Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Kate arrived before Channing but after Frost. So by the time Channing arrived, hair still damp from a shower, the scene had been secured by those wholly Other.
‘Where do you need me?’ he asked.
‘Aortic dissection?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Precisely.’
‘What’s up with the white tone to the skin around the gouges?’ I asked.
The ME peered closely at the wounds. ‘Frostbite,’ she said after a beat. ‘It appears that the weapon was extremely cold.’
‘Same MO as Marlow, right? Same weapon?’ And by weapon, we both meant a dismembered ogre’s head.
‘Yes, I’d say so. But this body didn’t have magic-cancelling cuffs on, and no taser marks that I can see on a quick visual inspection, but I’ll double-check the same during autopsy.
It appears he was attacked hard and fast and had no time to access his magic.
The Connection’s system tells us he’s a low-level piper – level 2 only – so he’d have needed to touch his attacker to control him.
And it looks like the killer knew it.’ She turned to face me and Robbie.
‘I’ve got news about Marlow’s case. I got a positive result last night.
The sample you gave is the same as the DNA I swabbed from Marlow. ’
I grimaced. ‘So someone used Thrain Olofsson’s head to kill.’ I looked at Drummond. ‘And probably not just once, but twice.’
‘Yes, indeed. And I’d say they kept the poor ogre’s head in the freezer in the interim. No doubt I’ll find some of Mr Olofsson’s DNA in Mr Drummond’s injuries, and the cell structure will show it’s been frozen, but I’ll check and confirm for completeness.’
‘If you can, then we can prove a living ogre didn’t do this,’ I said with satisfaction. ‘Put those accusations to bed.’
‘Exactly. I have to say, this is a first for me.’
‘And me. But in their haste to frame an ogre for the deaths, they gave us more to work with and screwed themselves over even more. With the body’s position on the bed, it would have been incredibly difficult – almost impossible – for a real ogre to have killed Drummond with their tusks.’
‘I agree,’ Kate hummed. ‘The angle is extremely awkward. I’ll make sure the same is noted in the report.’
‘Thanks Kate.’ I turned to Robbie. ‘I know you said Thrain was killed at a black tourney, but where in the country was he when the head was taken from the body?’
‘At an abandoned club in Berkshire. A place called Cupid’s.’
‘Okay,’ I said, jotting a note in my PNB, which, despite my superiors’ best efforts, had not been replaced by the SPEL app. ‘And how was the security there?’
‘No ogres are to accept any further contracts with the black tourneys, if that’s what you’re getting at.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘No,’ I said mildly. ‘I meant CCTV-wise.’
‘Ah.’ He gave me a sheepish glance. ‘Sorry. No CCTV footage was found.’
‘Sorry I’m late,’ McCaffrey said as she strode into the bedroom. Her warm red hair was tied back in an austere bun, and as usual, she wore just a brush of mascara. ‘Had a problem with Miss Marple.’
‘The show?’ Kate asked, glancing up from the bed where the victim lay, her gloved hands hovering uncertainly over a bloodstained sheet.
‘Her cat,’ I explained, stepping aside so McCaffrey could get a look at the body.
‘I moved house yesterday,’ McCaffrey explained to Kate, wrinkling her nose at the metallic tang of blood and the stench of excrement, ‘and Miss Marple escaped. You’re supposed to keep them in their new house for a couple of weeks so they realise their current locale is their new home.’
‘Oh,’ said Kate, pushing her glasses back up her nose. ‘I didn’t know that. I’m a dog person.’
McCaffrey winked. ‘I won’t hold it against you.’
Kate grinned faintly. ‘Cheers. Did you find Miss Marple?’
‘Oh yes,’ McCaffrey said, bending to examine the cavity in the body. ‘That wasn’t the problem.’
‘What was the problem?’ I asked half-heartedly, jotting down a few of my own notes while she examined the body.
‘She returned … with a squirrel.’
Kate froze, half-bent over the evidence kit. ‘A dead one?’
‘No,’ McCaffrey said darkly. ‘A very much alive one, which she proceeded to drop in my brand-new home office.’
Kate’s eyes widened behind her clear-framed glasses. ‘What did you do?’
‘Screamed like a girl and ran out,’ McCaffrey admitted, straightening up and brushing imaginary fur from her trousers.
