The Infiniti Investigates: Hattie Jenkins & the Infiniti Chronicles Books 1 to 5

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “What can you tell us about how Aurel died, Maude?” David ventured.

  Walking over to a sheet covered body on the nearest examination table, she pulled it back to reveal Aurel’s dead face. I was still a little freaked out by the fact that his eyes were still open.

  “My initial exam of the body indicates this to be a clear-cut case of Snake-Iron poisoning,” she said as we moved closer. “You’ll notice the black veins on the white portion of the eye. There’s a similar discoloration on all of his visible veins and arteries, which means whatever killed was deep in his bloodstream. The heart would be the perfect place for it to spread quickly.”

  “But you said that it LOOKS like Snake-Iron poisoning,” I pointed out. “Was there something else that told you it wasn’t?”

  Maude tapped the forehead on the left side. “Well, there was the small matter of a skull fracture that I was able to make out on the back side of the head. It could well have been serious enough to do the job of killing him outright, but I’ll need to cut into him to know for sure.”

  Then Maude did something that she rarely did: She frowned. I thought it made her look a bit like Judi Dench.

  “What is it, Maude?” David asked.

  “Oh, nothing, Chief Para Inspector…or maybe everything,” she said, her customary grin creeping back onto her face. “Something about all this does not sit well with me. It should be obvious that the Snake-Iron was the substance that killed our poor Aurel, and yet, it is not.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, well. That’s why I go as deep in my post-mortems as I do.”

  A groan heralded a new arrival at the front door. A zombie wearing an assistant coroner’s outfit stepped through, his flesh looking twice as rotten as Maude’s.

  “What is it, Hector?” Maude asked as her zombie assistant walked in and shut the door behind him.

  Hector’s answering moan seemed to have a twinge of annoyance as he held up his sleeve. The parts that hadn’t been blackened by flame were completely gone. I even though I saw a bit of cooked, dead flesh on his wrist.

  “Oh, don’t be that way, dear,” Maude said. “Carbon has had a very rough couple of days. Besides, you should never startle him when he’s ramping up the boiler. Now, why don’t you take a seat until I’m ready for you to help me out with this new autopsy?”

  Hector Muerte gave an affirmative groan and shambled over to his chair in the corner, his sleeve still smoking from my overly zealous Cat’s boiler lighting spree.

  “Even if he was in a bad mood,” I said. “Carbon wouldn’t have harmed Hector voluntarily.”

  “I know,” Maude said, picking up a scalpel. “Just like I know that this should have no trouble cutting into flesh.”

  She slid the blade across the forehead, but not a single scratch came from the motion. David and I exchanged glances.

  “I’ve been trying to cut into this stiff for an hour now,” Maude admitted, putting the scalpel down. “It’s just the latest in a series of weird mishaps that keep getting in the way of my job.”

  “It’s not just here,” I said.

  “Do remember that my current beau runs a tavern, Hattie. It’s been buzzing with lots and lots of stories like this. Hopefully, this little glitch won’t last long, and I’ll be able to come up with some answers for you.”

  “It’d be best if you moved with all haste,” David advised her. “The length and nature of these imbalances vary.”

  “Consider it under advisement, CPI Trew,” Maude said, putting the scalpel down. “Fortunately, not all the evidence was found in the body proper.”

  She took us over to her laboratory set up, where she was busy distilling a blackish liquid into a beaker.

  “This is a sample of that powder you found on the estate steps,” she explained. “By rights, it looks enough like Snake-Iron that it should test as such.”

  “But…?” I asked, sensing an unexpected punchline.

  Maude’s grin widened. “But, if this were true Snake-Iron, there is no way it wouldn’t have distilled at less than 120 degrees Celsius. Yet here I am getting this sample out at…”

  She took a quick look at the thermometer. “…approximately 101 degrees Celsius.”

