Page 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Detective Blackburn Investigates

‘All aboooooard,’ Miss Cheery sang, hanging halfway out of Hometrain as it pulled up at Station 919 early the next morning. She bounced onto the platform before it fully stopped, waving a handful of papers. ‘Happy Monday! Fresh timetables for fresh-faced scholars! Get ’em while they’re hot.’

Morrigan finished her last bite of toast and licked a stray bit of strawberry jam off her thumb, accepting the new timetable with thanks as she filed into the cosy carriage behind Francis.

‘Ooh, oyster-diving and shucking after lunch,’ he murmured, looking over his day ahead. ‘Nice.’

‘ More singing lessons, Miss?’ groaned Mahir. ‘Can’t we give it up now? It’s getting embarrassing.’

‘Don’t know what to tell you, mate.’ Miss Cheery pulled the battered train door shut after Lam boarded last. ‘I tried, but your patron keeps insisting that music is the most beautiful language of all.’

‘Not the way I do it,’ he muttered, falling heavily into a beanbag.

Morrigan glanced around as everyone took their usual spots on the couch and overstuffed floor cushions. ‘Miss, wait, Cadence isn’t here yet. Should I knock on her door?’

‘No need.’ Settling into her seat at the front, the conductor held up a crumpled scrap of paper. ‘She went in early to visit the library and left me a note, which was helpful of her . I know everyone’s enjoying the open station privileges that come with being second-year scholars, but maybe you could all learn how to leave a note, rather than just not turn up? Even if you are doing something super important, like visiting the Sub-One bakery to watch the first sourdough of the day rise,’ she finished, looking pointedly at Francis.

Unit 919 passed the journey to Wunsoc noisily, swapping and comparing classes.

‘Does everyone have another Spectre Specifics class, or just me?’ asked Arch, peering over Hawthorne’s shoulder, and they all confirmed the lecture with Conall O’Leary on Thursday afternoon.

‘Ugh, not Civic Tasks again,’ groaned Thaddea. ‘First thing on a Monday , Miss? Why do you hate us?’

Miss Cheery’s reflection in the windscreen wore an expression of distaste. ‘Hmm. That one wasn’t my choice, I’m afraid. But at least you’re all in it together, right? You did tell me you wanted more classes as a group.’ It was clear from her voice she knew this argument was weak.

‘Says here “conductor attendance welcome”, Miss,’ Thaddea pointed out archly.

‘Welcome but not required, Thaddea. Welcome but not required.’

Holliday and her team were late for the session, and so was Cadence, but the rest of 919 put the extra time to good use by complaining about their civic tasks.

‘I thought I’d take it easy on them, ’cos it was my first class and I was worried about someone breaking a hip … but they don’t play fair, these senior citizens!’ Thaddea slumped in annoyance. ‘Mrs Lewis kept whacking me round the shins with her walking stick, completely unprovoked. And I caught Mrs Shipman putting a laxative in my cup of tea during the break! Their idea of self-defence is psychotic. Why are you all laughing? I’m telling you these oldies are trying to kill me. ’

‘Everyone at the hospital kept calling me cute ,’ said Anah, scrunching her face into a scowl, ‘and nobody let me do anything. A patient came in with an excellent gash on his leg from a lawnmower accident, and when I offered to suture it the student doctors all laughed at me! One of them got to suture it, and he did a RUBBISH job. Wish I could have watched your exhibition ride instead, Hawthorne.’

‘Yesterday was one of the greatest days of my life,’ Hawthorne said dreamily. ‘Er – sorry you lot aren’t enjoying your civic tasks, though. Guess I got lucky,’ he added with a sheepish smile.

Thaddea tilted her head. ‘I did sort of enjoy bits of mine. I’ve never taught anyone anything before. That felt … I dunno. Cool.’

‘Could you teach me some self-defence?’ Francis asked. The others looked at him in surprise, and he shrugged. ‘Four older sisters.’

Thaddea blushed, obviously pleased to be asked, though she tried to act nonchalant. ‘Yeah, s’pose. You could all do with learning how to defend yourselves, to be honest. Especially you,’ she finished, nodding at Morrigan, who laughed in surprise.

‘What? Why me?’

