by Mark Hayden
Karina hadn’t hurt anyone, nor would she have let Colwyn go ahead if she’d known what he’d planned. Her punishment had been pilgrimage from Glastonbury to Ireland. By foot and ferry. It was the one thing she was willing to talk about at dinner last night. Colwyn’s punishment was much more severe.
‘I’ve been dreading this moment,’ she said, and then lapsed into silence.
‘Oh yes?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it, but I know I’ve got to.’
‘Only to me or the Boss.’
‘That doesn’t make it any easier.’ She looked away, further to the right. A flash of movement to my left signalled the arrival of a golf ball on the green. It bounced beyond the pin and rolled away into the rough, followed by a distant swear word.
‘I saw him yesterday morning, first thing, just as the mist was rising. He has to start at dawn and work all day. Tending the Forest. Every day except the full of the moon and the equinoxes. For thirty-two years. He’s beginning to wish he’d surrendered to you.’
Before I could arrest Colwyn, he’d confessed and begged judgement from the Fae Prince of Arden, an ancient right. He wouldn’t age as quickly in the Forest. Even so, thirty-two years is a long time.
‘Have you ever been in a Limbo Chamber?’ I said. ‘I have.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine having no magick.’ She took a small breath, then blurted out, ‘We argued. He thinks it’s wrong, that it was an accident.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told him that just because he shot the wrong person, it was still murder. When I went to the celebration of autumn, everyone stared at me and no one spoke to me except Oma Bridget and Alex.’
‘I’m sorry. It must be tough.’
Three more golf balls had arrived, all much better placed on the green, followed by the golfers. ‘Won’t be long,’ said one of them cheerfully, waving at me.
‘Take your time,’ I replied. ‘We’re in no rush.’
We fell silent until they’d all potted their balls, or whatever the term is. There was a lot of banter as they filled in their score cards, and they left us with another wave.
‘Shall we go?’ I said. ‘One of us needs to start cooking, and that would be me. Oww!’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Bloody leg. After a long walk, it can seize up. Give me a hand will you?’
She heaved me upright and stared at my bad leg. ‘Did you have that wound before you joined the world of magick?’
‘It’s a bit more than a wound, Karina. It’s a constant reminder of what can happen when your moral compass gets pulled off true north. I’ll tell you about it one day.’
I shook out the kinks in my leg, and she uprooted the branch she’d used as a focus of her magick before tossing it into the wood. That was a throw of at least seventy metres, and I felt the ripple of magick as she accelerated the branch. While it was still in the air, I shouted, ‘FORE!’
When no one screamed from the woods, I said, ‘Impressive. Dangerous, but impressive. Did you scan for life first?’
She went bright red and shook her head. I left it there.
‘What are your plans now?’ I asked when we started walking away from the mound.
‘To make an offering at the spring, if that’s okay.’
‘Of course. Mess at seven thirty. Is beef bourguignon acceptable?’
Was that the ghost of a smile? ‘Yes. Great. My dad makes it a lot. I think it’s a good excuse for him to finish the bottle of wine.’
We parted in the yard behind the Haven. When she’d gone inside, I settled down on the chair I’d set up inside the kennel to have a cigarette. Scout yawned and flopped on to his bed. ‘Don’t get too comfy,’ I told him. ‘We’re going inside when I’ve finished this.’ I bent down to scratch his head. ‘Do you think if I prayed to the Goddess, she might send Karina a sense of humour? She hasn’t cracked a joke or so much as smiled at one of mine since she got here.’ Scout lifted his head. ‘And before you say anything, even Saskia laughed at the one about Mina and the umpire from Bishop’s Cleeve.’
Scout rested his head down. Even though he couldn’t understand me any more, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was staying with Evie tomorrow.
12 — Sheriff to PR1
Sheriff x Queen
I’d like to tell you that I warmed to Karina on the drive up from Middlebarrow. I’d like to tell you, but I can’t. We’d talked about dealing with mundane colleagues, and her first remark had been, ‘Do we have to?’
There aren’t many positive places you can go after that.
