Page 49 of Waifs And Strays
I gathered up She Who Loves Sunbeams and bade farewell to Bert. He blinked slowly and looked away, which was good enough for me. We left Mallory’s flat again and returned to the scene; although the four ghosts doubtless remained in situ, I could no longer see them. Not with human eyes.
‘They were right here?’ Thane asked, pointing to a spot on the cobbles.
‘Slightly to your right,’ I said. He side-stepped and I nodded. ‘Whatever happened took place right where you’re standing.’
He lowered himself to the ground until his nose was almost pressed against it. Several passersby who were leaving the market stared at him but we paid them no attention.
I doubted even his werewolf nose would scent anything so I walked over to the lamppost that Nick’s mum had punched. There was a tattered sheet of paper pinned to it that I’d not noticed from the ground when I was a cat. I squinted at it, expecting to see yet another advertisement for some winter solstice shindig, but it was nothing of the sort.
The lettering was faded and the ink had bled as a result of the recent weather but I could read enough of it; it was an appeal for witnesses to an incident that had killed four people,posted by an officer of the MET, the Magical Enforcement Team that was the closest equivalent to the police in Coldstream.
I smiled grimly. Captain Wilberforce Montgomery: finally we had the name of somebody useful to talk to. I bowed in the direction of the street.Thank you, I projected silently to Nick’s dead mother.We owe you one.
Chapter
Twenty
We dropped She Who Loves Sunbeams back at my house and I made sure all the cats, including the feral strays who popped by on a regular basis, were fed and watered then we high-tailed it directly to the MET office.
Captain Montgomery was a harassed man. He had reluctantly agreed to meet us, although he gave the impression of someone who had no time and even less inclination to talk to members of the public.
I wasn’t sure why he felt under so much pressure because most criminal activities were taken care of in-house in Coldstream: the witches’ council took care of the witches; individual werewolf packs and alphas covered their own shapeshifters; the druids had a board of governors, and the assassins – well, they’d have to be caught before they got into trouble.
MET officials only mopped the leftovers and dealt mostly with petty crime and public disorder issues that couldn’t be taken care of elsewhere. Perhaps there had been a spate of such problems recently or maybe the MET was woefullyunderstaffed; either way, Montgomery was eyeing us with a weary expression and barely contained irritation.
‘If you don’t have any new information for me and you didn’t witness the accident, I don’t know why you’re here.’ He gave a disparaging sniff.
I gave him my best dotty cat-lady routine; I even injected a slight tremor into my voice that I was particularly proud of to give the impression that I was both vulnerable and still grieving. I needed to get Captain Montgomery on my side; he wouldn’t give us any useful information if he took against us.
‘We’re friends of the family.’ I dabbed my nose with an embroidered handkerchief then took Thane’s hand. ‘Very good friends.’
Thane immediately understood what I was doing. He patted my hand and leaned into my ear. ‘It’s alright, darling. It’s alright.’ He lifted his head. ‘Captain, we’re here for young Nicholas. He wanted to come in person to find out how the investigation is progressing but he still feels too raw.’
Montgomery didn’t show any signs of softening. ‘You mean Nicholas, the son of Andrea and Thomas, both deceased? Nicholas, the MacTire werewolf? The same MacTire werewolves who told me they’d investigate the incident and didn’t need my interference?’
Ah. ‘His uncle, Alexander MacTire, is rather overbearing. Nicholas is not officially a MacTire wolf – he is unbound. His uncle has not been forthcoming with information, which is why we are here on Nicholas’s behalf.
Thane nodded. ‘He’s an orphan now. He just wants to know what happened to his parents.’
‘I sent a copy of my findings to the MacTires,’ Montgomery said stiffly. ‘Even though they asked me not to look into the matter, there were four deaths. It wasn’t only werewolves who were killed.’
I was starting to realise that the captain’s attitude was more the result of wounded pride than anything else. ‘That man,’ I muttered. ‘That bloody MacTire. Why wouldn’t he tell us? Why wouldn’t he tell Nick?’
Thane hugged me. ‘I don’t know, darling.’
Montgomery’s eyes flicked between us and his expression lightened a little. We had him; if Alexander MacTire didn’t want us to know anything, he suddenly wanted to tell us everything.
‘Look,’ he said, with a heavy sigh as if this were a great imposition but he was prepared to make an exception in our case, ‘I can tell you that it was a tragic accident. The explosion that killed all four victims resulted from the incorrect handling of materials.’
This time I didn’t have to fake my confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Ernest Smith, one of the witches who died, was carrying a small amount of dragon’s beard. We believe some of it leaked from his bag. Unfortunately he was also carrying some old gypsum with him, which can be used as a fertiliser. Given the volatile nature of dragon’s beard, it was an accident waiting to happen. Mr Smith should have known better – there’s a reason why dragon’s beard is highly regulated and should only be transported in sealed glass containers.’
My mouth had dropped open. ‘That’s it?’
Thane leaned forward. ‘Four people died because some idiot couldn’t screw on a lid properly?’
‘Essentially, yes.’ Montgomery gave a small smile. ‘If only stupidity and laziness could be classed as crimes.’
