by Ellen Jane
Chapter Fourteen
“The murder weapon was a parrying dagger,” Heather explained, sipping on police station coffee and wincing at the bitterness. “Which is paired with a fencing rapier. These are competition ones, so the rapier is spelled to recall the last hit in case of any discrepancies. Which means it was proof that the housekeeper didn’t do it; the daughter did. Mr Smith confronted Rose about her affair with his married friend, threatening to intervene, and Rose snapped. She wanted me to find the least incriminating of the two weapons for her. Then, she could use my tracking powder to find the other herself.”
Above them, a ghostly raven circled the ceiling fan and cawed softly. Heather would have to banish it eventually, but she was too fond of it to let it go yet.
“Horrible.” Sinéad shuddered. “Can you believe her mother protected her? I mean, I guess I understand that, but against her own husband?”
“She convinced herself the housekeeper really did do it.” Heather shook her head, recalling the statements she had helped the police compile. “I think that’s why the spell worked so well when the housekeeper confessed. Mrs Smith knew her daughter and her husband had fought, but she genuinely seemed to believe the housekeeper had intervened and struck the final blow, even when we removed her spell-work. A terrible case of denial, really.”
“Or perhaps her daughter inherited her mother’s magic,” Cian suggested, hands wrapped around his styrofoam cup as he stared blankly at the wall ahead. “Mrs Smith convinced a woman to confess against her will. Perhaps her daughter had a little of that as well and used it to get her mum on side.”
“Mrs Smith has exceptional control over her housekeepers,” Sinéad agreed darkly. “I’ve never seen a sorcerer with such a warped sense of entitlement.”
“I don’t think it really matters anymore,” Heather said, still watching the raven as it swooped on invisible currents in the air. “It’s all such a tangled mess. I don’t even know where to begin unravelling it. If even one person had aired their secrets, it would be so much easier, but they didn’t. They all just kept them as close to their chests as possible.”
“Mrs Fletcher was right, then,” Cian said with a huff of laughter. “A community is better off when everyone knows everything.”
Sinéad snorted. “I reserve the right to disagree completely. I like my privacy.”
“So long as you don’t go around stabbing people with parrying daggers, I respect that.” Cian nodded at her.
There was a pause as the three of them sat, sipping their coffee and taking on board everything that had happened. After a while, Sinéad sighed. “I really thought it was the jewellery. I was completely ready to create an illusion of it based on the evidence in the locker room and hand that over.” She gave a rueful smile. “Fat lot of good that would have done.”
Heather smiled at her and reached out to squeeze her hand. Beside them, Cian frowned into the distance.
“So Mr Williams knew about Ryan’s gift because he can hear the bees as well, and when the Dunnes began using that gift in public and planning to share it at Ryan’s initiation, he became terrified they’d bring everything to light, including his own unwanted magic.” Cian shook his head. “His deep, dark shame. Man needs a lesson or two in being human if that’s the worst he’s got.”
Heather mumbled an incoherent agreement. “He misunderstood the bees’ message and thought the Dunnes were lying low. And with the whole family out of the picture for a while and people beginning to notice their absence, it was his last opportunity to frame them and turn the community against them. Revealing their unprecedented access to secrets would be too dangerous when no one trusted them anymore, and his shameful magic would stay hidden.”
“I don’t understand where he found the energy, to be perfectly honest,” Cian said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s just so much effort.”
“Yes,” Sinéad said drily. “That’s what he should have thought about before proceeding. The effort required.”
Movement from the adjacent room, separated by a large glass window, caught Heather’s eye. She watched in silence as the Dunnes followed the policeman to the front desk, near the three of them. Theodore’s arm was slung over Ryan’s shoulder, their conversation too quiet to hear. The police had followed the trail of Heather’s magic, finding the Dunnes exhausted but safe in a remote cottage out in the countryside, owned by Mr Carey. They still looked tired and forlorn, but there was colour in their cheeks again, and every few seconds they’d place a hand on each other’s shoulder or brush against each other in comfort. They had each other, and they would be fine.
