Something Sinister This Way Comes: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Wishes Book 2)

by R K Dreaming

  “I’m surprised you don’t think she’s ugly, given that she’s a witch,” said Bordey.

  “What did you say?”

  “Just that she’s a witch, chief.”

  “There’s no accounting for lust,” said Polliver. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that Maha Clooney has succubus blood in her too. Certainly looks it. Probably used her Allure on the poor chap. Couldn’t help himself.” He leered at this thought.

  Antoine chuckled. Bordey shot him a filthy look. Antoine stopped.

  Polliver leaned forward in interest. “The housekeeper must have known who Marilyn was having an affair with? That sort are always keeping their ears open for gossip. Don’t tell me you didn’t ask?”

  “She said no,” said Bordey coldly. “She said Marilyn was besotted with her new husband. Didn’t have eyes for anyone else.”

  “Not even Hale?” said Polliver disbelievingly.

  “She said they were just good friends from what she could tell.”

  “Yeah, but she did say that Dr Hale visited the house far too much for her liking, and at all hours too,” interjected Antoine.

  When Bordey snorted, he added defensively, “She said it didn’t seem right. That they were very close. Too close. That they had secrets. She caught them whispering loads of times. And sometimes they’d completely shut up suddenly when she walked in.”

  “Ha!” said Polliver in satisfaction. “I knew it. Bridgit Corkmony said they were very close too. Oddly close. She wouldn’t come right out and say it, far too loyal, but she didn’t deny the possibility of an affair either. Yes, I think my theory holds water. We need to look more closely at this Rodan Hale. He may be dead, the fool, but that doesn’t mean he’s not our man.”

  “Since he’s a victim, we’d need to find pretty strong evidence to prove he hired the killer,” said Bordey.

  “Then its your job to find it,” he snapped. “We need to prove that baby was his. It’s just the sort of thing people love to hear about. Cheating spouses. Spurned lovers. Fatherless babies. Oh yes. Very sordid.”

  “There are several suspects,” said Bordey determinedly.

  Polliver looked furious.

  Antoine interjected quickly, “In order to solidify your theory about Rodan Hale, chief, and make it really airtight, do you think we should eliminate all the others who had motive to want Marilyn dead?”

  “Just what I was thinking,” growled Polliver, shooting Antoine an approving look. “Let’s run through what we know. The murder took place at Marilyn Hepburn’s home between 11:00 pm on Wednesday night and 2:00 am on Thursday morning.”

  “Murders,” said Bordey. “Plural.”

  Polliver snorted. “Is it a murder if a fool gets himself killed? Don’t interrupt. What was I saying…?”

  “Recounting the details of the scene, chief.”

  “Oh yes, so that night Marilyn turned the security feed off, silly woman.”

  “Because she liked her privacy, the housekeeper said,” said Bordey.

  Polliver snorted. “More like she was up to no good. Wanted to hide it from her husband that Hale was visiting her that night. The silly thing got rid of our best chance to catch her murderer. Given that its damn Brimstone Bay, the fool neighbours had no security cameras, so we’ve got no footage of the killer approaching the house. Relying on magical burglar alarms indeed! So let’s list who wanted Marilyn dead. Go on!” He looked at Bordey and Antoine impatiently.

  “Number one,” said Antoine, “the housekeeper, Muira Pike. But she does seem to have an airtight alibi.”

  “Number two,” said Bordey, “her husband Noah Clooney. I mean, maybe he staged the whole thing. Is it a coincidence that she was killed with an axe, and he had access to axes on his cousin’s film set for the vampire killer movie? Maybe he flew down from Ireland, committed the murder, and then flew back. I couldn’t get hold of anyone to check his alibi. They’ve been giving me the run around. And Noah said he’d never seen the murder weapon before, but it had his prints on it.”

  “I told you that was a mistake,” growled Polliver. “The poor man was grieving. Didn’t know what he was doing when he picked it up. Garrett had a quiet word with me to explain it. He was very reasonable.”