I had opened my mouth to tell her off, and something struck me: she was being honest. She simply didn’t/couldn’t face initiating a relationship with someone who wasn’t from the world of magick and wondered why we were doing it.
‘Yes,’ I’d said. ‘We don’t have the skills or resources to do this on our own. Unless your idea of a good time is traipsing round pubs in Blackpool.’
‘No. I wouldn’t like that.’
After sorting out the ground rules for dealing with Morton and Fraser, I’d encouraged her to talk – it was that or put the radio on. All she really seemed interested in was further details about how I’d tackled some of my cases, and when I asked her about things, her first response was to deflect me or go quiet. It was a long drive.
The Charnock Richard service area on the M6 is not my favourite place for a meeting. It’s not my favourite place for anything except getting a coffee and sneaking a quick smoke, both of which I did while we waited for Sheriff Morton and Deputy Fraser to arrive. I may have lied about the time we were supposed to meet, just in case they were early and wanted to get straight on with it.
Charnock Richard is only a short drive from Preston, and that’s all I knew about our plans for the day: a visit to the City of Preston. It turned out that I was even wrong about that.
Our police colleagues arrived in a black 3 Series BMW, and did I see Elaine’s lip curling slightly when she looked at my Volvo XC70? I think I did. She also cast her eye over Karina’s outfit: black leggings with adidas written up them, black trainers and a black top to match the leggings. Elaine’s lip didn’t curl, but her eyebrows did go up.
I made the introductions and said that there was a quiet corner in the depths of the café. Karina surprised me by offering to join the queue. ‘It’s Yorkshire tea for everyone, isn’t it?’
When had I said that Morton and Fraser were Yorkshire tea addicts? Had I even said it? No matter. We settled down in a booth with no one on either side, and Elaine started by saying, ‘If this was a secret test to join your lot, I think we passed. It was quite a challenge.’
‘We are not joining MI7,’ said Morton. ‘You just want to take the credit for having an idea.’
Elaine kept a straight face. ‘Me and Lucy. It was Lucy who spotted that Fae Klass could have had surgery. After you showed her the picture, Tom.’
It was there again. Vicky had told me that Elaine seemed to disapprove of Lucy in some way. No wonder Lucy called her Scarywoman.
‘Go on, then, you’re dying to tell him,’ said Morton.
‘We spent hours getting nowhere on Tuesday night, so yesterday I thought, “If Klass has had surgery, why not show them pictures of the Count?” We got on the trail almost straight away.’
Karina appeared with a tray laden with teapots, cups and three cupcakes. ‘I didn’t know if anyone would be hungry.’
We looked at the desiccated baked goods. You would have to be very hungry to eat those. ‘Thanks, Karina. I hope you remembered to get a receipt.’
She nodded and started unloading the tray. Elaine took a closer look at Karina’s bent head and said, ‘That’s a lovely braid. Must have taken you ages to learn that.’
The Goddess braid has three strands and is physically impossible without three hands – or magick. So I’m told, because there may be a Goddess braid, but there is no Goddess combover.
Karina kept h
er head down. ‘There’s a knack to it.’
Elaine swirled the teapot round and put on a casual air. ‘How are your digs, Karina? Where is it you’re staying?’
‘Middlebarrow Haven. It’s…’
She stopped speaking because I’d given her knee a hard squeeze. It was the only part of her anatomy I could reach without getting an immediate slap. I focused on Elaine. ‘Well done, constable. I wouldn’t bother looking for it, though. Middlebarrow Haven is an MI7 code name.’
Elaine grinned, totally unabashed. ‘It was worth a try. Nice, is it?’
‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ said Karina. ‘I won’t let that happen again.’
Elaine and Morton exchanged a glance. ‘Doesn’t matter, Karina,’ I said. ‘At least you didn’t tell them about the heated swimming pool and the torture chamber for witnesses.’
Elaine gave a polite smile. It wasn’t the funniest thing I’ve ever said, but at least it should have defused the tension a little. I hadn’t counted on Karina, though.
‘But, sir, we don’t have a torture chamber, do we?’
