Page 22 of Mystic Justice (The Other Detective #2)

Sandra’s hair was back to being down in tight blonde ringlets.

I watched her for a moment through the two-way glass: she was visibly nervous, wiping her palms along her trousers, gnawing at her bottom lip.

When questioned by the police in the station, most people showed some nerves – a flash of tongue to wet dry lips, a shift in the seat – but her movements were more than that.

She’d done something wrong, something illegal, and I was going to find out what.

Though she’d struck me as a little cold and calculating in our initial interview, she hadn’t struck me as a killer, hadn’t sent my spidey sense tingling.

Gut instinct only counted for so much, however, and I was always happy to be proved wrong.

Besides a handy confession, nothing was better than cold, hard evidence – and I was ready to gather some.

Sandra had been invited to come in for a voluntary chat and she’d been willing enough. She hadn’t asked for a brief; maybe she thought not asking for a lawyer made her look innocent. I thought it made her look foolish.

‘Channing, with me. Krieg, you can watch out here.’ I expected Krieg to argue but he merely inclined his head. Damn him, always subverting my expectations.

‘Of course,’ he said mildly. ‘I look forward to seeing you in action, Inspector.’ His words were matter of fact rather than flirty, which I appreciated. I needed my brain in work mode.

With effort, I put Krieg out of my mind and turned to Channing. ‘I’ll log us, then you start the questioning. You go nicey-nicey then I’ll come in harder at the appropriate point. Okay?’

‘You got it, ma’am.’ He winced. ‘Wise,’ he corrected himself. I ignored the minor gaffe and he led the way into the interview room; a manila folder tucked under his arm.

I hit record and began. ‘Recording Procedure X in place. Inspector Wise and Detective Channing in interview with Sandra Jaxim on Monday seventh of July at 1.13pm.’ I smiled.

‘Let me just get the usual bumf out of the way,’ I murmured as an aside.

‘You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

‘Thanks for coming in,’ Channing said, his tone friendly.

‘We’ve just got a few questions for you.

’ He passed her a printout from the folder.

‘Here’s the statement you gave when we met at Botany.

Can you just read it for me and confirm that it’s true and accurate to the best of your knowledge and belief? ’

With a nervous smile, Sandra picked up the papers and read the two pages. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s all correct.’ She passed the sheets back to Channing.

He smiled as he placed them back inside the manila folder, then set the folder casually on the table as it if weren’t of any importance. ‘Great. How do you like working at Botany?’

‘I love it. It’s got a great atmosphere. The staff have a real family vibe, you know?’ Though her words were casual, her smile was strained.

‘I’ve been looking into the staffing records,’ Channing said with a faint frown that looked somehow as if he regretted having to raise the matter.

He was actually very good at this, far better than I’d expected: he played good cop well.

‘There’s quite a high turnover of staff.

You’ve been the manager for five years, and of the rest of the staff your deputy manager Ruben has been there longest at three years.

Moss was next at two years. Apart from that, virtually everyone else has been there a year or less. Why do you think that is?’

Sandra shrugged. ‘It’s a job for young people. They work while they’re at university but they tend to quit around their third year so they can focus on their studies, or they finish their degrees and move back home. The pay isn’t great but the tips make up for it.’

‘The pay isn’t great but you own your own flat in the coven tower?’ Channing sounded impressed.

‘I – yes.’

‘It must have been tough getting a mortgage when a lot of your wage is based on tips.’ Channing’s tone was perfect, just the right balance of businesslike and empathy, as if he too had struggled. As far as I knew, he didn’t own his own house. He was still young; he had time.

‘The coven council has their own mortgage company to help witches – and Others – get on the property ladder,’ Sandra explained. ‘They’re flexible.’

‘Oh.’ He looked relieved. ‘That’s good. But it still must be hard. Most people in their thirties have steadier jobs.’

‘I’m a manager of a successful bar in Liverpool,’ she snapped back, losing her nervousness for the first time. She shot him a superior look. ‘I’m doing just fine.’

‘Right. I guess you are. So talk to me about Moss. On the night she went missing, you worked until 11pm?’

‘Right,’ she agreed, either subconsciously or deliberately mimicking his word choice.

‘But you didn’t see Moss leave?’

She licked her lips. ‘Like I said, it was Ruben’s turn to lock up and Moss was still inside when I left.’

