“The guild would appreciate it if you refrained from mentioning the portals to anyone. You should consider it a craft secret, maybe even a national secret, for now.”
She nodded absently, gaze on the construction going on a few dozen feet away. “Of course.”
He started unstrapping himself. “We need to hurry.”
“Right.” She attacked the snap-hooks on her safety straps.
They’d already been running late, and when she finally arrived, it turned out that she’d made a stop at the machinist workshop on the way to his and Gregor’s rooms. She said it was to see about Quillan’s progress, but Fillion wasn’t so sure.
When they’d all been in the workshop the other day, there had been some sort of weird tension in the air. Master Gella hadn’t made any special mention of anything, Chanté had been as expressionless as ever around strangers, and Quillan’s nose had been buried in the gadget. Even so, there had definitely been something.
Fillion hopped to the roof and turned to offer Elizabeth a hand. Why couldn’t she just let him report his and Master Gella’s findings to her?
She must have seen something in his expression because she said, “I’m sorry for the bother.”
“Not to worry.”
Ignoring his help, she hopped down next to him, planting her feet solidly, and stood. One hand on Coatl, she used the other to shake out her skirts.
For a reporter, she didn’t seem to be completely helpless. Slightly impressed, Fillion grunted.
Two days ago after returning from Stronghold, he’d dropped by the workshop, curious himself about progress on Quillan’s projects.
When talking about his headway on Elizabeth’s device, Quillan mentioned their previous, albeit short, relationship. He said he’d known her before that—as Fillion was surely aware, he’d said, everyone in Cotter’s Grove knew everyone growing up—but he had become more interested in her from reading the articles she wrote for the town newspaper, the Cotters’ Grove Times. Later, when Quillan left for Delcimaar, he asked his mother to mail him any issues of the paper that had Elizabeth’s stories. Apparently, she’d really shown her skill with a series she did on the equine flu and the efforts that went into stopping its spread westward. She’d even been recognized for the series by some kind of journalist organization.
Fillion stared at Elizabeth as she leaned on Coatl to adjust her clothing. From all that Quillan said, she was intelligent and talented in her craft. She was pretty, too, in a scrappy, no-nonsense way.
Apparently satisfied with the fall of her dress, Elizabeth looked at him and smiled. “Where were we going to meet her?”
Her sudden attention made him blink. “Uh, this way.” He headed for the stairwell.
The odd thing was, the whole time Quillan had talked about Elizabeth, he’d had a little smile on his face. So why had he let their relationship lapse? Was that why there’d been a weird feeling in the air that day they were reunited?
She comes.
Master Gella’s head appeared first, then the rest of her rose into view as she climbed the last flight of stairs.
“Sorry we’re running late,” Fillion said.
Master Gella stared at Elizabeth for a moment. Looking back at Fillion, she said, “Not to worry. I just came from asking them to place the prisoner in the same questioning room as before, so have Coatl return to his previous listening spot.”
Fillion nodded. Can you fly down there and get ready?
Of course. Coatl lifted off the roof and flew toward the side of the building.
Fillion watched the big dragon lower into the alley, wings beating.
“Shall we?” Master Gella turned and led the way.
He followed down the short stairwell, Elizabeth right behind.
Something is amiss. There are very worried people in the building.
Fillion frowned. “Coatl says something is wrong.”
Master Gella paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at him. “Wrong?”
“He says—”
“Special Investigator Gella!” A man came running down the hallway. He wore the uniform of the investigators here.
She turned to him. “What is it?”
“The detainee.” The man panted, trying to catch his breath. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?” She took a step toward the man. “Where? How?”
“In the holding cell. When the officers went to take him to the interrogation room, they thought he was asleep. They tried to rouse him and discovered that he was dead. How he died is unknown at the moment.”
Master Gella hurried down the hallway, and everyone fell in behind. “Who was the last to see him alive, and when?”
“The officers are looking over the logs now,” the investigator said. “I came to inform you instead of heading down there because I thought you should know immediately.”
She nodded.
Fillion clenched his jaws. They had been so close to figuring out who’d stolen the wagon!
What is happening?
The carriage driver is dead.
How?
They don’t know yet.
“Could he have died from natural causes?”
Master Gella glanced at Elizabeth a moment before turning her gaze forward. “One of the few people captured involving the robbery just happens to die—of whatever cause—soon after. That doesn’t strike you as suspicious? I think it’s entirely too pissing convenient.”
“True enough,” Elizabeth said.
“How, though?” Fillion shook his head. “He was in a holding cell here in police headquarters.”
Master Gella frowned. “That concerns me more than anything else.”
She stepped into a stairwell at the side of the hallway and headed down. Fillion followed, Elizabeth and the investigator just behind.
At the second floor landing, she turned to the investigator. “Find out everything that happened with the detainee since he was brought in.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The man nodded and continued down the stairwell.
Fillion and Elizabeth followed Master Gella out onto the floor. At the end of the short hallway, they stepped through a door into a large area.
