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

by Honor Raconteur

  Sure sounded that way to me. But I was playing bad cop and couldn’t say that. “So, what was installed, the 9000 or the new model?”

  “9000. They didn’t complain about it when it was installed. Only after, during the court case.” Tilford gave me a mutinous glare. “So, I don’t have anything to say about that safe, Detective. Because after I installed the thrice-cursed thing, I didn’t touch it. Nor did I want to.”

  Henri’s tone was low and soothing, drawing Tilford’s attention back to him. “Was it fire-rated?”

  “Oh yes. You could pour molten steel over that thing and it would protect the contents.”

  “Is there any way to open it after it’s been through a fire?”

  “Only if you’re coming in from the back. There’s a safety release so you can manually open it. Assuming you have the right key—otherwise it locks the entire thing up and there’s no way to get in after that.”

  Interesting to note. We might need to know that if we had to get into the safe. I pulled out a pad and wrote that for Sherard, since he was still at the property.

  “Mr. Tilford, by chance, was the ward up during construction?” Henri tried for a casual tone, but I knew him too well to be fooled by that genial question.

  “Oh yes. Started from the day of construction, in fact.” Tilford shook his head. “They were careful in that sense. Not that we had much trouble around here about things walking off during construction. We all had those ward passes to let us through. Why?”

  “Do you know for a fact all those badges were turned back in after the job was done?”

  Tilford shrugged his ignorance. “I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t over that. I turned mine in to Morton. He was keeping a log for his own records. Why? Oh, right, someone had to be able to get through that ward to set the fire. Didn’t think of that. Well, if it’s a suspect you’re looking for, it’s not me. Morton can tell you, I no longer have the ability to get on that property.”

  We’d confirm that with Morton, but nothing about Tilford raised alarms for me. “Can you tell me where you were on the 14th, Hex Day?”

  “Here,” he indicated with a wave to the building. “Had a shipment come in; we were all here late putting it away. I think I left out of here about nine o’clock at night. At that point, we all went home.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “My brother, his son, and our two employees. My brother and I walked home together, as we live on the same street. You can confirm with them.”

  “I’ll need to, thank you.” I pulled out a business card from my coat pocket and passed it to him. “If you think of anything, can you let me know?”

  He took it with a wry look. We both knew he’d never call. “Sure, Detective. You have a good day.”

  “Thank you. You as well.” We went next door and spoke to two different employees, verifying the alibi. It all very quickly checked out, and in five minutes flat I had crossed another suspect off the list. I blew out a breath as we exited the store. “Yeah, not him. Although that’s interesting about the ward passes. No one’s mentioned those so far.”

  “Could be something that slipped everyone’s minds. The house’s construction was years ago, after all.” Henri looked upwards for a moment. “And the house staff here now wouldn’t have been on scene while it was constructed.”

  “They probably know very little about it. The Atwood siblings, too, probably have no clue since they weren’t here when it was built.” And the people who had been either couldn’t talk or didn’t want to. Ah, the joys of detective work. “But that means we potentially have a whole new suspect pool. We definitely need to talk to Morton now. Not just because he’s a person of interest, but to see that list. If there’s a missing ward badge, I want to know about it.”

  My pad pinged with a message from Sherard. Thanks, good information. I might need him. Safe’s being stubborn. Where is the shop?

  I wrote out the address and sent it to him. I barely had that out when both my pad and Henri’s pinged at the same time. It was Penny with an update. Purse-maker in the clear. Strong alibi—they’re out of country, have been for weeks. Heading for automotive maker next.

  “No leads so far, huh.” I wrote out an okay and sent it. “I just want one suspect. Ooooone measly suspect, is that so much to ask?”

  “The day is young yet,” Henri pointed out. “We’ve time to find one. And several more names to cross off our list. Not to mention a burglar to find.”

  “There is that. Morton’s across the street, let’s go knock on a door.”

  We went across the street, dodging a car as we did so. Morton Construction looked as if it had seen better days, crammed between a smithy and a closed-up pharmacy. I had the sense from the overly large sign that the company had once occupied a much larger building. Forced to downsize to something smaller after that lawsuit? That was my guess. It didn’t look shabby, per se, the place was clean. It just needed a coat of paint, possibly a new roof, and some personality. It looked sterile.