And that was my cue. ‘The only thing is, Sandra,’ I interjected, ‘we have you leaving at 9.30pm. Talk to me about that.’

She paled and swallowed convulsively. ‘I – I—’

I leaned forward, pinning her with a hard stare, but I didn’t speak. I wasn’t tipping my hand just yet.

‘I—’ She licked her lips. ‘I guess I went home earlier,’ she stammered. ‘It must have been the day I had a headache.’

‘Why didn’t you mention that?’

‘I got the days mixed up.’

‘Mixed up?’ I repeated, letting that hang in the air for a moment, keeping my tone dubious. ‘After you got home with your “headache”, what did you do?’ I pressed.

I was being deliberately antagonistic and she rose to the bait. Glaring at me, she snapped, ‘I took a pain-relieving potion and went to bed.’

‘You know it’s an offence to give a false statement, right?

Lying to the police is perverting the course of justice.

’ I paused to let that sink in. ‘And it carries a potential life sentence. So, Sandra,’ I made my voice insultingly patronising as if I were talking to a small child, ‘knowing I have access to CCTV footage, let’s try again.

After you got in early from work, what did you do? ’

‘Oh fuck.’ She wrung her hands. ‘I had nothing to do with Moss’s death! Nothing. I liked her. I finished my shift early, went home to shower and change, and then I … I went to a black tourney.’

‘A black tourney,’ I said, drawing out the words slowly.

Sandra swallowed convulsively. ‘Yes. I get a call sometimes, always from a different number – burner phones, I guess, because they never work again. I get told where to go and when, and I get paid a huge cash-in-hand wage to supervise the staff there. We all wear masks. No names are exchanged. I just … I just serve the champagne! That’s all I do.

’ Her eyes searched mine. ‘You have to believe me.’

‘It’s hard, Sandra, since you’ve already lied to me. Let’s be clear. You didn’t stay until the end of your shift at Botany, you left early at 9.30pm. You didn’t have a headache and you didn’t stay at home.’

‘No. I was fine. I went to the black tourney. To work.’

I removed the traces of rebuke that had been in my voice. ‘Where was it held?’

‘It moves around, to avoid detection from the… ’ Her voice faded as she seemed to recall where she was. ‘Connection,’ she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

‘Speak up for the recording,’ I directed firmly.

‘Connection,’ she repeated more loudly.

‘Thank you. Where was the black tourney held on this occasion?’

‘In the Baltic Triangle, in a warehouse called Tent and Flame.’

‘What fights did you see?’

‘I didn’t really see any,’ she said quickly. ‘I wasn’t there as a guest; I was just circulating with glasses of champagne and later on some canapés.’

I gave her a hard look. ‘You’re a manager, Sandra. You’re observant, reliable. You may not have watched the fights but you knew which ones were on. So I’ll ask again. What fights did you see?’

This time she answered. ‘There was a werewolf-on-werewolf fight, a vampyr versus ogre fight, and a siren versus vampyr fight.’

The last one surprised me: it was rare for sirens to fight because they didn’t need to. Get close enough to them and they could enchant and charm anyone to leave them alone if they let their magic rip. They didn’t need to resort to violence.

‘Who survived?’ I asked bluntly. The fights were often to the death.

‘One of the werewolves, the ogre and the siren.’

‘Not a good night for the vampyrs.’

‘No, I suppose not. I think they were newly turned. They didn’t seem to know what to do and there was hardly any phasing.

Not that I watched the fights,’ she added quickly.

‘They’re barbaric. I only go because it pays so well – triple my Botany wage and even more again on tips. I’d be mad to turn it down.’

‘Mad but law-abiding,’ I said. She flushed and didn’t reply. ‘What do you do with all that extra cash?’ I asked.

‘I invest it in me. I go to the gym, I get my hair, nails and eyelashes done. I buy designer clothes. Plenty of rich guys come into Botany.’

‘And you want to snag one?’

She shrugged. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

I shook my head before I could stop myself.

Women who thought like her were beyond me.

She had watched men and women die so that she could afford to buy designer clothes.

I just didn’t get it; to me, clothes were something that covered you up so you didn’t run around with your tits out.

And as for enticing men with nothing more than your looks?

I was better than that and so was she. It was a shame she didn’t know it.

I pressed on. ‘Who organised the tourney?’

