Chapter Eleven #2
There was a wine rack built into the wall, and every bottle looked like it cost more than my weekly grocery shop.
The mer prince was a man with fine taste, but the apartment felt … cold, and that had to do with more than the running air conditioning.
A single glass sat on the counter, upended and bone dry. No other dishes. No clutter. No evidence of the man who lived here or the imposter who had swept through. No helpful posters setting out ‘Jingo’s evil six-point plan’, which I hadn’t expected but would have welcomed all the same.
The property reminded me of a hotel suite, the kind you slept in but didn’t live in. There were no books, no knick-knacks from travelling. Everything was sterile. Top of the line but sterile.
I walked slowly, eyes scanning.
No shoes by the door. No jacket thrown over a chair. No evidence of any letters, no spam mail. Perhaps he had a mail slot downstairs. I’d have to check at the reception desk.
‘It’s nicely done, but it’s not very lived-in,’ Robbie commented.
‘No, it’s not,’ I agreed. For all Robbie had fine things at the den, it was anything but cold. Everything was layered texture and inviting.
The den. I couldn’t stop picturing it in my mind and comparing this place to that.
‘The den is nice,’ I blurted. ‘Are we expected to live there?’
Apparently the topic had been hovering in the ‘to-be-discussed soon’ column for too long, and my brain had shoved it firmly into ‘now’.
Robbie licked his lips, and I appreciated his show of nerves, because the king of the ogres had a poker face that could see him win the World Poker Tour, if he were so inclined.
So he was letting me see his nerves, just like the pottery-related tension earlier.
I’d asked him to let me in and he was. Truly.
Perhaps the pottery revelation had made me see him more clearly too.
‘I’ve been planning to raise that issue,’ he admitted, shifting his weight.
‘I would like us to live together, yes. In ogre culture that doesn’t happen until marriage, which is why I’ve been making sure to spend one or two nights at the den, lest I be accused of an infraction.
But an ogre king must reside in a den – for his protection and to offer protection too.
The most vulnerable reside on den property.
Older ogres and children. As such, there must be warriors there at all times. ’
‘Okay.’ I let that settle in. I hadn’t seen anyone old or especially young at the den’s blessing. Had they been deliberately absent? The vulnerable hidden away while the rest put on a show of strength?
The ogre king must live in a den. So that’s that then. ‘So, we have no choice.’ I tried to keep emotion out of my voice as I stated the obvious.
He snorted. ‘There are always choices, Inspector. You know that. You just have to find them.’
‘You just said the ogre king must reside at a den.’
‘Yes, but we could start our own den, a far smaller one. Or …’ He paused. ‘We could change my status.’
My heart pounded. I needed to be a hundred percent clear on this. ‘What do you mean? What are you suggesting, Robbie?’
He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like we weren’t talking about him abdicating for me.
‘I arrange for someone to challenge me for leadership. Not a to-the-death challenge, but perhaps unconsciousness. I let them win. I walk away as another ordinary ogre, and you and I live wherever the fuck we want, however the fuck we want.’
That was a lot to unpack. For a beat, it was tempting, really tempting. But he had never once asked me to give up my role for him, and I would never dream of asking him to do that for me.
For both of us, our jobs weren’t just employment; they defined us. Asking him to give up his crown would fracture something within him, and I’d never want that for him.
I shook my head before my brain had fully processed his words, but the instinctual reaction didn’t feel wrong. I could picture him storming into Quintos’s ball like an avenging angel, rage and power rolling off him.
If he removed his crown for me, if he lessened himself for me – all because I didn’t want to live in a commune – he’d resent me. Not right away, but surely one day.
Besides, he was a good king. A good man. He deserved to lead.
And I found I wasn’t so against the idea of living in the den as I might have been months ago. It was a big step and a little intimidating, but I’d never been one to shy away from a challenge.
‘I’ll move into the den with you,’ I said. ‘The current one. Not a fake little one that will cause more political problems for you.’
He closed his eyes, and the tension drained out of him in a rush. His shoulders slumped, and he whispered, ‘Thank you.’
‘Of course. But you should know, I only love you for your crown,’ I teased. ‘I can’t have you giving it away for me or the attraction will surely fade.’
He opened those stunning mercury eyes and seemed to see right to the heart of me. ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘You’d love me if I was nothing, had nothing. You love me despite my wealth and power, not because of it.’
‘Yeah,’ I admitted and looped my arms around his neck. ‘Look at us, knowing each other inside and out.’
‘Indeed. It’s almost like we’re fated mates,’ he replied drily.
I laughed and leaned in close, letting my breath tickle the shell of his ear. ‘Since you know me so well, you’ll know I desperately need to … finish scouring the scene.’
