Chapter 13
The woman who answered the door looked tired beneath her perfectly applied make-up.
“Mrs. Bradshaw?” Clare held out her ID. “Detective Sergeant Clare Doyle, we spoke on the phone earlier. About your son, Edward?”
The woman’s lips turned down, her eyes clouded. But she nodded and held the door open wider.
“Guess you’d best come in,” she said on a resigned sigh.
Clare glanced around the interior. High Tween decor, delicately striped wallpaper, polished parquet tiles, a sweeping oak staircase with plush red carpet in the center of each stair—all a statement of wealth and authority.
John Bradshaw was the treasurer for the Council of Towns, and frankly Clare had been surprised when his wife had agreed to speak to her.
Particularly after the other two had closed her down the moment she’d mentioned her reason for calling.
What kind of parents disowned their own kids like that? Purely because they’d gone to work with monsters on an equal footing?
Mrs. Bradshaw took Clare into a formal sitting room looking out onto the gardens, which featured, like all of Tween, perfectly manicured lawns and flower beds overflowing with curated color. Carefully muted shades of pink and mauve were obviously the Bradshaws’ choice.
Everything was picture perfect, belied only by Mrs. Bradshaw’s haunted face, the shadows under her eyes.
“Tea, coffee?” Mrs. Bradshaw asked.
“A cup of Earl Grey without milk, please. No sugar.” She’d got that one down pat over the years. “Thank you.”
The older woman pulled a bell pull, and a moment later a slender, slightly nervous looking woman hurried in. Mrs. Bradshaw requested the pot of tea, “And some of Mrs. Lane’s butter cookies also.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The servant bobbed her head and left.
Mrs. Bradshaw sank down on a chaise longe and sighed. “So, I’m guessing you have no more news of Edward?”
“Not presently. We are trying to piece together a picture of what might have led Edward to be working in Motham, so we’re hoping you can shed some light on that. We know he’d been working for an architecture firm, Fae Designs, for four months when he disappeared.”
Mary Bradshaw splayed her fingers and huffed a sigh.
Clare pushed on. “Mrs. Bradshaw, to be honest, we are having trouble getting anyone from Tween to speak to us. So if you can give us any information at all, it could really help us find Edward.”
“It’s difficult,” the older woman said finally. “He left a very good company here to go and work for that firm, and his father was livid. But I guess,” she gave a sad smile, “I personally thought it could be worse. At least he’s working with fae, not, you know—real monsters.”
The woman paused while the serving girl brought in the tea and cookies. Clare thanked her, shuddering a little at how dull life must be for this girl, probably from the lesser town of Twill. No wonder young humans preferred to work in Motham.
Mrs. Bradshaw continued, “Edward had trouble getting a job after university, he was such a shy boy. And he was mercilessly bullied at school.”
Clare felt her heart tighten. She knew all too well what that felt like.
“Then about a year ago, he started to go out in the evenings, said he was attending some social group thing in Be-Tween. Of course, his father disapproved—to my husband, going into that satellite town was tantamount to mixing with monsters. But I was glad, you know, that Eddie was making friends finally.”
“Did he ever bring any of them home?”
“Oh no, we never encouraged that.” Mrs. Bradshaw sipped her tea.
“Did he talk about any of them?”
“Not really. Edward wasn’t the talking type. But he did mention a woman once to me who came to talk about working in Motham… maybe he was preparing us for the bad news.” She gave a hollow little laugh. “Cookie?”
Clare picked up her cup and took a cookie. Now it was hard to take notes. She nibbled the cookie, took a sip of her tea, then put her cup back down. She’d never been good at the niceties.
“Was that the first you knew that Edward was interested in working with monsters, Mrs. Bradshaw?”
The older woman shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I knew he was inclined to be sympathetic to monsters. He was always very chatty with our staff as a child.” She gazed out the window to where a minotaur and a goblin in overalls were working on the garden.
“He used to talk to the er, contractors out there.” She sighed.
