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

by Honor Raconteur

  She snorted a laugh. “That’s true. Normally that’s your line. Argh, I guess there’s no helping it. And I kind of want to go just so I can hear some more gossip. Drummond’s only told me so much.”

  Gossip often led us onto paths of inquiry we wouldn’t otherwise think of. She had a good point about going for that reason alone. I rubbed her arm gently. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to skip it. I’d never hear the end of it if I tried.”

  “I won’t make you do social things alone,” she assured me with a pat on my chest.

  “You’re far better at small talk than I am, so I do appreciate that. Shall we review more cases or do you want to take a break until we go?”

  She gave a small sound of disagreement. “Neither. I need to write a report of everything that happened while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

  “An excellent point. Do that, and I’ll go back to reviewing.” I gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll sort this out, my dear. Don’t lose heart.”

  “It’s more that I’m trying not to murder people,” she sighed before pulling herself upright and standing.

  “Yes, don’t do that either.” I waited but didn’t get an agreement. Oh dear. Perhaps I should have prepared more than one slice of cake. She did look better than she had, though. Revived, in a sense. It made me happy even if I wished we’d been able to linger in that moment a touch longer.

  We returned to the table, Jamie writing her report with ferocious speed. Really, it was a wonder she didn’t wear grooves into the wood. I sat nearby and read through the court cases, but they were older now, five years into the past. The accounts were petty things, too. Truly, it made me embarrassed that anyone I considered a friend would sue someone over such petty matters. Why hadn’t they found a different way? Was Mr. Atwood really so addicted to winning in court that he’d found reasons to sue? It looked that way to me.

  People trickled back in, Gerring first, with a dusting of crumbs on his shirt from something he’d devoured. Then Seaton and McSparrin. Jamie finished her account and passed it to me for a grammar check, which I was willing to do. Then she pulled some of the reports from Gerring’s side and started reading through them.

  The room fell quiet with everyone reading and occasionally getting up to write a name on the chalkboard. Time passed incrementally, seeming to ooze by before I heard a growl from my partner’s throat.

  “Gerring, has anyone else gone to these B&E’s?” Jamie demanded of him. “I keep only seeing Lawler’s name on the reports.”

  Gerring looked just as disgusted. “No, it’s just him. The reports are getting shorter, too. Just an address, date, estimated time, and a list of what property was stolen. I don’t think he even tried to ascertain how the thief got onto the property. You know what this looks like.”

  Tossing down the report in her hand, Jamie glared at it hotly enough it was a wonder it didn’t set on fire. “I do. And he’s not even trying to cover his tracks. No wonder he tried to prevent us from taking these files.”

  Seaton lifted a finger to call attention to himself. “Are you assuming the policeman himself stole these items? Or was simply getting a cut of the profits?”

  “Could be either.” Gerring stroked his chin, thinking aloud. “I wonder if this is the real reason why the thief was let go? Because they knew we had these files, and if we started comparing the thief’s story of what he stole with the records, we’d figure out there was a mismatch. Things wouldn’t add up.”

  “It’s entirely possible.” Jamie tapped fingers against the table, a rhythmic sound of frustration. “Or it could be his story of seeing a policeman at the Atwood residence. I’m now putting more credence on that part of the tale. Oh, crap, I hope they really did let Hartley go. Instead of killing him to silence a witness. Did anyone tell them what Hartley said?”

  We all shook our heads no.

  Jamie blew out a breath, looking relieved. “Then maybe he really was let go. Not that we’re likely to ever see him again and ascertain that. But that begs a few questions. Assuming a policeman is committing the burglaries himself, what happened at the Atwood house? Did he break in to steal, get surprised by the owners, and kill them to hide his crime? Or did he arrive at the wrong moment to find two dead people and no murderer, and panic?”

  “And staged their bodies in that strange way?” I frowned, trying to think of this without allowing emotion to skew my judgment. “It’s true, we still haven’t found a good reason for that.”