  There was also no one home and no signs of life. Closed for the day? Or had we just missed people because they were out on some construction site?

  Detective work was a lot of trial and error in catching people. If we didn’t catch him at the office today, we’d have to find out where he lived. Laying hands on a phone book might do it, if the man had a phone at home. If not, then the postal office could likely oblige me with an address.

  In the meantime, we had other suspects to run down. “We’ll need to come back. Okay, next suspect on the list.”

  I accepted the elbow Henri extended me, linking arms with him as we walked back to where Drummond had parked the car. “I wonder now if the murderer was one of the construction crew members? If that’s how he’s accessing the scene, going back and forth through the ward?”

  “The possibility did cross my mind. And the charms used would be in line with a construction mentality. They’re something a builder would know how to use.”

  I hummed in thought. “It makes more sense than an art student turned burglar, which is what it looked like for a while there. The molding charm really threw me. But it doesn’t solve the question of who’s stealing from all the other houses. Unless this pass would work on other wards?”

  Henri shook his head before I could finish the question. “No, that’s not possible. The badges would have been attuned to that specific ward.”

  “Ah. Shucks, and it was such a good idea.”

  “I’m afraid you have to put that idea to rest. It’s not feasible.”

  “Booo. But still, we should check Morton’s logs and see if any of them were missing. It will give us a potential suspect list to check with his construction crew.”

  “I quite agree.” Henri rolled his head around on his neck. “I dearly wish to solve this case, if only to return to my own bed.”

  I grimaced in agreement. “Tell me about it. Why are all hotel beds hard? I mean, even on Earth they were all hard. Is this some kind of universal fact?”

  Henri gave me an odd look. “Were they really?”

  “Oh yeah. Travelling on the job was a pain for that reason.”

  Deadpan, Henri drawled, “If there must be a universal truth, I would prefer it to be something different.”

  “Right? Hard hotel beds are not the thing I’d pick.” I went for the door handle but Henri cut in front of me, beating me to it so he could open the door for me. He’d been opening doors for me all day, in fact. It was one of those things that had subtly changed. Henri’s courting manners were kicking in and even though we didn’t have the freedom right now to go on a date, he still had moments where he treated me as a girlfriend and not a work partner.

  I gave him a smile before sliding into the back, arranging my legs off to the side. “No luck here, Mr. Drummond.”

  The housekeeper turned to look at me, the leather of the seats squeaking a bit. “Anything helpful, at least?”

  “Possibly. We need to ask more questions.” I had more to say,
but as Henri joined me in the back seat, our captain called. I accepted the call and held the pad between us so we could both hear and respond. “Hi, Cap.”

  “Edwards. I’m calling for an update.”

  “I figured. How goes it over there, anyway?”

  “It’s gone from bad to worse, but I have a shining light at the end of this dark tunnel. We’re in receipt of all your reports. The police commissioner has read each one at least twice. He’s livid. The Deems captain is now under investigation. I absolutely do not suggest going into that station or trying to use it.”

  “We’re not even remotely tempted,” Henri assured him, dry as a martini in the Sahara. “Is it just the captain under review?”

  “To start with. I’m sure they’ll find more as they go along. Why?”

  “Something’s hinky over here.” I wasn’t sure how else to really phrase it. “The burglaries were all investigated by the same policeman. And the reports are really just an itemized list of what was stolen, the date, and that’s about it. No real investigation.”

  Gregson growled in the back of his throat, sounding tired already. “Give me his name, we’ll add him onto the list of people to review.”

  “Gradey Lawler,” Henri supplied.

  “Thank you. Now, where’s my update?”

  “So far, no suspects. Just lots of people with a possible alibi. We’re going through the list of possible suspects today and conducting interviews. We, ah—wait, did someone tell you the Atwood house was torched yesterday?”

  “It was WHAT!”

