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

by Honor Raconteur

  Irvine was clearly touched and sounded on the point of tears. “Well. It seems that one really understands who one’s friends are in dire straits. I’ll thank him personally.”

  I wished I could tell him more but, frankly, all I had left were questions. “Irvine, there is a matter here I need clarified. Do you know—”

  The door clattered open, and I turned to see Jamie poke her head into the small room. “Did you ask him?”

  “Forgive me, Irvine, a moment.” I put the speaker down away from my face. “Records are being gathered by the solicitor and will be on tomorrow’s train. I was just getting to the purse.”

  Jamie slid in, and it was quite a squeeze, her shoulders overlapping on top of mine. She managed to get the door shut again, jostling Phil a bit on my other shoulder. I brought him down to rest in the crook of my arm, a safer place for him at the moment. Jamie took the phone’s receiver and placed it between our ears so we could both hear and speak to Irvine at once.

  “Hi, Irvine, I’m butting in,” she told him with her usual frankness.

  “Yes, of course. There was a question?”

  “Yeah, something we’re trying to track down. Your mother’s purse was missing in the personal effects. Miss Erin said she had it with her for the trip, but I can’t locate it.”

  His voice sounded a bit more distant now that the receiver wasn’t pressed to my own ear. “She always carried a purse. Especially on a trip down to the house, she would have had a novel on her to help pass the time.”

  “Okay, that’s what people have said as well. I’ll keep looking for it.”

  I found Jamie’s proximity to be a bit heady for my senses, for some reason. The closeness of her face to mine left me flushed and shifting, although I strove not to let it show. Really, you’d think I’d never been in close confines with her before.

  “Irvine, we’ll update you as we go, but for now, sit tight. We’re still gathering information over here. Bye for now.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  Jamie gave me a nod and extracted herself from the room again.

  I took the first full breath I had in minutes and lifted the receiver back to my ear. “I second what my partner said. Detective work is never quick, but we’ll figure this out, Irvine.”

  “Our entire family is thankful just to have you on the job. We don’t expect an immediate answer. But do tell me when you think we can bury our parents. I’m not sure how to plan a funeral at the moment.”

  Yes, of course, how stupid of me. “I’ll check in with Weber and get back to you. I hesitate to tell you a time frame at the moment.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Keep your chin up.” I rang off and sighed. That conversation had gone better than I expected, at least.

  I extracted myself from the phone room—truly, why was it so narrow in there?—and rejoined Jamie in the lobby. She stood next to the round table in the center of the room, making quick notes in the ever-present leather notebook. Clint sat at her feet much like a guard dog on watch.

  “Henri, I assume a made-for-her purse would be rather expensive, correct?” she asked, still writing something down.

  “I would assume so. Mrs. Atwood had very fine taste. Nothing she wore was inexpensive.” I realized where this was going and hummed in thought. “You think the purse possibly stolen?”

  “Fancy purse off an elderly, rich lady?” Jamie shot me a sardonic look. “Odds are good. Either from the train, while she was passing through the station, or at home after the murder. Possibly being fenced at the thieves market. Those are our options as I see it. I will bet you even money we don’t find that purse today.”

  I frowned in objection. “Surely the murderer wouldn’t be stupid enough to cart the purse away. It would directly connect them to the crime.”

  “You expect criminals to be clever?” Jamie arched a brow at me in amused challenge.

  I splayed open a hand. “You have me there. We do see far too much stupidity in our careers. I still think it unwise, too foolish for anyone to do, however.”

  “So, you’ll take the bet?”

  “That would be even more unwise,” I countered dryly. “After working with you for so long, I know better than to bet against you.”

  “No one bets against me anymore.” Jamie mock-pouted, her bottom lip stuck out in an exaggerated manner. Her head turned and she spied through the front windows of the hotel the same car I’d just noticed. “Oh, Drummond’s here. Let’s go find things.”

  As we walked for the car, I noticed we were short a cat. “Where is Tasha?”

  “She went with Penny and Gerring. She said she’d guard them and hiss at anybody who tried to interfere.” Jamie snorted amusement. “I think I named her too well. Hello, Mr. Drummond, thanks for the lift.”

  Drummond looked even older than yesterday, as if he’d aged overnight. He had not slept well, much like I hadn’t. That was apparent. But he greeted Jamie with a smile and held the front door open for her. “My pleasure, Detective. Where to?”

  “Train station, please,” she requested as she slid in. “We’ve got a missing purse to locate.”

  The trip to the station was quick, filled with small talk and nothing of importance. Drummond parked and waited outside while we went in and spoke to the station clerk at the window.

  Jamie flipped a badge open for his perusal before giving him the smile that disarmed all men upright and breathing. “Hello. Detective Jamie Edwards. I wonder if I can look at your lost and found?”

  Baby fat still clung to the clerk’s cheeks, and he looked a bit dazed under that smile. It took him a second to register her request, and then he flushed and stammered, “Uh, yes, miss. I mean, Detective. If you’ll come around to the side door, I’ll let you in. Not much in there, though.”

  “Thank you ever so much.”

