Chapter 7
The Suspects
The town had been told to go home by the time Roam and Sean were ready to begin.
Sean had asked them to. Roam had asked Murphy to clear the square, and Murphy had done it. The pub was dark. Only Spellbinders, at the corner of the lane, still threw its lamplight out across the cobblestones, and the cobblestones still held what someone had left for them.
Sean was on one knee beside the body. "Aye," he said, without looking up. "Take the left side, I've got the right."
They worked the body for the better part of an hour.
What it had to tell them was this. Strangulation by bare hands.
No defensive marks. No magic signature, no scorch, no residue, no prints.
The bruise pattern showed two hands and a great deal of control.
The killer had not had to try twice. The killer had worn gloves or had been very careful.
No skin, no hair, no fiber. The killer had faced him.
Roam went through the pockets.
In the inner pocket of the coat, against the lining over the heart, his fingers closed on a folded paper. It had been folded into quarters. On its outer face, in a small precise scholar's hand, was written:
Mrs. Rhoda Hadwin.
Roam looked at it for a moment. Then he laid it in the small evidence pouch he kept inside his coat, and slipped it back into his pocket.
Sean looked over, "What've ye got there, brother."
"A note. Addressed to Rhoda."
"Aye." Sean drew in a long breath. "We should go see her then."
"Agreed." Roam's eyes burned more amber than blue.
A few other Shifters stepped carefully around the scene, and scooped up the warlock. Phineas Grove was carried away under a clean linen sheet. They did it quietly. They had been doing it in Cauldron Falls a long time.
Roam and Sean went into Spellbinders together.
The shop was dim and warm. Sean went to the back counter; the small brass dial above the owl bracket showed that Mary had flown twice within the hour.
Whatever Phineas had sent was already gone with her, sealed under the standard scholar's privacy enchantment.
Sean filed a request to Salem on a small green form from his coat.
The form folded itself and went. They searched the rest of the shop and found nothing else unusual.
"Who're ye thinkin', brother." Sean asked.
"Maeve Byrne. Two public threats at the man in twelve hours. Off the bar to the back door during the warlock fight. Nobody watched her go and nobody watched her come back."
"Aye." Sean agreed.
"Oona Pierce. Backed Maeve's second threat at the parlor. In the loo through the warlock fight. Same window." Roam was tracking the whole scene.
"Yellow-scarf?" Sean asked.
"Nah. He threw that fight for show." Roam shook his head.
"Bearded one?"
"Same. He was just mad." Roam waved him off.
Sean wrote two names in his book.
"Just the two, then."
"For now," Roam said. "Truth is, we have to consider almost everyone in that pub. We start where the threats came from."
And they pushed back through the door of Spellbinders, locking it with the key Colin had left them.
Roam stood looking at the rectangle of lamplight on the cobbles.
He thought about the man in the dining room who had set down his cup like a struck bell at the news of Nadia Costin, and about that same strange man in the corner table of a pub during a small showy fight.
Then he closed the thought and put it where he kept the thousands of thoughts he did not have evidence for.
"Tomorrow," Sean said. "I'll run the tests. You find out about that note. See you first thing."
"First thing." Roam turned up the lane and climbed the hill.
The Hadwin kitchen was warm and the stove was on.
Edgar stood at the cast-iron with a wooden spoon, making eggs because he had to be doing something.
Rhoda sat at the kitchen table with both hands wrapped around the bayou book. Honey sat across from her.
At the far end of the kitchen table, Lazlo sat with Duchess on his lap. He stroked her slowly. She purred. Neither of them looked at anything.
Above them, in the east hall, two doors had been closed since they'd come up the hill. Maeve Byrne was behind one. Oona Pierce was behind the other.
Roam came in through the kitchen door.
"Rhoda," Roam said.
"Sit down, eat first." She demanded.
He sat. Edgar set a plate of eggs in front of him.
Roam did not look at them. Honey laid her hand on his thigh under the table.
Roam laid his hand on hers. For a while, no one spoke.
Then Edgar set the wooden spoon down on the counter and leaned both palms flat against the cast-iron stove, and his head went down.
"I should've walked down with him."
