Chapter Ten
I had told Ji-ho to bring his computer, and being the overachiever he was, he’d brought three. He sat down at my small dining room table, pulled one out, and fired it up.
‘What do you need?’ he asked, looking up at me, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
‘First, I want a financial check on Troy Fairglass. I want full financial records of his spending for the past week, and please flag anything on the day Aspen died and anything since.’
‘You got it.’ Ji-ho started typing rapidly. After a minute, he set the computer aside and pushed it back across the table. ‘That’s running. What else do you need?’
‘A deep dive on Jude Jingo. Laura started a file before, but that only has official data. I want the unofficial data.’
‘The good stuff.’ Bouncing in his chair, he started typing on the second computer. ‘Now we’re talking.’
‘You want some waffles?’ Robbie offered the naiad.
‘No thanks, man. Though I wouldn’t say no to some coffee?’ he asked, but he eyed the instant coffee grounds by the kettle dubiously. Rightly so.
I was about to apologise for my paltry coffee offerings when Robbie lifted a small coffee machine from my cupboard, set it on the counter, and started it percolating. At my gaping, he winked, mercury eyes warm and amused.
Apparently, he’d bought me a new coffee machine. He and Ji-ho were cut from the same coffee-loving cloth, and my instant grounds weren’t up to the task. I’d thought his coffee this morning had smelled too good.
I didn’t mind that Robbie had bought himself a coffee machine to live at my flat.
If anything I liked it. Still, we should probably talk about how much time he was spending at my flat and where we’d live when we eventually got married, but those conversations often fell away in the face of the long hard days we both had.
The last thing either of us wanted to do after work was discuss logistics. I shuffled such things into my “one day soon” to-do list. Not urgent, not immediate, but soon.
The problem with such a plan was that the items rarely moved from the “soon” category to the “now” list. Instead, they mostly lingered in task limbo, but I could feel the weight of it all growing. I couldn’t ignore the heavy conversations forever.
Robbie gave Ji-ho a coffee, then handed me and Channing waffles overflowing with butter and golden syrup.
I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.
With his hands full, Robbie had left my tea on the kitchen counter, so Bob helpfully floated it over.
‘Thanks, Bob,’ I murmured.
Channing frowned. ‘Who’s Bob?’ He looked around before eyeing me. ‘You used the IR to float that tea over, right?’
‘No,’ I said absently. ‘That’s just Bob, my resident ghost.’
Channing paled. ‘Ghosts are real?’
‘Officially, no.’ I lifted my fork. ‘Unofficially, I definitely have one in my flat. But his main job seems to be taking care of me, and he’s most insistent that I have a good breakfast. He’s harmless.’
Channing’s eyes were wild. ‘But … where is he?’
‘Wherever he wants to be, I suppose. I don’t think he’s here all the time. Maybe he visits the other flats too.’ I cut into my waffle. ‘He’s a good guy. Don’t sweat it.’
Ji-ho’s hands paused on his computer. ‘I thought ghosts weren’t real.’
‘They’re not supposed to be. But … what else would you call Bob?’
We all looked at the floating cup of tea hanging in mid-air. I reached out and took it.
‘I’ve got it, thanks,’ I said, and the weight fell into my hand as Bob released it. I took a casual sip. ‘It’s no big deal.’ Setting the mug down, I dived pointedly into my waffles.
‘It’s a bit of a big deal,’ Ji-ho muttered, staring unblinkingly at where the mug had been. After a moment, he cleared his throat and turned back to his computer.
I didn’t want Bob to feel bad. If Bob was the only ghost in the world – and not just the only ghost in the world I and Channing and Ji-ho had ever dealt with – I didn’t want to ram it down his throat.
Channing walked around to the other laptop and pulled it towards him to work on Troy’s financials. He scanned the screen intently, and after a few moments he jabbed it in excitement. ‘We’ve got something!’ he said in triumph. ‘On the day of the murder, Troy spent a cool ￡100 at a florist’s.’
I thought of the bouquet of flowers found dead next to Aspen and murmured, ‘The dead flowers on scene.’
‘Yeah,’ Channing agreed. ‘I’ll call the florists to confirm that Troy bought them.
’ He looked at me, eyes gleaming. ‘If he did buy those flowers and they match the description of the ones found dead at the scene, then we know Troy’s story of finding Aspen dead is bogus.
The narrative changes. Troy bought healthy flowers, met Aspen while he was still alive, and then Aspen – well, Jingo, I guess, used the dryad’s powers to affect the flowers, making them shrivel and die.
And that couldn’t happen if the dryad was already dead. ’
‘You’re right, and though it’s certainly persuasive, it’s all circumstantial. It’s not the nail in the coffin we need. And we can’t assume anything. Maybe Troy bought some other flowers for his mum.’
