The Chimera Charm (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 6)

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Did I kill her?” I managed.

  “Kill her? What? What? No. No, Hattie, you didn’t kill her. She’s dead, yes. But, no you didn’t kill her. Just breathe, okay? We need to get her covered up and taken away.” His head whipped around to see if help was on its way.

  I stood to the side, and I couldn’t stop shaking. My mouth was so dry, and the lump in my throat felt like a clod of dry earth. The cats didn’t take long to pick up on how I was feeling, and before I knew it I had seven warm, furry bodies leaned up against my legs, all of them trying to balance their butts on my feet.

  How could she be dead? She only fell six feet, for Goddess’ sakes. Bast! I shouldn’t have used that magic. What possessed me in the first place? Fraidy stood on his hind quarters, lifting his front paws to rest on my thighs. He looked up at me.

  “The chief is right, Hattie. You didn’t kill Morag. There’s something at work here. Your levitation charm didn’t do no harm, don’t you worry.” Fraidy flashed his teeth in a sympathetic smile. I scratched his head, but inside the lead weight got heavier.

  David was doing his best to keep the crowd back when a figure in a black robe made his way into the crime scene. Even without his ceremonial holly staff, the newcomer needed no introduction. Everyone on Glessie knew, loved and respected Reverend Thaddeus Peacefield, Gless Inlet’s vicar of St. Pendragon’s Church. The vicar’s ruddy face was almost cherubic, both in its rosy overtones and chubbiness. His name suited him; Thaddeus exuded peace and calm. Simply put, Glessie’s reverend was an astonishingly nice person. His gentle features crumpled when he peered down at Morag. “Oh, dear, oh, dear,” Peacefield lamented, bending down to his knees beside the fallen woman’s head.

  Looking at David, he asked, “Do we have any idea why Ms. Devlin jumped, Inspector?”

  David cast a meaningful glance up to the still-stranded Infirma. “I truly wish I did, Reverend.”

  Peacefield turned his head back to the body. “Poor child. What a travesty that such an altruistic being should perish so prematurely.” He closed his eyes in silent prayer, while David and I cast a confused glance at one another. Morag? Altruistic? I couldn’t imagine the hard-nosed lawyer being a kind or generous sort. But, perhaps I had her all wrong? I mean, she did devote all her time and money to her frail sister.

  After making the sign of the crossroads, Rev. Peacefield began intoning the 'Cant of the Departing,' an ancient Celtic prayer for the newly deceased. My Gaelic has never been the greatest, but the gist of it was it asked that the Goddess grant forgiveness and a peaceful passage to the one who has left so suddenly.

  The crowd closed their eyes in faithful respect to the impromptu ceremony before them. But David continued to scan every head in the crowd looking for anything out of the ordinary. He reminded me of an eagle; I'd never seen him so alert. I saw his eyes narrow on a target. His stare turned flinty and cold, and I couldn't resist but follow his gaze. Straight to Portia Fearwyn. And she was just turning on her heel, walking quickly away from the scene. I sighed inwardly. I knew what this meant. Portia would now be on the suspect list, and David would make it his mission to throw questions at the pinch-faced witch.

  Reverend Peacefield had finished his subtle cant, closed Morag’s eyes, made the sign of the crossroads once more and stood. His face remained downcast. Behind us, the Ferris wheel began to move again, David’s men were waiting at the bottom to receive the badly shaken Infirma Devlin.

  Sidling up to Peacefield’s side, David said: “Reverend, I need to ask about that last remark before your cant there.” The chief cleared his throat, “You said that Morag was altruistic? Can you explain that? Because when I hear people speak of Morag, I've never once heard anyone say she's kind. And, I say that in the most gentle way I can," David said, kicking a stone with his boot.

  “Of course, my son,” Peacefield said with a sad smile. “Ms. Devlin donated something my parish has been in dire need of. Morag purchased Saint Pendragon a new bell. She even had the installation covered.”

  “Didn’t the old one crack during those strange occurrences a month ago?” I asked, joining the two men. I was referring to the magical imbalances created by the balefire beacon that David had extinguished along with Verdantia Eyebright’s help.