Thaddea’s face was serious. ‘Look at what happened on Hallowmas. Those people were scary . If something like that happens again – some puffed-up pelican tries to corner you – you should be ready to snatch their placard and whack ’em round the shins with it, Mrs Lewis-style.’

‘I’m not sure that’s the best way to deal with people like that,’ said Arch. ‘But you’re right, we can’t let them keep trying to make Morrigan’s life miserable.’

‘I know exactly how to deal with them.’ Hawthorne leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. ‘I’m going to start my own protest group.’

Thaddea snorted. ‘What – Numpties Against Hygiene ?’

‘No,’ he said defensively, giving his armpits a quick investigatory sniff. ‘I’m calling it the Unconcerned Citizens of Nevermoor. We’ll protest wherever the Concerned Citizens of Nevermoor are protesting, but louder and with bigger signs.’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Morrigan, grinning. ‘And what are you against?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then what are you for ?’

‘Not much.’

‘And what exactly are you hoping to achieve?’ asked Arch.

Hawthorne shrugged and closed his eyes. ‘Not really bothered.’

They were all still laughing when the door swung open, and Cadence marched into the room like a woman on a mission.

‘I ran into that Carlos bloke. He said to tell you all that our session this morning is cancelled.’ She dropped her satchel with a heavy thud beside the desk at the front of the room . ‘They accidentally double-booked a photoshoot with … something, dunno, wasn’t listening. Anyway, we’ve got a free period.’

The rest of the unit cheered and stood to leave, but Cadence gave a piercing whistle that made everyone wince and cover their ears.

‘Did I say I was finished? Sit down, we have something important to discuss.’

There was a mild grumble of complaint, but everyone took their seats again. It wasn’t even a mesmerism thing; they all just knew better than to argue with Cadence by now.

‘Right. You all heard Morrigan’s Silverborn, right?’

Morrigan made a face at that, burning with embarrassment.

‘Does that mean we have to call you ma’am now?’ asked Thaddea, elongating the vowel sound for effect.

Mahir grinned. ‘Or is it Madam ?’

‘M’lady?’ suggested Hawthorne. He swept into a low bow.

‘Oh, shut up.’

Mahir dropped to one knee. ‘Very sorry, Your Grace, please don’t chop off our heads.’

‘Can I just remind you,’ Morrigan huffed, folding her arms, ‘that one of us is a literal princess , and it isn’t me?’

‘Don’t bring me into this, m’lady,’ said Lam.

‘ANYWAY,’ Cadence shouted over their laughter, pulling out a thick folder from her satchel on the floor. ‘I’m guessing you also know about the murder of Dario Rinaldi, and that Morrigan was at his wedding that night.’

There was a murmur of affirmation, and a few sympathetic glances that again made Morrigan’s cheeks turn pink.

Cadence passed around a stack of newspaper articles. There were nearly a dozen pieces about the murder itself, plus older snippets following Dario’s career as a dragonrider, bits and pieces about the Darling sisters cut from the Society pages – mostly paparazzi shots of them at fancy parties, fashion shows and the opera – and finally, one small article from six months ago about Crispin Stirling and his role in planning the prestigious Darling–Rinaldi wedding.

‘Familiarise yourself with these. I’ve spent the morning in the library gathering up anything that might be useful to our murder investigation.’

‘But the murderer’s already been found,’ said Mahir, holding up an article detailing Mr Stirling’s arrest.

‘Hear me out.’ Cadence took a big breath. ‘Morrigan, you said there were hundreds of people at this wedding. And within hours the police reckon they’ve already found the murderer? They can’t have interviewed everyone at the wedding, and I think pinning it on the wedding planner is very suss.’

‘Why?’ asked Francis.

‘Because of these.’ She took a small stack of books from her satchel and held them up one by one. They had the familiar Silverborn Saga pastel covers with the silver-foiled banners across the top, but instead of A Tale from the Silverborn Saga, the banners read A Silverborn Mystery . ‘There are a few spin-off series in the Silverborn Saga , and one of them is the Silverborn Mysteries . There were only seven ever written, and I found five of them in the Recreational Library on Sub-One.’

‘I didn’t think we were allowed in there,’ said Anah. ‘Isn’t it for graduates and academic staff?’

