Three Charms for Murder (The Case Files of Henri Davenforth Book 5)

by Honor Raconteur

  “I take it nothing like this existed in your home country?”

  “You bet your britches it didn’t! I mean, we had fences and stuff, but that wasn’t legal either! OMG, I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”

  McSparrin grinned at her. “You look like it, too.”

  “Shut up, this isn’t funny.” Jamie threw up her hands. “And when is this thieves’ market again?”

  “It’s not just stolen items,” Gerring protested. “Other things are sold there too.”

  Giving him an arch look, she repeated, “And when is it held?”

  “Usually every weekend, starting on Scribe Day.”

  “Two days from now, eh? Alright, let’s attend it. Sounds like we need to just to cover our bases.” Jamie passed a hand over her face and muttered something about “ridiculous” and “thieves’ market, for crying out loud.”

  I chose not to comment.

  Mr. Drummond returned and I greeted him with a smile. “We’ve a few interviews to attend to here. Afterwards, if you could drive us to the hotel? We need to settle in a little, have dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “I thank you, sir, but I need to go home and have dinner with the wife. She’ll be wondering where I got to if I don’t come home on time. I’ll drive you to the hotel and be at your service again in the morning.”

  “Detective work is a lot of legwork,” Jamie warned him. “And with four of us, we’ll be going every direction at once.”

  He gave her a determined smile. “I’m up for it, Detective.”

  “You know, I rather think you are. Alright, Mr. Drummond, we’ll be glad to have your help.”

  The real estate agent, Abigail Morven, met us at the house right around the time we completed our initial investigation. A pleasingly plump woman, her face gave off the impression that she was normally cheerful and all smiles, but those smiles were very absent today. She wore a day dress of muted grey and clutched her purse to her stomach as if she needed something to hold onto.

  I met her in the driveway with an outstretched hand. “Detective Edwards, thanks for coming.”

  “Anything to help, Detective.” Abigail looked around the house uneasily. “I don’t mind saying I wouldn’t have come at all without the assurance of your protection while here.”

  “Considering what happened here, I don’t blame you.” She gave Clint an odd look, so I introduced the two of them. “Clint, Abigail Morven. Ms. Morven, this is my field cat. Think of him rather like a familiar for me.”

  “Oh.” She looked dubiously down at the Felix. “Hello, Clint.”

  “Hello,” Clint chirped back.

  As she stared down at him, I indicated silently, asking Clint if this was the person at the pool door. He shook his head minutely. No go, huh? Well, I had a feeling it wasn’t her anyway.

  I didn’t normally play the part of a gentleman, of course, but I felt it right to offer her an elbow. She took it promptly, latching onto me with a grip strong enough to threaten circulation. Her face was pale, too, almost grey. Definitely unnerved to be here. “I promise you we’re going to get you through this as quickly as possible. It’s just that you were first on scene. I trust what you saw over anyone else’s account.”

  “I quite understand. I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you.” I walked her toward the door, but slowly. I wanted her mind to go back to that day and time when she first entered. “Was there anything about the house that seemed at all off to you? Weird in any way?”

  “No, nothing untoward at all. I did see Mr. Drummond’s car—I’d told him the night before I had clients to show that day. He said he’d make sure the place was tidy and wait for me to finish showing it. But he told me later he only went through the front foyer, did some light dusting in the living room. He didn’t venture very far into the house.”

  “Okay. Did you see any other sign of someone being here?”

  She shook her head. “It looked precisely as it did the last three times I showed it.”

  Hence why she hadn’t thought anything of going right in. Right. “Okay, so you unlocked the front door and went in?”

  “No, I didn’t need to. Mr. Drummond had already unlocked it.”

  Of course, made sense. “So, you just walked in. Gotcha.” We did that ourselves, stepping through the front door before I kicked it closed behind us. “And then where did you go?”

  “To the left, to show my clients the library and billiards room.”