  Oops. “Sorry, sir, lots happening over here. Yeah, someone set a chemical fire at the back of the property that caught the house on fire as well. They started it near the pool house, so it’s pretty clear it’s a cover up.”

  Gregson was both put out and done with this conversation. Or so my ears informed me. “Tell me they didn’t destroy evidence we need.”

  “That was done before we even arrived in Deems.” Henri, too, looked frustrated, but he answered calmly. It probably helped that Phil had gotten bored in the front seat and crawled over to curl up in Henri’s lap and get pets. “But we dearly hope we gleaned all we could from the scene before it was destroyed.”

  “If we missed something, it’s worlds too late now. But thought you should know, sir.”

  Gregson just sighed. “Please solve this case.”

  “We want it solved more than you do,” Henri promised him.

  Now there’s truth.

  No one was at the office the first time we tried Morton Construction, so we chose to go for an early lunch instead. Drummond dropped us off at a nice little café that smelled divine. We tucked ourselves into a corner booth and put work aside for a moment. Henri was a little too shy for PDA in public, so I held his hand under the table and sat close, leaning in to keep our conversation semi-private from the rest of the lunch crowd.

  “What does courting entail on Earth?” he asked in that serious way of his.

  “Well, going on dates. Spending time learning about the other person.” I had to mess with him so I waggled my eyebrows in a lecherous manner Pepé Le Pew would have been proud of. “Sleepovers.”

  Henri’s eyes crossed. “Before marriage?!”

  Got him. I snickered but answered truthfully, “Depends on your belief system and moral code. Some people were fine with it, others not so much. I’m more curious about Kingston dating. I’m a little shaky on the fine details.”

  “It sounds somewhat similar to Earth, at least. We do go out regularly on different outings, spend time together. The man’s expected to bring various small gifts to shower upon his sweetheart. The woman’s expected to reciprocate.”

  “Yeah, sounds about the same.” The differences would rear their heads soon enough.

  “I’m also expected to ask permission of your father to court you,” he tacked on thoughtfully.

  “That one’s rather impossible to do,” I pointed out. Although not without a pang, as my father would have gotten a kick out of that.

  “Hmm,” he said in a strangely noncommittal way. “What do you wish to do for our first outing?”

  “Ooh, can we go see a play? I haven’t seen a play in ages.”

  Henri perked up. I think he expected I’d take him somewhere outrageous, but I wouldn’t do that to him. On the first date.

  “We can go to Emíl’s,” he offered, already planning this out. “You enjoyed their fare, did you not?”

  “It was amazing, loved every bite. And they’re right across from the theater.”

  “Precisely. We’ll need to look at the theater’s showing schedule and pick something. Not a comedy.”

  “Bless you.” I didn’t do well with comedies. Much of the humor went straight over my head. I didn’t get the cultural in-jokes. Not yet, anyway. I was still learning. And much of the humor was slap-stick, which neither of us really found all that funny. Henri’s sense of humor was very much the intellectual, dry type.

  “Of course, when is the question.” Henri made a face. “It’s difficult to plan anything at the moment.”

  “Not unless a suspect conveniently pops out of the woodwork. Which I have to tell you, right now I do not give good odds.”

  My pad rang and I pulled it free of a pocket. “Ooh, it’s Gerring. Maybe he’ll have a suspect for us. Hello, Gerring.”

  “Hello, Detective. We’re travelling and I thought I should call you.”

  I blinked. “On your way back already?”

  Penny’s voice interceded, “No, we’re on our way to Brighton. None of the suspects in Jordane panned out. The other two men had solid alibis.”

  “How solid we talking, here?”

  “Well, one of them got married the weekend in question.”

  That was a pretty solid alibi, alright.

  “The other has been sick with some kind of stomach virus. Even speaking to us exhausted him. I don’t think he’d have the stamina to run around like our murderer has done.”

  “Sounds like it. Okay, so you’re on your way to Brighton, then?”

  “Yes,” Gerring confirmed. “Seems a bit of a hassle to go there for just the one suspect, so I hope it’s him.”

  “Me too. We possibly have a new suspect pool. The construction crew had badges at the time of the house being built. Morton has a record of who, but we haven’t managed to catch him yet. And the Deems cops because they’re being suspiciously incompetent.”