  “I’ve said from the start I thought it was a red herring, something to throw us off the trail. It makes sense in this light, if it’s someone trying to cover their tracks.” Jamie looked around the table, hands splayed. “Anyone have another theory they want to throw into the hat?”

  “I feel like it has to be one of those two.” McSparrin jerked a thumb to indicate the officer’s name on the board. “But I’m not sure if it was him. That seems too stupid, to leave such an obvious trail.”

  “People can be stupid. Or cocky. Usually stupid.” Jamie rubbed a hand over her face before sitting up. “Alright, I’m out of time today. I need to go upstairs and get ready for a dinner party. Gerring, you and I need to find a way to check Lawler’s alibi. Not from a fellow officer—those guys are thick as thieves.”

  I gave her a glance askance. “Did you intend for that pun?”

  “It’s actually an expression where I’m from.” She gave me a crooked smile. “But apt in this case. Guys, I’ve already reported this to Gregson, and he told me they’re investigating the captain here. As bad as it is now, I think it’s going to get worse before we can solve this case and leave. So, watch your backs, okay?”

  “Worse,” Penny said in despair, sinking back in her chair. “It’s already uncomfortable, and you’re saying it can get worse?”

  “Now, Penny, you know you like a challenge.” Jamie gave her a large, mocking smile.

  Her former student gave her a glare. “I’m going to stop helping you. You only draw the ridiculous cases.”

  “Part and parcel of my ridiculous reputation. They kind of go hand in hand.” She stood, putting a hand on my shoulder and leaning in to say in a lower tone, “See you in the lobby in an hour?”

  I turned my head slightly in her direction. “We’ll meet there.” Pulling out my watch, I checked the time and grimaced. I should shave and freshen up myself before going. “I must stop as well. Do you all have matters well in hand?”

  All three nodded, but it was Seaton who answered, “I think we’re not far from stopping for the day ourselves. And I promise you, none of us will go out of the hotel alone. I think we’d best take precautions.”

  As much as I wished to refute that, it did seem wise. And how incredibly sad was that? Reminded, I paused to ask, “If we do find a witness, can you portal them to Kingston for us? To hold, since we can’t do so at the jail here.”

  Seaton blinked at the change of topic, then nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “Thank you. Then good evening, everyone.” I gave them a slight smile before turning and heading out of the room. I somehow acquired a Phil as I walked, trotting at my heels much like a well-trained dog.

  The kitten turned his face up toward me. “Go with you?”

  “What, to the dinner party?” I couldn’t imagine why he would wish to.

  “Yes.”

  Then again, I suppose he must be curious. It was a new world to him. And he might prove an excellent topic to divert people onto if they started asking Jamie uncomfortable questions about Belladonna, as people were wont to do. “If you wish, then by all means.”

  His tail flicked in a happy manner, expression pleased.

  I’d lay a wager that by the end of this interminable evening, he’d rather wish he hadn’t invited himself along.

  I was halfway through getting ready for the evening when there was a knock on the door.

  “Jamie?” Penny called through the door.

  “Come on in, I’m naked!” I called back che
erfully.

  There was an audible pause.

  Chuckling at my own joke, I managed, “I’m kidding, fully dressed. Come in.”

  Penny stuck her head around first, peering doubtfully into the room, but when she found me at the petite lady’s dressing table, doing my makeup, she rolled her eyes and came properly in. “Don’t say that to Dr. Davenforth. He’ll faint.”

  “Naw, he’s used to my warped sense of humor. What’s up?” I had to focus as I drew on the eyeliner. One wrong move, and I would have a pretty black line all over my face.

  Penny sat on the edge of the bed, her expression one of trying to figure out how to properly phrase something. “You do realize that you’re being very flirty with him?”

  “With Henri? Any more than this, I’ll have to get a clue bat out.”

  Penny made a soft huffing sound. “So, it is on purpose. I wondered. He looks both pleased and a little…I don’t know the word for it. Eager? Nervous? Some mix of the two.”