"Edgar, darling." Rhoda hushed him.
"I barely knew the man twelve hours, but I should've walked down the hill with him. I let him walk on ahead and I didn't catch up because I was talkin' to Lazlo about the map. I was talkin' about the damn map."
Rhoda was up out of her chair and across the kitchen before he finished. She laid both hands on his back. She did not say anything.
Lazlo lowered his head and set Duchess down on the floor beside his chair. "My friend Nadia, now this. I just don't know what to make of it all."
His voice caught.
On the front porch, Dean Martin counted softly to himself. "Sugar," Dean Martin murmured. "Seven in the grass."
Honey's eyes went to the kitchen window.
"And four more," Dean said.
Honey's hand on Roam's tightened. But neither said a word. She pulled the bayou book toward her, and began to read where Rhoda left off.
From the far end of the table, Lazlo lifted his head. "I need to be helpful, my friends. Let me at least look in on the ladies upstairs before I go to bed. I'll take them another tray."
"You're a good man, Lazlo." Edgar barely turned his head.
Lazlo rose, lifted the small tray from the sideboard, arranged a pot and two cups on it, and left the kitchen.
His footsteps went up the back stairs. Rhoda did not move from Edgar's back.
Roam waited until he heard Lazlo's footsteps reach the east hall landing. Then he turned his attention to Rhoda.
"Sean and I have our list of suspects." He swallowed hard. "And two of your guests are on that list."
"What?" She turned to look at him. "They're sleepin' under my roof, Roam."
"I know, ma'am. That's why I'm tellin' you now." He stood and moved closer to her and Edgar. "I'm going to be right here all night. Nothing will happen to any of you on my watch."
Roam reached inside his coat and drew out the small evidence pouch. "Phineas had a note. In the inner pocket of his coat. Addressed to you."
Rhoda's face did not change. But Edgar turned around to face Roam.
"I haven't opened it. Of course, it's evidence. I cannot give it to you yet. But I wanted you to know that I have it. And I will let you know what it says, tomorrow."
"Thank you, Roam." Rhoda whispered.
"Yes, ma'am."
Rhoda's hand went up to her own throat. It stayed there a moment. Then she turned to Edgar and wrapped herself around his waist. "I can't tonight. I have to sleep."
"Right, darlin' we should rest. We're no good spent." Edgar held his wife for a moment more.
"You keep her safe Roam." Rhoda nodded toward Honey.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll keep you all safe. I promise." Roam gave her a weak smile.
"We're lucky to have you son." Edgar patted Roam's back as he helped Rhoda from the kitchen toward the staircase.
When everyone had gone, Honey sat at the kitchen table.
The eggs were cold on the plate Edgar had set in front of Roam.
Above them, through the floorboards, came the soft murmur of Lazlo's voice in the east hall, checking, one more time, on Maeve and Oona.
Then the soft sound of closing doors. Then silence.
She did not cry. She did not move. She held the moment the way the kitchen had been holding her family all night.
"Should we check out front?" Roam slipped his arms around her shoulders.
"Yes. We certainly should." Honey closed the book and rose to walk with him.
Through the house and outside through the big door.
She remembered being on the other side of that door as a toddler, hoping for someone to answer.
Rhoda and Edgar had answered, and that had filled her heart.
Now she stood at the rail in the cold with Roam.
Having answered the door for a lawn full of cats in the dark.
They sat in their puzzled rows. The hum of the spilling was a near-whisper now.
Honey leaned her shoulder against Roam's.
"I know it is not for me to ask. But."
"You can ask, Honey."
"Maeve. Oona."
Roam looked at her in the moonlight and didn't confirm or deny. "We're talkin' to everyone."
Honey understood. She nodded once, wrapped her arms around his waist, and they stood at the rail in the cold and did not speak. Above them, buried in the purple flowers of the vine, Dean Martin watched the lawn stop filling up with cats. "Sugar, I think that's it."
Honey took a deep breath, and said, "well, Roam O'Reilly, how would you like to be my assistant tonight. So, we can get all these lovely creatures inside."
"As long as I get to be beside you, sure. I'll do anything."