“Kingsman Gibson. This is Detective Edwards,” Gibson said with a wave. “We’re here with questions about Raskovnik.”
“Uh-oh,” the lady said with a grin. “That’s never a good question. Means something’s been stolen. I’m Hettie, boss of the warehouse. Here, take a seat. Tell me what’s up and I’ll help as I can.”
She hauled a barstool out from under the desk and passed it around, which Gibson took and perched on, leaving me the chair. I sat, pulling out my notebook. “First, you do carry Raskovnik?”
“Not often, no. Usually there’s not much demand for it. I’ve had two shipments in this year, I want to say, but I can check my records and verify that.”
“We might need you to. Anything this month?”
Hettie shook her head no. “Not as recent as that. Beginning of summer was the latest shipment. Not much call for it, like I said. What’s your time frame for this?”
“Past two weeks,” Gibson supplied.
“Hmm. Definitely not something from us. And we only sell to the University, registered magicians, and the like. But I can give you the name of three other companies that handle the stuff as well, if that’ll help? I can’t speak for whether they’ll have had some this past month, but you can ask.”
“I’ll be happy to ask,” I assured her, glad we weren’t leaving completely empty-handed. “Names and addresses, if you would.”
“Sure.” Hettie rattled it all off. She fetched her books as she did so, letting Gibson take a look, so he could verify with his own eyes what the record showed. She was so non-plussed about this that I had to wonder how many policemen had come with this very question? Or something similar, at any rate.
We thanked her for the time and information and left, Gibson once again behind the wheel. He pulled away from the curb with a low purr of the motor, swinging us around to head back toward town center.
“Well, that was something of a bust, but at least we have a lead on who else to ask.” I kept the notebook out in case we needed it. “I guess go to—” A beep sounded on my magical pad and I dug it out of my pocket. It was Sherard, his scrawled handwriting more scrawly than usual. It took a second longer to make out what he was saying. Then I groaned. “Gibs, change of plans. Go to the palace.”
In a rhetorical fashion, the big man said, “I’m not going to like this. Right. What happened?”
“The teenager got inside the wards again.” I squinted as I tried to read the rest of it. It looked like Sherard had written the message with one hand while running downstairs, which was likely what had happened. “Looks like they didn’t catch him until he was in the library.”
“Knew I wouldn’t like it.” Gibson took a hard right, cutting someone off in the process. The maneuver set off a chorus of blared horns and swearing that he ignored. For once, he put on the speed, driving more like I did. “Have they got him in custody?”
I wrote an answer back as I replied, “Yeah. I think we got called in for moral support. Before, you know, the two of them lose their minds.”
“I don’t think that would take much right now.”
“Sadly, I suspect you’re correct.”
We hauled rubber into the side palace gate, which was basically a Kingsman entrance. I’d never seen anyone else use it, at least. Gibson parked, catching my arm. “I’m going to follow up on the next Raskovnik source. You don’t need me for this.”
“True enough. Okay, go.” I lost no time getting out of the car and hoofing it to the location Sherard had given me. It was one of the smaller, round guard houses that dotted the road. Barely large enough to hold three people at a squeeze, the thing had its door wide open with both Sherard and Henri looming in from outside.
I jogged up. “Henri! Sherard!”
Both men turned with twin looks of relief on their faces. Why, I had no idea. It’s not like I knew how to fix this hot mess express. Slowing, I came to stand between them, leaning in to see who was inside the little tower.
There, square in the middle of the floor with cuffs on his wrist, sat the troublemaker. Oddly, he didn’t look like one. He wasn’t ugly, wasn’t beautiful, just this quirky fifteen-year-old with sandy brown hair and ears too big for his head. He’d likely grow into those. He looked bummed out and also nervous, staring at us with open trepidation.
I stared back because really, what were we supposed to do with him? We couldn’t even prosecute him, as trespassing wasn’t illegal here. Trespassing as a crime was rather a modern invention, and it hadn’t caught on in Kingston yet. Although at the rate Eddy was going, it wouldn’t be long.