  The station here was small, not meant for much traffic. It was a simple matter to go around to the narrow hallway marked Employees Only. There were only two doors, one that led into the clerk’s ticket office and another that led into the station master’s office. The clerk beat us to the door and had it open for us by the time Jamie reached it.

  The room beyond was a little cluttered, but mostly organized with a single table in the middle that served as both work space and break area. The clerk led us to the very back corner, where a cheap box sat neglected. Both Clint and Phil surrounded the box in a thrice, sticking their noses into the contents.

  “Not much in there, as I said,” the clerk said with a wave toward it. “Did you lose something, Detective?”

  “Hmm, more the case I’m working on has something missing. My victim came through here shortly before her death and I wondered if it somehow ended up here.”

  I peeked over and helped lift a baby’s jacket, a shoe—just the one, and wouldn’t someone notice a missing shoe?—and other paraphernalia. No purses of any sort.

  Clint backed out of the box and informed his master, “No sniffy.”

  “So, it wasn’t ever in there, eh? Okay, good to know. Thanks, Clint.” Jamie gave the clerk another disarming smile. “Thanks for your help.”

  The clerk was back to stammering something. We exited gracefully, heading back outside.

  “Well, we knew that was something of a long shot,” I stated as I carried Phil back out.

  “Yeah,” Jamie agreed, mouth quirked in an unhappy manner. “I still want to know where it went. Well, anyway, let’s hope we have better luck with the charms.”

  I opened the door for her, as her hands were occupied with Clint, and we returned to the car. I had no idea where to start, so as I regained the backseat, I asked, “Mr. Drummond, where would someone buy occupational charms?”

  He twisted in the leather seat, brows drawn together. “Occupational charms, sir?”

  “Like an artist’s set of charms, or binding charms—those used for storage and transportation. That type.”

  “Ah, I see. That clue you’re t
rying to follow, eh? There’s three stores I know of, sir. The closest is on Main.”

  “Then there first, please.”

  Drummond pulled out and drove us to the store in question. “I take it the purse wasn’t to be found?”

  “No, sadly,” Jamie answered calmly. “But that might mean it will make for an interesting clue. And I like interesting clues.”

  I gave her a sardonic twitch of the brow. “I’d prefer clues that connect to other clues and make logical sense.”

  Her grin back at me was sassy and mischievous. “Who says this one doesn’t? We just don’t know enough to put it in the right context.”

  I did hate it sometimes when she made sense.

  Drummond saved us by parking in front of the store. We stepped out, Felixes of course in tow because heaven forbid they be left out of anything. It was a quaint little store on the surface, sandwiched between two other stores with not an inch to spare on either side. A small chime announced us as we pushed through the wooden door and I caught a hint of magic from the charm’s use. Clever, to subtly market a doorbell charm.

  The store went further back than it first appeared, a straight shot through with another loft level accessed by stairs. The charms were displayed in a very orderly fashion on the shelves, and I was impressed with how tidy and clean the place was. No chance of accidentally overlapping the wrong charms here.

  Jamie strode straight past the front displays and to the counter on the far left, where a clerk stood waiting on patrons. The woman gave Jamie a professional smile.

  “How can I help you?”

  Jamie flashed her badge and introduced both of us with a wave. “I’m Detective Edwards, this is Dr. Davenforth. We’re trying to track down the origin of some charms. Do you sell…what was it precisely, Henri?”

  “A quick-set charm and a binding charm, something to restrain cargo,” I supplied. The cleaning charm could have come from anywhere. I wasn’t interested in inquiring about it.

  “Oh, we have a wide selection of those.” The clerk came around the counter, her steps quick and light, her heels sharp on the wooden floor as she crossed through to the far wall. “Here’s our quick-set charms. We range from something light, such as what an artist would use to seal in charcoal to paper, to something much more heavy-duty. Stone mortar construction, for instance.”

  I pulled out a wand and ran a quick diagnostic on the different charms, seeing which one matched the reading I had recorded from the crime scene. I wasn’t surprised when the artist charms, the ones meant for a light hold, were too weak in comparison. But I was a trifle surprised when the reading that showed as an exact match was the heaviest of the lot, the one for stone mortar. I’d known it to be heavy, yes, but this much? That charm could create the base of a bridge with ease.

  Jamie pointed to the same one my wand was levelled at, her eyebrows climbing in surprise. “That one? Seriously? It was a construction charm used?”

  “Interesting, is it not?” I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It could be that the charm was something at hand, something easily accessible. It could be that our murderer had no familiarity with the charms in question and so went with the safer bet of overkill.

  “I’ll say.” Jamie picked up the charm. “Let’s take one with us. And the binding charms?”

  “Oh, those are over here.” The clerk led us around to the other side of the shelves and pointed to yet another long row.

  I once again ran a diagnostic and came up with an interesting match. “The charm in this case is used for heavy lifting, such as crane operation?”

  “To hold a load in place on a pallet, yes,” the clerk informed me, no longer smiling. By her expression I could tell she was avidly curious about why two detectives were asking her such strange questions. “It’s specifically made for that, but I do understand people sometimes use it to adhere things upright, such as scaffolding, as an added safety measure.”

  “Fascinating,” I murmured. The design was ingenious, allowing the charm to be highly versatile.