‘Yes,’ Cadence said calmly. ‘It’s called rule-breaking, Anah. Try it sometime, you might like it.’ She passed out the paperbacks among the group. Morrigan took an apricot-coloured one called Pawsington Precious: The Mystery of the Missing Diamonds. ‘No murders, just dumb mysteries like: Who stole my fluffy white cat’s diamond-encrusted collar? Who vandalised the gazebo in the Pleasure Gardens? Who smashed this antique vase that probably cost the same as a two-storey house in any normal part of town? Stuff like that. Anyway, I skipped to the last pages to see whodunit—’

Mahir gave a loud, genuine gasp at this grievous offence.

‘—and you know who always dunit?’ Cadence finished, ignoring the interruption.

‘The butler?’ said Arch.

‘You’re not far off. It’s always someone not from the Silver District. Staff. Visitors. Outsiders . A housemaid, a sneaky journalist, a visiting orphan. And you know who always finds the culprit? The Silver District Watch,’ she held up the Evening Sentinel article about Crispin Stirling’s arrest, ‘who are investigating alongside the Stink.’

‘These people are so fancy they have their own fancy police force ?’ asked Thaddea.

‘And you think they’ve pinned it on the wedding planner,’ said Mahir, nodding slowly, ‘because it’s easier than blaming one of their own.’

‘Bingo,’ said Cadence. ‘And if it turns out not to be him, which it most likely wasn’t since there’s obviously more to the story – for starters, none of these newspaper articles even mention the mysterious unknown dragonrider—’

‘The what now?’ Thaddea interjected.

‘We’ll come back to that,’ said Cadence. ‘The Sentinel reported this morning that Crispin Stirling is claiming innocence. If the police can’t prove he did it soon, they’ll have to find another suspect. Another outsider, I’m betting. Perhaps somebody most people already think of as a dangerous entity.’ She looked at Morrigan, who felt all the other faces in the room turn towards her. ‘Who do you reckon they’ll point the finger at next?’

There was a tense silence as Unit 919 processed this question. Morrigan swallowed, feeling simultaneously worried and annoyed by how right her friend was.

Cadence jabbed a finger at the newspaper article. ‘That’s why I’m going to find out who really killed Dario Rinaldi. I’m going to solve this murder and protect our friend. Our sibling . Who’s with me?’

Every hand shot up in the air.

‘None of you needs to do this,’ Morrigan told them, even as a warm feeling of gratitude swelled in her chest. ‘Why don’t we just wait and see—’

‘Right!’ Cadence jumped up to retrieve a notebook and pen from her satchel. ‘First, we need to write down everything we know about the crime. The victim. The cause of death. Everyone who was present at the wedding – that’s going to help populate our suspect list.’

Morrigan looked at her askance. ‘All right, Detective Blackburn. How do you know so much about this stuff?’

‘Do you know how many murder mysteries I’ve read?’

‘No.’

Cadence rummaged in her apparently bottomless bag again and pulled out a battered hardback, tossing it to Morrigan. It had a picture of a man screaming in terror on the cover, with a shadow of a hand holding a knife cast across him. ‘My current read. This is number four hundred and twenty-seven, The Widow’s Pique. Gran borrows them from the Gobleian Library. Our favourite series are Inspector Gravely Investigates, and the Ermeline Pine Murders , but I won’t say no to a Teashop Triplets cosy crime.’

‘Ooh – I’m partial to a Freddy Barnes and the Fearsome Four mystery!’ said Anah.

‘Freddy Barnes is rubbish,’ said Cadence, with a look that made Anah flinch. ‘I won’t even discuss those books in the same room as an Inspector Gravely.’

‘Oh! Er – sorry.’

‘No, Anah. I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d been reading such subpar mysteries.’ Cadence gave a weary sigh and began building a small pile of books. ‘Here – take these. Two Ermelines , four Gravelys and a Teashop Triplets . It’s my favourite. The triplets visit the seaside on the trail of a serial pie thief. I’ve read it twelve times and, as you can see, it’s still in perfect condition, so if you crack the spine there’ll be another murder to investigate.’ Anah was looking at Cadence blankly, so she clarified, ‘Yours, Anah. Because I’ll murder you if you crack the spine.’

‘Oh! I see.’ Anah took the books with a nervous laugh. ‘Um, thanks?’

Cadence turned her attention back to Morrigan, pen and notebook in hand. ‘Right, let’s bring everyone up to speed, shall we?’