell you the truth. You mean if I tell you the truth you want to hear. If I tell you the FBI agent is innocent. And believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure in this moment. But I can’t. I saw him shoot Raichel. In cold blood. I’m sorry.”
My words caught on the lump in my throat. I fought to gather my thoughts, focusing on my breathing. Beside me, Liam’s hand settled on shoulder, his aura pulsing against me in a warm rush. It was soothing, and I found my next breath came easier.
“You can understand why this whole situation seems…off,” Liam said. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with Agent Bradford’s history?”
Deacon snorted. “Oh, I’m familiar. Everyone knows Agent Bradford’s history with the kelpies. Siobhan isn’t subtle. In anything.”
I sat up straighter. “So you see why this looks an awful lot like a set up? Siobhan arranges for Raichel to pick up Mickey right outside the door at a place she knows Andy’s watching.”
“A place he comes specifically because kelpies are hanging around with teenage humans and he’s worried there’s going to be trouble,” Liam added.
“And if that was her plan, then it worked,” Deacon said sadly. “But the fact remains, your friend killed Raichel. And he didn’t do it to save anyone’s life. Not a life that was in immediate danger. You might be able to argue that Siobhan was taunting him, but to argue incitement, you’d need to prove that she had solid reason to believe Agent Bradford would kill Raichel. And based on his history, I would not have thought he’d go through with it—not when he saw, plainly, that Mickey was no child. I’m sorry. I really am.”
I stood from the table, suddenly needing some space between me and the satyr-blood’s sympathy. “I was told Siobhan’s other assistant is here. Jane?”
Deacon nodded to a table less than ten feet away. “That’s her. The one in the suit.”
“Thank you for your time.”
“If you need to speak with me again, let me know.” His smile turned bitter. “Siobhan will have to make me available if you ask.”
I fought the urge to look at Siobhan as he mentioned her name. I could feel her eyes on me as I made my way over to the table where Jane was sitting. The wererat was a small woman, my height but thinner. She had short brown hair cut close to her head, and dark brown eyes that flicked back and forth across the small computer screen in front of her. The computer would have fit in my trench coat pocket, it was so compact, and I marveled at how the wererat was able to type so quickly on it.
She froze when my shadow fell over her. Then she took a deep breath, and looked up. Not at me. At Liam.
Ah. Predator. Prey. I should have had Liam hang back until I could make introductions.
Liam seemed to sense her unease. “Are you Jane?” he asked, keeping his voice in that higher, polite register people used when they answered the phone and didn’t know who was calling.
“Yes. And you must be Detective Sergeant Liam Osbourne.” She nodded toward Deacon. “I heard the introductions.” She swiveled her gaze to me. “And you’re Mother Renard.”
She said “Mother Renard” with the formal awe other people might reserve for “the Queen.”
Or possibly she was just very nervous.
“I need to ask you some questions about what happened tonight,” I said. “Is that all right?”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
I folded myself into the seat next to her. “Tell me about tonight. You were with Siobhan, and her plans changed at the last minute?”
“That’s right. We were meeting with a gentleman about adding more boats to the racetrack. Siobhan wants to expand.”
“More boats?” Peasblossom asked.
Jane tapped the tiny keyboard with quick, sure movements. She pulled up an image of six boats in two lines, with an oval between them. Every ship in both lines was connected to its neighbors by a walkway, and another walkway connected the two ships at either end, so they surrounded the oval in the center. “Right now, we have six ships. Each of them has two stories. The lower decks are public, anyone can wander in and out of them, but the upper floors are private and can be rented by an individual or a group. We’ve been getting larger crowds lately, and Siobhan feels it’s time to expand, add another ship to each side.”
She called up another image, and this time there were eight ships surrounding the oval. “Of course she wants to make the track larger as well, so it still fits tightly within the boundaries.”
“Not hard to do, since it’s apparently just a matter of moving buoys as opposed to laying down new track,” Liam observed.
Jane shot a furtive glance at Siobhan, a flash of annoyance there and gone on
her face before I could even be certain I’d seen it. “Yes, that was Siobhan’s thought. But she doesn’t realize that it’s not just about having space to run. There are a lot of creatures in that lake. And when you’ve got a group of horses running along the water for several races at least three nights a week, that draws some attention. Raichel had to negotiate with the mermaids for underwater security to make sure nothing tried to eat the waterhorses mid-race. And that’s not just guarding the perimeter, they need to be spread out all over the track underneath the runners and the ships to make sure nothing comes from below.”
