“I’m not a con-artist of any kind,” I tried to reassure her as I sat back down. “Although, I suppose that’s what a con-artist would say.”
She smiled at that and took a sip of her tea.
“I’ve put you under extra stress and that wasn’t my intention at all.” I sighed and tried to ease the tightness building in my chest. “I’ve just... I’ve been where you are. I mean, I haven’t; I’ve never experienced the loss of a child, but it was always just me, my mam, and my nan, and when my nan died, well, Mam lost it. She couldn’t cope at all. She struggled on, raising me as best she could, but when I turned sixteen she couldn’t take it anymore and had to get away. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know what grief can do to a family. Finding Lee’s killer won’t bring you peace, it won’t bring Lee back, but maybe it can bring you some resolution, and I’d like to help with that.”
Before I could say anything else, Mrs Page covered her mouth with her hand and broke down in tears. I moved to her side and wrapped my hands around her. She cried for a good ten minutes before regaining her composure. After that, we moved to the living room and talked about Lee. How he loved boxing and was always getting into scrapes with drunks at the nightclub he worked at. Always coming home with bruises. Although, she was quick to point out that Lee was never one to start any trouble, he just had no problem finishing it.
“He worked at a nightclub in Cardiff, then?” I asked. “Do you know the name of it?”
Mrs Page didn’t, but a quick rummage through some old paperwork came up with some wage slips that confirmed the club as The Gem Room.
“It’s amazing how far he came so fast,” Mrs Page said. “He would have had a bright future.
“How far had he come?”
“Well, just look.” She tapped the slip in my hand. “Just four months ago, he was making two hundred pounds a week working full-time in the club, but he was promoted in no time and easily earned four times that amount.”
“That is impressive in such a short space of time,” I said while my mind went into overdrive. It’s very doubtful that Lee had suddenly increased his income by such a large amount while working in the same place. He had to have been supplementing his income, and given the nature of his death, I suspected more and more that Lee had to be involved in an underground fighting ring. If the fights were above board, why keep them from his mother? I don’t think she’d have had a problem if he’d been fighting legally. She’d have worried, what mother wouldn’t, but she’d also seemed very proud of his boxing achievements.
Mrs Page sighed and looked at the Christmas tree. There were already a number of present stacked beneath. “I suppose I should return his gifts to the shop,” she said. “Or maybe give them to charity. Lee would have liked that, he had a generous soul. Paid more than half the bills in this place.”
“I think that would be a lovely gesture,” I said. “If you need any help moving them, just give me a call and we can take them together.”
“That is kind of you.”
I hesitated for a moment, before taking her hand. “I know it’s not my place to say, but I really think it’s time you called your brother. I’m sure he’d want to help, and I hate to think of you going through all this on your own.”
Mrs Page sighed. “You’re right, I suppose. He’d be upset if I wait too long before telling him. I guess I’ve been holding off because sharing Lee’s passing makes it all the more real.”
Mrs Page left to go upstairs and call her brother, and while she was still on the phone, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” I called, although I didn’t know if she’d heard me. I opened the door, and was only moderately surprised to find Detective Inspector Owens on the other side.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded and pushed into the hall. “You told me you had no knowledge of the victim. I’ve half a mind to arrest you and throw the damn book at you.”
“And I’ve no doubt that if you could come up with even one trumped up charge, you would do so. But as it stands, you clearly have no grounds on which to arrest me. So, I guess we’re at an impasse.”
Owens grabbed my arm and moved his face close to my ear. “How about lying to the police or obstruction of justice?”
“I haven’t lied to the police. I told you I didn’t know Lee Page and that still stands.” I yanked my arm away. “I’m also not obstructing anything. Now, if you’re not careful, I’ll have you up on police brutality charges.”
“Detective Inspector Owens,” Mrs Page said as she came down the stairs. “Is there any news on the case?”