  I felt the same way. A little eager, a little nervous, making for a heady cocktail in my system. But I was determined to try. I felt like I was in limbo these days with him. Like we both found excuses not to say something to the other. And it had to stop. One of us had to make a freaking move.

  “I’m a little surprised by it,” Penny mused.

  I drew a line on the other eyelid. “Why?”

  “Because you’re not the type of person to hesitate if you want something. You and he have been friends and partners for years now. I thought maybe you weren’t really interested in having a romantic relationship with him.”

  “I’ve found Henri very attractive from the beginning. But I had too much going on, you know? A new world, a new culture, a new language, a new job—way too much to process. I couldn’t handle one more thing. And honestly, I wanted to get a good grip on that before I tried for something else. I feel like trying to juggle a relationship on top of everything else would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  “What’s a camel?”

  I flapped a hand at her. Unimportant. “Mule’s back. Whatever. My point is, I wanted to get my feet properly under me first. Then try for him.”

  “It’s entirely sensible. Risky, but sensible. How did you know he wouldn’t find someone else before you were ready?”

  I stopped putting on my makeup to give her a speaking look. “The man who views social activities as torture? You think he’s going to meet lots of women?”

  “That’s…a good point.” Penny shook her head. “I just know him as this very polite, well-connected man who’s a sweetheart. If a woman properly got to know him, it’d be obvious he’s good husband material.”

  “Fortunately for me, he likes to hide at home with his books most of the time. Saves me the effort of finding a big stick.” A random flash of doubt had me frozen for a moment. I paused and glanced at her. “You do think he’s interested?”

  Penny’s expression spoke volumes.

  “That was a stupid question, I take it.”

  “The stupidest question I’ve ever heard from you,” she informed me, dry as the Sahara. “If you had any idea how that man looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, you wouldn’t even entertain that doubt.”

  “I really wish I had eyes in the back of my head.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “No, I guess I don’t.”

  “Besides,”—Penny put a hand to her chest, puffed up with pride and a devilish gleam in her eye—“that’s what your friends are for. To observe and report. And you’re really looking lovely tonight. Are you going to try for him?”

  “Yeah. Maybe. If I feel like the mood is right.” I blew out a nervous breath, looking myself over in the mirror. I did look good tonight, and a lot of effort went into that. It boosted my confidence. “Wish me luck?”

  “You’re not going to need it.” Penny was completely confident in that.

  I wished I shared it.

  Even after years of being on this world, putting on a dress somehow felt just like preparing for a Renaissance Faire. The eight poofy layers probably had something to do with it. I had to adjust both my gait and how I stood and maneuvered with all this extra bulk to contend with. I found myself defaulting to the same behaviors as the other women in this culture. Like accepting a hand into a car. That was actually helpful, what with me wrestling multiple layers of skirts through a narrow car opening.

  The dress was pretty, though, and one of my favorites, made of a rich hunter-green velvet that was soft to the touch. The fitted waist and flared skirts made me look like I had one of those tiny corset-waists, and I’d kept the lace down to just an accent at the bottom of the hem. It was elegant in an Audrey Hepburn way and made the girl in me happy. Putting the dress on also got me in a party mood. I felt a tingle of anticipation about tonight, and not just because I hoped it would help with the case.

  Evening parties always had excellent desserts, after all.

  Besides, there was something about me in a dress that put a little sparkle in Henri’s expression. Not that he was adamant about women being ‘properly’ dressed—he well understood some of us preferred pants and to be able to move without layers of petticoats tripping us up. But every time I put on a dress and got spiffied up, he always looked me over in an admiring way.

  Even I could admit that look gave a boost to my ego.

  Usually he only silently admired, but tonight he actually spoke the words. “You look enchanting this evening, my dear.”

  “Why thank you, Henri.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in this particular dress before.”

  “Oh, no, it’s relatively new. Your mother and sister took me shopping. I wore it to a dinner party last month and it’s proving to be a favorite.”