  Charming snorted in disgust. Alibi indeed. How could the fool not have pressed a little harder? Even Charming, with no authority, had managed to call the Ireland set and speak to the director to break that flimsy alibi. It was frustrating that he hadn’t been able to get hold of Jenny James, Noah’s secret lover, yet. No doubt Noah had told her not to pick up the phone until they got their stories straight.

  “Or Noah Clooney knew exactly what he was doing by picking up that axe,” said Bordey. “Are the local police even checking to see if the axe came from the film set? Maybe we should check.”

  “To rule him out!” said Antoine quickly, before Polliver could explode. “We should check, just to rule him out. Just to make it airtight. So anyway, erm, who was the next suspect?” he finished weakly, and looked at Bordey.

  She took a deep breath, and counted them off on her fingers. “Number three, the unknown father of her baby. We should dig into any men she was seen with frequently in the last few months.”

  “Yes, fine, I was thinking you should have done that by now,” interjected Polliver, glowering at her.

  “And four is Bridgit Corkmony,” said Bordey. “People said she was close to Rodan. Maybe she got jealous about him getting so close to Marilyn? And she’s wealthy enough to have hired a killer.”

  “Bridgit was with Ossias, the Minister for Trade,” said Polliver. “Though why such a woman would want to be courted by that old Eldritch ponce is beyond me. Over-reaching, Bordey. Over-reaching. Ossias is a powerful man in this town.”

  “Right.” She continued, “Number five is Garrett Clooney,” — she took a quick glance at Polliver, and added hastily — “Just for elimination purposes, of course. I bet he’ll be pleased we’ve done him that favour, seeing as he’s such a high-profile guy. Because it’d be such a nasty shock for us if it did turn out that he’d had a fling with his cousin’s wife.”

  “Hmm, yes, I can give him the good news myself,” mused Polliver.

  “And we should find out why Marilyn was so scared inside her own house,” said Bordey.

  Polliver waved this off. “She was famous. Bound to have a few stalker fans and such. Yes, come to think of it. Wonderful idea if I do say so myself — number six can be the stalkers, perverts the lot of them, infuriated by the shocking news she’d gotten secretly married. Bound to upset some of the raving loonies. Bet it felt like a betrayal. Plenty of suspects. Most excellent indeed. We must look into that. Though we are agreed it was likely Rodan Hale himself, yes?”

  “Yes, chief,” said Antoine.

  Bordey did not reply.

  Number seven, thought Charming, Jenny James, known to despise Marilyn, and who could also have flown from Ireland — with or without lover Noah — to commit the murder.

  “Excellent!” declared Polliver, taking a large swig of his drink. “Six suspects to clear up, to make it look like we’ve done a good job of it, and narrowed it down to Hale. Plenty for you two to get on with, but I don’t want you upsetting the Clooneys, mind. If they go to the papers, then it won’t look very good for us, will it? Can’t have them saying we’re harassing a grieving husband and a Hollywood idol! I won’t have that.”

  Charming had heard enough. It was time to leave. He had checked on the nearby tables far too much and was aware his attentions were becoming overbearing to the patrons.

  But then Antoine piped up, “Chief, didn’t you say something about Her Grace Sigourney Maltei?”

  Charming froze, alarm bells ringing in his head. What the hell had Polliver said about Sigourney?

  Chapter 14

  CHARMING

  Was that creep Polliver about to officially add Sigourney to his list of suspects? After promising her he wouldn’t?

  A fuming Charming inched closer, taking
refuge behind a large potted palm that didn’t do much to hide his bulk. He tried to wish it into a more bushier existence, but like so often, his unpredictable magic refused to do his bidding. The only thing it was predictable at was granting the wishes.

  “Sigourney Maltei?” Polliver looked alarmed at Antoine’s question. “What no, I certainly didn’t,” he blustered.

  “You asked me to remind you of it?” said Antoine.

  Realisation came over Polliver’s face. “Oh yes, that. Hmmm. Well, I was thinking that maybe we need to investigate her as a suspect.”

  Charming fumed. What the heck was Polliver playing at? He was supposed to be sorting out paperwork for Sigourney to guarantee that he could never paint her guilty!

  “You mean on the Hepburn murder?” said Antoine, looking surprised.