“He clashed with his father on the issue quite often, it was the only time I ever saw Eddie get angry. In the end, we agreed we wouldn’t talk about them in the home, to maintain harmony. ”
“Is he your only son, Mrs. Bradshaw?”
“I have two sons, Edward is the youngest. Brian, my eldest, works for the Council of Towns, and is much more like his father in temperament.”
Chauvinist bullies then, knowing what human officials were like, Clare thought, but she smiled politely.
The older woman sighed. “I just wish we could get Eddie home safe.”
“Of course, Mrs. Bradshaw. Is there anything else I should know about him, his health or wellbeing, that might help? We have been refused access to his medical records by the Tween clinic, so I guess I’m relying on you as his mother…
” She trailed off, smiling sweetly, appealing to Mrs. Bradshaw’s maternal instincts.
“His health was good. Excellent, in fact. He never got sick like other kids. The health clinic wanted to study why he never picked up viruses, and healed so quickly, especially the time he broke his arm. It was quite remarkable.” She puffed up a little with pride.
“When they took his blood, they found that he has a rare blood type, AOx positive, which is now recognized as having remarkable healing properties. He got offered good money to give blood, and I think maybe that’s how he was able to move away.
Because we certainly weren’t going to fund his apartment in Motham. ”
“Who paid him money?” Clare made a note of this, her senses sharpened to a knife point.
“Tween Clinic, owned by the Jordaks. I think the youngest family member, Quentin, runs it.”
“Thank you.” Clare jotted the details down. “Anything else at all, Mrs. Bradshaw, any contacts in Motham your son may have had?”
“Oh no, we wouldn’t know about any contacts in Motham.
” She looked aghast. Then she frowned. “Except… I did find a card for the woman who ran the seminar he attended about working in Motham. After he disappeared, I tried to call her, to see if she could, quietly, throw some light on his time there, but she never returned my calls. Wait a moment, I’ll get her card. ”
“That would be great.”
While she waited for the older woman to return, Clare stared out the window at the two monsters working in the garden.
Their heads bowed submissively, eyes never raised above the garden beds, and her lip curled with disgust at the double standard.
Use monsters to tend your beautiful gardens and make your flowers bloom, but treat them as lesser beings.
She managed to hide her disgust behind a smile when Mary Bradshaw returned and handed her a small card. “This is their business card. The recruitment firm he dealt with.”
She took it, and hairs spiked on the back of Clare’s neck.
It had the same distinctive gilt lettering as the invitation she’d picked up at Natalie’s.
Emmaline Shaw
Director
Humans4Monsters
Vocational recruitment agency
“May I keep this?” she asked Mary.
“Yes of course. Like I said, I have tried to phone this woman several times. Maybe you’ll have more luck contacting her from Motham.”
“We will certainly investigate this further,” Clare reassured her, “and of course let you know of any developments.”
The woman’s face softened a little, hope shining in her watery blue eyes. “You do think Edward will turn up alive, don’t you?”
“I sincerely hope so, ma’am. You have given me some valuable information today. I really appreciate your time. Thank you for the refreshments.” She hoped Mrs. Bradshaw wouldn’t notice her full cup and uneaten cookie.
“Thank you my dear. Thank you.” She clasped Clare’s hand, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. “Anything to get my Eddie back.”
Clare squeezed the woman’s hand gently, feeling sorry for her. Mary Bradshaw was probably trapped in a loveless marriage in her perfect home, waiting for news of her son who’d disappeared in a city she dared not set foot in herself.
“And erm, just one more thing—” Mrs. Bradshaw’s hand fluttered nervously to her mouth. “Please don’t try to contact my husband. He doesn’t know you’ve been here today. He won’t have Edward’s name mentioned in the house, so it would not go down well if he knew we had spoken.”
“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Bradshaw. I will not make contact with your husband,” Clare said. But in truth, she didn’t understand. She would never understand how a father could disown his son simply because he mixed with monsters as equals.
Fifteen minutes later, she drew up outside the Spriggs’ more modest dwelling in a part of Tween that was nowhere near as posh as the area where the Bradshaws lived. The lawns weren’t quite as pristine, the paintwork not as sparkly. But it was still eminently respectable.
