Unfallen Dead (19 page)

I stabbed my finger at the table. “You work for the Guild, Meryl. It’s in your job description under ‘other duties as necessary. ’ ”

She threw herself back against her chair. “That’s not even funny.”

I still had my fingertip jammed against the tabletop. I took a deep breath and let my hand fall flat. “Why are we arguing?”

Meryl rubbed her hands up under her bangs. “You’re right. It’s not your fault. It’s the Guild’s. I’m just tired that after all these years, I’m still looking for recognition. That place owes me, big-time.”

I put a sickly-sweet smile on my face. “I can’t fault them. Your attraction for me started because of our mutual disgust at the Guild.”

She leaned her head on her hand and popped a piece of chicken in her mouth. “Now that’s funny.”

“Tell me about Viten so we can drop it,” I said.

She toyed with a water ring on the table before looking up at me. “There’s not much to tell. I was in my office alone. It was just after I had been promoted, actually.”

“That’s recognition,” I said.

She shrugged. “Sure, if getting the job only because the chief archivist left is considered recognition.”

“Anyway . . .”

She smiled grudgingly, which faded. “Anyway, I heard a scream, then I heard essence-fire. When I reached the door, I saw a body in the elevator and two more down in the hallway. I didn’t know if they were alive or dead. Coming toward me was Viten. I didn’t know his name then. In fact, I didn’t think he was the attacker. He seemed so calm, I actually thought he was some kind of security guard coming to evacuate me. He acted like he didn’t see me. I asked him what was going on. All of sudden he grabbed me by the neck. My body shields came on, and he started to lose his grip. I could feel him charging essence into his hands.”

She took a deep breath. “I grabbed him by the head and let loose with everything I had.”

She frowned, playing with the water rings.

“You essence shocked him,” I said.

She met my eyes. I saw no doubt, no trauma. Just the direct stare of someone who had done something to survive. “If I had to do it again, Grey, I would do it exactly the same.”

I nodded once in agreement. I had been there, too. You did what you had to do to get through. “I’m sorry. It’s not just morbid curiosity, you know. I have a murder investigation, and I need to cover all the bases.”

“I get it. You need to work on your delivery,” she said.

I fussed with an onion ring to avoid making eye contact. “So, I was worried you weren’t returning my phone calls.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, too. It really has been crazy.”

I played my index finger across the back of her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I thought, you know, after . . .”

A slow smile cut across her face. “Oh, shit. It was a day-after call, wasn’t it?”

I hoped I wasn’t blushing. She’d never let me forget it. “Yeah.”

She leaned across the table and kissed my cheek. “Thank you. That was sweet.” She settled back and began eating again.

“That’s it?” I asked.

Her eyebrows went up. “What?”

“Meryl, we had sex.”

She nodded. “I was there, remember? I’m not going to turn into some kind of call-me, call-me chick, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not holding you to anything for it.”

I took a deep breath. “What if I want to be held to something?”

Her face became unreadable. “We had a moment, Grey. We needed each other. It was good for both of us, but I don’t want it to get blown out of proportion.”

I nodded, knowing I was nodding too much and feeling stupid. “Sure, sure. Fine.”

She took my hand in hers. “Will you stop? Geez, we’re not virgins here. Lighten up.”

I forced myself to smile. “Okay. I don’t want to play games.”

She lifted her beer, and a vicious curl came to her lip. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

I had no idea why I wanted to be with this woman.

The Boston Police Area B station house down on West Broad-way had the look of a grizzled survivor. Even though the Boston P.D. paid my bills more often than they knew, I never felt welcome at the station house. I worked on cases because they didn’t. I helped close cases they couldn’t. They tolerated me because of Murdock, but I was under no delusion they liked me.

As if to demonstrate the point, everyone in the detective bullpen managed to be on the phone as I waited at the counter. A full fifteen minutes passed before someone offered to track down Murdock. He appeared in the hallway and motioned me to follow him. He opened the door to a dingy conference room with a table, a few scarred wooden chairs, an empty watercooler, and peeling paint. An open file box sat on the table.