He barked a laugh as my hands fell away from him. ‘Yes, I do know that. Do your thing, Inspector. And later … I’ll do mine.’
‘Deal.’
It took effort to shake myself and my brain back to the case, but Kate needed me to be focused. Hell, Troy needed me to be focused. So I looked around the penthouse suite and tried to be analytical.
The living space hadn’t given me much of an insight into the mer’s mind. Frankly, from what I’d seen of his home so far, it was presentable, neat, and utterly soulless.
Still, some people liked clean, sleek, modern lines. Maybe it was unfair of me to call it soulless. Decluttering was a thing for a reason, but I found myself missing all the homely touches that punctuated my home and the home I’d been raised in. Each to their own, I supposed.
I headed towards the hallway that branched off from the main living space.
The lighting shifted again, with subtle recessed LEDs along the baseboards giving the corridor a soft glow. The walls here were decorated with framed photographs, and I paused to look at them. They weren’t of family or friends, but various pictures of water.
One was a black-and-white shot of waves smashing against cliffs, violent and glorious. Another showed an underwater scene with sunlight spearing down in pale beams, illuminating something that might’ve been coral, but it was hard to tell without the vibrancy of colour.
The photos were stunning, but the whole place felt professionally put together.
I continued down the hall. The master bedroom door was ajar, and I entered it.
The bed was sizeable – a king-size at least – immaculate, and dressed in slate-grey sheets with a navy duvet folded back.
There were no creases. No signs of sleep.
Jingo might have been here, but he hadn’t slept here.
He’d risked going somewhere else to put his head down for the night.
I pulled my phone out and dialled Ji-ho.
‘Yo Shirlylock! You get anything helpful?’
‘Not yet, but it’s clear Jingo didn’t stay the night here. Everything is creepily neat and tidy. So I need you to dig deeper into Jingo’s financials. I need to know what property he has. He must have a way to access his money and properties no matter whose body he’s in.’
‘I’ve been looking into it,’ Ji-ho said, ‘but so far I’ve found plenty of money buried under his name – Jude Jingo – or under various aliases I’ve found that he’s repeated over the years, but no property so far. And that’s unusual for someone with a portfolio his size.’
‘How much is he worth?’ I asked out of curiosity.
‘Around a hundred million that I’ve found so far. No doubt there’s more.’
I whistled. ‘Whoever said crime doesn’t pay. All right. Thanks, Ji-ho.’ A thought struck me. ‘Dive into his second-in-command. Reed. Maybe he holds property on Jingo’s behalf.’
‘I can do that,’ he said, and in my mind’s eye I pictured him in his new office at Bridge Street, bobbing his head in thought, even though I knew full well he was at my flat. ‘Is Reed his first name or second?’ he asked.
‘No idea. But he’ll be listed under known associates.’
‘Give me a second.’ Ji-ho hummed a K-pop song as he scanned data for me.
‘Here we go. Django Reed.’
‘Django?’ I said in surprise. ‘Jude Jingo and Django? That’s not suspicious at all. Is Django his real name?’
‘According to the birth certificate I can see, it’s real,’ Ji-ho said. ‘But we both know those things can be faked for a price.’
‘Anything can be faked for a price,’ I muttered as my brain whirred. ‘Look into the properties in Reed’s name, okay?’
‘On it.’
We hung up, and I turned my attention back to the too-neat bedroom.
I walked towards the wardrobe. The doors were glossy and seamless, and I could see my own reflection distorted in them like I was underwater. It was quite a cool trick. Someone had designed this place with care and with a merman in mind.
I pulled open the wardrobe and it was organised with the same kind of precision that said either OCD or serial killer.
Shirts hung in a row, perfectly spaced, all colour-coordinated in line with the rainbow. I took myself to the blue section, but while there were some lighter shades, none of them matched the shirt I’d seen on Robbie’s phone.
There was very little in the way of casual clothes – one pair of jeans, some plain t-shirts, but that was it. No hoodies, no cargo trousers, nothing that said relaxed and chilling at home.
I scanned the lower shelves.
He had shoes lined up like soldiers. Smart leather. Polished. Once again colour-coordinated, though these – without exception – were only in ranges of brown, grey and black. Suffice it to say, Troy wasn’t adventurous with his footwear.
‘Robbie!’ I called. ‘Come in here. I want to double-check that shade of blue on your phone.’
He walked in, phone out and ready. I looked at the screen and rummaged through the blue shirts again, and no, not a single one was the right shade or cut.
I checked the dirty laundry basket in the marble-white bathroom: depressingly empty.
I had nothing.