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Chapter

Eighteen

I didn’t expect Daniel Jackson to agree to be questioned.

A MET officer couldn’t stroll into the witches’ council and demand a formal interview without a very good reason; the council would easily block such an approach.

Despite there being only circumstantial evidence, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Montgomery had returned and charged Thane and me with Knox Thunderstick’s murder.

Consequently, two hours later when I was gazing gloomily at the congealed breakfast that I couldn’t imagine a starving feral moggy trying to eat, I was shocked that he reappeared and opened the cell door. ‘The two of you are free to go,’ he said.

‘You’ve arrested Fetch Jackson?’

‘Don’t be silly. I’ve checked the timeline you gave me and confirmed your stories. There is nothing to suggest you had anything to do with Mr Thunderstick’s death.’

He must have spoken to Harriet at the café and Alara at the hammam. While I was glad to have my name cleared, I wasn’t yet ready to leave. ‘What are you doing about Jackson?’

‘That is not your concern, Ms McCafferty.’ Montgomery gestured to the empty corridor. ‘Please leave. ’

I stayed where I was and folded my arms. Thane moved next to me and did the same. Montgomery stared at us. ‘This isn’t helping,’ he sighed.

We waited.

‘Fetch Jackson has a regular outreach meeting scheduled at a community centre in Bankton in an hour. I’ll meet him there.’

Something about his tone made me smile. Montgomery was planning to surprise Jackson and bring him in for questioning before the witches’ council could stop him. It was what I would have done – but it was more than I’d expected from a MET detective.

‘And?’ Thane asked, not yet understanding. ‘You’ll meet him and do what exactly?’

Montgomery adjusted his starched cuffs. ‘I’ll see what he has to say for himself.’ He jabbed his stubby fingers at us. ‘If I see either of you at the community centre, the meeting,’ he emphasised the word, ‘will not occur.’

Because a forewarned Fetch was a Fetch who’d find a way to avoid it. Montgomery’s warning confirmed his unvoiced plan to me. ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly.

‘If I lose my job over this, I’ll be coming for you.’

I kept my expression blank. ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ I said. I dropped into a half-curtsey, grabbed Thane’s elbow and marched him out of the cell.

There was no question about where we had to go first. I’d been out all night and I had a furry family to look after. We jumped on the first tram we could and high-tailed it back to Danksville.

I saw She Without An Ear as soon as I turned onto my street. She was sitting in the centre of the cobbled road and staring at us. I was touched that she’d been worried enough to keep an eye out for my return, but when I approached her she hissed dramatically.

‘Don’t be like that,’ I told her. ‘It wasn’t my fault. I’m here now.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know Trilby fed you and checked on you last night. Did they come back this morning? Or did Dave give you breakfast?’

Her whiskers quivered with indignation. ‘I’ll get you some treats,’ I promised. She turned her head away. ‘That dried herring you like?’

She miaowed and I sensed that she was softening. Unfortunately, that was when Tiddles chose to pop her head out from underneath Thane’s coat. She Without An Ear hissed again, glared at me then turned and stalked towards the house.

‘She’s only coming to visit!’ I called. ‘She’s not going to stay with us forever!’

The ginger cat didn’t look back and I grimaced. That could have gone better.

‘Is there a problem?’ Thane asked, hugging Tiddles closer.

‘No.’

He looked at me and I pulled a face. ‘Maybe.’ I’d have to do some grovelling, that was all.

By the time we’d opened my gate and walked into the garden, She Without An Ear had vanished. He Who Crunches Bird Bones, He Who Must Sleep and She Who Loves Sunbeams were gazing at me from the front step.

‘I’m sorry.’ I splayed my fingers and dropped my head to add weight to my apology. ‘I would’ve been here last night if I could have been. You guys know that.’

She Who Loves Sunbeams stared at me without blinking before padding forward and winding around my ankles. She was always the first to forgive.

I exhaled. ‘This is Tiddles,’ I said. ‘She’ll be hanging around here today while Thane and I go out again on business. ’

He Who Crunches Bird Bones stiffened. ‘I’m trying to solve a double murder,’ I pleaded. ‘I’ll be back with you all tonight.’

He Who Must Sleep miaowed softly.

‘I didn’t name her Tiddles,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s only a temporary name until she comes up with her own.’

Thane frowned, but he was smart enough not to argue in front of the cats.

‘Where is He Who Roams Wide?’ I asked. All three cats gazed at me blankly. ‘Is he inside?’ Again there was no response and my stomach tightened. It wasn’t like the adventurous black cat to hold a grudge because I’d stayed out all night – he did that often enough himself.

Dave’s front door opened and he ambled out, peering at us from beneath the hood of his terry-cloth dressing gown. ‘You’re back then,’ he grunted. ‘Did you enjoy gallivanting around town?’

‘We weren’t gallivanting,’ I said. ‘We were in jail.’

He raised an eyebrow before turning to Thane. ‘Don’t let her lead you astray.’ He wagged a finger in warning. ‘She’s more dangerous than she looks.’

‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Thane agreed.

‘I am not dangerous!’ I said, visibly bristling. At the very least Dave wasn’t supposed to know that I was dangerous anyway.

He rubbed his chin. ‘Mmm.’

It wasn’t wise to protest too much. ‘Have you seen He Who Roams Wide?’ I asked.

‘Am I supposed to know which bloody moggy of yours that is?’ he grumped. ‘I don’t know their daft names. There’s far too many of them to keep track of – but I did feed them all this morning.’ He bared his teeth. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘Was my black male cat there?’ I asked. ‘Did he eat?’

‘ You’re welcome ,’ Dave repeated .