A policeman appeared in front of Heather. “All right, you lot. Last round of reports and you’re free.”
Cian waved the two of them aside and moved forward to go first.
“What I don’t understand,” Sinéad said quietly while Cian gave his statement, “is why the rapier and the dagger were in different locations? Or what happened with them at all.”
Heather shook her head. “I’m not sure either, but I suspect it has something to do with how Ryan managed to retrieve the rapier and hide it in the first place, alerting Rose and Mr Carey to what he knew.”
Sinéad frowned in irritation. “So, what did he do?”
Heather levelled her with a stare. “You’d have to ask him.”
Their eyes fell to the family huddled in the corner of the room. They hadn’t spoken to each other yet, and even Heather was overwhelmed by a strange sense of surreality seeing the Dunnes standing there in the flesh. Sinéad’s shoulders tightened, lifting up around her ears, and her frown grew deeper.
“Ask him,” she echoed.
“Yes,” Heather said firmly.
Sinéad turned to her, eyes wide and fearful, angled so that only Heather could see. Heather reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Sinéad’s ear, letting her hand fall to trace along Sinéad’s cheek for just a moment. The noise of the police station drifted around them, but it was as if they were safe in their own private bubble for as long as they wanted. If they wanted—if Sinéad needed—they could walk out of here right now and never look back. Sinéad closed her eyes, breathed slowly in and out, and then steeled herself and marched over to the Dunnes.
Heather decided to give her those first few moments alone, so she could meet her parents for the first time in private. But Heather would be ready to join her girlfriend’s side the second Sinéad asked her.
Cian appeared at Heather’s shoulder. “Right,” he said, gesturing broadly with his hands. “I’ve got the goss. So Mr Carey is our kidnapper extraordinaire, with Rose as his accomplice, and he did it to protect Rose so her crime wasn’t revealed. So, why did Mrs Carey lie, you ask? She found out what her husband had done and tried to protect him so he didn’t get locked up. Meanwhile, Mr Williams tried to protect himself and, I don’t know, probably the bees, and this whole mess started because the Dunnes tried to protect their son and his questionable magical talent by only telling a few select people about it before the big reveal. Shame they told the wrong ones.”
Heather blinked. “Too many secrets.”
Cian’s gaze landed on Sinéad in the corner, talking stiffly to the Dunnes, and his eyes widened. “Oh, bloody hell.”
Without another word, he strode forward to stand beside his sister, one arm draped protectively over her shoulder. Heather listened to their conversation from across the room.
“It was so unexpected,” Mrs Dunne was saying, one arm linked with Ryan’s so tightly the boy looked pained. “We never knew John would turn like that. I suppose it’s our fault for confronting him before the police.” She grimaced. “We thought he’d be on our side and help us get the evidence, but I suppose love makes you do crazy things.”
“Crazy things?” Cian echoed, incredulous. “What do you call a murder then? Wild and wacky?”
Mrs Dunne blinked at him. It was like they were speaking separate languages. Mr Dunne remained quiet, as he had the entire time.
“T
hat’s what you really fought about, wasn’t it?” Sinéad asked. “It wasn’t about bad business or the affair at all. You told him you were going to turn Rose in.”
Mrs Dunne looked at her feet and nodded.
Not all secrets stay secret. It would seem Mrs Carey had been honest about part of the conversation, if not the context. The best lies were based on truth.
“We’re so sorry you got swept up in this,” Mrs Dunne said in a rush. “We don’t know why they thought you had the evidence.”
Mr Dunne cleared his throat. “Ryan boasted he was the only person who could retrieve the evidence,” he said stiffly, “and John knows the twins likely share Ryan’s special gift. Stands to reason we would have sent a message off to the twins requesting they deliver the evidence to the police in our absence. Good thing John didn’t know what that special gift was yet or he’d likely have kicked down the hives.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say about the twins sharing Ryan’s special gift?” Sinéad asked, her tone creeping higher than normal.
