Page 17

Chapter

Twelve

H arriet – because presumably that was the café owner’s name – looked fierce enough to use the sharp knife she was brandishing, but my old assassin’s instincts had stirred into life and I’d already established three different ways I could use the weapon against her.

It would take very little effort to bring her down because she wasn’t a professional; neither was she a witch or a druid, so it was unlikely she’d be throwing any spells my way.

It seemed unfair to hurt her, though, when she was only defending what was hers. She hadn’t done anything wrong – and I still didn’t have the information I needed. I took charge of the situation before she panicked and did something we’d all regret.

‘My name is Kit,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m not here to hurt anyone or to steal from you. All I’m trying to find is a teeny-tiny piece of information about a member of the Blue Tattoos.’

It might have been my imagination but it seemed that Harriet relaxed slightly. ‘Two of them are out there.’ She jerked her head towards the café. ‘You could have asked them.’

‘I could have,’ I agreed pleasantly. ‘But they wouldn’t have told me, not without some persuasion. And I’m trying to avoid hurting people unnecessarily these days.’

‘Kill her, Harriet!’ Lady Augusta shouted. ‘Stab her in the heart! Now!’

Harriet lowered the knife. ‘Are you succeeding?’ she enquired, ignoring the painting.

‘At not hurting people?’ I considered. ‘Mostly. Apart from when they really deserve it.’

Lady Augusta wasn’t finished, and she didn’t appear to care that Harriet was paying her no attention. ‘Claw her eyes out!’

‘She’s quite bloodthirsty, isn’t she?’ I commented.

Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘You haven’t heard the half of it.’ She took another step into the room and closed the door behind her.

‘Slit her throat!’

‘Hush,’ Harriet said to Lady Augusta, then gazed at me. ‘The werewolf. He’s with you?’

There was no point in lying; we’d been sitting together for twenty minutes before Thane had started his coffee-complaint diversion. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ve thrown him out,’ she said casually. ‘And I’ve told him he has a lifetime ban. He can never come back here. I don’t appreciate false complaints with underhand motives.’

Fair enough, though it was a shame for Thane. The bacon rolls here were good. ‘Okay.’

‘What do you want with the Blue Tattoos?’ Harriet asked.

‘I want to talk to the drummer. I’ve got some questions for Knox Thunderstick.’

Her face tightened. ‘What sort of questions?’

‘They’re for Knox,’ I said gently. ‘Not for you.’

‘I’m the one holding the knife.’

‘Trust me,’ I said. ‘When I say that if I wanted to change that situation, I could. ’

‘That’s a threat!’ Lady Augusta shrieked. ‘That was definitely a threat!’

Something sparked in Harriet’s eyes. ‘Enough, Augusta!’

‘You are unworthy of the De Marcy name!’

‘I am not a De Marcy. We’ve been through this. Many times.’ She returned her attention to me. ‘Do you wish to harm Knox?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know why he’s not shown up today?’

‘No.’ I paused. ‘But there’s a chance he’s gotten himself into some serious trouble.’

Something tightened around Harriet’s eyes. ‘What sort of trouble?’

I sighed. ‘I don’t know exactly – and what I do know is complicated. Does the name Rory Taggert mean anything to you?’

Harriet shook her head. ‘I’ve never heard of him. Who is he? What does he have to do with this?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Yet.’

‘Your brother is always creating conflict,’ Lady Augusta hissed.

I blinked. ‘Brother? But you’re not a druid.’

Harriet shot the Cursed Portrait a dagger-laden look. ‘Foster brother. We were both in the system and we grew up together. And, no, before you ask my last name isn’t Thunderstick. It’s Hemworth.’

Suddenly a lot of things made sense. Her admission explained why the Blue Tattoos played here every week, not to mention her concern and why Knox had changed his surname to something ridiculous. He wasn’t beholden to any family name.

I watched her expression then I made up my mind and told her the truth – the whole truth. Now I knew who Harriet was, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. ‘I’m looking into a murder.’

She stiffened. ‘Rory Taggert?’

I nodded. ‘A witch, by all accounts.’

‘I’ve never heard of him, and I’ve never heard Knox mention anyone called Rory.’

‘When I went to the mortuary where Taggert’s body was being kept, Knox showed up pretending to be a pathologist. He ran off before I could talk to him, but I’m assuming he was there for the same body.

I don’t know what’s going on, only that I will find out.

The witches’ council is also getting in on the act.

There’s a lot more to this than meets the eye and I think Knox could well be involved. ’

Harriet sighed heavily, her expression anxious. ‘He’s always involved in something, mostly ridiculous get-rich quick schemes.’ She gestured to Lady Augusta. ‘That’s how I ended up with her. But he’s not a bad person, not really.’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ I said.

She narrowed her gaze and I instantly realised my mistake. ‘You’re a Truth Seeker,’ I breathed.

Harriet started to lift the knife and her fingers tightened around its hilt.

‘That’s why you relaxed when I told you why I was here,’ I went on.

‘That’s why your questions have been so specific, and that’s why this place is called Pork Pies.

It’s not because of the menu, it’s Cockney rhyming slang – pork pies means lies.

You can tell every single time when someone is lying. ’

Harriet’s face was white and there was fear in her eyes.

Truth Seekers were rare – and coveted; there were plenty of powerful people in Coldstream who would try to use Harriet for their own ends if they knew what she was capable of.

She wouldn’t be left in peace to run her little café, that was for sure.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I said quickly. ‘I won’t breathe a word to a soul. I give you my word.’ In Coldstream, that was practically sacrosanct; only a true fool would break such a freely given vow.

