Death in the Hallows (Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre Book 2) Read online

Butch stared at his hands. “Well, I suppose it’s a little far-fetched.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “All right, who’s next? Let’s talk to Maureen.”

  Butch’s eyes went wide. “My mother? You’re not serious!”

  “We have to treat them all equally,” I said. I neglected to point out that Butch’s mother made a better suspect than Tess. I didn’t want to upset him further. I handled that interview as gently and tactfully as possible.

  “Well this is just ridiculous,” Maureen said, joining us under the trees. “Shameful, Butch, treating your own mother like a suspect.”

  He shot me a forlorn look and I spoke up. “We have to treat everyone equally,” I reminded her. “Anyone present could be the culprit.”

  “But I’m not!” she objected loudly. “You know I’m not, right Butch?” she said.

  “Of course,” Butch mumbled.

  “Ma’am, several of the others have said you didn’t approve of this wedding. You said just as much in front of the entire crowd just a little while ago.”

  “Well… well I suppose I did,” she said guiltily. “But that didn’t mean anything. Look at my poor Butch. I wouldn’t do this to him.”

  “But would you do it to Talia?” I said.

  “Of course not,” Maureen snapped. “Anything that hurts Talia, hurts my Butch. I would never do such a thing.”

  “What time did you get here?”

  “Just after noon. We wanted to be early to make sure everything was perfect for Butch.”

  “And your husband Colin was with you?” I said.

  “Of course. He doesn’t allow me to drive the Escalade anymore, after the incident at Walmart.”

  My eyebrows went up slightly, but I skirted past her comment. However entertaining the story might have been, that wasn’t the purpose of this interview. “Thanks for your help, ma’am,” I said. “You can go now.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Despite being a more probable suspect than Tess, Maureen seemed an unlikely culprit. She’d been with her family all day. She hadn’t had any opportunity to do anything to Talia, unless she’d prearranged it. If she had done something like that, I wasn’t going to prove it through an interview. It didn’t seem likely anyway. She was quite broken up about Butch’s distressed state of emotions. She may not have approved of Talia’s family, but she wanted Butch to be happy regardless.

  Next, we moved on to Talia’s sister Dwana. That was when the fireworks started. Dwana joined us under the branches and stared at me sullenly with her arms crossed over her chest. She kept glancing at Butch out of the corner of her eye. “I suppose you think it was me,” she pouted.

  “You’re a suspect because of your relationship with Talia, and your opportunity,” I said. “That, and the fact that you had motive.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “That’s crazy. Why would I hurt my sister?” she said in an unconvincing tone.

  “Well, because you’re in love with her fiancé, I suppose,” I said.

  The words kind of hung there in the air for a few seconds. Butch’s jaw dropped open. Apparently, Annie hadn’t filled him in on the gossip. “What are you talking about, Hank?” he said incredulously. “That’s ridiculous!”

  He started laughing but then stopped as Dwana avoided his gaze.

  “How long have you felt this way?” I said.

  Dwana took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It just kind of happened… all of a sudden.”

  I nodded. “Right. It happened when you found out Talia was engaged?”

  She shrugged and stared at the ground. “I suppose.”

  “Dwana, you have a jealousy problem with your sister.”

  “Hey! That’s not fair.”

  “Why do you say that?” I said. “Is it unfair that Talia’s found a good man? Is it unfair that she was getting married and you don’t even have any prospects?”

  “Yes!” she said angrily. “It is unfair! Why should she have it all? Why does Talia get everything good, and all I ever get is: That Dwana, she sure is a trouble-maker! Why doesn’t anyone care about how I feel?”

  She was yelling at that point and Butch and I shared an uncomfortable glance. The rest of the guests in the gazebo were all staring at us. “Did you do something to Talia?” I said bluntly. “Did you cast this spell on her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But you had motive, you had opportunity… why should I believe you?”

