It took me a moment of thought before I realized I did indeed. “I have a quick setting cement hex on me, will that do?”
“That should be perfect.” She gathered up number and pencil and efficiently put them away again. Pleased, she bounced up to her feet and stepped back, giving me room to work with.
Even as I pulled out the hex and set it up, I asked dryly, “Don’t tell me that every boot print is also unique.”
“Not at all. But sometimes footprints can help prove that someone was on the scene. More data is always helpful.”
That I couldn’t argue.
“Mrs. Pousson, one question.” Edwards tapped a finger to her chin before asking carefully, “Does quantity change the outcome? I mean to say, if there’s a particularly powerful ward or lock to get past, will a handful do the job where a single blade would fail?”
“No,” Mrs. Pousson responded promptly. “That’s part of the equation that has stumped our researchers for years, but either it has the power to open it or not. Quantity will not make any difference.”
“Looks like you’re right, Davenforth,” Edwards said quietly.
Not expecting those words, my head snapped around, jaw dropping a little. “I beg your pardon? Doesn’t this seem proof to the contrary?”
Shaking her head, her mouth firmed into a grim line. “They’ve already proven they can get through wards and past locks with no real trouble. Attacking this place, which is so much in the public eye, not to mention an actual police station, is foolhardy at best. It’s garnered our undivided attention. You don’t do that unless you have a much larger target in mind, something that their normal tools can’t defeat. Why go through the trouble of breaking into here? Because they need it. I will bet even money that you’re right. We just have to figure out what their target is.”
Perhaps she had a point after all. The power of the Raskovnik itself did not measure up to whatever device they used to burst through the wards. In fact, it was very likely inferior. The theory of them creating a Sink remained valid. I looked to my partner and queried, “You handle the witnesses, I’ll gather the magical evidence?”
“As usual. Don’t worry about the fingerprints, I’ll get them.” She gave me a smile before moving off, already calling to the building’s security guard hovering near the door.
I finished with the footprint and let it set on the paving stone before turning to Mrs. Pousson, a question poised on my lips, but the expression on her face stopped me, fumbling the words. She gave me this knowing look as if my relationship with Jamie Edwards did not have the wholesome work colleagues level to it but something else altogether. This, this is why it’s been so difficult to integrate the women into the workforce. People automatically assume that any professional woman must be involved with someone she worked with, which gave the men difficulties. I thought about denying whatever the matron thought about us, but did it really matter? And my denials would make her think I protested the situation too much. She had not, after all, said anything. Ignoring it, I turned her attention back to the problem at hand. “I would very much like to take a sample of the Raskovnik with me.”
“Of course,” she assured me and instantly went for a trowel in her front apron pocket. “How much would you like?”
“A single trowel will be a gracious plenty, thank you. Mrs. Pousson, how well known is the Raskovnik’s location? I know that anyone in the University or professional buildings nearby knows you house it, but the exact location of it in this building—is that common knowledge?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” she denied, standing and handing me the trowel. As I put it carefully into a sample jar, she continued, “Although I did have a tour group from the University through two weeks ago. Or maybe it was three? A herbology class. I walked them through the plants we have here, the soil conditions that are required for its upkeep, temperature regulations, and so forth. That group saw it. Whether they were tricked into detailing the location to the thieves or simply gossiped about it at some pub, who knows.”
University students? I thought about the young woman that had scouted the Evidence Building. She’d been young enough to pass for a student. “Were there women in this group?”
“A few.” Mrs. Pousson’s brows climbed an nth degree. “That isn’t unusual, Doctor.”
I had the feeling I’d bristled feathers somehow and in the effort of not putting my foot any further into my mouth, instead turned my head and called, “Edwards! Do you have that sketch on you?”
She paused in searching the door for fingerprints, pulling the sketch free and handing it off to me with a curious look before returning to her own task. Unfolding the paper, I held it so that Mrs. Pousson could see it. “Was she one of your touring students?”
Bending her head to the page, she stared at it for a long moment. “I feel that she is familiar, but I can’t swear to it. I honestly didn’t pay much attention to their faces, and they were barely here an hour.”
Granted, how often did we commit to memory what we only saw once? “I see. Who coordinated the tour group?”
“Ah, that’s Professor Baring. He’ll be able to tell you who was in the group more readily than I can, as they are his students.”
A good place to start, assuming the man actually knew his students. My professors at University didn’t always keep track of theirs. “Thank you, I’ll check with him. Mrs. Pousson, a few questions on the upkeeping of the Raskovnik, if you would.”
“Of course.” She launched into the necessary facts of keeping the Raskovnik alive, which fortunately didn’t require anything completely unorthodox. I made notes, including details on what would readily kill it, and made inquiries about where this information could be found aside from consulting a master gardener. She knew the answer to that as well off the top of her head.
Edwards drifted back to my side as Mrs. Pousson finished and listened intently. “I’m sorry, I missed the first part of this. How easy will it be for the thieves to keep their sample alive?”
“In the short term, not difficult. But they’ll have to replant in the next month or risk it dying. It can’t sustain itself in a potted environment very well.”
