She pouted and gave me a sad face. “I’m sorry, but no.” And that was that.
We walked to my car. Just as I was saying goodbye to Imani, my phone rang. “Hello, Lily speaking.”
“Hi, Lily. It’s Samuel from Smith & Henderson.” His voice was hesitant and quiet. I squinted, trying to hear him better, but of course, it didn’t help.
“Oh, hi. Is everything okay?”
“I thought I’d better call. I’ve emailed you three jobs for tomorrow, but we’re postponing them for two days.”
“Okay. Not a problem.” That couldn’t be why he sounded on the verge of tears. “Is that all?”
“Um, no, actually. The reason we’re postponing is… they’ve found Oliver—well, his body. I don’t know where or what happened, but… yeah.”
Crap. My shoulders sagged. His poor family and friends. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks. Just turn up to those jobs at the same time in three days; that’s all.”
“Okay. Thanks, Samuel. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Um, see you soon. Bye.”
He hung up before I had a chance to say goodbye. Imani tilted her head to the side, a questioning expression on her face.
“The agent who went missing. He’s turned up. Dead.”
“Oh,” Imani said.
Oh, indeed.
Chapter 7
As I’d thought it would, the news that night mentioned Oliver’s murder. I had to sit in the TV room with Mrs Soames and her parrot. “Rawrk, murder, rawrk!” If the cockatoo didn’t shut up, I wasn’t going to hear what the newsreader said. I glared at it, but it bounced up and down as if it were dancing. It had perched on top of the television, so it was more than a little distracting. It bent low, over the screen, and turned its head to the side. Oh, for f—
“Ethel, not in front of the TV.” Mrs Soames waved her arm, indicating that Ethel should move. Ethel sat straight, unfurled her wings, madly flapped, and flew to Mrs Soames. A small feather floated to the ground in front of the newsreader’s face.
“… body was found in his office by his work colleague, Samuel Murdoch. Police are treating the death as suspicious but haven’t released any further details. And now for our next story….”
“Next story, rawrk. Next story.”
I stood, my mind wrestling with the news report. Why did Samuel not say he’d discovered the body? Maybe he was in shock, and if the police had told him to keep the information confidential, he might have said it to avoid questions. God knew I wouldn’t want to talk about it if I were him. But if Oliver was found in his office, why did it take them most of the day to find him? Surely someone checked there in the morning?
“Thanks, Mrs Soames. You can watch whatever you want.” I’d changed the channel to watch the news, and surprisingly, she hadn’t complained, which was a first.
“You’re welcome. Lily?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I’ll ever get my house back from the ghost, or should I sell?” Her hands were clasped in her lap, and she looked up at me with sad, worried eyes. I sighed. She was so prickly that it was easy to forget she was probably just as put out as we all were, and she missed her home. It must be torture to go outside and see the house she couldn’t live in, a house filled with memories of a life shared with her husband and kids.
“I’ll be honest with you, Mrs Soames. It’s hard for all of us to be living together, and I wish you could get back into your house sooner rather than later, but I know it’s not possible right now, and as much as I’d like to see you resolve this issue, I don’t think you should sell. We’re still working on getting rid of the ghost, so maybe give us another week or two. I know it’s hard not to have your own place to go to, but I think selling right now would be a mistake.”
“How do you know it would be a mistake?” There was no snark in her tone, just genuine curiosity, which was another surprise. She must be worn out from being so cranky over the last few days.
“I have a gut feeling. I really have no proof, but I think there’s more to this than what we realise.” I had no idea what the connection between hauntings, house sales, and Oliver’s murder was, but there must be one. I wasn’t much for coincidences explaining everything away.
“Okay, Lily. I’ll wait. Thanks for your honesty.”
“My pleasure. I’ll let you know if I figure it out.” I gave her a smile and headed to the kitchen—it was time to cook dinner. Home-made pizza was on the menu. My stomach grumbled. Yeah, yeah, settle down. I’ll feed you soon.