There were four rows of cells near the middle of the space. Each row had five cells—sturdy cages of thick, metal bars. A ten-foot wide walkway ran between each of the rows. It didn’t seem like anyone could get near them without being seen because they sat clustered in the middle of the large, empty area with at least thirty feet of space all around.
“I would have thought there would be more cells,” Elizabeth said.
“This isn’t the gaol,” Master Gella said. “These are only to hold detainees for a short while.”
A group of officers stood near the end of a far row. Two in the cell seemed to be examining a cot. Or the body on the cot.
The officers outside the cell made way as Master Gella walked over.
Fillion stared at the dead man. Only two days ago they’d spoken to him. He looked like he was merely asleep. Fillion felt a little queasy.
“Any indication as to a cause of death?”
The two officers in the cell looked at Master Gella.
The one kneeling near the body said, “We haven’t found a cause of death yet. It appears as if he died in his sleep, but we’ll know more after an autopsy.”
Master Gella pressed her lips together, then said, “How long has he been dead?”
The kneeler looked back at the body. “At least eight hours, I’d say.”
Fillion twitched his nose. He could believe it. There was definitely an unpleasant smell.
Master Gella grunted. “So he definitely died overnight.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Master Gella turned and headed back to the hallway.
Fillion, more than happy to be leaving, hurried to keep up. “We’re going to look at the activity logs?”
“Yes. I don’t think he killed himself. If he had something ferreted away
on him to do so, he’d likely have used it before last night, soon after we left him the other day.” She glanced at Fillion. “Your pin-point questioning seemed to shake him.”
“Coatl can be very helpful in that regard.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth said. “How so?”
Master Gella glanced at her. “It’s a matter of national secrecy. Are you okay with that?”
One of the conditions Elizabeth had been required to agree to in order to join the investigation was that any national secrets she became privy to would have to remain secrets.
Elizabeth sighed. “Why is it that everything about you seems to be that way? Fine. Tell me, anyway. I’m curious.”
Master Gella turned her gaze forward. “Dragons can read minds, to a certain extent.”
Fillion glanced at Elizabeth. What would she think of that?
She’d stopped walking. After only a moment—it took her less time than he’d expected for her to process that information—she hurried to catch up. “A–All dragons?”
Why did she look nervous?
Master Gella nodded. “All dragons.”
Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “As troubling as that ability is,” she murmured, “I can see how that could be extremely helpful with investigations.”
“Alas,” Master Gella said, “the Dragon Craft Guild has itself put rather severe limitations on when and how that draconic ability can be used.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Elizabeth said. “The idea that someone could peer into my thoughts without my knowledge or permission is more than a little disturbing.”
“Don’t take me wrong,” Master Gella said. “That point was demonstrated to me in a patently clear way. Believe me, I agree with you. My only concern is that there may be times when those limits might make it difficult to capture dangerous people.”
“Even so,” Elizabeth said, “rather than dwelling on what the limits keep you from doing, perhaps you should be happy for what the allowed uses let you accomplish that you wouldn’t be able to otherwise.”
Master Gella grunted.
Fillion was once again impressed. That was a very good point. Maybe she wasn’t as bad a Halitos, after all.
When they walked out of the stairwell, the investigator hurried over. “Master Gella. Here’s the compiled list of the detainee’s activities.” He handed her a sheet of paper.
She took the page. “He was placed in a cell. Had a meal. A visit to the toilet . . .” She trailed off as she looked down the sheet.
“Hmm.” She looked at the investigator. “He has a lawyer?”
The man shrugged. “Apparently. The attorney saw him last night.”
“Is the guard who monitored the visit here today?”
“I can ask. You wish to speak to the guard?”
She nodded. “Interrogation room four.”
“Alright.” The investigator headed off.
Fillion looked at the paper in Master Gella’s hands. “What is it?”
“Firstly, according to the log, the detainee went to sleep right after his attorney left. That means the lawyer was the last person to speak with him while he was alive. And secondly, there’s nothing in here about the carriage driver requesting a message be sent out to anyone prior to that visit. So then tell me, how did his lawyer know he was here?”
Fillion grunted.
They spoke to the guard in the same room he and Master Gella had spoken with Lady Helena. Fillion stood this time, leaning back against the wall. The guard was in the chair Lady Helena had sat in, and across the table from her, Elizabeth and Master Gella sat, watching.
“The lawyer seemed a bit showy,” the guard said.
Master Gella drew her brows together. “How so?”
“He wore a top hat and a very fancy coat. And also the way he behaved. He held his hands behind his back almost the entire time.” She shrugged. “You get all kinds of lawyers, I suppose.”
Master Gella nodded. “So, did they appear to be on good terms? Or were their words heated?”
The guard squinted and stared into the distance. “Well, they spoke quietly, calmly, like old friends or acquaintances. The lawyer never sat. He stood just inside the closed cell door the entire time, hands behind his back. As far as their conversation, it was typical. How long before he’d be out of here, that kind of thing.”