This time Elaine snorted with suppressed laughter, and Karina went even redder. Oh dear. There was no way out of that one.
‘Nor do we have a swimming pool. Tell me what you found,’ I said to Morton.
He’d got the message and was already reaching for his briefcase. He pulled out the inevitable plastic wallet. Wallets, plural. He actually handed one to me. I was impressed.
‘Meet Kirk Liddington,’ he said. ‘Also known as Fae Klass, also known as Acie Decie. Have a look at the top sheet.’
I slid out an A4 sheet with three pictures on it. The first was the image of Fae Klass that we’d picked up from the Gardens, and the second was a DVLA picture of a young man with sandy hair and no distinguishing features. In the third picture, a much rougher version of Fae Klass stared back at me, almost defiant. I moved my index fingers around the outlines of the two drag faces.
‘Nose, and lips, I reckon,’ said Elaine. ‘But not the jaw.’
‘No,’ said Morton. He looked me in the eye and spoke quietly. ‘Jaw surgery is not for the faint-hearted. It takes a special person to go through that.’
It was his way of acknowledging what had happened to Mina. The women just thought he was labouring the point. I turned to the second sheet, which was mostly negative: no current address, no activity on his bank accounts (which were registered to the Count’s flat), no father, mother untraceable in Glasgow (?). Clearly, the big reveal was on sheet three. I turned to it and was met with a picture of a real woman. Or genetic woman. Whatever you want to call her, Amy Lofthouse (née Liddington) was definitely Kirk Liddington’s sister, and she definitely lived in Preston.
‘So we’re off to Preston,’ I said. ‘Excellent. Thank you.’
‘Penwortham,’ said Elaine. ‘They won’t like it if you say Preston, even if it is just across the Ribble.’
‘Noted. What’s the plan?’
‘Turn up and knock on the door. I reckon she’ll have heard from him.’
‘Sounds good to me. Shall we?’
We stood up, and Karina said, ‘I’ll see you at the car.’
She loped off across the café, and Elaine said, ‘You’ll have your hands full with her, Conrad. Is she old enough to join the Army?’
Morton shook his head. ‘Did your HR lot do any tests?’
I was starting to get worried about Karina. Morton had offered an olive branch, and I accepted. ‘No. She was recruited based on her technical experience.’
‘Then I think she may be on the autism spectrum.’
All three of us looked towards the atrium of the service station where Karina had disappeared.
‘Possibly,’ I said. ‘And she grew up in an alternative religious community. She’s still a member.’
‘Poor kid,’ said Elaine. ‘There’s two postcodes on that sheet. The second one is for Middleforth Green car park. If we meet there, we can go on foot to Amy Lofthouse’s place. It’s not far.’
‘Fine. See you shortly. I’ll be a good boy and clear the mess away.’
The cupcakes were untouched, and so was Karina’s tea. She’d poured it carefully, added milk and moved it to her side of the table, and then not touched it again. Was it the milk? Did she just not like tea? This was something I’d have to look into later.
I visited the Gents and lit a cigarette on the way out, thinking about work partnerships. Morton and Fraser are a good team, almost the mirror image of Vicky and me. With them, it’s Morton who gives her a long leash and lets her be the attack dog; with us, when we’re dealing with Mages, it’s Vicky who gives the impression that she’s barely containing my innate tendency to violence.
I was just getting used to Saffron and her gung-ho approach to most things when she was taken off me, and now I had Karina. I watched her skip down the steps and jog towards the car. ‘Sorry, Conrad. I’m not late, am I? And I’m really sorry about before. Will it cause a problem that they know about Middlebarrow?’
‘Elaine is just trying to wind you up, Karina. It goes with the territory, I’m afraid. If you’re not sure what to say, just smile. And don’t worry about giving away our location – if they want to follow us, they will.’ I finished my cigarette and unlocked the car. ‘Where are we most vulnerable, do you think?’ I opened the door. ‘You don’t have to answer straight away. Hop in.’