“Now’s not the time,” Cian muttered sagely, patting her on the back before addressing the Dunnes. “Well, it’s all over now. You can go home.”
“Oh, you don’t—” Mrs Dunne cut off mid-sentence, glancing at her husband and back again. “We thought you might want to come over for dinner sometime… but maybe it’s silly. We tried to invite you to Ryan’s initiation before…” Her words trailed off.
“Why did you leave us?” Sinéad’s words silenced the room.
For a moment, Heather thought Mrs Dunne was about to cry. “We were too young. Too young and too stupid.”
Ryan pulled free from his mother’s grip, glancing back at her with an unreadable expression. When he looked back, he seemed to be trying to convey something to the others with just his eyes, and for a moment Heather truly saw the resemblance.
Sinéad’s face softened, and she nodded once. “Someday, I will, but not yet.”
Cian’s arm around her shoulder tightened, and Heather was struck by the sight of two separate families facing each other for the first time. Sinéad turned to her then and smiled. It was soft and tired, but it warmed Heather all through her body. When Sinéad motioned for Heather to join them, Heather crossed the room immediately and entwined her fingers with Sinéad’s.
“One more thing,” Sinéad said, looking back again. “We don’t understand why the rapier and dagger were separated. Is it how Rose caught you?”
Ryan cleared his throat. “My bad.” He gave a crooked grin.
It was the first time Heather had heard him speak, and she only just managed to hold back from laughing. He sounded so much like Cian.
“I wasn’t sure the police would take the random evidence of some witch doing magic they’ve never heard of, you know? They’d been all right with what we told them about the jewels, but that was because we led them straight to proof. And Mr Smith’s spirit passed on that Rose had hidden both of the weapons in their pool’s filter system, so I snuck into the garden to nick them as evidence, yeah? Figured I only needed one of them since they’re competition swords so they’ll playback both for the replay.” He cleared his throat and looked down, so much like a kid that even Cian’s shoulders drooped, any lingering anger fading away. “But I got caught. So, I snatched them both and ran through the back alleys to get home. I dropped the dagger somewhere near the city centre, figuring worst case no one would notice it and I could find it again if I had to, but I asked the bees to hide the sword.”
Cian muttered something disparaging about bees under his breath.
“When they took us, they made us open the safe and all the locked cupboards where we could hide something in the house,” Ryan continued. “But the dagger and sword weren’t inside, were they? So, I tried to make them think we’d stashed it at the holiday house in St Ives to buy us some time, but I don’t think Mr Carey ever believed me. They figured I’d chucked the rapier on the way and got someone else to hide the dagger. I mean it was the other way ‘round but whatever. They’ve kind of proven they aren’t that bright, haven’t they?”
That explained why Rose had been searching through the alleys for her missing rapier and dagger, and why she had thought they might be hidden in St Ives.
“And you wouldn’t hand it over, even to free yourself?” Sinéad’s voice was incredulous.
Ryan’s expression turned mulish. “It’s not right. Besides, that was our only bargaining chip, yeah? What’s to say they wouldn’t have killed us once they had it back?”
Cian grinned and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Smart lad.”
Ryan beamed, an unmistakable note of curiosity on his face as he looked up at his older brother.
Mrs Dunne glanced down, her eyes widening at the sight of Cian’s bare feet. “Aren’t your feet cold?”
She sounded just like a mother, and all three of them winced. Cian covered it with a cheery smile.
“Nope! It’s a spell.” Cian lifted one foot and wiggled his big toe, displaying the red ribbon wrapped around it. “It’s just like I’m wearing shoes, but I’ve still got full flexibility so I can feel the drum pedals beneath my feet. My adopted sister made it for me.”
Mrs Dunne only looked more confused by the end of the explanation.
“So that’s why you never wear shoes?” Sinéad exclaimed, echoing Heather’s thoughts. “I hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but that’s such a relief. I’ve been trying to think of a way to trick you into wearing them before you get frostbite.”