I breathed. ‘Thank you for feeding them.’

He scowled. ‘Finally. Manners cost nothing, you know.’ He waved a hand towards the gate. ‘Yes, the black cat was there. Yes, he ate, then he went off but I didn’t see where.’

I relaxed. That was okay; He Who Roams Wide was only living up to his name. ‘Thank you,’ I said again.

Dave scowled harder. ‘You’re welcome.’

After helping Tiddles settle in and ensuring there was more than enough food and water for all the cats, I took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes. Thane also washed and I found a clean T-shirt in a pile of old clothes that I reckoned would fit him.

‘We can go via your place if you want,’ I said. ‘It won’t take long to make a detour first.’

‘I don’t smell that bad, do I?’

He smelled great.

He pulled off his old shirt, exposing his taut, muscled chest, then yanked on the T-shirt. It was a snug fit, especially around his shoulders, but it covered his modesty. More’s the pity. ‘Were you eyeing me up, Kit?’ he asked archly.

I shrugged. ‘It’s not every day I have a half-naked werewolf lolling around my house.’

‘Lolling? This isn’t lolling.’ He offered a crooked smile that contained a hint of cheeky promise. ‘I can show you real lolling, if you want.’

I was genuinely tempted. ‘We have a lot to do. You can show me later.’

‘I bet Alexander MacTire doesn’t do lolling.’

On that count, I suspected he was correct.

We headed first to Pork Pies. In the wake of Knox’ s murder, the café wasn’t open for business though there were people inside and I could see the familiar shape of Harriet’s head through the frosted glass. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, I licked my lips then rapped on the window.

It was the waiter from our first visit who opened the door. ‘We’re closed today,’ he said firmly.

‘It’s Kit and Thane,’ I said. ‘We want a quick word with Harriet and the Blue Tattoos.’

He recognised belatedly that we were the couple who’d spoken to him about hiring the Blue Tattoos. ‘You’ll have to get another band for your wedding. The Blue Tattoos are no longer available.’

I winced. ‘That’s not why we’re here.’

Fortunately, Harriet had heard me and came over. Her pale, strained face displayed every inch of her grief. The waiter, sensing this was a private conversation, slipped back inside.

‘What is it?’ Harriet asked. ‘Have they found the bastard who killed my brother?’

Thane obviously didn’t want to give her false hope until we knew more. ‘Progress is being made,’ he hedged.

‘The MET guy said you two had been arrested.’

‘It wasn’t us,’ I responded quickly. ‘We didn’t kill Knox.’

Harriet gave me a tired look. ‘I know that ,’ she said with a trace of irritation. ‘Has anyone else been arrested?’

There was no way of knowing whether Fetch Jackson was in custody yet or not, so I decided not to say anything to Harriet yet.

Her grief was too raw. ‘I still think that Knox’s murder and Rory Taggert’s death are linked,’ I said, avoiding both her question – and her Truth-Seeking skills.

‘Last night, the Blue Tattoos’ singer said that there was a Fetch who wanted to know about an old schoolfriend of Knox’s. ’

‘You think that friend might be this Rory Taggert? I know most of Knox’s friends and it isn’t a name I recognise. I already told you that.’

‘Maybe Knox never mentioned him.’

Harriet stared at me with dull eyes for a long moment then turned her head and called over her shoulder. ‘Cyril!’

The Blue Tattoos’ singer shuffled to the doorway. ‘Oh,’ he said, looking at me. ‘It’s you again.’

‘I need to know more about the schoolfriend that the Fetch was questioning Knox about,’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know the guy.’

‘There must be something, some detail that Knox mentioned,’ Thane said. ‘Where this old friend lives? Who he works for? Anything will help.’

Cyril pursed his lips as he thought, but it was Harriet who answered. ‘Honestly, there are only a couple of people from school who Knox stayed in touch with. A troll called Ian…’

I shook my head.

‘The nymph,’ Cyril said to her. ‘I’ve forgotten her name.’

‘Adrienne,’ Harriet replied. ‘Adrienne McDonald.’

No.

‘And then there’s Simon,’ Cyril added.

Damn it. I persisted. ‘Definitely nobody called Rory?’

‘Not that I’ve heard of.’

Disappointment flooded me even though it had been a worth a try.

‘That’s quite an eclectic group of friends,’ Thane said, trying to soften the blow.

Harriet smiled faintly. ‘Yeah. Knox liked most people and he didn’t care who or what they were. He met up quite regularly with his friends from school. They got a few odd looks whenever all four of them came here together.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Cyril said. ‘A druid, a troll, a nymph and a witch? That’s pretty unusual. ’

Both Thane and I stiffened. ‘A witch?’ I asked.

‘Yeah. Simon is a witch,’ Harriet said. ‘Is that relevant?’

Thane leaned forward. ‘What does he look like?’

She shrugged. ‘Blondish hair. About the same height as Cyril – oh, and he has a scar on his chin. He could conjure up a spell to heal it properly but he likes it. He thinks it makes him look more interesting.’ She paused.

‘It doesn’t.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to get in touch with him and let him know what’s happened. ’

I doubted she could do that since the body in the Mathers Street mortuary that Fetch Jackson had identified as Rory Taggert had a conspicuous scar on its chin. ‘What’s Simon’s last name?’ I asked. ‘Where does he live?’

Harriet finally registered something was wrong and her eyes narrowed. ‘Campbell. Simon Campbell. He lives towards the edge of the city. I’ve got his address somewhere if you need it.’

I kept my gaze steady. ‘We need it.’

‘What was Knox mixed up in?’ Harriet whispered.

‘I don’t know,’ I told her honestly. ‘But we’ll do everything we can to find out.’