  “But why?” said Bordey frowning. “What has Her Grace got to do with this case?”

  “Never you mind what she’s got to do with this case,” snapped Polliver. “I know what I know, and that should be enough for the likes of you. You’re lucky I even invited you to work for me. You just remember that, young lady!”

  Bordey scowled. So did Charming. He could think of several reasons why a pompous boor like Polliver would invite a pretty young woman to work for him. But it seemed Bordey had more steel in her spine than was to his liking. Good for her.

  Polliver said furiously, “Sigourney Maltei is a disgrace! Nothing but a filthy killer. With a vampire for a father, what did we expect? She had help escaping from justice, but she won’t escape from me. I know exactly what sort of filth that woman is, and I mean to make her pay for it! Her and her accomplices, whoever they are.”

  Charming felt a prickling of alarm at the vitriol in Polliver’s voice. His reddened face was gleaming with spite.

  Bordey’s mouth had dropped open. “But sir, didn’t you work with Her Grace for years? You must have known her.”

  “Exactly. I do know her.”

  “But there was no proof that she did it. She couldn’t have. And the guy they say she killed was a known people-trafficker.” She raised her chin. “Even if she did, maybe she did us a favour.”

  “You watch your tongue,” snapped Polliver. “And don’t you ever call that woman ‘Her Grace’ again in my presence!”

  “I don’t see what she has got to do with this case,” said Bordey heatedly.

  She was going to start a row, Charming thought in agitation, and he wanted to hear what Polliver had to say about Sigourney.

  Luckily Bordey had enough sense to know that Polliver could ruin her career before it even started. She bit her tongue, though she looked mutinous.

  “She doesn’t have an alibi,” growled Polliver. “Where the heck was she when Hepburn was killed is what I want to know. She’s been in Brimstone Bay recently, plenty of time for her to have crossed paths with Marilyn Hepburn. And I said, didn’t I, that ugly women are always jealous of beautiful ones?”

  Charming felt furious. Sigourney was a world away from ugly! How dared he! A punch in the face was what Polliver needed, that filthy creep!

  Full of barely contained rage, Charming struggled to keep himself from racing out from behind the tree and clobbering Polliver.

  Polliver gave a cry of shock. His curry had exploded from his plate to all over his face.

  Charming had to stick his fist in his mouth to contain a roar of laughter. Sometimes he loved his genie magic, even if the darn thing did have a will of its own.

  A faceful of hot curry had infuriated Polliver. He mopped it up, tears running from his eyes, screaming that if this was supposed to be a Brimstone Bay Magical Surprise that it was the end of enough, and that he should have known better than to eat at this tourist trap of a restaurant. Even after the restaurant’s owner, a wizard, had arrived to clean him up with his wand and a stream of unctuous apologies, his anger did not abate.

  Just as Polliver was screaming that anyone who made an enemy of him had better beware because he was now in a position to make them regret their very existence, to make them rue the day they had crossed his path, Charming saw something he had missed while being so busy spying on the table of sentinels.

  Sigourney.

  Sigourney sitting at the table right across the low wall that ran across the length of the restaurant, and within spitting distance of the sentinels. She had ridiculously massive sunglasses on, her face buried in a menu, tiny chicken on her lap, and was straining to hear, though she was just a little too far to catch anything but the odd word.

  Sigourney Maltei the damn fool who, now that the apoplectic Polliver was standing up, was right in his line of sight. And Polliver was looking right at her as he shouted.

  And suddenly it hit Charming hard. Goddess, what a fool he had been! Polliver wanted his enemies to rue the day they had crossed his path.

  Polliver the spiteful, vicious, power-hungry maniac, who had convinced Sigourney to use her remarkable gift to solve the Mockingbird murder for him but had so far shown no intention of signing the paperwork that would ensure her freedom.

  Polliver who was desperately searching for a suspect, any suspect, for Marilyn’s murder. Who didn’t seem to care who the damn suspect was, so long as it was someone convincing enough. Someone who people would believe was a killer.

  And why did he want that? Just to solve a case, and confirm his position as chief, or for something more sinister?