I’d just finished putting toppings on and was slipping the second pizza in the oven when Angelica said, “Good evening, Lily. Cooking dinner, I see.”
I jumped, and my breath came in pants. Bloody hell. I swear I’m going to just drop dead from a heart attack one of these days. “Jeez, don’t sneak up on me!”
She raised her brows. “I did no such thing. I came in the front door and walked in here like a normal person.”
“You are not a normal person, and you walk as quietly as a ninja. Maybe stomp down the hall next time so I have some warning.”
“Maybe you need to take relaxation classes, dear. Meditation is good for the soul and for avoiding heart attacks.”
I scrunched my face up. I’d forgotten my mind-shield again. Now I had my magic back, I needed to remember to protect my thoughts. It took me ages to get into the habit the first time around, and this time was no different.
“Yes, dear. You really need to get back into the habit.” She grinned.
I narrowed my eyes. Maybe you should do the polite thing and stay out of my brain.
“No need to get testy, dear.” Gah, why didn’t Angelica have boundaries?
I mumbled my thought-protection spell. Finally, my thoughts were my own.
She folded her arms and looked down her nose at me. “See, that didn’t take much effort, did it?” And just like that, she was the teacher, and I was eight again and getting in trouble for something that wasn’t even my fault.
“No, but how much effort would it have taken for you not to eavesdrop?” Gah, why was I so angry? Maybe I was just frustrated about the Mrs Soames thing and the Will-being-missing thing. “Sorry. I’m just not in the mood for complications, or for getting surprised half to death. How was your day?”
“Probably about as good as yours. She leaned towards me and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I need you to come into work. The case with that agent has been referred to us. Evidence of magic use was found at the scene.”
“Could it have been someone from his office, I mean, just using it for filing or something?”
“No witches work there. We have a couple of our agents down there collecting evidence now. Can you pop in tomorrow morning at nine?”
“Yeah, sure.” I didn’t have anything on now those other jobs were postponed for a day. As nice as it would’ve been to have a day off, it was better to keep busy. The less time I had to think about Will, the better. Was he with the evil one right now? Had he forgotten me, or was he only doing it in a professional capacity? What if he had to sleep with her? Nausea slithered up my throat. A wave of hot tears filled my eyes. If he slept with her, would I be able to take him back?
“Lily, are you all right?” Angelica stared at me, her brow furrowed, just like Will’s normally was.
And that, folks, was the proverbial straw.
Salty morsels of anguish surged over my hastily constructed dam walls. No amount of tongue biting or distraction would stop the flood. And I hated crying in front of people, so I ran upstairs to my room, where I could have my mini-breakdown in private.
I lay on my bed in a hopeless blah of sniffles and tears. There was a good chance Will was dead, and if he even was still alive, there was an even better chance he’d fallen back in love with Piranha, if indeed he’d ever fallen out of love with her. As percentages went, my shot at happiness with him had gone from a pre-mission high of around 90 percent to an all-time lo
w of about 10 percent. Who would be stupid enough to take those odds?
That would be me and my foolish friend Hope. Hope and I had been close for a long time. She didn’t normally steer me in the wrong direction, but this time, I feared her enthusiasm was going to end in more tears… and they’d all be mine.
Chapter 8
Sitting at the conference table at the PIB was both a comfort and a torture—I was among my best friends, but one important person was missing—He Who Shall Not Be Named for fear I’d cry.
Beren sat on one side of me, and Olivia the other. They were so sweet. I knew they would have preferred to sit next to each other, but they wanted me to feel the love. And feel it, I did, but it wasn’t enough to banish the melancholy. James and Imani sat opposite me, and Ma’am filled her spot at the head of the table, as per usual. Millicent was absent—incubating a baby was hard work, and she had a few things to finish at home before the baby came.