  His eyes roved over me again from head to toe. “I can see why. But you managed to fit all that into your suitcase? Ah, of course, Seaton put a dimensional awareness spell on your suitcase.”

  I winked at him. “You’re quick.”

  As we pulled around the long drive of the Cromwell’s home, Drummond again driving us, I looked over the house. It wasn’t the type to really sprawl like the Atwoods’ house had. This one stood three stories, looking very English manor with all its straight, boxy lines and imposing stone. If not for the flower beds and trees softening the impression, I’d think it a government building.

  “I’m just as glad Phil isn’t with us this evening,” Henri remarked, almost rhetorically.

  I gave him a look askance. “Was he supposed to be?”

  “He asked earlier if he could come along. And then promptly fell asleep on my bed while I dressed. He was sleeping so deeply, I didn’t have the heart to wake him.”

  “Ah. Well, it’s probably better he’s sleeping. Kittens need a lot of sleep, and after sunbathing all day, he’s got enough fuel to grow.”

  “Speaking of, are you doing the daily measurements Felix asked of you?”

  I grimaced. He would think to ask me that. “No. I forgot yesterday. Too much is going on. And it’s not like changes occur day-to-day anyway.”

  He gave a hum of agreement. “No living creature has obvious earmarks of growth on a daily basis. I think his cautious nature encouraged you to track daily measurements.”

  “No doubt.” It wasn’t that Felix reminded me of a mad scientist, precisely. It was more he reminded me of a comic book scientist, like Mr. Fantastic, who got so absorbed in theories and experiments he didn’t always grasp the common sense side of things.

  Drummond slowed in front of the main door to let us out. A butler—a werefox who looked very dignified with the silver in his black fur—stepped forward to open the door. When he offered a hand, I took it. Maneuvering eight layers of fabric out of a square car door was something of a logistical trick, let me tell you. Those courtesy manners of the gentlemen actually did have a purpose and weren’t just for show.

  “Detective Edwards, I presume,” the butler greeted me,
his voice smooth and rich like honey. “Doctor Davenforth. My masters are very excited to have you this evening. May I assume the portrait is in the boot?”

  “No, it’s riding up front,” I corrected, fluffing my skirt back into position now that I was free of the car. “We felt it was safer there.”

  “I’ll collect it and bring it in. Jameson, if you’ll show them in?”

  “Of course, sir,” a young and spritely looking boy of about fourteen agreed from the front door. He wore a similar uniform of black with silver edging. I sensed a theme.

  I followed Jameson inside, where he took my coat as well as Henri’s before leading us properly into the house, which was just as formidable looking on the inside. Honestly, if I hadn’t known better, I would have mistaken it for a museum. The place had that cavernous, empty feel, with choice pieces of artwork displayed on different white walls or on their own pedestal in corners. The display of wealth was very obvious here.

  The Davenforths were wealthy and well-connected; I’d always known that. But I never really felt it in their home, not like here. Their house was large and well-decorated, but done in a way that it actually felt like a home. I didn’t get that sense here at all. How did anyone even live in this building comfortably?

  Henri, at least, seemed perfectly at ease. He strode through with a pleasant expression. But then, he’d likely been in this house dozens of times before. This place wasn’t a stranger to him.

  The sitting parlor could be used as a model for still life paintings with its perfect arrangements of delicate-looking chairs and sofas, a fire crackling in the fireplace. We’d barely stepped foot in the room when a middle-aged woman with platinum blonde hair in an updo and a heart-shaped face sprang to her feet and crossed quickly to us.

  “Henri, it’s so good to see you! It’s been ages.” She grasped his hand and kissed both cheeks. “And you’re looking so well, too. I do believe you’ve lost a bit of weight, haven’t you?”

  “You try keeping up with her,” Henri retorted, throwing me a wink. “It’s an exercise regime in and of itself. Mrs. Cromwell, meet my partner, Detective Jamie Edwards. Jamie, Julia Cromwell.”