“We need a tiebreaker,” Henri said, visibly agitated. He kept shifting his weight from foot to foot and shooting glares at the kid. “I’m all for killing him. Seaton’s of the opinion we can ship him off to sea.”
I knew both men were joking, but they really didn’t look it. The kid, at least, seemed to buy it. Swallowing hard, he looked at me pleadingly.
“You can’t kill him,” I chided Henri. Since he looked really stressed, I put a hand on his back, rubbing a soothing circle into it. He leaned into the contact, settling enough to stop fidgeting. “Killing doesn’t solve all problems. And Sherard, stop kidding, you can’t ship problems out to sea either. He’s a kid—he doesn’t understand fully the problem he’s causing.”
“I think he’s old enough to understand,” Sherard denied flatly.
Yeah, okay, at fifteen you should be able to. But had anyone actually explained it? I doubted that. I took a half step in, sank onto my heels, and looked the kid in the eye. “Do you know who I am?”
He shook his head a little from side to side, still eyeing me like I was either savior or executioner.
“I’m Detective Jamie Edwards, Kingston Police. The two men behind me are in charge of the palace wards. The one on my right is Dr. Henri Davenforth, Magical Examiner with the Kingston PD and also my partner. The one on the left is RM Sherard Seaton.”
Eddy’s eyes went so wide they consumed his face. He breathed out a cuss word I pretended not to hear.
“Kid, you’re in hot water with them right now, make no mistake. You’re seriously driving them nuts by sneaking through wards we thought were nigh impenetrable before your appearance. You understand that by coming in here, you’re making everyone really nervous? That people are afraid someone else will figure out how to get in, like you have, and harm the royal family?”
He started to shake his head again, but the mannerism stuttered to a stop and he wet dry lips instead. “I don’t—not hurt.” He swallowed hard, trying again. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I was just curious the first time. I wanted to see.”
He really had no idea what he was doing to us by waltzing in. My suspicion was right. No one had talked to him. “Okay. I believe that, as you didn’t do any harm in here. What about the third time? This time?”
“This is, um, actually the fourth time I’ve come in,” he admitted with a wince.
I heard a thump. I didn’t look, but I suspected Sherard had just slammed his forehead against the stone exterior of the building.
Blowing out a breath, I rephrased and carefully kept my patience. “Okay, so why did you do it the next three times?”
“I wanted to read the books. I like the books here, they’re pretty.”
I was enough of a bookworm to empathize with this sentiment. He looked to be from a poor family. Everything on him was threadbare and fraying at the edges. He likely didn’t have any chances to read a book, much less own one. Still….
Behind me, Henri muttered in despair, “He wanted to read the books.”
“Stop,” Sherard whimpered, the sound muffled. He probably still had his face planted against the stone. “Stop talking. I want to cry.”
I ran a hand over my face. Good gravy, no wonder the guys were losing their marbles. I’d never seen a criminal with such innocent intentions before. “Okay. Eddy? Coming in here just to read the books is a very poor life decision. You understand that people here are spooke
d, and are quite willing to shoot anything that moves?”
He squeaked out, almost like an alarmed mouse, “They’d shoot me?!”
“Kid, there’s a long line of people willing to shoot you. Trust me. In fact, I’m taking you home right now before someone does.” I reached out, grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him up. “Come on. Quick, before someone loses their temper. Boys, go home. Seriously, that’s enough for today. It’s quitting time, and you both look cross-eyed.”
Henri nodded wearily. “Meet up at the precinct in the morning to discuss what you discovered today?”
“Agreed. Sherard, you come too. I’ll even bring sweets so you both have plenty of sugar. If you want an order, text it to me.”
“Chocolate,” Henri whimpered to me as I passed him.
I paused and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “Lots of chocolate just for you, I promise. I won’t even snitch any. Come on, Eddy.”