  David pulled his head. “How is that even possible, assuming that this is Snake—“

  “Ah, but wait, there’s more,” Maude said, holding up a bony finger. “Thankfully, my syringes were working better than my cutting tools, which allowed me to extract a blood sample from our dearly deceased. A little distillation process similar to what we see here revealed that there was also a foreign substance in his circulatory system that also came out at 101 degrees. And, I have to say, it’s this alien material that seems to be the culprit.”

  I pointed at the black liquid in the beaker. “So, you’re saying that it’s likely this stuff that killed Aurel?”

  “Based on the evidence, I would be inclined to say so, yes. But, of course, we can’t base a case on inclination, so I’ll need some more time to obtain conclusive evidence.”

  “But that makes absolutely no sense,” David said. “The cabinet was full of hazardous substances, any number of which could have done the job. So where is this unique material coming from? And why would it be needed anyway, if Snake-Iron alone is enough to kill? Plus, the open jar of the stuff at the crime scene --”

  “Even worse, my contact told me that Snake-Iron was being tested on the more helpless members of society; including a few vampires and werewolves.”

  Maude whistled through her decaying teeth in apparent appreciation. “Whoever your informant is, Hattie, keep him on the payroll. I thought I was the only one who knew about those sinister tests.”

  “And when were you going to inform the department about this?” David asked, a bit indignantly.

  “Oh, no need to be cross, CPI Trew. You and I both know that crimes against werewolves and vampires, per the Accords, lie outside our jurisdiction. You have to remember that these poor souls don’t really have a voice when it comes to un-dead rights.”

  “Then how do you know about this, Maude?”

  Maude’s smile turned dreamy. “WelI, I just so happen to be acquainted with a particular, dashing un-dead gentleman. And before either of you say anything, no, I am not his type. He typically prefers young men with warmer blood than what flows through these old veins,” she said, sweeping her rotten hand across her twisted body to make the point. “In any case, he came to me the other night with a very heavy heart, as it were. And, it wasn’t because some young-blood had scorned his advances either. No, poor Lancelot had been tested on. With this lethal, and as yet known substance.” She waved the jar of liquid goo at us. “He had escaped his captor and came to me straight away for help.” Maude saw our questions and help up a hand. “No, no. He didn’t know who his jailor and experimenter was. He only had the presence of mind to get away, and that’s what he did.” The ghoul coroner sighed. “I was able to extricate the worm from Lancelot’s ticker, and thankfully, he managed to walk out of here by himself.”

  Maude held the jar up to the light, squinting at the contents with her one open milky eye. “So, you see, dear people, I believe we have another Snake-Iron pretender in the game. Why there are two varieties, I have no idea. But, that’s what we have here.”

  She grabbed a mason jar next to the distillery, and I saw an ugly wormy creature floating in the brine inside. Tapping the side, she said, “This little beauty is what I pulled from his heart. It was wrapped around it like a noose and giving it a frightful squeeze. Had he been human, he would have been dead a long time before I got to him.”

  “Definitely looks like a Snake-Iron worm,” I said, giving the mason jar a tap.

  “Care to test it against the samples from Aurel?” David asked.

  “Now that I know it might be connected to a case that DOES fall in your jurisdiction? It would be my absolute pleasure and privilege, Chief Para Inspector.”

  She then snapped her fingers. “Oh, lest I forget, there wa
s one other piece of evidence that I was giving a thorough look over.”

  Opening up a drawer just under the counter, she pulled out an evidence baggie that had the bone charm Midnight had found.

  “I’m afraid that between my cutting tools being less than cooperative and all the chemical analysis, my report on this little trinket nearly got lost in the shuffle.”

  “Anything you can tell us about it?” David asked.

  “Well, based on the porousness of the source material and a little DNA analysis, I can say that this is composed of whale bone and is of a great age.”

  “As old as you, ghoulfriend?” I teased.

  Maude chuckled and wagged her free finger at me. “Now, now…we both know it’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”

  “Anything else?” David asked, wanting to keep the conversation focused.