“MacNeve sent the Ardman file,” he said

“She must really be bored to move this quickly.” I tilted the box and removed the files. Folder after thick manila folder slid onto the table, and Murdock tried hard not to look panicked that I was making a mess. Except for his car, he’s tidy. We each grabbed a stack and began reading.

The Merced investigation had been referred to the Guild when the fey connection had been made. Given Viten’s history and the Guild’s usual interests, he must have scammed an important fey or two. Otherwise, the Guild wouldn’t have taken that kind of case for a human normal.

Murdock slid an old file photo across the table. “Rosavear Ardman. She’s still in Boston.”

The woman in the picture looked petite, but strong. She had a pleasant enough face, not particularly beautiful. Part of a wing was visible behind her, the sharp and narrow profile of the Inverni fairies. The Inverni clan had a power struggle with the Dananns eons ago, literally, and they lost the rule of Faerie. Ardman had looks, money, and, most importantly, royal connections. It’s no wonder the Guild grabbed the case.

Murdock straightened the folders. “Viten scammed Ardman. He lived with her at the same time he was married to Merced. Neither knew about the other. Josef Kaspar apparently put the two con jobs together and went to the Guild.”

“Why would he go to the Guild and not the police?”

Murdock shrugged. “It happens all the time. The Guild may not take the bait on a human case often, but when it does, it bites hard. If someone thinks they’re getting nowhere with us, they try the Guild.”

I shook my head. “I had no idea.”

Murdock gave a small smile. “You didn’t think just because the Guild is manipulative that it couldn’t be manipulated, did you?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but it made sense. Bureaucracy was bureaucracy, no matter what species was involved. I whistled and slid a financial summary sheet to him. “Viten had millions.”

Murdock didn’t look. “He scammed over a dozen women. Most of the money disappeared. His typical con involved marrying money, getting his name on the assets, then moving them before the women found out. He would vanish before that, take a new name, and select a new target.”

Viten was a fraud, all right. The Olivia Merced divorce file documented a trail of financial gymnastics that Wall Street wished were legal. Merced caught on to him earlier than the others. Still, he managed to seduce a fair amount of money from her. He must have suspected he was caught, because his assets started disappearing before Merced filed papers on him. The money was never recovered.

“Keeva told me he had a partner,” I said.

Murdock sorted through the files and handed me one. “A druidess named Rhonda Powell. Unconnected as far as I can tell. They ran different scams together. Powell usually posed as an heiress, and Viten would act as some kind of father figure looking out to protect her money.”

I flipped through the file. Powell had been as bad as Viten, bilking lonely widowers out of millions as well. A New York City police report deep in the file caught my attention. I showed it to Murdock. “He killed her.”

Murdock nodded. “Things apparently went sour between them. If I had to guess, she wanted money. Viten handled the cash. As far as I can see, she needed his access to get it. When Viten died, the case was assigned to the fraud unit.”

He frowned and flipped back and forth between several pages. “He shot Powell at Rockefeller Center, in full view of several witnesses. It was an execution.”

I nodded in understanding. “Her abilities would have been a match for him, but her shields couldn’t stop a bullet. He probably had enough ability to keep the bullet path from warping.”

Murdock shook his head. “Still, why so public? If they were partners, he must have had ample opportunity to kill her and not be seen.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe he wanted to send a message to someone. Maybe she threatened him, and he didn’t have time for anything else.”

He moved the file pages aside. “I’m putting this on the odd list. The only murder. The only partner. Public. It doesn’t fit what else we know about Viten.”

“Did the victims get their money back?” I asked.

Murdock shrugged. “Some of the cases were years old. They targeted elderly people who were . . .” He paused, searching for words.

“. . . not fey,” I finished. The Guild always lost interest when the essence level plunged. Murdock didn’t respond. He knew the story.

The New York angle surfaced when Viten was arrested in Boston. Once his glamour had been stripped, it was evident he was a Teutonic kobold—thin lips, hooded eyes, and a small, flat nose. The skin tone tends to a pale tan, the hair a drab, wispy white. They’re cousins in a way to the Celtic brownies, only their manic sides are more integrated into their personalities. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes not. All kobolds bear an uncanny resemblance to one another. With such subtle features, they were expert glamourers. It doesn’t take much to hide their true selves under an illusion. Viten played on that when he was arrested, claiming mistaken identity.