Ma’am—it was hard to think of her as Angelica at work—folded her hands in front of her on the table as she ran through the case. “So, the magic signature we found was faint, as if they’d tried to make it fade. Whoever did this obviously didn’t want anyone to know witches were involved, but, thankfully, no one has worked out how to wipe magic signatures away. Time is the only thing that will do that, although if we’d gotten to this in a few days, it would have been gone. They probably thought they’d get away with not being discovered because they’ve made it look like suicide.”
A piece of paper appeared on the table in front of each of us. Angelica gave a nod. “This is the suicide note Oliver supposedly left. His boyfriend and his personal assistant have confirmed it’s in his handwriting. Please take a moment to read it.”
We all did as asked.
The pressure has been too much. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I can’t go on. I’m sorry I failed you, Tim. You’ll be better off without me. Please move on—I want you to be happy.
To my workmates, you know you’re better at this than I am. Now you’re free to take the business to the next level. Yours in failure, Oliver P Smith.
Short but not so sweet.
I looked up at Ma’am. “Other than the magic at the scene, how do we know it wasn’t suicide?”
Ma’am turned to me. “I’m glad you asked, dear. For one, according to those who knew him best, his sentiment didn’t ring true. He was confident, successful, and had no reason to think he was a failure.”
“But doesn’t depression make the person lie to themselves? You know, make you think the worst things about yourself that aren’t true?” It was also a silent killer—loved ones were usually the last to know the person was suffering.
“Yes, Lily, but he had never suffered from depression in the past, and there is no medical or behavioural history that indicates he’s ever had it. We also have a test for it, thanks to Beren.” She smiled at her nephew. “We tested blood samples, and there was no trace of the chemicals emitted during depression. Also, his other neurological chemicals were balanced.”
Okay, if she said so, I’d have to take it as fact, and if the test results stood up in court, who was I to argue?
“He died by drug injection. A massive dose of pure heroin. According to friends and family, he has never used drugs, and it was clear there were no other needle marks anywhere on his person.”
“So, whoever set this up wasn’t very smart?” I couldn’t help asking. I mean, wouldn’t they do their homework?
“That’s one way to look at it,” Ma’am said. “What I believe they were thinking is that they just had to fool the regular police for a week, and once the magic signature was gone, there would be nothing else to prove it wasn’t suicide. The other reason—the one that is more than worrying—is that they just didn’t care. Someone wanted Oliver Smith out of the way, and whether or not people thought it was suicide didn’t matter, and maybe they wanted to let off a warning shot to someone else. Fear is a wonderful way to keep others in line, and their arrogance hasn’t gone unnoticed by the PIB.”
That didn’t sound good. “So whoever did this thinks the PIB can’t touch them because they’re too clever?”
“Pretty much,” said James. My brother had been quietly nodding as Ma’am made her points. “Lucky for us, an inflated sense of their own intelligence and infallibility is likely a sign that they’re actually not very smart.” He smirked. “Stupid people don’t know what they don’t know.”
Imani spoke up. “Do we know who they were trying to warn?”
Ma’am answered. “Because it happened at work, we’re assuming they intended someone from the real-estate office to take note. And we’re betting that person is the one who found the body.”
“Samuel?” I asked.
Ma’am smiled and nodded. “James will outline how we’re to proceed.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” He looked at Olivia. “We’ve confiscated Oliver’s laptop and all the paperwork we could find, going back twelve months; however, there’s a lot missing. In particular, the last four months’ worth of files. His assistant claims she knows nothing about where they are and said she doesn’t remember seeing any new paperwork in that time. She does admit that’s highly unusual. Our conclusion is that her memory has been tampered with. I’d like you to go through what we’ve got, but I also want you to find out all the properties Oliver’s sold in the time that’s missing. If someone’s bought them, there should be government records, maybe even an Internet advertising footprint, that sort of thing. I want a list of every property transaction he’s facilitated in the last six months.”
Liv nodded. “Okay. I’ll get onto it today.”