  “The beautiful thing about such porous material is that it absorbs the oils of whoever holds it like a sponge,” Maude said. “There are certain necrotic chemicals in the charm that are consistent with secretions of the un-dead. I’m afraid that I had to take some samples from poor Hector there to come to that conclusion.”

  “So whoever held this was a zom—“

  “Oh, if it were a zombie, I would have already said so, my dear CPI. All I can say is that whatever variety of un-dead creature this is, it definitely is not one of those.”

  I thought about the one un-dead creature that I had recently become acquainted with. The vampire who had, up until now, provided some pertinent information. I wondered if Carpathia Alecto knew more than she was letting on.

  David and I concluded our discussion with Maude and made our way to the station. I knew I’d have to check in on Artemus to see how that damned order was getting on. I felt a little guilty that all this investigative work was going on, and that I wasn’t exactly pitching in with my fair share of the workload.

  Artemus picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Artemus, it’s Hattie,” I said, standing just outside the station as David gave some instructions to nearby constables. “It looks like I’ll be a little while yet. I’m just going to help the Chief write up the notes we have so far. How’s the mixing going?”

  “We’re nearly there,” Artemus said. “All that’s left is the addition of a bit of Devouring Sun and the order will be ready for your client by sunrise.”

  I sighed with relief. “I feel so terrible that I’m leaving you with so much to—“

  “After the six hours of work you put in on this once you wrapped up your rounds today? Give yourself a little more credit. Besides, this is my realm. I LOVE doing this.”

  “But I’m taking you away from Gabrielle and, for all I know, your work.”

  “Wrong yet again. She’s been with me in the shop since Celestial Cakes closed down for the night. She tells me that it brings back many fond memories.”

  I bet that it did. Her being a “guest” of my shop after Nebula’s death had led to her gaining her name, a human form, and a thriving business.

  “Alright, I’ll try to be there as soon as I can,” I said. “Try not to let the kitties kill each other until I get there, okay?”

  Artemus chuckled. “Suffice to say that Gabby’s aim with the water bottle remains exceptional. We shall see you soon.”

  David joined me then and peered at me questioningly.

  “Everything okay at the shop?” he asked.

  “Artemus seems to think so,” I said. “But, I’d like to get back soon to help, so let’s get on with going over what we have so far.”

  “Fine by me,” David said, steering me through the front door. “Let’s see if Hagatha’s stolen note actually means something. A Balefire Beacon doesn’t look too out of place right now, wouldn’t you say?”

  “And, the fact that THAT was the only note she took? I’m with you, David.”

  We were just passing the desk sergeant’s post when he stopped us.

  “Beg pardon, CPI Trew.”

  “What is it, Spinefield?” David asked.

  “Got a young gent in your office who’s been waiting on ya,” Spinefield declared. “Been waiting a good hour now, I’d say.”

  David strode purposefully to his office, me hot on his heels. He swung open the door, and Orville Nugget jumped up to his.

  “Orville,” David said, surprised to see the son of our dead victim. “What brings you here so late?”

  The pimply teen shifted awkwardly. “Well, you see, thanks to all the overtime and all-nighters I pulled to come up with Futura, I’ve been having trouble sleeping anyway.”

  “I can’t imagine your father’s death making that any easier,” I said with a gentle tone.

  Orville ignored my remark and swallowed. “The desk sergeant said that you’d be back in a little while, so I decided to wait.”

  “What do you have for us, Orville?” David asked not pulling any punches.

  “I want to add to my initial statement,” Orville said, finally relaxing a little. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t think of it at the time, it’s just—“

  “Completely understandable, given the situation,” David said, closing the door behind us. “Why don’t you resume your seat and tell us what else you know?”

  After we’d all sat down, Orville licked his lips. “I realized earlier today that there was one other time I’d heard the name ‘Portia.'” He swallowed hard again. “Before dad uttered it, I mean.”

  “And when was this?” David asked, pen poised over his notepad.