  Dwana rolled her eyes. “She’s my sister, dummy. I wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt her. Even if she is spoiled rotten and has always gotten every single thing she ever wanted.”

  I couldn’t tell if Dwana was telling the truth or not. I found it interesting that she claimed Talia was spoiled rotten, and yet displayed the most pronounced symptoms that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if Talia truly had been spoiled by her parents, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Dwana had been.

  I was nearly convinced she was a psychopath at that point, based on her narcissism and her ego complex. I didn’t think questioning her was going to get me anywhere. If Dwana was the culprit, it was going to take time and legwork to prove it. I cut her loose.

  “I don’t have anymore questions for now,” I said. “I’ll call if I need anything.”

  She brightened up enough to give Butch a glowing smile as she left. He stared at her with his jaw hanging open. When she was gone, he finally said, “How long have you known about this?”

  “I just found out,” I said. “I think she just did, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Butch, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but your sister-in-law is nuts.”

  “Yeah.” He slowly drew his gaze away from her to look me in the eyes. “You think she did it?”

  “She’s a good suspect right now,” I said. “But we’ve got a long way to go.”

  Chapter 5

  Two hours of gossip, rumor, and innuendo later, Butch and I were no closer to the culprit than when we started. It seemed everyone had the dirt on somebody else, but none of it could be validated, and every story we heard conflicted with half the others. And for the most part, they all had solid alibis. Solid enough to make our job impossible, anyway. Butch and I both had screaming headaches by the time it was over. Mine had started with the baseball bat busted over my head at Curly’s that morning, but Butch was catching up fast.

  By the time we were done, the caterers had cleaned the place out and we found ourselves alone in the darkening gloom, both of us starved and miserable.

  “Well, what now?” Butch said in an exhausted tone.

  “Let’s start with what we know,” I said. “It hardly matters who looks guilty at the moment because we’ve got no evidence. In fact, mostly what we have is just hearsay.”

  “Plenty o’ that,” Butch grumbled. “Had no idea all my relatives hated each other so much.”

  “Regardless, it doesn’t help us. To nail this down we’ve got to have motive, means, opportunity, and evidence. Either that, or a confession. If you look at the facts, the only real suspect we have so far is Talia’s sister Dwana.”

  Butch sighed. “Aye, not sure what to think about that one,” he muttered.

  “Well, if it is her, I don’t think she’ll hold out long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she’s cracked Butch, but she’s not evil. If we give her some time, I think she’ll confess.”

  “So we just have to wait?” he said with a worried look.

  “No, of course not. We can check up on her. Maybe do a little snooping. But before we go that far, let’s make sure we haven’t overlooked any other suspects. We should get a list of the wedding guests and do a background check on everyone. Our perp may not have been in the wedding party. He or she could have been a guest, or maybe even someone else, someone outside all of this.”

  “That’s gonna take a while,” Butch said. “You know half those people don’t even live in the city, r
ight?”

  “We’ll do what we have to,” I said. “Who has the list?”

  “Talia and Annie worked on all that together.”

  I grimaced. Annie wasn’t very happy with me at the moment. “I’ll give Annie a call then,” I said. Later. “In the meanwhile, can you think of anyone else? Did either of you have any enemies? Maybe someone who wouldn’t have been at that wedding?”

  Butch snapped his fingers and sat upright. “That’s it! Talia had an old boyfriend on the SWAT team. He was a hobgoblin clown named Kensey.”

  My eyebrows went up. “She dated a hobgoblin?”

  “Aye. I guess she used to like ‘em big and dumb.”

  “Good she got over that,” I said, smirking. He glared at me. “This Kensey character, what makes you suspect him?” I said, deftly turning the conversation.

  “Oh, only the fact that he nearly went postal when they broke up. He punched a hole in the bathroom wall down at the precinct. It’s still there.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yep. And Talia caught him stalking her, too. She threatened him with a restraining order and he backed off.”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” I said. “Maybe he was still carrying a torch for her. Does he still work for SWAT?”

