Page 23 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
‘I’m still waiting for yesterday’s cup of tea,’ I told her.
‘Not you,’ she snapped. She tickled He Who Roams Wide under his chin. ‘Wouldyoulike a treat? Maybe some chicken?’ She angled her head up to me. ‘I made chicken salad for my lunch today. I can pick out some bits for him. Is that alright? I don’t want to upset his wee tummy or anything.’
‘You’ll upset him if he doesn’t get any chicken now he’s got it into his head that a feast is coming,’ I told her.
‘He deserves it,’ Cindy said. ‘Don’t you, my lovely? You deserve some chicken for being so very handsome.’
Uh-huh. I gazed at the pair of them then shrugged and left them to it.
The door to Dr Singh’s office was already ajar but I knocked anyway and waited. I needed to keep the pathologist on my side, so observing the professional niceties was wise. Besides, I could hear the murmur of voices and I had no desire to intrude if he was talking to a family member about their loved one.
When he opened the door, smiled and beckoned me inside,however, I realised that his companion had to be a Fetch from the witches’ council. It wasn’t the air of sniffy self-importance that confirmed it – although that was impressive – but the tall, pointed black hat that the council members wore without any sense of irony that gave it away.
‘Ms McCafferty,’ Dr Singh exclaimed with unexpected warmth.
The witch took off his silly hat and placed it on the desk, then peeled off his black leather gloves. I eyed the embroidered insignia on the cuffs: DJ. Maybe the Fetch was a big R’n’B fan.
‘It’s good to see you again.’ Dr Singh gestured towards the witch. ‘This is Fetch Jackson.’
‘Please, call me Daniel.’ The Fetch smiled and the welcoming twinkle in his eyes left me faintly nonplussed. ‘Fetch always feels so formal.’ He gave a small, embarrassed laugh. ‘Every time I hear it, I feel a surge of imposter syndrome even though I’ve been with the council for more than eight years.’ He held out his hand. ‘Dr Singh told me about your concern for the poor John Doe who was pulled from the river yesterday. I understand that you were there when it happened.’
I’d not expected any of this. The fact that the Fetch was there in person was surprising, even more so that he was being friendly towards me and appeared grateful for my intrusion. I shook his hand and matched his smile with one of my own. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I was there.’
Daniel nodded. ‘I also know,’ he said quietly, ‘that you saved Quentin.’ He touched his chest and bowed his head. ‘We are all very grateful for your intervention.’
Now I was even more surprised. The Fetch had done his homework. Hightower wasn’t part of the witches’ council so he must have gone to some lengths to find out about me. Doubly so given that Hightower had been unwilling to admit that he’d been rescued. Doubtless Dr Singh had played matters by thebook and told the council of my involvement when he’d informed them of the unknown witch’s murder.
‘I wish I could have done more and saved John Doe as well,’ I said.
‘What happened is a tragedy. Did he say anything to you?’
‘Uh, no. He was already dead when I came across him.’
Daniel’s eyes widened. ‘Oh no, I mean Quentin. Didhesay anything to you?’
I shook my head. ‘No.’ But why would the Fetch care what Quentin Hightower might have said?
His eyes grew sharper. ‘Are you sure?’
I felt an odd tension ripple through my veins and a deepening pressure in my temples. Interesting. ‘He didn’t say a word,’ I replied truthfully.
The Fetch nodded again. ‘Well, on his behalf, thank you for what you did.’
I stepped back to put some space between us. ‘You’re welcome.’
Dr Singh clapped his hands, apparently relieved that we were all getting along. No doubt he’d had more than enough conflict after yesterday’s shenanigans. ‘Fetch Jackson,’ he said, determined to use the witch’s official title, ‘and I have been discussing John Doe. Although it is unorthodox, he is perfectly happy to include you in the investigation.’
Unorthodox? It wasunheard offor the witches’ council to be so accommodating even to their own kind without considerable persuasion. ‘That’s … good,’ I said cautiously.
I eyed Daniel Jackson more closely. He didn’t look like a maverick council member. He was in his mid-thirties, on the young side for someone in his position, but his smooth clear skin and carefully manicured fingernails suggested he came from wealth as most of them did. His brown hair was short and neat, and there was no visible evidence of anything that thewitches’ council would frown upon – no jewellery, no tattoos, no overpowering cologne.
‘You are clearly a public-spirited woman who can offer a fresh perspective on matters and who cares about her community.’ Jackson splayed his hands to indicate he had nothing to hide. ‘The least we can do is work together so that this poor man’s family is located and informed of his tragic demise.’
Dr Singh clapped his hands together again, which seemed somewhat inappropriate given our reasons for being there. ‘Excellent, excellent. I completed the post-mortem last night. If neither of you is averse to the idea, I shall take you through to the main room and show you my findings.’
If the thought of seeing a dead body made Fetch Daniel Jackson feel queasy then he didn’t show it. He nodded and picked up his briefcase. ‘Yes, that would be good,’ he said.
As we trooped through to the examination and storage room I’d been in the day before, Daniel Jackson started babbling. ‘It’s so sad to think that people might die without anyone knowing who they really were. Thankfully all my family members are accounted for and I have never had to experience the trauma of not knowing what might have happened to them. I had an old schoolfriend whose uncle vanished and it was terrible for his family. Simply terrible. To this day they’ve never found out what happened to him.’ He turned to me. ‘Is that why you are so keen to help us identify this man, Ms McCafferty? Have you experienced something similar?’