I shivered at the thought. I knew what sort of creatures lived in Lake Erie. It said a lot that kelpies were actually on the less scary end of the scale.
She waved a hand in the air. “And don’t even get me started on the ghost ships. Raichel kept a detailed calendar of the ghost ship sightings, so at least we could predict some of them. But there’s always an outlier, some dead captain who hasn’t realized he’s dead and wants to argue about why duty demands he sail straight through to the shore.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “And now it’s my job.”
I paused, considering Jane’s face. She looked stressed, but she didn’t look particularly sad.
She caught me staring and frowned. “What?”
“You don’t seem very affected by Raichel’s death. Beyond the anxiety over taking on her workload.”
“Which you seem to be getting down to with impressive efficiency,” Liam added.
Jane shrugged. “I liked Raichel more than Siobhan,” she said, keeping her voice low lest she be overheard. “But it’s the difference between working with someone who tolerates your presence, and someone who goes out of their way to make your life hell. Raichel wasn’t my friend, and I certainly didn’t trust her. But she was more reasonable than Siobhan. More…predictable.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Predictability is something I appreciate in a predator.”
“How long have you worked for Siobhan?”
Jane leaned back in her seat. “I was at Fortuna’s Stables when Siobhan’s predecessor Gloria was in charge. Then when Fortuna’s Stables went under, and Siobhan had the idea for Turning Tides, I was part of her team to get the whole process started, just under Raichel.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but swallowed it back.
I knew that look. “Let me guess. Siobhan was the idea person, but actually figuring out how to make it work, making her idea a reality, fell to you and Raichel.”
Jane shot furtive glances around the room, deliberately avoiding the team leader. “Yes. Siobhan is clever, I’ll give her that. The on the water racetrack was a brilliant idea, and it really helped her in terms of earning the loyalty of the team. Things were rocky for a while after Gloria died and the centaurs started taking over.”
“Rocky in what way?” I asked.
“Well, Gloria was more of a people person than Siobhan. She had a sort of natural air of leadership, and people responded to that. She managed to hold her own against the centaurs, even though they had more of a land presence, and Stavros obviously favored them. But after she died, and Siobhan took over, the centaurs took advantage of Siobhan being new and somewhat inexperienced with the ins and outs of the racetrack. They started edging the waterhorses out of races, giving more spots to centaurs.”
She leaned back in her seat. “But when Fortuna’s Stables went under, Siobhan really came through. She had the idea for Turning Tides, and she managed to sell Anton Winters on the concept. And of course, the centaurs can’t run on the water, so they were very neatly cut out.”
“So the team loves her for getting them a better spot in the hierarchy,” Liam mused.
“Loves might be a strong word,” Jane muttered. “But, yes, they appreciate what she’s done.”
“So you and Siobhan were meeting with someone about adding new boats. And the plan was for Siobhan to pick up Mickey when the meeting was over,” I pressed. “But then the meeting ran over. First Siobhan changed the meeting place, then she sent Raichel.”
Jane nodded. “Initially Siobhan thought she’d still be able to make it, but she needed Mickey closer to reduce travel time. The kelpies have a boat at Something Fishy on Thursdays, so that seemed like the best choice. But then the meeting ran even longer, and she wasn’t going to make it again, so she sent Raichel.”
“And is it true that she often sent Raichel to impersonate her?” I asked.
“Yes. Siobhan hated being made to look foolish, but not so much so that she was willing to put in the effort to understand the details. She’d send Raichel to any meeting that involved spreadsheets. Disguised as Siobhan, of course, so no one knew she didn’t have the mind for business that she claimed to have.”
She tapped one finger on the table. “But this was a meeting with a potential investor. Those were her favorite meetings, the ones that let her talk about how great she is, and how lucrative her idea turned out to be. She wouldn’t have missed this one intentionally.”
“Who was the meeting with?” I asked.
“Mr. Chatterjee. He’s a naga who invests in local businesses. I can give you his contact information, if you like?”