“Great.” He smiled, then turned his gaze to me. “I’m glad you have your magic back.” He grinned. “Because we’re going to need it. I want you and Beren to go to their offices and take some photos, see what you can find.”
I opened my mouth to protest that Samuel knew who I was and that I’d lose their work, but James was one step ahead. “Yes, Lily, I know you’ve been working for them, but they’re non-witches, so I’m going to get our specialist glamour maker to spell you before you go. By the time she’s finished, you’ll look nothing like yourself.”
“Ah, okay. If you say so. Do I get to choose what I look like?” Hmm, maybe I could get them to make me five foot ten, skinny, and with elegant, feline-like movements. It would be cool to be a supermodel for five minutes.
“To an extent. She won’t change height or body shape—that’s possible but takes too much magic. While she’s holding your spell together, she won’t be able to give her power to anyone else. We’ll be changing your facial features and giving you a wig.”
“A wig? That’s not very magical. Since when is the PIB old school?”
James frowned. “I wish you’d take this more seriously, Lily.”
My cheeks heated. I was taking it seriously, but I needed to make a joke every now and then, or stress would get the better of me, and shame on him for not knowing that. As my brother, he should be aware of my coping mechanisms. “I am. Don’t worry.”
James narrowed his eyes. Trusting me was obviously hard for him. Brothers—who needed them? Not me, right now. “Right, well, after you and Beren take those photos, you’re going to visit a couple of local priests.”
Ma’am interrupted. “This is to cover the theory we had, Lily. We want to know whether the hauntings have anything to do with this. It’s our most obvious conclusion, so best to confirm or dispense with it before we go too far into the investigation. If the haunting theory doesn’t pan out, we’ll consider our next option, which might have everything to do with who is buying these properties if, indeed, it’s only one person, or only people closely related to the selling agent.” Ma’am looked at Imani. “I want you to go with James and interview Samuel again. After that, you can help Olivia here. I may send you out with Beren and Lily later, depending on where we decide to go after they’ve checked out the ghost angle. If anyone has any questions, direct th
em to James. I have meetings for the rest of today.” She stood. “Thanks for your time, everyone. We’ll reconvene here tomorrow afternoon at five.”
Rather than make a doorway, she left the normal way. Her meetings were probably in the building. Olivia and Beren stood and walked to the door together, having a private chat. I smiled. When were they going to go on their first date? It was about time, really. Life was way too short, and anything could happen. I sighed and tried not to think of what Will might be doing right this moment. Gah.
James got up and came around the table. “Hey, sis. Congrats on the return of your magic.”
I stood, and we hugged. “Thanks, bro.” I grinned.
We dropped the hug, and he regarded me with serious eyes. “How’s everything else?”
“If by everything else, you mean the Will situation? About as shitty as you’d imagine. Not knowing anything is driving me batty. Is he alive, and if he is, does he even… you know…?” I sighed and let the sadness settle around me.
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything, but hang in there. I have to believe things will work out for the best… whatever happens. And I’m here for you, so is Mill. We love you, kiddo. Never forget that.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I have a feeling you’re going to be the best auntie ever.” He grinned.
I couldn’t help but smile. I wished my parents could be here for that moment, but even so, it was going to be pure joy to meet my niece or nephew for the first time. “I can’t wait. And thanks. I know you guys care, but this relationship stuff is something I have to go through alone. No one can help. Maybe just distract me.”
“I’ll do my best to keep you busy. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Will do.” He gave me another quick hug, then turned to Imani. “Okay, ready?”
“Yes, boss.” She smiled. “Let’s go.”
They both made a doorway and left. Which meant I was alone with the two dreamy-eyed ones. Beren and Olivia grinned at each other, not saying much, but neither one wanting to leave. Ordinarily I would bask in the cuteness, but it made me think of Will and what we didn’t have. I pouted. Gah! I had to stop thinking about it. Talk about unproductive.
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