I kept a hand on Eddy as we walked. I trusted the kid about as far as I could throw him. He stayed under my hand, shoulders slumped, both hang-dog and nervous. As he should be. We waited outside for a taxi. Fortunately, with us being around the palace, there was no shortage of taxis driving about hoping for customers. I was able to pile him in very quickly, giving the driver the address.
“Where to?” I prompted Eddy.
He rattled out the address, loud enough for the driver to hear, but kept his eyes on his hands. I belatedly realized the cuffs were still on and used my key to take them off. Pocketing them, I eyed him as he retreated from me.
Eddy slumped in the corner of the cab, hugging the wall as much as possible, as if afraid I’d eat him or something else ridiculous. The silence was so taut I couldn’t handle it after a while and my nerve broke. “So, the books. What books were you reading?”
He didn’t look up as he answered in a bare whisper, “There was a picture book of foreign places I liked. It had stories for each picture. And a mystery novel.”
“Ahh, mystery. Hard to put those down when you start them.”
He didn’t even nod, just sat there glumly.
Yeah, okay, that foray didn’t pan out. Try another. “Eddy, how much trouble are you going to be in with your parents?”
“Lots,” he whispered, curling in on himself tighter. “They’re already mad at me.”
“Well, you keep breaking into places you shouldn’t be. It’s rather understandable. You’ve got a job, right? Can’t you afford at least a library pass?”
Eddy shook his head glumly. “If I work, I can’t get to the library before it closes.”
“Ah. That would be a problem, alright.” I didn’t think he could afford to buy his own books either. Those weren’t exactly cheap. The printing presses were slowly becoming more and more efficient, so each year the prices in books dropped a little, but they hadn’t invented the paperback yet. It was still all leather and hardbound books. Durable, yes, but not cheap. For Eddy, buying a book would be a once-a-year treat. Anything more than that was a pipedream.
I understood the problem, but I had no solution to offer him.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how are you getting in?”
“I just can.”
“So you’re, what, just waltzing in?”
“Not through the gates, not normally,” he answered, still not looking up at me. “But I can spot places no one’s watching, and I go through them. And there’s usually a bottom floor window no one’s locked that I can slip through. After that, it’s easy.”
Easy meaning he basically had the run of the palace. Ye little gods and pink elephants, was it really that simple for him? That he could just waltz in? “Do you feel anything from the wards?”
“Not really. It tingles a little.”
Uh-oh. Yikes. Did I dare tell the guys that or not?
The cabbie pulled to a stop. I kept a hand on Eddy as I pulled him free and paid the driver. Eddy didn’t try to run, but I wasn’t sure about his reasons. Perhaps he felt like he might as well face the music? Or there was nowhere else for him to go that wouldn’t land him in more trouble. That was likely it.
The apartment was one of those narrow townhomes that stood barely fifteen feet wide and connected directly into the ones on either side. It was built from clapboard, needed a coat of paint, a pressure wash, and someone with the energy to do something about the bedraggled flower boxes attached below the windows. I knocked on the weathered front door, hoping a parent opened it. At this time of the evening, surely at least one of them was home.
A tired, thin woman opened the door. She was not obviously kin to Eddy in looks—she was fair in skin and hair—but one look at her face as she looked down at her son removed all doubt. Without a word, she raised her hand and slapped him solidly upside the head.
Eddy winced but didn’t duck, which told me it wasn’t the first time he’d been hit.
“What is WRONG with you?!” his mother screamed at him. “Gods strike me on the spot if I didn’t raise you better than this!”
I didn’t think her reaction was for show. She was on the point of tears, she was so mad. Poor lady, she was probably on the verge of trying to beat sense into him. “Ma’am? I’m Detective Edwards.”
“Detective.” She took in a deep breath, eyes closed, visibly pulling herself together. “Thank you for bringing him home. I don’t want to ask where you found him.”
Unfortunately, I had to tell her. “He broke into the palace. Again.”
