14. The Date That Smells Wrong #3
I plug Niall Fraser’s name into the system while Kelly opens her notes.
She has already written more than she admitted: time of arrival, table location, his drink order, nervous habits, three references to family obligations, two evasions about work, one mention of a sibling, and, in all caps, OVEREXPLAINS CHOWDER.
I glance at her.
She lifts her chin. “It may become relevant.”
“If chowder breaks this case, I will formally apologize.”
“You should formally apologize anyway.”
“I did.”
“You apologized for overstepping. You have not apologized to chowder.”
“Chowder can file its own complaint.”
Her mouth twitches.
The first search returns quickly.
NIALL FRASER. Age thirty-two. Everwilde resident. Prior address: Port Sable. Employment inconsistent. No violent history. No open warrants. Two traffic tickets. One dismissed citation for operating without proper contractor registration.
“Contractor,” Kelly says.
“Not plumber by license.”
“But close enough to pass if someone needed him to.”
I search Bayline Plumbing. No Niall Fraser. No Fraser on payroll. No subcontractor records.
I widen the query and get FRASER REPAIR & DRAINAGE. Closed three years ago. Owner: Peter Fraser. Deceased. Surviving relatives: two children, Niall and Taylor. No mother referenced.
I dig further. Run a credit check. Medical debt. A charity application. A declined hardship request from St. Brigid’s Veil’s Humanitarian Aid program.
“Human-adjacent assistance I'm betting."
Kelly goes still. “Human-adjacent?”
“Families connected to supernatural incidents without being supernatural themselves. Treatment, memory care, ward exposure, curse contamination.”
Her face tightens. “Wow! There’s so much I’ve been missing.”
“You have no idea.”
I smile and scroll.
There. A sealed notation, partially redacted.
NIALL FRASER — recurring neurological events. Recommended specialist evaluation. Funding denied pending classification.
Kelly’s breath leaves slowly. “He’s not a murderer. Just deeply in debt and dying.”
“Yes, glad you dodged that bullet.”
Kelly gives me a look. Acknowledging my heightened sense of compassion I’m sure.
The pieces shift.
Niall’s tired eyes. His shaking hands. His panic when I mentioned his medications.
Could be illegal drugs. Stolen drugs. Unlikely that he was a murderer out to get Kelly. But still suspicious.
Why would a guy who is dying, a guy deeply in debt, invite a woman like Kelly to dinner…and overpay?
And there is still a maintenance connection I don’t like.
“How did you meet?” I ask.
“What?” Kelly asks.
“How did you and Niall meet?”
She puckers her lips. Unsure whether to say.
I hold my stare long enough for her to break.
“Alright. But you’re not going to like it.”
“I don’t already.”
She takes a sip of her coffee for courage. It’s too cold to give any, so she makes the cold coffee face as she swallows. “I was running in the park. You know, the same park where you accosted my date.”
I roll my eyes. “Go on.”
“Anyway. I finished my run and decided to sit for a bit. I chose this bench with a young, quiet man who was feeding the birds. We talked. He shared his breadcrumbs with me. He was cute, quiet, seemed harmless and asked me out.”
I want to scold her, but I don’t dare.
So I nod.
“I know. She says. I shouldn’t have gone out with a perfect stranger. I didn’t have him pick me up at my house. I had my gun on me. And I texted you my details. I’m not a complete idiot…or your typical date victim.”
I can’t help but smile. “No, you’re not.”
“What am I supposed to do? Only stay home or only date cops?”
I have no response to that. And I can’t imagine what it must be like for a young woman like Kelly who works all of the time, only sees people at their worst, and who now knows there is this whole supernatural underbelly of her town that she never knew existed.
“Thank you for telling me,” is all I say.
But my detective brain cannot stop. Forget about the warlock and wolf lobes.
“Is that the same time and route you run each day?”
She pauses. And thinks.
“Maybe three times a week, same time, but the days vary.”
I make a few notes. “Can you think of any reason he would be waiting for you? Trying to get your attention?”
“You think a man feeding the birds is a big turn-on for most women?”
The thought makes me smile. Almost.
“What would I know? I still haven’t conquered the female mind. Forget about all of the supernatural variations.”
This time, Kelly’s mouth curves.
Almost.
Not happiness. Not relief. More like a woman finding one usable plank in a collapsing bridge.
I think of Fate, of her sharp smiles and sudden silences, of the way her magic keeps circling truths the rest of us cannot see yet.
Niall Fraser has nothing on her when it comes to emotional misdirection.
But Kelly is steady now. That is enough for the moment.
I survey the murder board and the conference table with all of the reports I have yet to review.
And then the thought that has been stalking the edges of my mind all evening finally steps into the light.
What if the killer does not need to enter every house?
What if the curse does not need hands of its own?
What if it only needs desperate humans?