Page 23 of Mystic Justice
‘If you mess with Stacy, you mess with the full might of the Connection.’
Krieg looked amused. ‘I have no intention of harming her.’
‘So whatareyour intentions?’ she pressed.
He ignored her and looked at me instead. ‘I take it back. Youdohave friends.’
‘With friends like Elvira, who needs enemies?’ I groused but I smiled a little at my fierce friend to take any sting out of the words.
She grinned back. ‘We both know you love me.’ Her smile faded. She gestured towards the High King of the Ogres and dropped her voice for me alone, ‘I really hope you know what you’re doing, Stacy.’
She wasn’t the only one.
Chapter Eleven
By the time that Elvira had input all of the incident details into SPEL, we were ticking towards 5pm and our date with Botany. I used the downtime to do some digging into the owner of the bar, Gideon Merrick. Despite the rumours I’d heard there were no arrests noted on his profile, which meant either the scuttle was pure BS, or someone in the Connection was protecting him.
My phone lit up.Dr Potter callingand I swiped up to take the call. ‘Kate, have you got the results of the autopsy?’
‘Hey. I’m still waiting on some toxicology tests but I have some initial impressions. I’d like to show you a few things. Can you come in?’
‘I’m in the field. It’ll probably be a couple of hours before I can get to you.’
‘That’s fine.’ Her normally upbeat voice was sombre. ‘I’ll stay in the morgue until you get here. Beth will take the dogs out for me.’ Her sister Beth lived with her and their small pack of dogs.
‘I appreciate you staying late.’
‘It’s not a problem. I’ll catch up on paperwork. See you soon.’ She hung up.
I frowned. ‘What’s up?’ Krieg asked.
‘Kate normally updates me on the phone, but she wants to see me in person, which means she’s found something unique. Something she hasn’t seen before.’ I trusted Kate; if she said I needed to see it, then I needed to see it.
I slipped my phone into the pocket of my black suit jacket as we reached our destination. Hardman Street was a busy district of pubs, bars and restaurants with a mixture of Victorian and Georgian buildings. Because of the presence nearby of the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts – known as LIPA – the footfall was generally a younger demographic that contrasted with the austere grandeur of the buildings.
Nearby was the Philharmonic Pub; a Grade Two listed building. Amusingly, the gents toilets inside were incredibly fancy and were Grade One listed. Women wandering in to goggle at the men’s loos was a common occurrence. In contrast, the women’s toilets were beyond basic. It felt like the whole thing was a general commentary about sexism in Victorian times that had yet to be rectified by modern society.
Botany was all about modernity. It was located in the old School for the Blind, a classic Victorian structure that still spoke of elegance. I could see through the windows that the inside had received a full makeover: the walls were light coloured and there were flowerseverywhere.No wonder Moss Hollings had wanted to work here – it was a dryad’s dream job, especially for one that liked music. I could already hear low thudding basslines pumping out.
Elliott Channing was waiting outside and, like me, he was still wearing his suit though it was looking a little less starched now. He scanned me anxiously as I approached. ‘I read the report on SPEL. Are you okay, ma’am?’
‘I’m fine, but be careful what you look at on SPEL. Every report you read leaves a digital fingerprint so the brass knowwhat you’re reading, and when. Make sure you’ve always got a reason to look at something.’
‘Got it.’
‘Okay, we’re here to talk to the staff about Moss and to talk to the owner, Gideon Merrick, if he’s around.’ I checked my watch. ‘We’re thirty minutes away from opening so hopefully all the staff will be here prepping.’
I tried the door and it swung open. Inside the building we were greeted by two huge, blossom-covered trees. No doubt the Common folk would think they were fake but I could sense the dryad magic humming in them and keeping them alive. Effort had been made to ensure they still received plenty of natural light; skylights had been carved into the ceiling to bathe the entranceway in sunshine.
We took the short flight of stairs up to the bar.
‘Oh!’ a fire-elemental waitress said, taken aback at our unexpected arrival. The fire that danced on her head in place of her hair flared. She pasted on a customer-facing smile. ‘Sorry, we’re not open yet! Come back in thirty minutes.’
I fished out my Connection badge. ‘We’re not here for drinks.’
‘More’s the pity,’ Krieg murmured by my side.
Eyes wide and fixed on the badge, the woman nodded too many times. ‘Right. Sure. Fine. The Connection. Okay.’