  “No, he transferred over to homicide and became a detective.”

  I grimaced. If Butch was right, that meant I had probably run across Kensey at Flick’s murder scene. “Great,” I murmured.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’ve got some trouble with the homicide department right now.” I glanced at my watch. “He’ll be off duty right now. It might be hard to track him down. What say we meet up at the police station first thing in the morning?”

  “Sure. I can’t wait to have a talk with this jerk.”

  “You let me do the talking,” I said.

  Butch frowned, but he didn’t argue.

  “Want to grab a bite to eat?” I offered. “My treat.”

  “Nah, I really just want to check on Talia. I should be with her.”

  “I’ll give you a ride,” I said.

  Talia’s family lived in a beautiful home up on the hill overlooking Sonoma Valley, an hour north of the city. It was a nice but unpretentious place, even though it must have cost millions. When we got there, the place was somber as a funeral parlor. The lights were dim, the mood was dark, and they’d laid Talia’s body out in the living room like a corpse. Butch and I went to check on her. She looked just like she had earlier. Her breathing was steady, her face serene. At least her never-ending sleep didn’t appear to be haunted by nightmares. Butch leaned over to kiss her on the forehead.

  “So much for that,” he said, rising up. “Guess a kiss won’t do it.”

  Maybe we need a handsome prince, I thought cleverly. I didn’t say it. Any other time it would have been a good joke, but not tonight. I clapped Butch on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to the family,” I said. “Do you need a ride in the morning?”

  “No, I’ll meet you there.”

  I didn’t like leaving Butch that way, but there was nothing more I could do for him at the moment. I spent the long drive back to the city figuring out what my next move should be. I had a few good hours left in the evening, and I had another case to solve. If I was going to catch up with Flick’s killer, I’d need to use every available second.

  Earlier, I had been planning to visit my friend Tas to see what kind of info he might be able to pull up on those swords. Unfortunately, the wedding fiasco had ended up taking a lot more time than I’d expected. It was late, and Tas can get moody when people stop by unannounced. I decided I’d give him a call in the morning. I did have other leads to pursue, I just didn’t like any of them.

  It was clear by then that I was going to have to talk with the mayor. It wasn’t high on the list of things I wanted to do, but I couldn’t figure a way around it. All roads led back to the mayor. The mayor had had a meeting with Flick the day before Flick was murdered. The murder weapon had belonged to him, having been conveniently reported stolen after Flick’s death. There were too many things pointing to the mayor. I couldn’t move on until I’d either eliminated him as a suspect or figured out how he tied into the whole thing.

  It was nearly ten when I finally got to the mayor’s house in the Flagstone Estates. You’d think the mayor of the undercity would live in the undercity himself but no, he lives in an extremely wealthy community at the heart of San Francisco. Don’t bother looking for it on a map, though. Flagstone Estates sits on top of a hill in the middle of San Francisco that humans can’t see. The entire subdivision is enchanted with fae magic to make it invisible. I can see it plain as day because magic doesn’t work on me, but humans have a small, undeveloped magical ability that allows magic to work on them even if they don’t believe in it.

  The Flagstone Estates is a gated community, but the gate’s usually open. I guess they figure there’s not much danger since humans can’t get in and half the people who live there are powerful wizards. I took my time getting to the mayor’s place. I drove around the neighborhood checking things out, trying to get straight in my head what I’d say to him. I needed to be very careful. I couldn’t risk offending him because the mayor may have had nothing to do with Flick’s murder. On the other hand, if he was involved then I might tip his hand if I revealed too much.

  It turned out that I didn’t need to worry. The mayor wasn’t home. But his wife was. They lived in a sprawling colonial mansion at the top of the hill with commanding views of the bay, the downtown skyline, and the Pacific. Humans would have paid tens of millions of dollars for that view if they even knew it existed. Ironically, the mayor hadn’t paid that much at all. There are certain perks that come with political power even for the fae.

