Page 14 of Fortune's Ashes
‘And,’ Liza continued grimly, ‘at the time there were bigger things for the supe community to worry about.’
Fred looked up from his laptop, as intrigued as I was by her tone. ‘What things?’
‘One of the Carr werewolves was found murdered in a house in Soho next to an equally dead – also murdered – vampire.’
I stared at her. Oh.
‘Where’s the file onthatcold case?’ Fred asked with an inappropriate touch of morbid eagerness.
‘There wasn’t one – it was out of our hands from the very beginning,’ Liza told us. ‘The wolves and the vamps took it over and almost ended up at war over it. There were a lot of theories that it was some sort of murder-suicide pact – theories that were thoroughly debunked, I might add. Both sides blamed each other. It was a … testing time.’
From the way she spoke, I sensed thattestingwas an understatement. She waved a hand at my shocked expression. ‘It was before Horvath became Lord, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Lukas’s face flashed into my mind. No matter what happened, he would never let relations with any of the werewolf clans descend into anarchy. He understood the power of diplomacy. Another sharp pain stabbed at my heart and I forced him out of my thoughts. ‘Was the culprit ever found?’
‘Nope. Not unless the clans or the vamps found the murderer and dealt with him without telling anyone.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s always a possibility.’
I held up Quincy Carmichael’s file. ‘He vanished at the same time as these murders?’
‘Around the same time.’ Liza looked slightly amused. ‘But before you start thinking he was the killer, he wasn’t. As I recall, Carmichael had a cast-iron alibi. I couldn’t tell you what it was but I know that Tony was satisfied he’d had nothing to do with the killings.’
I flipped through the file again; there was no mention of the murders in it. Maybe Tony had thought they weren’t relevant. I frowned. Quincy Carmichael had last been seen on February 13th, 2010 and reported missing by a friend two days later. He’d not been heard of since. If he had gone to Spain, he’d never returned. Or sent a postcard. Or a text message. Or set up any new Barcelona-based enterprises under his own name. He’d vanished into thin air.
I turned back to his smiling photograph. Alright, I admitted to myself, I was intrigued. This was exactly the cold case I needed.
‘Anything else?’ Liza enquired.
‘I think that’s it for now,’ I said as the door buzzer sounded. Liza pressed a button on her computer to view the live feed from the camera that Grace had insisted on installing. I simply pushed my chair back and peered out of the window.
Fuck.
‘Is that the bloody Sullivan werewolf?’ Liza hissed. ‘She’s so annoying.’
It was too much to hope that Buffy would have forgotten our appointment. I gritted my teeth. This had better not take too long. I stood up reluctantly. Romantic advice, my arse; that canny werewolf was up to something. She always was.
ChapterSix
‘You’re still alive!’ Buffy beamed. ‘Well done!’
Yeah, I was still alive but there was a woman in a hospital bed who had almost died. I bit back my retort. The tour guide and what had happened on Baker Street had nothing to do with Buffy.
‘Thanks,’ I said drily. I pointed towards the main interview room. ‘Would you like to come in and take a seat? I don’t have long but I can spare five minutes.’
‘You’d better,’ Buffy said cheerfully. ‘A promise is a promise.’ For a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was threatening me or not. ‘Don’t worry, detective,’ she continued, ‘this won’t take long.’
Inside the room, Buffy took the nearest chair and settled in as if she were planning to stay for a while. With a sense of foreboding, I took the chair opposite. ‘Listen, Buffy,’ I began awkwardly, ‘I really don’t think I’m the person to be doing this. We don’t have that sort of relationship – and even if we did, I don’t think I’m a good person to give advice on matters of the heart.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, but you are!’ she declared fervently. ‘You really are. I trust you, detective. You say it like it is and you’re very fair. You have experience and you’re kind-hearted. You’re the perfect person to help me.’
She was trying hard to butter me up but, unfortunately for Buffy, that just ratcheted up my suspicions about her motives. I sighed heavily. ‘Go on then. What’s the problem?’
When her cheeks coloured, I stared at her. Embarrassment is one of the harder emotions to fake, and there was no doubt that Buffy was genuinely embarrassed. She coughed, then she twitched and drew in a deep breath. ‘So there’s a guy,’ she said, hedging her words, ‘who I really like.’
Bloody hell. Now I was the one who was starting to feel embarrassed. I was suddenly tempted to stab myself with the nearest implement to avoid continuing the conversation but sadly all that was to hand was a dirty teaspoon on the table between us.
‘I want to ask him out,’ she said, ‘but I’m a bit afraid.’
Maybe the teaspoon would be enough after all. ‘Buffy,’ I said, in a strangled voice, ‘you’re a strong independent woman. Just ask him out. The worst thing he’s going to say is no.’