Her shoulders dropped. ‘It’s not as much fun being a Truth Seeker as you might think,’ she whispered. ‘People often lie for the most ridiculous of reasons. Knox knows what I can do and he still lies to me all the time.’

‘ I do not lie!’ Lady Agatha declared.

Neither Harriet nor I glanced at her. ‘I suppose you’ll find him sooner or later.’ She sighed. ‘He’s never missed a gig before. If I give you his address, will you check on him and make sure he’s alright?’

I nodded and she shot me an impatient look. ‘Yes,’ I said, realising I had to speak aloud for her tainted gift to work.

‘Will you hurt him?’

That was harder. ‘I won’t hurt him unless it’s by accident or in self-defence. And I won’t let anyone who’s with me hurt him unnecessarily,’ I added, thinking of Thane. ‘That’s the best I can do. I don’t know Knox. I don’t know how he’ll react when I track him down.’

Harriet seemed to accept this. ‘Sometimes he’s his own worst enemy, but he is a good guy at heart and I do love him.’ I believed her. ‘Thirty-two Glade Cross,’ she told me. ‘That’s where he lives.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I hope I won’t regret telling you.’

I met her eyes again. ‘You won’t.’

I found Thane not too far from the Pork Pies’ entrance, kicking his heels against a wall. He looked none the worse for being thrown out of the café but three werewolves, including the woman who’d called him out for his ridiculous complaint, were hovering nearby and watching him with narrowed eyes.

‘Making friends and winning hearts all over the place, Thane?’

He grinned. ‘It’s all in the name of your murder investigation, Kit.’

‘ Our murder investigation,’ I said lightly. I wanted him to stick around so I might as well admit it aloud. That didn’t mean I’d tell him about Harriet; I could still keep a secret when I had to.

‘Was it worth it?’ he asked. ‘Did you get an address for Knox Thunderstick?’

‘I did and we’re in luck. He lives only a few streets away.’ I pointed left. ‘It’s this way.’

We set off immediately and trotted in the direction of Knox’s home.

I kept an eye on the three werewolves, but thankfully none of them chose to follow us.

Not all wolves were that smart; in my experience far too many of them acted first and thought later.

And if they’d been aware of Thane’s identity, we might have had even more of a problem.

Thane Barrow’s name had been mud amongst werewolves for many years, although recently that appeared to be changing.

‘That woman,’ he said. ‘The café owner. She knew immediately that my complaint wasn’t genuine.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘She seemed more concerned about the Blue Tattoos than my tastebuds.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘She went into the back. Unless the building’s far bigger than it looks, she must have seen you.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘But you won’t give me any of the details, will you?’

I smiled. ‘Nope. She’s a nice lady. ’

‘She’s banned me.’

I shrugged. ‘Sucks to be you, Cat Boy.’

He jabbed my arm. ‘Watch it, Cat Lady.’

I gave him what I thought was an impressive feline hiss and he laughed.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence. That was what I liked about him – one of the many things I liked about him: he didn’t feel the pressing need to fill every quiet pause with unnecessary words. It was a surprisingly unusual trait.

We reached Glade Cross within fifteen minutes. It was a narrow street with tightly packed stone buildings on both sides of the road. No gardens were visible – and there certainly weren’t any glades – but there was a stone Celtic cross laid into the cobbles that doubtless held some significance.

Pleasingly, many of the houses had potted plants and hanging baskets outside laden with a sprinkling of minor magic to keep the flowers blooming all year.

I laid a bet with myself that number thirty-two would be flower free.

Nothing that I knew about Knox Thunderstick suggested that he was the type of person who cared for floral arrangements, but when we reached his house I was surprised to see that it boasted the most elaborate baskets of all.

Even with magic it was unusual to see so many delicate and colourful blooms in January.

I bent to admire a potted arrangement by his doorstep: spiky dahlias, tiny golden buttercups and ostentatious orchids had been deftly planted.

They weren’t flowers that I’d expect to look good together but somehow this gardener had managed it.

‘Beautiful, right?’

We turned to see a troll standing by the front door of the house opposite with his keys in his hand. ‘They really are,’ Thane said.

‘He’s not a hedge witch,’ the troll said. ‘He’s a druid. And,’ he lowered his voice as if he didn’t want to be overheard, ‘a drummer.’ The troll liked flowers but he clearly wasn’t much of a music fan.

‘Knox Thunderstick created this?’ I asked. I knew I was allowing my prejudices to get in the way but I couldn’t help it. The man who’d impersonated a pathologist in a mortuary and caused his foster sister so much upset still didn’t seem likely to possess a gentle gardener’s touch.

‘Oh yes.’ The troll swept out his arm. ‘He’s done the whole street. Knox is amazing.’

And that, Kit, I told myself, is why you shouldn’t pre-judge people.

‘Have you seen him today?’ Thane asked. ‘Is he home?’

As the troll frowned, the heavy folds of skin across his forehead bunched up. ‘Wednesday, innit? He always plays at Pork Pies on Wednesdays.’

Thane and I exchanged glances. ‘Thanks,’ I said.

The troll raised a hand, put the key in his lock, turned it and stepped into his home. ‘You’re welcome.’ He closed the door.

I squinted through Knox’s windows. It was dark inside so I couldn’t make out much beyond the shapes and shadows of a few sticks of furniture. When Thane knocked on the door, the sound was sharp and loud. If anyone was inside, they would definitely have heard it.

We waited a few beats then Thane raised his hand to knock again. Before his fist made contact with the wood, however, there was a sharp retort from inside.

‘Was that?—?’

My mouth flattened. ‘A gunshot? Yes.’