The police joined them with clipboards and endless forms, and they lost themselves in the drudgery of bureaucracy. In the noisy bustle of questions and administration, Sinéad spoke softly to Heather.
“They’re sorry they left us, but…” She paused and shook her head. “I’m not ready yet. I forgive them for being young and scared and stupid, but it’s not enough. Not yet.”
“You said families were about choice. Are you choosing to walk away again?” Heather asked, picking her words carefully.
Sinéad laughed, her nose wrinkling in faint distaste. “I was a bit quick to draw lines in the sand. They’re about choice, but that choice isn’t black and white. It isn’t about running toward or running away, like I’d thought.” She turned to Heather and smiled. In the privacy of their moment together, the world fell away, and her smile was for Heather alone. “I’ve chosen. In time, when Cian and I are ready, we might choose again.”
When they were finally allowed to leave, Heather caught Sinéad staring at the Dunnes as they walked to their waiting taxi. But when the Dunnes turned and waved, she only nodded and threaded her fingers with Heather’s, squeezing tight.
*
It was only once the three of them were home in Sinéad’s living room that Heather realised what she had forgotten.
“What’s the date?” she squeaked.
“Um...” Sinéad’s eyebrows lifted. “The tenth?”
“Oh no, no, no,” Heather groaned. “Tomorrow’s Monday.”
“What does—” Sinéad broke off, eyes wide. “Oh.”
“It’s too late. I didn’t sort out anything at all. My business will be destroyed.”
“What’s the problem?” Cian asked with a frown. “This is all going through my licence, isn’t it?”
“This investigation is fine,” Heather said, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s last year that’s the problem. We didn’t have time to find pro bono legal rep, so I’ll just have to wear it.”
Despite her casual words, there was an ache deep in her chest as she acknowledged what she would likely lose.
Cian stared at them for several seconds, the frown etching deeper on his face. “You know I have until December to file my backlog of paperwork, right?” he said finally.
“What does that have to do with it?” Heather asked, not following at all.
“I can put you down as having worked for me last year as well.”
Heather and Sinéad stared at him, gaping.
Cian
snorted. “You mean you’ve been worrying about that this whole time? I thought we had it sorted. Seriously, I’m sitting here with a PI licence just begging to be used, and neither of you even thought to ask me if I’d cover for you?”
Heather opened and closed her mouth several times before managing to speak. “I guess not.”
“Jesus.” Cian rolled his eyes and stood up. “Maybe you should think about why that is.” He said meaningfully and left in the direction of the kitchen and, presumably, more coffee.
“He has a point,” Sinéad said drily. “We haven’t exactly been helping each other out.”
“No,” Heather agreed, her voice distant to her own ears.
“Or discussing things like a team,” Sinéad added.
The dry tones were absent now, and Heather looked up in concern. Sinéad met her eyes, and although she was sombre, it didn’t make Heather feel like something was wrong. It felt like, for once, maybe things were about to go right.
“Do you want to move in with me?” Sinéad asked, and this time it was truly a question.
Heather chewed on her lip. “I do actually. I’m just worried that I’ll lose…” She tried to find the words and couldn’t. “Everything.” She sighed. “I do have a possible renter, though. I could keep my house and put everything that doesn’t fit here into storage.”
Something strange twinkled in Sinéad’s eye. “Is that all that’s stopping you?”
Heather frowned. “Is what?”
“The thought that you don’t have enough of a mark here? That it isn’t yours?”
That wasn’t what Heather had said, but when she heard the words leave Sinéad’s lips, she realised it was what she’d meant.
She thought about it.
“Yes,” she said finally. “That’s all.” It was a big all, but maybe there was something that could be done about it.
Sinéad grinned, and then she lifted her bracelet to her lips—the hand-painted one she always wore when she went to her studio—and muttered something Heather didn’t hear.
There was a crack like thunder, and everything in the room vanished. Heather startled, jumping backwards. Teddy yelped as his bum hit the floor, the armchair disappearing beneath him.