Owens stood tall and turned to Mrs Page. “I’m afraid not. This is more of a courtesy call to see how you are doing. Plus, if it’s okay, I’d like to take a look through Lee’s room and see if anything turns up.” He cleared his throat. “I’d also like to get some dogs in here to take a look around if that’s okay.”
“Of course, anything you might find useful. Though, I don’t know what you expect to find.”
I did. Owen’s was playing all nicey-nicey for now, but if Mrs Page had objected, I could see that changing in an instant. He was obviously one step ahead of me and searching for evidence that could lead him to where Lee’s extra money was coming from. Of course, as a policeman, he’d instantly gone to the incorrect assumption that Lee had become mixed up in drugs, but I knew better. Lee was fighting not dealing. I shook my head and wondered if my withholding that knowledge would actually count as obstruction of justice.
Oh, well. I was sure it wouldn’t be the last time.
“Is your brother on the way?” I asked.
Mrs Page nodded. “I spoke to Sandra, his wife. Luckily, she wasn’t working today, so she’s on the way. Brian will take a little longer to get here as he was in the office.”
“That’s good,” I said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone when the police search the house. It might even be wise to speak to a solicitor.”
Mrs Page froze on the steps and looked from me to Owens with worry etched on her face. “Why would I need a solicitor?”
“You don’t,” Owens almost shouted. Maybe if he had a more welcoming demeanour, Mrs Page would have believed him.
“You probably don’t,” I confirmed. “But it doesn’t hurt to be careful. I’m sure Mr Owens is a fine Detective, but you want to be certain that the investigation travels along the necessary lines and doesn’t become bogged down in laying the blame of Lee’s death on any minor illegal activity he may have committed. Not that there’s any reason to suspect he has ever done anything wrong, is there Detective?”
“Not at all. Our search is purely routine and the purpose of any evidence we hope to find is to connect Lee to his killer and not to besmirch the character of Lee himself.”
Mrs Page looked nervous, and I could see she was going through her mind and questioning if there was anything for the police to find. Most people I knew from Lee’s age, all the way up to Mrs Page’s had dabbled in recreational drugs at some point in their life. Lee might have been a generous soul and a good son, but he could have been all those things and still got high on the weekends.
Before we had the chance to say anything else. A car screeched to a halt outside and Owens opened the door to find an overdramatic woman running from a car and up the drive.
“Helen,” she called.
“Susan,” Mrs Page said and ran straight out the door to meet her, and I made a mental note that maybe, just maybe, sometimes over-dramatic is good. I had no doubt that Mrs Page would have a good cry with Susan and that cry would make her feel a little bit better. She had someone to take care of her now.
“I’ll be watching you,” Owens whispered as we both watched the two women console each other.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You shouldn’t. I’ve done my research on you and Mr Heart, and granted you’ve never been in trouble with the law, but I’ve also heard some unsettling rumours relating to witchcraft.”
“Well, you know what Abdelnour said about rumours being carried by haters, spread by fools, and accepted by idiots.”
Owens scowled. “That may be the case in Abdelnour’s world of trade, but in my world, rumours usually hold a little truth in them. If I find any connection between your shady business practises and the victim—”
“I know, I know, you’ll arrest me and throw the damn book at me.”
“Mock all you want, but if I find out you’re in any way connected to the victim or trying to con that poor woman, then I’ll do more than throw the book at you, I’ll throw the whole damn library.”
For a minute, I actually thought I heard a note of genuine concern in his voice for Mrs Page, but when he warned me to stay away from the case, ushered the two women inside, and slammed the door in my face, I decided, concern or not, he was still an arse.
Chapter Six
I pulled my coat closed to shield me from an icy blast of air, headed towards my car, and wondered how Thomas had faired with Joe. While I’d been speaking with Mrs Page, Thomas was determined not to sit around and wait for my return. Instead, I’d dropped him off at the Council, where he intended to check and see if they’d any word on underground fighting rings. Supernaturals might like to keep away from human activities, but that didn’t mean they weren’t aware of them. The Council would be reluctant to pass over any information, but Thomas was hard to say no to in person.