  “Oh, it did far more than crack, dear. The whole thing split in two while we were ringing in the morning service. It took down a big chunk of wall in the belltower too. Even thinking about the cost of a replacement filled me with dread. But, as I’m sure you’re both aware, the Goddess always provides in our hour of need,” the vicar shook his head at the recent memory. “And that divine provision came in the form of Ms. Devlin’s gift. She was to be the one yielding the scissors at tomorrow’s ribbon-cutting ceremony.”

  He took another look at the corpse. “And now the poor soul shall never again hear the chimes of Saint Pendragon. Chimes that she made possible. The Goddess moves with such mystery,” Peacefield finished, shaking his head again.

  Just forty-five minutes later, the whole area around the Ferris wheel was cordoned off as an official crime scene.

  Over noisy protests, I dropped my cats with Millie who was waiting for me over at Gabrielle’s stand. Gabrielle had put the sign to ‘Closed’ in respect for what had just happened. People were already shuffling away from the carnival grounds toward the questioning tents that David’s men had expertly put up. The crowd’s chatter came in hushed and excited whispers. It was going to be a financial bust for the Moban Fair tonight. What did I say about no dead bodies showing up here?

  "Ok guys, be good for Millie, okay?" I said as I laid the two Ogre Dolls on the ground in front of Gabrielle's donut stand. They each found a spot on the plushies, and I left them kneading, purring and being generally well behaved. I joined the chief at the crime scene.

  David instructed a couple of his constables to take Infirma down to the station. Reverend Peacefield insisted on staying with Morag’s body until the coroners showed up. I was so lost in everything that had just happened that I didn’t even realize I still had the applewood wand in my hand. David walked over to me, nodding at the wooden tool.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head. “I’d rather talk about why you think Portia Fearwyn had something to do with Morag’s death.”

  My best friend stiffened. “I’ll admit that this one mainly comes down to motive. Morag was defending the man who killed Portia’s fellow Custodian, remember?”

  I nodded thoughtfully. Morag defending Aurel Nugget, Portia’s fellow custodian, certainly did seem like reason enough to get Portia incredibly angry. It’s true; lady Fearwyn didn’t take kindly to having her operations disrupted or her close associates harmed.

  I shook my head again, “Portia is many things, but even she has lines she refuses to cross. Killing Morag in front of her own sister? And in public, where other people could get hurt? Not her style, David. No way.”

  Hector Muerte, the assistant coroner, shambled over and, with remarkable care, lifted Morag onto the stretcher and into an open body bag. Maude Dulgrey was the coroner on this Isle. Hector was Maude’s zombie assistant. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be advisable to employ a flesh eating zombie, but Hector was different. He was a vegetarian. He ate only two vegetables: Broccoli and Cauliflower. Likely because of their ‘brainy’ resemblance, who knows? Hector was pulling the zip up on the body bag when Reverend Peacefield clasped the zombie’s forearm. “Hector, wait,” he instructed grimly.

  David and I looked at each other and then hurried over to where the vicar was standing. He was just about to pull back a lock of Morag’s hair when Hector grunted in angry protest.

  “Oh, forgive me, Hector,” Peacefield responded. “Gloves, please,” he nodded and smiled at the undead assistant coroner and Hector obliged by handing the vicar the latex hand-wear. David and I gave each other another of our looks. It was an evening for silent exchanges it seemed.

  “I think, Miss Jenkins, that any worries you may have
had for harming Morag may be let go now. You've nothing to worry about,” Thaddeus stated as he gently lifted the hair around Morag’s temple. “No, I’d say that whatever this is is what killed Morag Devlin.” David and I leaned in closer. A vivid black network of spidery veins was creeping slowly outward from Morag’s temple. The vicar turned his face to us. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe we have found the real cause of Lady Devlin’s death.”

  What did David and I do? We gave each other one of our looks.