‘Anyway, I found some extra courage and snuck back in to open the window so it could climb out. But now it’s eating at me …
what if it doesn’t go? What if it builds a nest in my office and has many squirrel babies?
What if my office becomes a squirrel nursery?
I haven’t even used it once myself yet,’ she complained. ‘Bloody cats.’
Kate yawned widely, and as I glanced at her, a little blush tinged her cheeks.
‘Late night?’ I asked.
The red in her cheeks deepened. ‘You may not have been wrong about Troy’s interest.’
‘All right! Way to go Kate.’
‘Nothing happened. Nothing much happened,’ she amended. ‘But we stayed up late talking, which I now regret.’
McCaffrey shook her head. ‘You can’t regret it, Doc. Life’s too short for that.’ She gestured at the body. ‘Case in point.’ She studied the lifeless form on the bed. ‘Another ogre attack?’
‘Purported ogre attack,’ Robbie corrected with a growl.
‘It appears the injuries were done using a decapitated head stolen from a recently deceased ogre,’ I explained.
McCaffrey clicked her tongue. ‘Well, that’s grim.’ She looked at Robbie. ‘Who have you pissed off recently, Your Excellence?’
‘Too many to name,’ he replied mildly.
‘All right,’ McCaffrey said. ‘Someone’s trying to frame the ogres. Why?’
‘The victim is identified as Alasdair Drummond,’ I confirmed, ‘and I met him briefly yesterday.’
Robbie’s head snapped up to look at me.
‘I didn’t speak to him,’ I continued, ‘but he was part of the Anti-Crea protest outside of the office.’
Robbie’s face remained carefully blank.
‘The Anti-Crea suffered catastrophic losses when they came up against the dragons recently. Their numbers must be at an all-time low.’
McCaffrey’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You think they killed Marlow and Drummond as a recruitment tactic?’
‘They need to stir up Anti-Creature sentiment. What better way than having an ogre brutally murder a prestigious member of society, an important Symposium member?’
‘And this guy?’
‘Marlow didn’t get newspaper coverage, not yet anyway, but serial killers always get attention.
They need more deaths, more outrage.’ I smiled.
‘And I’m going to pull it right out from under them.
’ I had a contact number for The Mystic Informer, and I felt a newspaper article coming on.
Not one they wanted, but one I wanted. I’d paint the Anti-Crea as inept and pathetic, and make it clear we knew how they’d killed both men.
Hopefully, I’d piss them off enough that they’d come gunning for me.
When they did, the trap would spring.
I was almost looking forward to it. But first, I had groundwork to lay. I pulled out my phone and dialled Ji-ho.
‘Morning, Shirlylock,’ Ji-ho answered, though his voice sounded tired and subdued, as if coffee hadn’t yet made a dent.
‘Morning,’ I said, shifting to lean against the wall. ‘Bad night?’
‘Not the best,’ he admitted after a pause, the clack of a keyboard faint in the background.
‘You should have called,’ I said, though we both knew why he hadn’t.
‘Maybe another time,’ came the wry reply. Then, more businesslike, ‘How can I help?’
‘I need the info you dug up on the protestors yesterday. Any particular red flags?’
‘Two of them were ex-military, both dishonourably discharged,’ he said. Paper rustled, the faint hum of his computer fan filling the silence between us. ‘They both have decent rap sheets. No one else had a criminal record.’
‘All right,’ I said, straightening. ‘I’ll look into them first. Names?’
‘Bruce Hunter and Ambrose Beeks.’
‘Thanks, Ji-ho. Send me the files.’
‘Uploading to SPEL now,’ he promised, and the line clicked dead.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
‘You think his own friends did this to him?’ Robbie murmured. ‘The other protestors?’
I nodded. ‘They tipped their hand. Showing up too early like that, it set alarm bells ringing right away. They’re cocky, think they’re leading us on a merry goose chase.’
‘You’re better than them.’
‘Forensics have come a long way. Kate’s the one who cracked this case, not me. She found the dead tissue. A less meticulous ME wouldn’t have.’
‘You’re the one who’s going to find out which of them did it, and you’re going to bring them down.’
I enjoyed the sureness in his voice.
‘I am,’ I agreed.
I scanned the files Ji-ho had uploaded to SPEL, and then I tapped out my orders to Unit 13: Round them all up and bring them in for interview.
Time to rattle some cages.