“That gives us a timeline of sorts to work from.” Edwards nodded, satisfied. “Davenforth, you have everything you need?”
“Yes, I believe so. Fingerprints?”
“A few,” she responded happily. “Mrs. Pousson, if you don’t mind, I need to take yours for examination.”
With half an ear, I listened as the two women discussed fingerprints and what it meant as I gathered everything back into my bag, repacking my materials. Edwards still hadn’t finished, so I went to the door and made my own examination but failed to see anything useful. If only they’d sliced a bit of skin while breaking the window pane in, we might get somewhere. A great deal could be done with blood. A single drop would enable me to do location spells. Ah, well.
I half turned and watched Edwards thank the gardener. Now, how to avoid getting back into that deathtrap again? I couldn’t think of a feasible way to do so without putting Edwards’ back up.
Carrying a black box, Edwards matched her pace to mine as we left the scene. “Davenforth, you called on one of your colleagues for assistance. I’m inclined to think that we need one of mine.”
“Who would you like to call?” I asked, rampantly curious as to the answer. Whom could she possibly have met who would have any sort of magical expertise?
“Ellie Warner is her name. She’s the head of the Black Clover Artificers Guild.” A laugh rippled free of her mouth as she stepped off the curb and crossed the street. “You look positively shocked by this, Davenforth. Did you think I don’t have any friends?”
“I am absolutely positive you do, but how in the wide world do you know Ellie Warner? Many people wish to make her acquaintance, and she rarely bothers with any of them.”
“Bit of a firecracker, Ellie is,” Edwards agreed comfortably. “It was Sherard who introduced us. There’s a g
reat many conveniences and gadgets on my world that haven’t been invented yet here. Some of it is because your technology isn’t advanced enough yet. Sherard introduced us so that I could present new ideas to the Artificers’ guild. I have to say it’s worked out well. Not only have I gained quite a few friends because of it, but we’re making a wicked amount of money.”
I found this fascinating and the words blurted out of my mouth before I could reconsider them. “What have you invented?”
“Well, refrigerators—”
I spluttered over that one, as she had mentioned it to me, but hadn’t indicated they were now in my world to be had. Did I dare ask how I might acquire one?
“—hot water heaters,” she continued, now ticking things off on her free hand. “Air conditioning, and we have one in the works now; a chat window.” Her face became more animated as she spoke. “You don’t have the means for cell phones yet, but we’ve simplified it down to where it works more like a wireless telegram. It’s a simple device with only one screen and a stylus so that you can write instant messages to each other. Still requires a magical charge to work, so it’s not going to be widespread anytime soon, but Ellie thinks that with the right combination of hexes, she can create something the public can use.”
I thought about that, the ability to send messages back and forth, like having your own telegraph station riding around in your pocket. Just the invention of the telephone, not four years ago, had opened more doors than I had expected. What would it be like to send instant messages, no matter your location? “Extraordinary.”
“It will revolutionize communication on this world,” Edwards stated with open satisfaction. “I can’t wait.”
The easy way she said this made me think she took light of what it really meant, how profound this invention would be. But no, the very reason she suggested it was because she had seen for herself in her own world. She knew better than any of us how it would change and alter society.
We reached the car and I belatedly realized that my opportunity to get out of riding again with her had evaporated while we chatted. Cursing myself soundly for a fool, I reluctantly stowed everything into the boot. I felt as if I had one foot on a banana peel and another in the grave as I sat in the car.
To my surprise, we didn’t shoot immediately off, but sedately started out. I glanced at Edwards, wondering at this change in speed and driving technique. She caught my eye and gave me a wink. “I figure I’ve already given you one heart attack on the way here, we can take it easy on the way back.”
Too grateful to disagree, I nodded fervently.
“Anyway, to get back to my original point,” Edwards navigated around a parked taxi, taking the turn we needed to reach the next road, “I think we need to consult with Ellie. You said the technique in getting past the wards has nothing to do with magic, so likely they’re using a device of some sort, correct? Ellie deals with other energies all of the time—half of her inventions run on electricity. Surely she’d be able to figure out their methods.”
I weighed this idea for a while. She made a valid point. “You think that if we could narrow down how they’re doing this, you’ll be better able to figure out who?”
Edwards shrugged, eyes staying on the road. “When solving any crime, you always ask yourself: who, how, and why. If you can answer any of those questions, it helps solve the mystery of the other two. Right now, I don’t have a way of answering any of them. I need something to go off of. We don’t even have any good eyewitnesses, as the one person we know is part of their group seems to be a ghost herself. She disappears when not on the job.”
“I’m perfectly agreeable to the idea of consulting with Miss Warner.” In fact, I would love to meet the woman and pick her brain.
“Good! I think you’ll like her. I know she’ll like you. And most importantly, she’s like your friend Newell—she loves a challenge. Sometimes she’ll drop by my place and badger me into telling her of things that she can’t possibly invent with this level of technology. It drives her wild and she loves every second of it.”
That did sound somewhat like Newell. “Like these cell-things you mentioned?”