Still, I couldn’t deny this rang true for me. A dryad’s powers were capable of interacting with plants, and it was completely up Jingo’s street to use such powers to cause the flowers to wither and die.
‘Jingo once said that his handle on his dryad powers wasn’t great,’ I commented, turning it over in my mind. That at least meant he had some dryad powers at his fingertips.
‘He doesn’t need a good handle on it to shrivel a few flowers,’ Channing said.
He was almost certainly right. ‘All right. Run it down.’
‘I’ll call the florist.’ He walked off and did so. I could hear him introducing himself, rattling off his badge number and confirming what Troy Fairglass had bought on the day in question.
I cut into my waffles and chewed quietly. The room remained silent, all eyes on the detective while we waited for some evidence to fall into place.
‘Zinnias?’ Channing repeated, grinning. ‘Thanks for your help.’ Channing gave a fist pump as he hung up.
‘We’ve got him, sir! Troy bought the bouquet of zinnias, the exact same type found dead on the scene!
This proves it. Jingo used Aspen’s powers to kill the flowers, and I’m betting he goaded Troy into killing him.
Since he was found on Kate’s lawn, it’s not a stretch to assume that Jingo threatened Kate and Fairglass put an end to it – permanently. ’
I nodded. ‘I agree that’s the likeliest scenario, but we need more evidence. It’s a solid start. Keep looking.’
‘That deep background search on Jude Jingo is running,’ Ji-ho said. ‘What else do you need?’
‘It would be rude not to use all three computers.’ I winked. ‘I need to know about doppelgangers. Specifically, if anyone has ever survived one of their hostile takeovers.’
Ji-ho bobbed his head in thought. ‘That’s a specific set of circumstances all right. Leave it with me. This one might take a while.’ He looked at the time, then at Channing. Ji-ho coughed. ‘You know?’ he said. ‘I’m not feeling so well either. I’d better call in sick.’
‘There’s a horrible bug going around the office,’ Channing agreed solemnly.
The tech whizz smirked. ‘What a shame.’
‘I’ve got something,’ Channing said a while later. ‘On the day of the murder, Fairglass dropped some cash in City Gate.’
City Gate was a menswear shop on Bridge Street.
Channing stood. ‘I’ll go and speak to the employees, see if I can find out what he bought. It might not be anything, but it’s better to be thorough.’
He was quoting me, I realised with a pleased smile.
‘You can’t go, Channing,’ Robbie asserted. ‘You’re supposed to be sick, and City Gate is right by your office. If Thackeray or Faraday see you, you’ll be facing a disciplinary.’
‘The chances of them seeing me are small,’ Channing argued, looking faintly nervous.
‘I’ll go,’ Robbie insisted.
‘You’re not with the Connection,’ Channing protested. ‘They won’t speak to you.’
‘You poor sweet summer child,’ Ji-ho said. ‘Krieg doesn’t need a badge to make people speak to him.’
I winced. That was depressingly true. And Robbie was right. I didn’t want Channing getting into trouble on my behalf.
‘You go.’ I nodded to Robbie. ‘But ask nicely. No broken skin or bones.’
‘You never let me have any fun,’ he pouted, eyes sparkling with mischief, but they hardened as he looked at Ji-ho and Channing. ‘A vampyr attacked her. You keep her safe in my absence.’ Because he knew me, he fixed his eyes on me too. ‘And you keep yourself safe.’
I glared at him flatly. ‘I will. Now scoot. And come back with answers.’
He sent me a mock salute that was entirely too reminiscent of Elvira’s sass. Why did no one respect my authority?
He hadn’t been gone long when there was a knock at the door. Frowning, I opened it, and Laura bustled in.
‘Hey, boss,’ she said casually as she shut the door behind her and turned to Ji-ho. ‘I brought the file, just like you asked.’ She strode over and handed him a bulky folder.
I found my voice. ‘What the hell is this? Why are you here?’
‘Oh, I brought Jude Jingo’s folder over, the official one. That’s why I’m late to the party. It took me and Elvira ages to photocopy the whole thing. She was particular about not letting the real file leave the office.’
Ji-ho opened the mammoth manila folder and scanned it, eyes narrowing to slits as he read at an insane pace, hands blurring. When he finished, he looked pale. ‘Jude Jingo is not someone to mess with.’
Channing snorted. ‘We all knew that.’
‘Yeah.’ Ji-ho shifted in his seat, looking at me. ‘But did you know you’re continuing a campaign your father started?’
A chill rushed over me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘There were numerous arrests in his file. No charges but a lot of arrests.’ Ji-ho placed his hand over the thick folder, his dark eyes concerned. ‘Stacy … all of them were by your father, Marcus Wise.’