I reached for the car door handle, but hesitated when I noticed a figure in an alleyway across the street watching Lee’s house. For a second, I debated alerting Owens to our visitor, but my inquisitive nature got the better of me and I decided to check him out for myself. I climbed in the car and made a show of trying to start the engine. A quick pulse of energy from my finger blocked the ignition and ensured I was unsuccessful. With an exaggerated sigh — nobody could accuse me of being a good actress that’s for sure — I exited the car and crossed the street, weaving between traffic, and blowing on my hands to keep them warm. All the while, I tried not to spook the watcher by making it obvious I’d seen him.
Much like every other town in Britain, Caerphilly is full of supernaturals. Magic is all around, every street, every alleyway and every tree gives off a constant thrum of energy that supernaturals can tap into for power. The Gwrach y Rhibyn - the hag of the mist - haunts the marshy land surrounding the castle, which in turn is haunted by the spirit of the Green Lady. The Green Lady is a harmless soul trapped by her grief between this world and the next, but the Gwrach y Rhibyn, she’s a true supernatural, and a powerful one at that. A banshee with talons as long as knitting needles, leathery wings like those of a bat, and piercing black eyes that trap you in their depths. Not someone you’d want to cross paths with on a cold winter night, nor a cold winter day for that matter — not when clouds overshadow the sky or mist seeps down through the valley. Tales tell of how the names of those about to die are heard in her terrifying shrieks. Not that humans listened anymore, but I listened as I walked towards the hiding man. Her voice carried to me on the air and couldn’t help but wonder if they were in some way connected. No name was discernible, but still the eerie sound sent shivers up my spine as I neared the alleyway towards the man. Was the Gwrach y Rhibyn trying to warm me in some way? Was it tied to Nana’s visitation?
As much as I wanted to focus on the wailing banshee, my goal today was to catch Lee Page’s killer. It’s not as though I could hunt down the hag and ask why she was calling. She’d rip me to shreds as soon as look at me. No, I was better off hunting down monsters I could catch.
I strode towards the alleyway where a brief flicker of movement showed me the man was still hiding. He saw me notice him, so I smiled, lowered my head, and looked at the floor. A normal act for strangers crossing in the street. He was young, around the same age as Lee, but taller, with long black hair and an awkward manner about him. I must admit, I hadn’t really thought any plan through. I was going to walk up to him, hope he didn’t run, and ask him why he was watching the house. Simple, right? Most things are in theory.
“Excuse me,” I said as I drew closer. “I don’t suppose you have the time on you by any chance?”
He looked at me dubiously for a moment, before reaching into his pocket while I pulled my best innocent smile.
“Twenty-to-one,” he said, checking his mobile.
“Thanks. Is there a bus due anytime soon?”
“Don’t know, sorry.”
“No worries. So, how do you know Lee Page, then?”
“What?”
I shook my head. “Stop playing dumb, I saw you watching the house. How do you know Lee Page and what’s your involvement in his murder?”
A bit blunt, I admit, but it was cold, and I was in no mood for pussyfooting around.
His eyes widened and he took a step backwards. Then he was off. I hesitated for a second, shook my head and sighed. My knee-high boots weren’t made for running, and I really didn’t feel like chasing him through the town, even if it would warm me up a little. It wouldn’t do any good to use magic; I needed to keep a low profile. I can imagine how Owens would react if he caught me shooting energy bolts from my hands.
He rounded the corner and I gave chase, making a mental note to wear trainers next time I looked into a human murder case — with supernaturals I never have to run, preferring to use my magic instead — then I made a second mental note to stop considering the possibility there may be a next time: one human murder was enough.
I raced after him, gaining step by step. He turned into a secluded street and I smiled, noting the no-through-road sign, and hoped the road was blocked for foot traffic as well as cars. He edged into a garage area at the end of the street and turned to face me, looking like a cornered fox. His eyes darted all around, searching for a way out.