Her eyes slit open like a basilisk, and the voice emanating from her was the voice of Doom. “Eddy. Get inside the house. Now.”
Eddy scurried past her, head down the entire time. Yeah, the kid was going to get it now. I’d have more faith about it sticking this time except he’d already been punished by his parents, and it clearly hadn’t made much of a dent with him. “Ma’am, you should know everyone in charge of palace security is at their wit’s end. They’re talking about shipping your son off to sea. Or incarcerating him.”
Her eyes sparked fire. When she spoke, her voice trembled with anger. “Is my son aware of that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I just wanted to tell you, as I’m sure he wouldn’t relay any of that. But he’s seriously pushed them past any sort of luck or favor. If you can’t get it through his head that what he’s doing is wrong, we’re going to have to punish him rather drastically, I’m afraid. Please be aware of this.”
“Thank you, Detective. You’re very kind for giving us the warning and not just throwing my no-account son into a cell and throwing away the key. Frankly, I’m tempted to do it myself. I’ll beat this into him if I have to. His father will certainly have some choice words to say when he gets home later.”
Eddy may or may not survive his parents’ wrath this afternoon. RIP. I’d have been concerned except I was fairly sure they wouldn’t kill the kid. She hadn’t on all the previous occasions he’d broken in somewhere, after all.
I gave her a nod and extracted myself. “Yes, ma’am.”
Stepping away from the door, I gave her every indication I was leaving. She closed the door behind me and immediately laid into her son. I crept back up the two stairs necessary to lean against the door and listen. Best technique of a detective: listening. The old adage said you never heard anything good while eavesdropping, but I’d found that to be patently untrue. Now, for instance. I learned all sorts of interesting things by eavesdropping. The least of which was just how far back Eddy’s bad habits went.
Oh yeah. We’d definitely have trouble out of this kid again.
As promised, we retreated to the lab the next morning. Seaton couldn’t stand to be on palace grounds a second longer, and I still endeavored to catch Colette up to speed. In fact, Seaton was so desperate for a diversion that he pitched in and helped us with the lab work. It was, of course, far below his position to do such tasks, but I certainly had no intention of deterring him.
As Jamie came inside, I paused her in the doorway so I could finish up the project on my side, then clea
red it so she had room to set her goodies down. She waited patiently at the yellow line, accustomed to lab protocols. With the table clear, and a barrier up to protect everything else on the surface from possible spills and crumbs, I waved her inside.
“Cinnamon rolls?” Seaton asked her hopefully.
“Two,” Jamie answered with a wink at him. “Just for you. And sun tea, sugar, apple tarts, and chocolate covered cherries for Henri.”
I descended upon the offerings with quick thanks and eager hands. The first bite was bliss. I sank into my stool with a sigh of pleasure, a sound Seaton echoed on the other side of the table.
“They wouldn’t tell me the details,” Colette stated as she helped herself to one of the teas. “Only that the troublemaker got in again.”
Jamie sipped her own tea before grimacing. “Long and short of it is, the kid’s a natural thief. Seriously, I think he’s part cat. He’s got an eye for finding the weakness in security, too much curiosity for his own good, and doesn’t seem to have any common sense to keep him in check. You know the little voice in the back of your head that warns you when something’s not a good idea? I think his is broken.”
She’d clearly spent more time speaking with the boy than I had. Now that I had chocolate, I was more inclined to look directly at the problem. “Did you speak with his parents last night?”
“His mother, yeah. Dad was still at work.” She took the stool next to mine, reaching for the box and selecting a tart. “He lives on East Side—in the poorer section, no less.”
Oh dear. I saw the problem immediately. East Side was the poorest section of the city, with few areas rivalling it. Most people there had one legitimate occupation and one illegal occupation in order to make ends meet. If he’d grown up in that environment, his moral compass might very well be warped.
Breaking and Entering 101 (The Case Files of Henri Davenforth Book 4) Page 8