  Chapter Three

  I’ve seen a lot of characters in GIPPD’s interrogation rooms and holding cells since I’d started working with David. Some of those sights were plain vile and corrupt. To a bewildered innocent, the jail cells and questioning rooms of this building, and in particular, their current occupants, could be enough to give them nightmares for weeks to come. To see Infirma’s fragile frame in this space usually occupied by tattooed thugs, and Strands junkies was a pitiful sight. I closed the door. The place was hopping tonight; I just had time to see David’s new jail warden, Eve, escorting a bedraggled, dark haired man to a chair in the corridor. No room for him at the inn. I thought, as I placed a cup of tea in front of Infirma. The bereft woman just stared at it, eyes red-rimmed, silent tears free-falling down her hollow cheeks. Although her oxygen tank was right next to her, I couldn’t hear her draw in any air. Nor was her body moving. She was as still as a mannequin, and her eyes were like hard, dead pebbles. I laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, fighting the urge to shake her vigorously. Just to check that she was still alive, you know?

  “Ms. Devlin, I can’t express how sorry I am for what happened. It’s … well, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. If there’s anyone we can call, or if there’s anything you need, you just let us know, okay?” I squeezed her shoulder to let her know I was serious. “That’s chamomile tea you’ve got there.” I smiled at her. “Should help you feel a little less frazzled, so sip it if you can.” I pulled out the chair in the corner; my customary seat when David was interrogating or questioning. “Infirma, the chief is going to ask you some questions now, “ I said gently. “We need to find out what happened up there on the Ferris wheel. So everyone can reconcile the event. So everyone can make sense of it. Do you understand?”

  Infirma raised her face to me. She nodded slowly and finally croaked a husky “Yes.”

  David began with, “Ms. Devlin, I’m not certain I have the words to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. This must be a terrible shock.”

  Infirma blinked at David’s condolences. It seemed the chief had broken the grief-stricken woman out of her dead zone. “There are no words, Inspector. There really aren’t.”

  “Can you tell me what happened just before the…incident?”

  Infirma shook her head, fresh tears cascading down her gaunt face. “I’ve been sitting here for the last…however long it’s been…just turning it over in my head. One minute, we’re talking about getting the stair lift at home fixed, and then, as the Ferris wheel grinds to a halt when we reach the top, she … she…”

  “Here,” I dropped a stack of tissues in front of her, gave her shoulder another quick squeeze, and returned to my seat.

  “Infirma, describe to me what happened when the carriage stopped at the top.” David leaned across the table, folding his hands and looking directly into the eyes of Morag’s sister.

  “Well .. she just gets this blank look on her face. Right while she’s telling me she’ll get Spencer, our housekeeper, to look at the stairlift in the morning.” Infirma’s breath started hitching, and she gulped in a giant pool of air. “S-s-he stops what she’s saying, and just stands up. She stands up! On the seat! I tried to hold on! I did! Why did she do that? What made her do that?” Infirma wailed, folding over onto the table, her arms sliding over her head. David and I looked at one another over her sobbing.

  “We have reason to believe your sister didn’t commit suicide, Ms. Devlin. We believe her death might be the cause of foul play. So I hope that helps you reconcile your loss somewhat. We will, of course, keep you updated with any pertinent info, but in the meantime, please do keep all information regarding this case to yourself.” David leaned back in his chair and pushed his glasses up on his nose, scrunching up his eyes as he did so. Goddess, he’s so unbearably cute.

  Infirma’s sobbing became more subdued as she took in David’s words. Remaining in her forward slump she mumbled, “So she didn’t kill herself?” We heard her choked voice muffled by her forearms.

  “Well, we certainly think there’s a chance that we will find something that suggests otherwise,” David said, pulling his pen and notepad closer to him. “How would you describe Morag’s state of mind in the days leading up to this evening?”

  Infirma didn’t hesitate. “Agitated. She was nervous the entire week leading up to today. I’d heard her pacing in her room late at night, which she only does…did…when something big was on her mind. I kept asking if she was okay. But, she said it was work, and I was satisfied with that. You probably both know of her two recent high profile cases?” Infirma swiveled her frizzy head between David and me. We both nodded.

  “Go on,” David said.

  “She also kept making sure all the wards and charms that cover the estate were all active and working. Five am every morning she’d get on the horse and go riding out to all four boundaries of the property. Making sure that the protective layers were all working. She’d never done that before. And, as you both probably know, Morag wasn’t exactly a popular person. She had a few … haters.” Infirma bobbed her head between CPI Trew and I once more to check that we knew about her sister’s reputation. We both confirmed we did.