“I just want to talk,” I said, raising my hands in a placating gesture. “There’s no need to keep running.” I must admit, I’d been surprised that he had. Sure, he was a bit gangly, but he had a good forty pounds on me, and in my experience, men tend not to run away from women, preferring to stand their ground and bluster. “What do you know about the victim, Lee Page?” I asked.
“The only victim I see around here is you,” he said.
I was expecting a snarl to accompany the words, but instead he grimaced. His fingers twisted and curled, his back hunched, and his mouth widened until a menacing grin split his face, displaying a tangle of jagged, yellow teeth. In the blink of an eye, he transformed from a young man into the beast he truly was.
“You’re a pwca,” I said, stating the obvious. The goblin-like creature before me was a shapeshifter. A creature sent to lure the unsuspecting to their doom.
I cursed my stupidity. The Gwrach y Rhibyn had called to me, but I hadn’t heeded her warning. I hadn’t spotted the man by accident. This was a trap.
I looked around to be sure no stray eyes were watching, though I suspected any human who’d witnessed the pwca’s transformation would either have fainted or be screaming by now. Then, while my heart thundered in my chest, I gathered my magic and hit the creature with my fist along with a blast of energy.
He struck out with his talon-like hand. I rolled under the blow and delivered a swift kick as I rose, and then whirled around, fists raised ready to let loose another punch. The pwca moved faster than I did, slamming into my side before I had time to react. He held me against the garage and snarled in my face. Drool fell from his mouth. His fetid and stale breath burned my nostrils. I flooded my body with the power of the alder and oak, and pushed the pwca away before his claws found a grip on my neck.
He withdrew a small distance and I looked on in disgust as his fingers melded together and took on the appearance of a sword. He swiped at me. I ducked and avoided losing my head, but the garage door was shredded.
I’d had enough of playing. I needed answers from the beast and couldn’t afford to hurt him too much, but he didn’t know that. I gathered a magical orb in my hand and released it at the mo
nster, sending him flying onto the road.
“Who sent you?” I demanded, as I gathered a second orb.
The pwca laughed, a quiet hissing sound. “Who says anyone sent me, witch?” He spat the sentence, and I couldn’t help but hear the unspoken ‘B’ on his last word.
Although the distance between us was easily ten feet, he lashed out with his sword arm again. As he swung, the arm extended and became a long spike. I moved a fraction too late and a searing pain shot through my right thigh. My muscles quivered and a heat flushed through my body as anger rose in my chest. I released the orb I’d been holding at the arm and blasted it from his body.
Shrieks of agony exploded from the pwca and a geyser of inky blood spewed from his severed limb.
I flooded my leg with the power of my fern tattoo, sealing my wound and removing the pain. “Did you kill Lee Page?” I almost shouted.
“Stupid witch.” The pwca convulsed. His body melted, as his severed arm did the same. They merged together into a heaving gooey-blob. Spidery veins pulsed beneath the translucent surface. It was as though a human had been liquefied and then turned into a gelatinous glob of yuckiness. No eyes or mouth existed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the creature was watching my every move. A shiver ran up my spine at the repulsive image.
“Well, that’s put me right off my dinner,” I said, and debated how to proceed. I imagined a blasting orb would impact the pwca in much the same way it would custard — sending gooey globs all over the street. Nobody wanted to deal with that kind of mess. I could fire an incendiary orb at the beast, but then I was left with the possibility of incinerating him. He was an arse, but I wasn’t ready to take that step, yet.
Too late, I realised the blob was seeping into a drain and escaping. He disappeared with a great squelch as his body squished through the grate and into the sewers below. For a second, I wondered if there was any way I could follow him, but common sense caught up with me and I cursed my stupidity. I should have thrown everything I had at the creature, instead I’d underestimated its shape-shifting ability. There was no way I’d make that mistake again.
The Case of the Fairy Lord Page 4