  We walked that direction, and she showed me where they went, every step of the way. As we came back through the dining room, I pointed toward the table. “The two chairs in the pool house were from here. You didn’t notice them missing?”

  “I did,” Abigail admitted, face screwing up. “I thought Mr. Drummond might have removed them for some reason. I’m afraid I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

  Granted, I wouldn’t have found it suspicious either. “Did you see absolutely anything out of place?”

  “No. No, I’m sad to say I didn’t. At this point, we didn’t go toward the pool house, but out of the morning room’s doors.” She took me outside and onto the covered patio. “It’s very picturesque out here, even with the winter we’ve just had. I wanted to show it to my clients. And then we headed back in.”

  “Did you lock this door behind you?”

  Abigail shook her head. “No, why?”

  I breathed in, then out. It just figured that none of the details in that report were really accurate. Only one door unlocked, my left eyeball. “The police seemed to think only the pool house door was unlocked. Did they ask you any questions?”

  “No, I was never once interviewed by them.”

  Now that just freakin’ figured. “Alright, after you went through here, then where did you go?”

  “Through the study, here, and then to the pool house.” She led the way, then stopped dead at the door. “I didn’t go further than here. All I could see were their backs. And still…I could sense something was dreadfully wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “You don’t need to try.” It was obvious when someone was dead. More than stillness, the lack of life itself was glaring. “This is rather a disgusting question, so I apologize in advance, but did you smell anything? Or see something on the floor?”

  She blinked at me, then snapped her fingers, realization dawning. “Yes, there was something of a smell coming out of the room. And puddles of liquid under both of their chairs. I didn’t really note it at the time.”

  Meaning the coroner really had used the cleaning charm—and at the crime scene, no less. May he die a thousand deaths and hang on Satan’s bedroom wall like a tapestry. “I sort of suspected that might be the case. Thank you, Ms. Morven. I’m going to give you my card. I’ve written which hotel I’m staying at on the back of it. It could very well be that you’ll think of something else after you’ve left. Please call me if you do, no matter the time.”

  “I will, Detective. And thank you.” Her voice turned a little rough around the edges as she looked away. “I’m so glad to have been asked, truthfully. This was a very disturbing thing to have happen. I want justice for them. And their children.”

  “We’ll do our best to deliver.”

  I escorted her back to her car and saw her off. As she drove out, Drummond drove back in. I stayed planted and waited to see what Penny and Gerring had dug up at the station. They’d gone to collect any murder case files for the past ten years, something we could check through. As soon as Penny hopped out of the car, my stomach sank.

  “What?” I asked in a tone that made it clear I didn’t expect good news.

  “They wouldn’t let us check the files,” she reported flatly.

  “Of course they wouldn’t,” I sighed. “Alright, come in. We have staff interviews to do in about twenty minutes.”

  Gerring rounded the car, looking a little murdery. But also hopeful. “Did Ms. Morven have anything of note to add?”

  “Not
much. She didn’t see anything odd, although she did confirm the cleaning charm was used by the coroner. Rot his soul. She also mentioned unlocking the morning room door. Mr. Drummond, did you lock that back?”

  Drummond stared at me for two full seconds before his head flopped forward. “Detective, a thousand apologies. It was so automatic to lock the house back up after the police left, I didn’t think of it.”

  Had a feeling. “Don’t beat yourself up. Shock is a doozy of a drug. You probably were on autopilot at that point. But two unlocked doors were not on the report, and Ms. Morven told me she wasn’t asked a single question. Which basically confirms what we already know. Investigation was beyond shoddy.”

  “If she unlocked that one, did she unlock the pool house door too?” Penny asked, looking torn about the possibility of a ‘yes.’

  “She did not. Clint says she didn’t smell familiar, either.”

  Clint, sitting at my feet, gave a firm nod in support of this. “Not her.”

  Henri came around the side of the house at that moment, Phil riding his shoulder. He apparently had caught part of this conversation, as he pitched in, “None of the windows are open, either.”