  Gerring asked, “Who are you focusing on today?”

  “Morton Construction and the dress designer.” Although I put the dress designer way, way down on the list. Mostly because the woman was seventy, and I didn’t see many seventy-year-olds capable of hauling bodies around. “Will you stay for the night in Brighton?”

  “We’ll likely need to,” Penny confirmed. “I don’t think another train will be going that direction after we’re done.”

  “Fair enough. Keep me updated.”

  “Will do.” Gerring ended the call.

  I snapped my fingers in realization. “I should have told them about the investigation into Deems PD. Shoot.”

  “You can worry about it later,” Henri advised as our waiter arrived and placed our plates in front of us. “It’s not information they need immediately.”

  “True enough.” I lifted my sun tea and took a healthy swallow. I was thirsty from all the talking this morning. I wondered if they would give me a cup to go? Since I had interviews for the rest of the day, I’d likely need it.

  After lunch, we tried Morton Construction again with no luck. Since that was the case, we trooped out to the Atwood house and poked around some more. It bothered me that the house had been burned. I couldn’t help but feel I had overlooked something. What had the murderer been trying to hide?

  Since I was there, I took a look at the safe. It was not working, the metal tumbler melted just enough that it didn’t want to turn. It was also still semi in the wall, so we’d need some able-bodied people and an axe to get it out. Not a
problem I wanted to mess with, and it wasn’t really my job to fix it anyway.

  It was near dinner at that point, but I wanted to try Morton Construction one more time before business hours were closed for the day. If we didn’t catch him this time, we’d try again in the morning to talk to him. Him and the other man on our list—the suspicious cop who always responded to the robberies. I didn’t think he was the murderer, but I had a lot of questions for that cop. Most of them wouldn’t be pleasant or easy to answer.

  Henri stepped through first, holding the door open for me. No one manned the front desk, so I called out, “Hello? I’m looking for Pasten Morton?”

  Someone lumbered out of a chair, the leather sighing, and a heavy tread against the floor nearly shook the floorboards. The man that came out of the hallway was a werebeaver, his fur looking a bit grey and faded, but his dark eyes were keen. He wore only a red vest and pants, leaving his clawed feet free. “I’m Pasten Morton.”

  “Mr. Morton, I’m Detective Edwards. This is my partner, Dr. Davenforth. We’d like to ask a few questions.”

  Morton didn’t even blink. “I figured you’d come around to talk to me at some point, what with that sodding lawsuit. Sure, ask your questions.”

  Interesting reaction. The man just looked done in by life. I kind of felt sorry for him. “Can you tell me where you were the night of the 14th?”

  “I was here until maybe six in the evening. I’m usually here until about that time.” Morton rubbed at his chin, thinking hard. “Been here until six all month, really. After that…what day was the 14th?”

  “Hex Day,” Henri supplied.

  “Hex Day…” Morton thought some more before nodding. “Went to dinner with some pals. The wife wanted to go spend time with her brother, and I wasn’t in the mind to cook, so my friends and I went out that night. Went to the Garden Café, if you need to check.”

  “We will, thank you. You’re taking this very calmly, Mr. Morton.” A little too calmly. That was conversely strange.

  He shook his head, resignation stark on his features. “I knew the minute Atwood started complaining about my building technique that I was in for it. Any tradesman could tell you, don’t work for an Atwood. The man had a reputation. But he came in, charming and with so much money, and deities knew the money was good. On paper. I couldn’t resist it. So, like a stupid sod, I signed that bloody contract. And the next thing I know, he’s hanging me with it. I’ve spent years of fighting with this man, years of trials and appeals and him dragging my reputation in the mud. Had to restart the business twice because of him. The moment I heard of his death, I knew you’d come to talk to me. That I’d be a suspect. But you know, Detective, I was sick of the Atwoods. I didn’t want anything more to do with them, and I was surely not ready to ruin the rest of my life because of them. I just avoided the whole family after that last appeal. I’m not guilty of their murder. I will answer your questions so you can prove that.”