Murdock handed me another set of papers. “Do you know how Viten died?”

I pulled out investigation reports with Meryl’s name all over them. “I just found out yesterday.”

Murdock kept his eyes on his file. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I glanced at him. “Meryl told me what happened. It was a legit takedown.”

He let it drop. I found an evidence receipt. “What’s in this?”

Murdock opened a file. “Personal effects. There’s a list here somewhere.”

I sat back and folded my arms. “You’ve read this entire file already, haven’t you?”

“Not the whole thing. You sleep late, remember?”

I looked out the window. “I had a busy night.”

“Everyone’s dead,” said Murdock.

“What?”

“Everyone’s dead. The only living person related to the Ardman case is Ardman. She was a victim. Other than Viten, I don’t see a connection to Merced and Kaspar. I don’t see a motive.”

I shrugged. “Maybe Ardman needs an interview.”

Murdock gave me a thin smile. I closed my eyes. “You’re going to ask me, aren’t you?” I opened my eyes. Murdock hadn’t changed his expression. “She might not agree to do it.”

He shrugged. “Hey, not my fault the fey avoid the police.”

I crossed my arms. “Hey, not my fault the police avoid the fey.”

He did not lose the smile. I sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask Keeva to set up a meeting with Ardman. I hate you, by the way.”

After much fawning and charming on my part, Keeva agreed to arrange an interview with Rosavear Ardman. I understood Murdock’s desire to talk to the only living person related to the old Viten case, but I didn’t see any connection to the current murders. Murdock was meticulous, though, and liked to worry his way down every side street of an investigation if the main road was going nowhere.

The late-October sun warmed my face as I waited for Keeva on the lower end of Boston Common. From my bench, I had a straight-shot view of the tall trees that surrounded the fairy ring next to the Civil War monument. This year an enormous mushroom crop had sprouted. The local news broadcast pictures, and the ring had been inundated with visitors ever since. Schools made field trips to see it; shoppers from Downtown Crossing made a side trip to check it out; office workers ate their lunch on the hill to watch the activity. Once word spread, anyone who knew the least bit of essence manipulation wanted mushrooms for spells and potions.

A few dozen feet away from me, midday traffic raced down Charles Street after being freed from the congestion in front of the Guildhouse on the next block. Security barriers narrowed the road there to one lane, annoying everyone who drove and pleasing politicians who thought it made them look tough on terror. Fairies flew above the Guildhouse, mostly Danann security agents in their black uniforms with the chrome helmets. So typical of the powerful to worry about themselves. Granted, the Guild board directors had been attacked, but the Guildhouse was an impenetrable fortress. A small nuke might penetrate all the bound-up essence. Might. But human normals can’t see a fey essence shield. A concrete Jersey barrier, on the other hand, apparently was a comforting sight.

Keeva shot into view about the Guildhouse, her slender form and voluminous head of red hair easy to recognize. You get used to seeing fairies fly. What you never get used to is the allure of their wings in motion. The gossamer-thin membranes moved on unseen currents of essence, mesmerizing pinpoints of light in delicate veinings winking on and off. The wings looked so fragile, yet they had an incredible power to shift and shunt enough essence to lift a body in the air. Keeva landed lightly in front of me.

I nodded at the hill. “When was the last time you danced in a ring?”

She gazed up and smiled. “Not since I was very young.”

We walked toward Beacon Hill. “Did you ever make it through the veil?” I teased.

She chuckled. “I thought I did. I spent a few summers at Tara with friends when I was young. The ring there is very powerful, but even it doesn’t open to the other side anymore. We used to pretend, though. A weird fog formed if we did the dances right, but no one could ever see through it.”

“That’s more than I ever saw.”

She shrugged. “It was only fog in the night. When you’re a kid, you can turn that into the veil between the living and dead if you have your best friends spooking you into it.”