“And the detainee seemed calm the entire time?”
She nodded. “Yes. Like I said, they seemed to know each other. They even shook hands as the lawyer left.”
Fillion scowled. This was going nowhere.
“Thinking back on it, I guess he’s ambidextrous.”
“Pardon?” Master Gella lifted her brows.
“The lawyer. I was near the front desk when he arrived. The top hat caught my eye. He handed his card to the officer at the desk with his left hand. That’s another reason I thought he was a bit fancy. Not many people have calling cards. When he was handed a visitor badge, he accepted it and clipped it on his lapel with his left hand. But he shook hands with the detainee using his right hand.” She frowned. “Ambidextrous is the right word, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Master Gella said, eyes narrowed, “it is. Did the lawyer happen to verify the time at all while you were observing them?”
“Mmm, yes. He glanced at his wrist-watch more than once, seemed distracted. I thought it a bit odd. Shouldn’t he have been concentrating on his client?”
“On which arm did he wear the wrist-watch?”
The guard closed her eyes. “Mmm. On his left.”
“I see.” Master Gella stood. “Well, thank you. I think that’s all the questions I have.”
The guard nodded. “Any time, Special Investigator.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Fillion sighed. That seemed a waste of time. Maybe there were more clues in the tunnels that they missed.
“The detainee was murdered.”
He stared at Master Gella. “What?”
Fillion?
“The lawyer?” Elizabeth looked as surprised as he did.
“Yes.” Master Gella sat down. “I think the autopsy will reveal that the driver was poisoned.”
Are you okay?
Sorry, big guy. I’m just surprised. It seems the man we were going to interrogate didn’t just die, he was killed.
“The people the man was working for obviously learned that we had detained him. They sent that lawyer—if he is a lawyer—to kill him.”
That is unfortunate.
“He was careful to do nothing with his right hand except the handshake, even though I suspect he is right-handed. That’s likely how the poison was administered.”
It is definitely a shame. Fillion clenched his jaws. They had been so damned close to learning more.
Now you cannot ask him how he knew of that same building.
Same building?
The one Preeti’s uncle thought of.
Fillion pushed off the wall and took a step. “Yrdra’s tits.”
“Fillion?” Master Gella stared at him, eyes narrowed.
“That man. Coatl says that when we questioned him the other day, he was thinking of the same building that Tobin thought of.”
Master Gella’s brows raised. “Barbs and pissing blades,” she whispered. “Could the robbery and the efforts to discredit High Lady Hasana be related?”
“And the riots,” Fillion said.
“What do you mean related?” Elizabeth looked from her to Fillion and back. “What evidence do you have for that connection?”
Master Gella looked at her. “A man we came across on a different matter, Tobin, was worried about a few things, one of which was a particular warehouse. We think he’s involved with the criers and thus the riots. So, if the carriage driver was thinking of that same warehouse, they are likely connected somehow.”
Fillion stared at Master Gella. “I wonder if the riots were meant as a diversion for the robbery but most of the fights started too early.”
“D
oubtful,” Master Gella said. “From what we’ve been able to gather from interviews, those who incited the riots worked very hard to get them started. And as well-planned as it was, a city-wide riot wasn’t needed for the robbery to succeed.”
He let out a frustrated breath. “True enough.”
“Then why the robbery?” Elizabeth looked from him to Master Gella. “Unless you think the robbery is going to be used as more fuel against High Lady Hasana?”
“Possibly. Though it will be harder to blame her for something like that.” Master Gella drummed her fingers on the table. “Whatever the case, we need to find out all we can about this driver and his lawyer.”
“If the lawyer is the murderer,” Elizabeth said, “the identification he gave is likely false.”
“Even so,” Master Gella said, “I’ll get my people working on any and all avenues. The armored wagon robbery has now become part of my primary investigation.”
She stood. “I’d hoped to learn more directly from him, but perhaps even in death he’ll lead us somewhere. For now, let’s interrogate the getaway drivers.” She frowned. “Assuming they weren’t also eliminated.”
The men were being held under guard in a room at a nearby hospital. According to Master Gella, one had a broken knee-cap and the other a broken elbow, suffered when they fell from the armored wagon. Fillion had wondered why the men hadn’t tried harder to escape. How much pain did those kinds of injuries generate?
Coatl set them down on a side-street.
“I’m uncertain where their room is in relation to the building,” Master Gella said and dismounted. “Thus, I can’t direct Coatl to a good place to listen from.”
If needed, I can try to move to a closer location.
Fillion nodded at him. Alright.
The three of them made their way around the corner to the front doors. Fillion had never been in a hospital. At Cotter’s Grove, the master healer, a very nice man, would come visit you at your home. Fillion imagined this place would be just like the infirmaries at the Guildhall and Caer Baronel, but his first impression was that it was more akin to the first floor at the police headquarters with a dash of city hall thrown in.
Just inside was a counter where people spoke with clerks of some kind. Nearby was a large area where more people sat, waiting for he knew not what.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 49