“Like those. And airplanes. And movies.” A sigh escaped her, and she looked wistful for a moment. “What I wouldn’t give to see a movie. Even a B one.”
I thought again of what it must be like to be torn from everything you’d ever known, into a world that didn’t follow any of the same rules, didn’t even have the same standards of living you’d grown up with. To have no contact with friends, family, or enemies. To be completely cut off from all of it. How did her sanity remain intact?
How did her heart not break?
The strangest desire overcame me, to reach out and offer comfort. It startled me so badly that I froze instead, completely rooted to my seat. What was that? That urge? No, it was more than just that, I wanted to connect to her on some level. To give her heart a foundation to lean against.
Had I gone mad? I must have. It was the only logical conclusion to be reached. I’d spent the majority of my life distancing myself from messy emotional entanglements and here I was, barely two weeks into this woman’s acquaintanceship, and suddenly I wanted to hug people at random. Ridiculous.
Edwards had pointed out several times that I’m very polite, and I kept up my manners for an excellent reason. It was a good barrier between me and other people. Courtesy kept people at bay, made them respond in certain preconditioned ways, ways that I could predict and maneuver around. Politeness was a shield I wielded deftly to avoid people.
I’d been exquisitely polite to her, so why were my defenses being breached?
Without my noticing, we’d reached our precinct and Edwards pulled smoothly around back, returning the motorcar to the pool. She had one leg out when she noticed I hadn’t moved and she paused, dark brows arching in query. “Something wrong?”
“No, not at all.” Yes, everything was just grand, I’d apparently given leave of my senses. I forced myself to move, mostly to avoid her gaze, as those golden-brown eyes saw far more than they should be able to. I didn’t need her to divine my moment of weakness. “While I analyze the data, you’ll contact Miss Warner?”
“Sure. She’ll make time for us, likely, with a puzzle like this to play with.”
“Excellent.” Perhaps between now and then I could get my unruly emotions back under control.
What was that perfectly delectable scent? My nose started moving of its own accord, like a bloodhound’s, my attention completely diverted from the groceries I’d picked up on the way home. My budget simply didn’t survive eating out for every meal, hence why I was forced to cook on a more regular basis than I cared for. I’d bought all of the necessities for Shepherd’s pie but with that very rich aroma wafting down the hallway, my mouth revolted and decided it wanted that instead.
Grilled beef, certainly, onions, peppers, several other things that I couldn’t immediately identify. Inhaling another deep lungful, I let it stew in my mind for a long moment. No, I still had no idea.
Suspicions aroused, I quickly entered my apartment and put the groceries away in the cold box hanging out of my window. Then I retreated back to the hallway, following my nose up a story and to the apartment that sat directly above my own.
The doorway was open. Jamie never left her doorway open, no single woman did, not unless she had an agenda.
“She put the lime in the coconut, she drank ’em bot’ up, she put the lime in the coconut, she drank ’em bot’ up, she put the lime in the coconut, she call the doctor, woke ’im up,” she sang, the words lingering around in the hallway, echoing a little in the empty walls.
Again with the nonsensical songs. I reached the doorway and put my shoulder to the doorjamb, just watching her for a moment. Jamie had shed her work clothes at some point, now wearing nothing more than trousers, a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and a large white apron tied snugly about her waist. She stood in front of her kitchen counter, chopping
things with efficient movements, occasionally reaching over to stir the sizzling pan on the stove top.
It puzzled me that this woman could be such a force to be reckoned with on the job, and yet I didn’t find this domestic scene at all jarring. She looked perfectly at ease, cooking and singing one of her strange songs.
“Ain’t there nothin’ I can take, I said, Doctor, to relieve this bellyache~” Half turning to reach for something, she spied me and stopped dead, grinning in a mischievous manner that I didn’t trust at all. “Tsukamaeta.”
Patiently, I informed her, “That didn’t translate.”
“Just as well,” she remarked, eyes crinkling up even further. “Henri, want to join me for dinner? It’s Mexican night.”
I gave her quite the look for that. “You know very well that if you make something I don’t recognize I’ll want to sample it. What’s Mexican?”
“A cuisine from another country in my world. It’s predominantly meat, vegetables, rice, beans, and spices. The spices are a bit touch and go here for me, but I think I’ve come up with something credible.” She made a face. “Although since you don’t have corn here, the tortillas are giving me some trouble. Here, come sit.”
I entered, shedding my jacket as I went; between the stovetop and the oven, the heat in the apartment had reached an almost sweltering level. “It’s quite warm in here. Is that why you have the door open?”
“You could say that’s a reason,” she agreed without sounding as if she agreed at all.
Some part of my mind raised suspicions. I felt that she had an agenda but couldn’t for the life of me detect what it might be. Deciding to be brave, I took the stool that she pointed me to and sat, letting my jacket hang on the back of the neighboring stool. As I did so, I caught sight of a portrait nearby, hanging neatly on the wall connecting kitchen with living room. Two women, one younger, one older, an older man of similar age to the woman, and Jamie herself. It took two startled blinks before the obvious hit me. “Your family?”
Magic and the Shinigami Detective Page 11