Her parents’ home and the funeral parlor weren’t far from here, maybe she would pop home afterward and say hi.
But then they’d ask her to stay for dinner, and then why not stay the night?
And shame on her, she was itching to get back to Motham and her grungy little apartment. And to phone Oliver Hale.
Only because I have leads I need to share.
Yeah, right, who are you kidding?
Truth was, she was obsessed with being around that damn vampire, the excitement and turmoil she felt around him, the gnawing emptiness that only seemed to be alleviated by his presence. What the fuck was wrong with her?
She took out her phone and pulled up his number then stared at it, chewing on her lower lip.
No point calling him. She needed to talk to the Spriggs first.
As she went up the garden path, Jo was already opening the door, as if she’d been waiting for her to arrive.
“Come in, Hank is here too.”
Clare hadn’t seen Hank Spriggs for years.
He’d grown rounder and his hair had greyed.
But the house hadn’t changed. It took her back to sleepovers and the camaraderie she’d shared with Natalie, and that brought with it a wave of sadness.
It also reminded her why she’d gone back to work in Motham this time around.
For Natalie. Not for fucking Oliver Hale.
“Have you got any more news?” Jo’s face was pinched with anxiety.
Clare shook her head. “What I can tell you is that we’ve been to Natalie’s apartment and found a couple of things—not worrying in themselves—which we’ll discuss shortly. But right now, I need more information from you regarding the events that led to Natalie taking the job with Slither and Scales.”
“Sure.” The Spriggs sat down next to each other on the sofa, clasping hands.
Clare got out her notebook and pen. “Was there anything you recall, any person she talked about who influenced her in any way, any events she went to?”
Hank scratched his balding head. “Yeah. There was a seminar she went to in Be-Tween, do you remember Jo?”
His wife nodded. “Some human was giving a talk about living and working in Motham. Afterward Natalie was full of how lovely the human was who was running it.”
“Do you know their name, or the company?”
“No. If she said, I don’t remember.”
“It wasn’t Humans4Monsters recruitment was it, by any chance?”
“I really can’t remember, I’m sorry.” Jo shook her head.
“We found this invitation in Natalie’s belongings.
” Clare showed them the invitation to the cocktail party and Jo put her hands to her mouth, tears welling.
“That name sounds horrible. Like they’re going to eat humans.
” Jo shuddered. “Why would Natalie go to a cocktail party? She wasn’t into that kind of thing. ”
“We don’t know for sure she did attend, but we did find a new party dress in her wardrobe, which she may have worn to the event. And this invitation—the seminar you mentioned in Be-Tween may have been run by the same woman, so anything you can remember would really help.”
Hank frowned. “I do know the seminar was just after Natalie’s birthday—so, end of July, I guess. About a month before she left. at the Be-Tween town hall. I remember because I took her there. She’d just given blood at Tween Clinic and I didn’t want her to drive herself.”
Clare sat up straighter, pen poised. “Oh really, did she give blood often?”
“Yes, she did. She got paid good money for it, so it was like a little side hustle for her.”
“How come she got paid?”
“She has a rare blood type, AOx positive. Don’t know where that came from.
Neither of us have it, do we Hank?” Jo looked at her husband, who shook his head.
“Apparently it speeds up healing of wounds and illnesses and the like. The blood banks don’t have much of it over the mountains in Selig, and the Tween Clinic pays handsomely for it because there’s only one small cluster of folks in Tween who have it, apparently.
” She stopped suddenly. “You… you haven’t found any of her blood, have you?
I mean, nothing to indicate she was hurt? ”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Clare reassured, writing the words Edward and Natalie AOx positive, her mind racing. Heck, both missing humans shared the same rare blood group, both had been paid by Tween Clinic to supply it regularly. What were the odds of this being a coincidence?
Very small, she reasoned.
She needed to share this with Oliver ASAP, and also come clean about the invitation she’d kept from him. Angry with him or not, she was going to have to put on her big girl pants and focus on solving the case.