Middleforth Green was just that: very green. It was also pleasant. ‘Scout would have loved this,’ I said when we got out and walked over to Morton’s BMW. ‘I doubt we’ll come back, but it’s good to know that it’s here.’
Elaine looked at the four of us – Morton’s Crombie overcoat, my Barbour, her fleece and Karina’s technical black fabrics, now with added utility belt. She had a baton on one side, as a distraction, and her Badge of Office on the other, disguised with a Glamour as an LED torch. ‘It’s a good job we’re not undercover,’ said Elaine. ‘We’d never pass as Mormons or Jehovah’s witnesses, that’s for certain.’
‘Good point,’ said Morton. ‘Conrad and I will go round first and have a look. It’s a circular road.’
We crossed the main road and went into a 1990s development of private housing, a mixture of executive and family houses, with a road of starter homes tucked away inside. On the way, Morton told me that Amy Lofthouse had been married for three years and had kept the house when she divorced her husband two years ago. She was thirty-two, five years older than her brother.
‘If she’s paying the mortgage, she must have a job,’ I said. ‘Won’t she be at work?’
‘Her shift starts at two. Look, there’s her car in the drive.’
We passed Number 9 on the opposite side of the road. There were too many closed curtains to say whether anyone was around. We both noticed that it was a corner plot, and when we rendezvoused with the girls, Morton said, ‘Conrad and I will take the front. You two cover the back and side. Do you have Airwave radios, Conrad?’
‘No. Too complicated. We’re working on an alternative.’
‘If we do anything bigger than a door-knock, I’ll get two more and bill you. Ready?’
‘Ready.’
There was no doorbell at Number 9, so Morton rapped firmly and rapidly on the door before standing well back. After ten seconds, he stepped forward and knocked again, louder and longer. After a short interval, the door opened a crack and a woman’s face was just visible through the gap.
‘DCI Morton and PC Clarke. Are you Amy Lofthouse, formerly Liddington?’ said Morton, holding up his warrant card. I didn’t follow suit, because I wanted to keep my hands free. Just in case.
‘What do you want?’
‘We’re trying to contact your brother, Kirk Liddington. He may be a witness in a serious crime. We just need to take a statement from him.’
‘I haven’t heard from Kirk in months. Sorry. If you’ll excuse…’
Morton’s radio burst into life. ‘We’ve got him, sir. We’re bringing him in through the back.’<
br />
Amy heard the message loud and clear. She went to close the door, but my boot said otherwise. She let go of the door and moved away. I pushed it open and saw the retreating figure of a nurse in a dark blue dress but no belt or shoes.
‘We don’t do that,’ said Morton, pointing to my boot. ‘Too dangerous. Come on.’
Beyond the door was a tiny hallway with a staircase on the right and an open door at the end. From out of sight, Amy said, ‘Leave him alone! He’s done nothing.’
Tom was ahead of me. Alarmingly, I heard Elaine say, ‘Let him go, Karina. I don’t think he’s a risk.’
The kitchen/dining room was only a dining room if you never had more than two guests. It was made to feel bigger by the conservatory beyond it, which took up eighty percent of the tiny garden. The action was taking place where the dining room carpet gave way to the conservatory’s tiles.
Of the four actors, Elaine was the tallest, a good three inches above Kirk Liddington. Karina was the shortest, and she was holding Kirk in place with a fierce grip on his shoulder. Elaine was trying to stop Amy from rescuing her brother. From the look in Karina’s eyes, that wouldn’t have ended well.
Morton took charge, and I took a good look at Kirk. No wonder his sister wanted to rescue him. He looked close to emotional and physical collapse: drawn and haggard around the face, bags under the eyes and rounded shoulders. His cheap denim shirt and jeans hung off him, and the only trace of Fae Klass was the red varnish on the toes of his bare feet. On nine of his toes. One of the nails was missing on his left foot. The whole nail.
‘Don’t worry, Ms Lofthouse,’ said Morton. ‘Your brother’s quite safe. We’re only here to ask questions.’
‘How do I know you’re who you say you are?’ said Amy, with a distressed Lancashire accent.