  I took note of the security cameras on the fence and the sides of the house as I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. After a moment, a short, plump kindred woman with dark hair and wide brown eyes opened the door. “Oh, Steward!” she said. “Won’t you please come in?” She ushered me into the foyer, smiling warmly.

  “I don’t remember, have we met?” I said, taking off my hat.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, but I know who you are Mr. Mossberg. Everybody knows who you are. I’m Moira Kevyle. I’m the mayor’s wife.”

  “I see. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kevyle.”

  “Please, call me Moira. Won’t you come in?”

  There was something about her; something about her too-precious smile and her well-rehearsed saccharine-sweet tone of voice. No doubt about it, she was definitely a politician’s wife. In fact, I was half surprised she hadn’t run for office herself. She seemed as fake and contrived as any other politician I’d ever come across.

  I was also surprised by the fact that she’d opened the door herself. I’d been expecting a maid, a butler, even a nanny… anything but the actual homeowner. It’s an unwritten rule that the rich don’t answer their own doors. They require a buffer, a layer of protection between them and the realities around them. They travel in limousines with chauffeurs and security guards. They fly in private planes. They even shop with an entourage, just to make sure they don’t come in contact with any real people. God forbid a billionaire should actually open the door in person, and be confronted by a salesman – or worse yet, one of his employees.

  And yet there she was, unrealistically polite and way too happy to see me. Almost like she’d been expecting me. If she had, she’d been waiting a while. She led me through the foyer into a large family room with a fireplace, a grand piano, and several sofas and chairs. Everything, from the furnishings to the paintings on the wall screamed wealth.

  “Can I get you a drink, Steward?”

  “No, thank you,” I said, taking off my hat. “Is the mayor available? I’m actually here on business…”

  “Oh, I’m afraid not. He’s gearing up for his next campaign and he’s working twenty-four hours a day lately. I do miss him so much.”

  Sure
you do, I thought cynically. “I didn’t realize it was election time already.”

  “It’s not for us,” she said with a sly grin. “Kerry is running for mayor of San Francisco. That’s just between us of course; he hasn’t made the official announcement yet.”

  My eyebrows shot up. I shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, fae kindred have served in human political offices many times over the last century, especially in the U.S.A. In fact, a few kindred have even been presidents. I won’t mention any names but they’re not hard to pick out if you look at their portraits. The fae features are pretty obvious.

  “Well, congratulations,” I said. “I’m sorry I missed him. Perhaps I could ask you a question or two?”

  She looked me up and down. “What’s this about?”

  I stared down at my hat, choosing my words cautiously. “Ma’am, a newspaper reporter named Flick Hunter was murdered last night in the undercity.”

  “Oh my, that’s terrible. What happened?”

  “I shouldn’t reveal too much information about the case yet, but… well, it happens that he was murdered by a weapon that your husband owned.”

  “A weapon? You’re kidding!”

  “I’m afraid not, ma’am.” I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely surprised or not. Her acting skills were spectacular.

  “Why, that just doesn’t make sense at all. Kerry doesn’t believe in guns. He’s a decent spell caster and he carries a wand with him, but he’s against violence of any sort. He just doesn’t own any weapons like that.”

  “Right,” I said. “The thing is, the weapon wasn’t a gun. It was a sword. An old sword. It was Excalibur.”

  She stared at me for a moment and then broke out in laughter. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Who would kill someone with a sword?”

  “It’s true, though,” I said. “And according to police records, your husband just reported that sword stolen.”

  Her smile vanished as quickly as her fake laughter. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at me as if I were a foolish child. “Mr. Mossberg… Steward, my husband owns a few antiques and they may have been stolen –I don’t know because we haven’t had much time to talk lately- but I can assure you none of them are deadly weapons, and none of them are Excalibur.”