  “So you’re saying that your sister had every reason to be fanatical about the security of your estate even before this last week or so?”

  “Well, of course. Morag was no stranger to death threats. And, we often had troublemakers trying to scale the perimeter of the land -- they didn’t get in of course, but I’m saying that Morag used to wave it off as if it was nothing. She never felt threatened by the nasty promises her haters delivered to her. So, yeah, it was strange that she was so worried about it now. Or, just recently, I mean. It just doesn’t fit that my sister would have been so spooked about a potential threat. She was a champion at taking these dastardly affairs in her stride.” Infirma blew her nose in one of the stock-piled tissues. “Whatever was bothering, Morag … well, it must have been big.” Infirma’s words sounded positively choked.

  “Anything else, Ms. Devlin? Anything at all?” David leaned across the table again, his hands just inches from Infirma’s.

  “Well, she refused to take me into Knobby Knoll. Which was strange.”

  “Knobby Knoll?” I asked.

  Infirma nodded at my ignorance. I wasn’t a Cathedralite. I knew only the capital, Chalice, and a few of its choice beaches. Oh, and that one small section of the Glimmer Mountains, and the mountain range’s defiant sentinel: Burning Peak.

  “It’s the village at the edge of our estate.” Infirma explained. “About thirty minutes west of Chalice. Historically, the village’s inhabitants were all workers for our lands and stately home. Some still are. It’s a small village with just a handful of shops, but it offers an adequate distraction for a couple of hours. They have a nice tea and scone special at the Red Duck on Tuesday’s. Morag refused to take me this time. She wouldn’t tell me why.” Infirma blew her nose again.

  “What about her schedule for that week? Anything unusual?” David asked.

  Infirma frowned, shaking her head. “Not really. There were her days in court, a few legal engagements. A few public ones. Oh, and one engagement that I was also to be a part of; tomorrow’s bell unveiling ceremony at St Pendragon’s. Oh, and the ‘Buried Secrets’ ceremony at Cagliostro Warlock School.”

  David stopped writing and looked over the rim of his glasses at Infirma.

  “Oh, I guess you could call it more of a PR stunt,” Morag’s sister began. “Coven’s Cauld
ron’s newest advertising venture for the Futura Cauldron,” she confirmed. “But, the gist of it was that Cagliostro School buries a time capsule filled with Warlock memorabilia … you know, for future Warlocks to find, and marvel over historical artifacts from the Warlock world? The time capsule itself? A Futura Cauldron, of course. With lid supplied. I guess Coven’s Cauldron’s figures it’s a way to get their brand recognized in the future.” Infirma sighed. “Well, of course, it was great for the school too. They got five brand new Futura’s for their potion’s lab just for hosting the event.”

  I took a thoughtful sip of my lemon balm tea. Futura. The Rolls Royce of cauldrons. Futura 2 was in the making right now, and I suspected Orville Nugget was going to make a lot of money very soon. I felt happy for the mourning teen. His father, Aurel, would have been very proud. I got up from my chair then, kneeling down so I could be eye-level with Infirma.

  “Is there anything else you can think of? Anything at all?”

  Infirma’s eyes rolled skyward as she thought of the events of the past week.

  “Come to think of it, yes. I mean, it’s probably nothing, but there was a call to the estate last week. I happened to be walking past the phone while it was ringing, so I answered it. Something I rarely do. It was Governor Shields, and he wanted to speak to Morag.” David and I exchanged a glance. Governor Gideon Shields of Cathedral was a man we both suspected of Millicent Pond’s murder. He’d put all of the blame on his right-hand woman, Mari Falk. Claimed she had acted alone. We couldn’t find a shred of evidence to pin the Governor to the murder of the eco-activist and that fact still burned brightly in our bellies. Shields was as charismatic as they come and was liked by most who met him. He presented a squeaky-clean image, but David and I both knew that some hidden agenda was lurking behind the handsome governor’s carefully maintained facade. Bast, I nearly went out on a date with the man not so long ago!

  Infirma caught our exchange. “Is there something significant in that?”