Page 22 of Crossroads Magic
“Captain Glass speaking.” The tone was gruff. Not quite a baritone, but nearing it.
“Captain Glass, my name is Anna Crackstone. I’m in Haigton Crossing.”
“Where, ma’am?”
“Haigton Crossing.”
“Oh…yes. Right. Go on.”
I shook my head a little. “My mother was murdered here, the night before last. When, exactly, do you intend to investigate this?”
The silence held for two of my heartbeats. “We’re giving it our top priority, ma’am.”
“What sort of priority can it be, if you haven’t yet investigated the scene?”
The silence was a little longer this time. “It has our top priority ma’am,” he repeated heavily. “The case will be investigated with the same due process and concern as we handle all our affairs.”
I didn’t believe that for a moment. In my gut, my heart, I knew that until I’d mentioned Haigton Crossing, the murder had completely slipped his mind.
“Write it down, Captain,” I told him sharply.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, write it down. Pick up a pen, right now, and write a reminder to yourself to send officers and a coroner here to deal with the body and investigate the murder. Do it.”
“Ma’am, I have better things to do than follow the orders of a hysterical woman.”
“I am not hysterical,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Do you have a pen in front of you?”
“Ma’am….”
“Pick the pen up and write a reminder note. Right now, while I’m on the phone. You and I both know you forgot about Haigton Crossing until just now, sowrite it down. Go on. I’ll wait.”
The silence was filled with the same steam I’d had coming out of me a moment ago. I could almost hear it. Then, a rustling sound that was, I thought, him transferring the phone to his other ear, to leave his writing hand free.
“There,” he said, almost snarling it. “Written. Now, I have a lot of other pressing matters—”
“Put the note where you’ll see it,” I said.
He made a wordless sound that made me think he was choking or growling. “It is on my keyboard,” he said heavily and flatly.
“Thank you. I look forward to seeing your department in Haigton Crossing in the next few hours.” I hung up. And marveled, because this time, I reallyhadhung up the phone. It wasn’t just an anachronistic expression old fogies used, this time.
I turned to look at everyone else, including the three men at the table, who were openly watching. “They’ll be here shortly.”
“Betcha five dollars they don’t show today,” said one of the men at the table. He seemed old, although it was hard to tell. He had a thick mop of black, unruly hair, but his skin was a very dark brown, as if he’d spent too long in the sun. It was leathery and wrinkled.
“Twenty dollars they do not show tomorrow, either,” said another at the table. This man appeared to be in his forties, perhaps, and was extremely well dressed, in trousers and a business shirt, and a sweater over the top in a fine yarn that had a dull, expensive gleam. He looked as though he would be tall when he stood, and he didn’t seem like the sort of man who would keep the company of the older one who had just spoken.
I was taken aback. They were laying bets on the police—sorry, theSheriff’sdepartment—not showing?
“They’ll be here,” I said shortly, and turned my back on them. That left me facing Hirom, behind the bar, Benedict Marcus, who didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to leave, and Ghaliya.
“Is the side door unlocked?” I asked Hirom.
“Always,” Hirom said and crossed his arms.
I glanced at Ghaliya. “We’ll stay in Nanna’s rooms while this gets sorted out. Let’s get our bags.” I didn’t mention that we’d both be sleeping on the sofa and armchairs until her body was removed.