She shrugged helplessly. ‘Honestly, I have no idea.’

‘When you arrive on site, who tells you where to go?’

‘I get all my instructions via text. The food and drink are free for the guests – get people liquored up and they’ll bet more. I don’t need to interact with anyone besides the guests, just offer them food and drink regularly.’

‘It’s your job to ply them with drink so they’ll make poor decisions? Bet more? Bet big?’

She flushed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Any illegal potions mixed into the drinks? A little something to lower their inhibitions?’

‘No! I would never drug someone without their knowledge,’ she said, aghast.

‘Good to know there’s a line,’ I muttered, loud enough for her to hear me.

Sandra sank further into her chair, her eyes downcast. She looked chastened but not, I thought, repentant.

‘Did you recognise anyone?’ I pressed.

She snorted. ‘No, Inspector. They were all wearing masks.’ Her tone said duh.

‘There are people I would recognise without seeing their faces,’ I said pointedly. ‘There was no one, staff or otherwise, that you knew?’

She shook her head and her curls ruffled around her face. ‘No.’

Annoyingly, I believed her. That was part of the problem with the tourneys: they popped up in different locations, they used staff like Sandra and they kept them in the dark.

No one knew anyone else. Much as I hated it, I had to admit it was a slick operation.

‘Did Moss ever go to the tourneys to watch or to serve?’

She snorted. ‘Goddess, no! She wouldn’t set foot somewhere like that. That wasn’t her vibe.’

‘What was her vibe?’

‘Flowers braided through her hair, singing in a field with haystacks to sit on. Maybe a fire crackling nearby and marshmallows toasting over the flames.’ Faint regret tinged her voice before it was removed with a surgeon’s precision as she continued.

‘Moss didn’t care about designer clothes.

She took care of her appearance but she loved riffling through charity shops for a bargain.

’ She said it with the same disdain someone might say a hotel had bedbugs.

‘How were you recruited to work there?’

‘A parcel, delivered to me at work. It had a note and a burner phone. I guess they saw my excellent managerial work at Botany and wanted to poach me.’ She said that with a little pride. She was the embodiment of a total jobsworth and she loved her power, mediocre though it was.

‘What time did you leave the tourney?’ I was hoping to catch her off guard with the sudden shift away from Moss.

‘It closed at 2am. By the time we’d cleaned up, it was late – 3am. I got home just before four.’

I gestured to Channing and he pulled out the last piece of evidence from his folder: a photo of the newly identified centaur, Joe Bogan. ‘Do you recognise this centaur?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’ She frowned then tapped the photo.

‘He came in recently – I’m sure it was the day you told us about Moss dying.

It was a terrible shift because we were all so upset and everyone was taking turns to go and cry in the staff room.

I remember this guy because centaurs are pretty rare in town – you’re more likely to find them in a country pub than a club in town.

And there was another centaur, too. The two of them came in together and caused a scene.

They were already a bit pissed. We had to move some Common folk from a standing table because the only other table was in a booth and obviously that wouldn’t have worked for them. ’

‘Who served them?’ I asked.

‘The Common realmers?’ she asked, baffled as to why we’d care.

‘The centaurs,’ Channing confirmed flatly.

‘Oh. Jane and Ruben were covering that area but I couldn’t say which one actually got the table.’

‘Do you remember either of the centaurs’ names?’ I probed.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t think I got them, sorry. Why are you asking about him? Do you think he killed Moss?’

‘No. He’s dead, too.’

Her face went slack with shock and all the colour drained from her face. ‘After he was in Botany?’

I nodded. ‘I’ll speak to Mr Merrick and see if we can shut the venue down for a few days.’

She shook her head. ‘No chance. He barely lets us close for Christmas.’ She shifted in her chair. ‘Is that everything? Can I go?’

‘I’m not pressing charges at this time for your involvement in the black tourney, though another officer may take a different approach in the future. I strongly suggest that next time you’re sent a location you contact me instead.’ I slid over my business card. ‘You’re free to go.’

She stood, her relief obvious. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry I lied, but I was scared. You can verify where I was so you’ll know I didn’t have anything to do with Moss’s death. I would never have hurt her. Never.’

Once again I found that I believed her. I would verify her time of exit from the building with Ji-ho, but it looked like I’d just ruled out my one viable suspect.