  What was Polliver’s alibi for the time when Marilyn had been killed?

  Troy Mockingbird had been murdered before Marilyn. Which meant Polliver would have left London and been in Brimstone Bay already to investigate the Mockingbird case on the night that Marilyn was murdered.

  And Polliver was the right age too, in his sixties, old enough to be The Reaper, who had been killing for forty years. The man was big and strong, and a sentinel to boot. Anyone with sense knew sentinels had magical blood from their valkyrie ancestors, even if they did deny being eldritch. Why had no one ever thought The Reaper might be a sentinel?

  Charming felt chilled. And then suddenly his blood was boiling, full of loathing at the mere sight of Polliver’s face. Was this the man who had killed Amelie? And who was now furious to have been cut out of the case, unable to cover his tracks, and was now desperate to pin the murder on someone else quickly. Anyone, even the dead Rodan Hale, because how could a dead man ever prove that it wasn’t true.

  Charming felt sickened. And then he felt worse. Because Polliver’s apoplectic haze was clearing, and though he had not seen Sigourney yet, she was still in full view, where the mere sight of her spying on him would be just the thing to tip him over the edge. He would point her out to his colleagues in victory and say why would she be spying on them if she wasn’t a suspect?

  He could make a very public scene, scream about her suspicious interference, here in a crowded Brimstone Bay restaurant for all the world to hear, discrediting her in public in her home town so that he could better sell his story later. And wouldn’t they just lap it up? Sigourney had many enemies in town, including the chief of local police and her own hateful father.

  But Charming was damned if he was going to let Sigourney take the blame. Sigourney who had no idea of the monster Polliver truly was.

  He marched to where she sat, blocking Polliver’s view of her with his body. Grabbing her by the wrist, and scooping up Squeak from her lap, he tugged Sigourney hastily towards the exit.

  “Stop it,” she hissed, forced to go with him. “What are you doing?” As they approached the exit, she dug in her feels, refusing to budge.

  And to Charming’s dismay, Polliver was now coming their way, hot on their tail and looking furious.

  Charming yanked Sigourney into his chest, all the better to block Polliver’s view of her with his body.

  “Stop it, Sigourney,” he hissed. “You can’t let him see you here.”

  He tried to etherhop away, but the magic wouldn’t let him. Or maybe the damn restaurant had etherhopping protections. He didn’t k
now.

  “Charming, stop,” she whispered. “We can’t get out. It’s packed.”

  She was right. A crowd of people were waiting to be seated and were crammed into the doorway, jamming it. There was no way out. And nothing to do. His darn magic was malfunctioning.

  “He is trying to pin the murder on you!” Charming growled.

  Sigourney’s eyes went wide. And then she said, “He hasn’t seen me yet. You’d better hide me. How much do you want to hide me?”

  “Very much,” he admitted.

  She pulled him into an alcove by the door, wrapped her arm around his neck, and kissed him.

  Chapter 15

  SIGOURNEY

  “Explain yourself,” said Charming, once we were back at my house.

  He was glaring at me, arms crossed over his chest, chin jutting as if I had done him wrong.

  I flushed, and hoped the embarrassed heat wasn’t visible on my cheeks. Did he mean the kiss?

  At the time it had felt like exactly the right thing to do, but I was mortified now. Why the heck had I done it? It had turned out that Polliver had not even seen me. He had only been going outside to smoke one of those darn smelly cigarillos that he’d been sucking on for years, no doubt to calm his nerves after shrieking the place down, the fool.

  Because he’d been out at the front of the restaurant, Charming and I had retreated out of the back exit instead, all the while Charming acting like nothing had happened. Like there had been no kiss. Which bothered me, because I had enjoyed it too much. He had even kissed me back. But maybe it had meant nothing to him, or surely he wouldn’t ignore it like this?

  And then I felt even more mortified, even more naive. In all my life, the one bit of real romance I’d had was the time that I had conceived my daughter, which I could not even remember. I’d never had a meaningful relationship with a man. Never been able to trust one, and nor had any of them ever shown enough trust in me. No wonder I was dwelling too much on this kiss, like some silly schoolgirl.