  “It was the night before Dad died,” Orville said. “There was a phone call at the house. I happened to be home and picked it up first. There was this reedy voice on the other end that asked for my dad. She didn’t exactly sound like a patient woman. Seemed like she wanted me off the phone quickly.”

  “Was your father also at home?” David asked, his pen keeping pace with Orville’s words.

  “Yeah, I called him to the phone. He thanked me, and they started talking. Now, I meant what I said about my dad not having any real enemies. But, something about that woman. Her voice just made my skin want to crawl under the bed. So I hung out around the corner just in ear shot to listen in on them.”

  “And your father called this voice ‘Portia’?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  Orville nodded. “He only called her by name a couple of times but…that was definitely it. They were going out of their way to make sure that nobody understood their conversation but them. Some kind of old alchemical language, or something. Not one that I understood, anyway. But, yeah, dad said ‘Portia’ a couple of times, and it didn’t sound like it was being used in the third person, if you get my meaning?”

  It made me wonder if Aurel knew that his son was eavesdropping to use a code language. Or was he just exercising caution in case an uninvited eavesdropper was listening in? Either way, it appeared the conversation was carried out in secrecy.

  “Were there any words or terms that stood out, apart from ‘Portia’?” David asked, glancing down at his notes.

  “There were a couple of things that didn’t make any sense,” Orville admitted. “I mean…nothing strange about talking about the Fae, I guess. Just, Dad never had any dealings with the Fae as far as I knew, so it seemed unusual for him to be talking about them.”

  David and I glanced at each other. It seemed our hunch about Fae mischief was more than a hunch.

  “You mentioned a couple of things,” I interjected. “What was the other one?”

  “This really weird word that cropped up a couple of times. One that I didn’t recognize. I’m sure I’m still not getting this right, but it was something like…warming? Worm rig? “ Orville’s shoulders slumped. “Probably just another cipher phrase.”

  David glanced at me and gave me a slight shake of the head. I gave him back the slightest of nods. There was no need to tell this poor, traumatized boy that the proper pronunciation was ‘Wrymrig’ and that it was anything but a cipher phrase. Our dear W
yrmrig, a myth we knew nothing about only a short time ago, seemed to have reared its ugly head again. What is with all this dragon lore?

  “Anything else?” David asked, looking back at Orville.

  “No, that was it, really,” Orville said, standing up. “I just wanted you to know that…”

  He closed his eyes in despair and took a deep, shaky breath. Standing up myself, I gave him a sideways hug.

  “Can we give you a ride home?” David asked putting away his notepad.

  “Nah, I’m cool, Chief,” Orville said. “The air should clear my head a bit.”

  “If you can think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call,” David assured him with a friendly smile.

  “Feel free to come by The Angel if you need any help sleeping,” I told him. Orville shuffled out the door, his limp hair hanging around his face.

  “I think that we’ve just found our link between the imbalances and our case,” David said when Orville had closed the door behind him.

  “It’s tenuous at best, David. All we know for sure is that Aurel talked to Portia about the Fae.”

  “And the Wyrmrig,” David countered, finally rising from his desk. “Moreover, they are talking about these things the night before Aurel winds up dead? You can’t tell me that this was just an innocent alignment of circumstances.” Please don’t let react and do something stupid.

  “You know that I don’t think it is,” I said, feeling dread at where he was going with this line of thought. “But it’s still a pretty big leap from what we have to Portia being the murderer.”

  “Which is why we are going to pay Gaunt Manor a visit this evening,” David said, grabbing his broom from the corner.

  Why do I have to be so right all the time? “Without a warrant? Without backup?”

  “Well, if you’ll come along, you can be my backup. Might want to get a couple of your more useful kitties too just to make sure that we—.”

  “David! Leaving aside the fact that any evidence you find will be tainted by this highly illegal search you’re about to execute, Portia Fearwyn can and has made trespassers disappear for just such a transgression. And she’s already not too fond of you.”