  Jamie went straight to the heart of the matter. “And how common is this charm?”

  “I believe two of my competitors also carry it. Although we have the better price.” The clerk gestured wildly to indicate the town as a whole. “We’ve had something of a construction boom here recently, starting last year, and these charms sell very well. I always keep a healthy stock of them.”

  “So, they’re relatively common.” Jamie sighed. “Just once, I want a super rare charm for a clue.”

  I chuckled at her, amused by the resignation already in her expression. “We can’t always have super rare clues, Jamie.”

  “Bite your tongue. We totally can.” Shaking it off, she gave a smile to the clerk. “I want one of those too, if you don’t mind. Thanks. And can you give me a list of who all bought them in the past month or so?”

  She went to the counter to pay for the charms and I trailed after her, thinking. Jamie’s complaint to the contrary, this clue might be helpful if we could slot it into the overall picture. The question I had to find an answer to was simply thus: were the charms a deliberate choice or something readily at hand?

  We all convened at the hotel, in our borrowed conference room, to check in with each other. McSparrin and Gerring had been following up on the alibis for the staff members. Jamie and I had visited all three charm shops and conferred with the owners, amassing a list of some fifteen companies that had all bought construction charms in the past month. It may or may not be a lead at this point. We’d have to see.

  Jamie had her notebook out and ready to jot things down as she sat across the table from the other two. “And how did it go?”

  “Rm Seaton can certainly be scary when he’s of the mind to. They didn’t dare not hand them over.”

  “Pity,” Seaton allowed with a theatrical sigh of disappointment. “I was so looking forward to turning them all into frogs.”

  “You said as much, too,” McSparrin drawled with a smile. “I think that, more than anything, is what convinced them. So, we have the files now but haven’t had much chance to go through them. We chose to follow up on the staff alibis before digging in. All the staff had strong alibis,” McSparrin reported factually. “The gardener wasn’t even in town. I think we’re chasing the wrong tails on that one.”

  “I had a feeling,” Jamie admitted. “They were all pretty distraught, and none of them had issue with the Atwoods. Okay. Did you get badges from them all? And house keys?”

  “Yes, here.” Gerring pulled them out of a pocket and put them on the table.

  “Good, helps keep the crime scene secure. Alright, well, we hit up three charm stores. Turns out the quick-set charm is something used rather often in construction. Helps with mortar and footings and things. I made the mistake of making a noise of interest at the second store and got to hear allll about it.”

  I tried not to smile. The store owner really had been overly enthusiastic, straining Jamie’s patience severely. “The upside is that we have a list of people who have purchased this charm in the past month.”

  Pointing to himself, Gerring looked between the two of us. “I take it you want us to tackle that next?”

  “If you don’t mind. Just ask them where they were the night of the murder, see if anyone leaps out at you. We’ll follow up if anything sparks. Right now, we just don’t have many leads to pursue.”

  “And the list might not be accurate or helpful.” I felt it only fair to warn them that. “Commercial grade charms can store for years, if handled with care. The murderer could well have used this because they already had it at hand. Or they purchased it on purpose. We simply don’t know at this point.”

  “Fair enough.” McSparrin held out a hand and Jamie passed the list promptly to her. “We’ll tackle this next, then.”

  Jamie also passed over the charms she purchased from the first store. “To save confusion, show them these charms when you’re asking.”

  “Helpful,” McSparrin noted,
tucking them in with the list. “Thank you. And what will the two of you be doing?”

  Jamie growled in vexation. “Trying to drum up a lead.”

  Seaton and I gathered in his room, far from the others. Because he had joined us later, his room wasn’t in the same hallway as the rest of ours. It worked out well in this case, as we didn’t want Jamie or the Felixes anywhere within hearing for this experiment.

  Especially as I gave it even odds it would not work out as we intended.

  I commandeered the desk in order to lay out our notes, double-checking both spells and calculations. Belladonna’s notes were haphazard at best, and Burton’s research only half-finished. We’d had the worst time putting it all together, and I didn’t think reviewing it one more time would hurt anything. As I went over the spells, Seaton busied himself with the physical preparations, as of course we’d need something to anchor all the spells to.

  Seaton opened a case on top of the bed, a wooden box that he proceeded to unfold like a puzzle box, opening the mouth of it wider and wider. I heard the flip and flop, the release of catches, for a few seconds before the sounds actually penetrated and I identified them. Then I turned sharply in my chair, hand braced along the back of it, staring at his case with considerable alarm. “Seaton! For magic’s sake, man, did you really stick a scrying mirror into a portable dimensional space?!”

  He flapped a hand at me as if I were overexaggerating matters. “It’s fine, I warded it.”

  “I don’t care if you warded it!” I rolled my eyes. “For all of your genius, you do take the stupidest risks.”

  “It’s fine, I tell you. I do this all the time.”

  I stared at him some more with blatant disapproval. I was not amused by his cavalier attitude. The very idea of a magical object made for transference magic being mixed in with transdimensional magic was absolutely absurd. It was a wonder he hadn’t either destroyed his connection to his portable case—losing access to everything inside—or cracked his scrying mirror.