She tapped more keys on the computer and pulled up an electronic contact card. Liam looked over her shoulder and dialed the number on his cell phone before stepping away. I left him to confirm Siobhan’s alibi and turned back to Jane.
The wererat was studying my face, and the pity in her eyes drove a spike of fear into my gut. “Siobhan wanted Raichel out of the way and that FBI agent too, and she got them both in one stroke. I just… I wish I could help you.”
“Then help me,” I urged her. “Tell me something I can use. I know this was a setup. It’s an obvious setup. But I need help to prove it.”
“It may have been a setup,” Jane admitted. “In fact, I’m sure it was. But it’s a setup that relied on your friend killing someone, not to save someone’s life, but because he wanted them dead.” She put a hand on mine, the sympathy on her face twisting the hard knot in my stomach. “And he did.”
Chapter 6
“Mr. Chatterjee confirms that Siobhan didn’t leave his office until seven-thirty,” Liam said, sliding his cell phone into his shirt pocket. He nodded to the bar. “Talk to the bartender next?”
Jane’s words echoed in my ears, so loud I almost missed what Liam said. I could feel Siobhan’s gaze boring into the space between my shoulder blades, like a physical weight. It made me itch, and it took more effort than I wanted to admit not to do something rash.
Like blast her through the wall.
“Shade?”
I shook my head, trying to force a smile for Liam. “Sorry, I was thinking.” I looked ahead at the bar, eyeing the stools that looked like they should have gone to the scrapheap years ago.
Liam approached the bar ahead of me, nostrils flaring as he looked up and down at the line of barstools. “This is where he was sitting.” He put his hand on the bar closest to the back door.
I stood next to the seat with its broken faux-leather and splintered wood, gazing out the rear door. Through the window, I could see the pier, and the edge of Siobhan’s boat. “That window was filthy the last time we were here.” I glanced at the front door, noticing that despite the fact it was essentially the dilapidated building’s kickstand, it too was surprisingly clean.
Peasblossom tugged on my earlobe to keep her balance. “Andy cleaned the windows, didn’t he?”
“It makes sense, if he wanted to keep an eye on things,” Liam said.
“And no one thought that was weird?” Peasblossom threw up her arms. “Him coming in here to clean the doors?”
“This place probably has a high tolerance for weird,” I muttered.
The bartender openly stared at us as he dried off a beer mug with a blessedly almost-white towel. He had a barrel chest so wide around I was surprised he could bring his arms together enough to dry the glass.
“You must be Mother Renard.”
�
��You heard the introductions too?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Siobhan said you’d be stopping by. I’m Valter, and I own this bar. You have questions, I assume? Questions about why your friend decided to use my bar as his hunting ground?”
I let the hunting ground comment slide. “I do have some questions, yes. Let’s start with how well would you say you know Agent Bradford? I understand he came here every week.”
“I’m not surprised he killed Raichel, if that’s what you’re asking.” Valter braced his hands on the edge of the bar. “I told him he should have stopped coming here. That obsession he has with the kelpies was never healthy. It was only a matter of time.”
“Obsession?” Liam asked.
“Obsession, yeah. Been comin’ here every Thursday night. Always staring at the kelpies—glaring at them, really. Especially if they had guests.”
“You mean kids,” I said, my voice cold. “When they had kids on their boats. Kids that didn’t belong at a bar in the first place.”
The veins on Valter’s beefy arms bulged as he leaned forward. “I told him, as long as they’re on the boats and not in the bar, I can’t do anything about that. And as far as I could see, the kelpies never laid an aggressive hand on them.” He shook his head. “Everyone’s heard about his history with the kelpies. I knew it was going to be trouble some day. And I was right.”
“You don’t seem to like him very much,” I observed, keeping my voice cool but still professional.
He paused, then sighed. “Look, the truth is, I don’t think Bradford’s a bad guy. He always pays his tab, and he always orders something, even though he never actually drinks it. Damn kelpies usually don’t even order, just take up space along the pier. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed he decided to shoot someone on my front doorstep.” He gestured outside at the floodlights. “This is not good for business.”
“What about the other patrons?” Liam asked. “Anyone have a grudge?”
Valter snorted. “Besides the kelpies? No, not really. But no one here likes him. He stalks around here like he’s better than everyone else. And he definitely expected the worst from the kelpies.”
Conviction Page 6