  He’d doubled-checked those while I was walking the real estate agent around. Just in case. “No signs of footprints anywhere?”

  “None. The murderer didn’t get in that way.”

  How they entered was really starting to bug me. I thought about it, thought about how I would get in, and the obvious answer hit me. I swear, I’ve been on this planet too long. I was starting to think in magical lines. “Okay, guys. I think we’re assuming too much here. We keep saying nothing was unlocked, or nothing looks forced open. But locks can be picked. And easily, too.”

  Only Henri’s face immediately cleared. “Ah, yes. I tend to forget that.”

  “You tend to forget that because you rely on unlocking spells.” I grinned at him.

  Penny made a doubtful noise in the back of her throat. Gerring also didn’t seem to buy into this readily. But then, they were used to smash-and-grab robberies. People weren’t really known for finesse on the streets. It wasn’t the kind of criminal they had experience with.

  “Right.” I held out a hand to Penny. “Two bobby pins, if you please. I’ll show you how it’s done. But you have to promise to use what I’m about to teach you for good and not evil.”

  Well used to my antics, they both lifted a hand like they were swearing on a Bible and intoned in unison, “We swear.”

  “Such good grasshoppers you are.” Accepting the pins from Penny, I headed for the kitchen door, which was closest. Also still locked. I unbent one of the bobby pins until it formed an L-shape. That would be my tension wrench. Then I straightened out the other as much as I feasibly could without breaking the flimsy metal. I slid the tension wrench into the bottom of the lock, holding it steady. Then I slid it in the top, slowly wriggling the top part of the lock by using a gentle up-and-down motion. I heard a series of clicks as the various pins in the lock raised.

  Like magic, the tension wrench suddenly rotated freely, and the door unlocked. I swung it open as proof and then stood, waving toward it like a stage magician. “See?”

  Gerring swore in his native tongue before stepping closer to examine the lock. “There’s really not a trace of a sign you just did that.”

  Making a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Penny’s eyes flared wide in alarm. “I suddenly feel the need to reinforce my locks at home. That was disturbing, how easily you did that.”

  “Chain locks,” I told her. “Chain locks are much harder to get around. And deadbolts. Any single-tumbler lock, like this one, is pretty easy to defeat. More’s the pity. But you all see now why I don’t think we should fixate on how they got into the house?”

  “I certainly do,” Drummond grumbled, glaring at the lock as if it had just personally not only offended him, but his mother as well.

  Henri shook his head. “Your point is made, I think. But I do believe we should focus on how they got through the wards.”

  “That’s going to be the tell,” I agreed, bending the bobby pins back into place so I could return them to Penny. “The wards aren’t as easy to defeat. And I have a feeling once we figure out how they got past the wards, we’ll have half our answer as to who did this.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Henri looked up and past me, his attention drawn to the sound of a bicycle on the driveway. “I think the first of our staff members has arrived. Let’s hope someone knows something.”

  Truly. We were sadly bereft of clues in this case.

  And somehow, we had to pry those case files out of the Deems Precinct. Although at this moment, I wasn’t sure how. “Good. Gerring, go escort whoever just arrived, if you would.”

  “Sure, Detective.”

  I decided an interview at the kitchen table was probably the friendliest approach and would set the right tone. Not to mention avoid contaminating the rest of the scene more than it already had been. But after waiting several minutes, and no Gerring, I grew a little worried. Where was he? He wasn’t dealing with some hysterical staff member on his own, was he?

  Worried enough to check, I had Henri wait at the table as I jogged outside and down the driveway. With all the trees shading the drive, it took me a while to see what was going on.

  Have you ever heard something, and despite the fact that you couldn’t make out anything distinctly, you instinctively knew it was trouble? As I walked the grounds of the Atwood estate, I heard an overlap of voices, all semi-shouting. The cacophony of noise was distinctly unique to a gang of reporters all trying to be heard over each other. You couldn’t mistake it for anything else.

  I groaned even before I had them fully in view. It figured they’d catch on sooner or later that we were here. But who had they caught?

  Backed up against the property wards was Gerring. Crap on a stick. And on all sides were a ring of reporters about three deep. I doubted Deems had this many reporters, so odds were people from the major papers had come in from various towns for the story.

  I was honestly past wondering how they knew to be here. Reporters seemed to have their own methods of scenting out a story. I just wished them to leave us alone so we could work. And how had they caught Gerring, anyway?

  I couldn’t leave him out here for the vultures to pick at, so I stalked forward. He heard me coming, as did the reporters, and they started yelling out my name. Gerring stepped back with distinct relief, allowing me to face them.

  What I would prefer to do was build a blanket fort, loaded with snacks and a good book, but that was the sulky part of adulting.

  Resigned, I put on my big girl pants and faced them down. “You’ve got ten minutes to ask your questions and then I shut you down. Be quick.”

  Gerring, the rat, promptly hid behind me. Then again, he wasn’t used to dealing with these guys as much as I was.

  Some woman called out from the back, “What are you doing here, Detective Edwards?”

  “Investigating the Atwood murders.”

  Frustrated, the front two reporters demanded in almost unison, “The Atwood case was deemed a murder-suicide.”

  “That was an erroneous assumption on the part of the Deems PD.” And since I currently held no love for them, I had no problem throwing them under the bus. “They don’t have a magical examiner out here and missed a lot of clues they shouldn’t have. This is definitely not a murder-suicide. Both Mr. and Mrs. Atwood were murdered by person or persons unknown.”

  “What was the motive—”

  “Was this a robbery gone wrong—”

  “Can you tell us—”

  I overrode them before they could turn into the seagulls from Finding Nemo, just shouting the same thing over and over. “Guys, guys, stop. I’ve been on this case for two hours. I don’t know. I know very little at this point. I have only a few facts to give you. First, this is a double homicide, as I said. Second, it doesn’t look like we have any witnesses. Third, m
agical charms were used in the murder. That’s it. That’s what I know at this point.”

  “Did a magician kill them?”

  “Highly doubtful. Charms were used—charms anyone can buy and use.”

  “Did the Deems PD ask you to come in and reinvestigate?”

  “No. We’re here because Irvine Atwood came and asked for jurisdiction of this case to be transferred to Kingston’s Fourth Precinct. He wanted a magical examiner to reinvestigate the case.”

  And I had absolutely no intention of giving them more information than that. I didn’t even want to give them Henri’s name because if they heard Davenforth, they might start hassling Henri’s family. Reporters were nervy that way. “Alright, I’m done. Time’s up. Go write your articles. I’ve got two murders to solve.”

  Snagging Gerring by the elbow, I dragged him back down the driveway. He stopped me midway.

  “We can’t actually leave,” Gerring pointed out. “The staff members will get caught by them.”

  “Ah cripes.” I let out a huff, glaring at the still hopeful reporters lurking about. “Yeah. That’s probably wise. Let’s wait here and escort them through.”

  A flamethrower would be super handy about now.

  The hotel, as expected of a tourist trap, was nice. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say I was in the Swiss Alps somewhere. The hotel backed against a picturesque mountain range dusted with snow. Deems, I was told, was known for its outdoor recreational activities, and skiing was on the top of the list. I kept eyeing those mountains through the window and scheming how I could get up there. I hadn’t gone skiing in years, even before I left Earth. And yeah, the equipment was sure to be different here, but at the same time, with my enhancements, it was sure to be fun.

  I plopped my cats down on my queen-sized bed with its fluffy duvet of slate blue, and they popped out of the basket as if dying to be free of its confines. Likely the case. As they bounded out and started investigating our spacious room, I took a minute to unpack my bags and hang things up before they could get wrinkled beyond repair. The suits had fared alright, but the dress might need an iron taken to it.