Page 78 of Veiled Justice

I went into my flat. I was full of food and confusion so there was nothing for it: I switched on the lamp for Loki and stumbled into mybedroom. I didn’t even bother to undress, just pulled back the covers and collapsed.

I had barely pulled the duvet around me when sleep kidnapped me.

Loki screeched into my hair, yanking me out of the nightmare. ‘Am hungry, Pigdog!’ he announced, utterly unfazed by the terror clinging to my skin.

I bolted upright, heart slamming against my ribs, breath shallow and ragged. Shadows still clawed at the edges of my vision, remnants of the memory refusing to let go. I clutched my wrists, fingers searching, needing to feel bare skin. No shackles, but the ghost of the remembered iron still lingered.

I licked dry lips. ‘Jesus, Loki! That’s not a nice way to wake someone!’

‘Bad dream,’ he said softly, sympathetically. ‘And hungry!’ he squawked pointedly again.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ I rolled out of bed, momentarily stumped when I realised I was fully dressed. Ugh, sleeping in a bra wasnotcomfortable. I reached behind me and unhooked it and hoiked up the sleeves of my jumper to slip off the straps and masterfully pulled the bra out of one sleeve. That was better.

‘Ham!’ Loki demanded.

‘Yes, my owlish overlord.’

‘Notowl!’ Loki huffed, ruffling his white feathers, which ironically made him look far more owlish. ‘Caladrius.’

‘I know, I know! Don’t get your feathers in a fritz.’ The banter soothed me, helping to push the memories back into the recesses of my mind once more.

I padded into the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out a packet of honey-roast ham. Given how much he was hopping from foot to foot, I peeled the top back and let him have it. He gave a happy noise, flew down and ripped into the ham like a tiny mini-vulture.

I filled the kettle and turned it on. It promptly flipped itself off again. ‘Good morning,’ I said grumpily to my resident ghost, whom I called Probably Barbara in my head. ‘Now let me have my damned tea.’

I flicked the switch again and this time it stayed on. The cupboard next to me opened by itself and a packet of cereal floated out before dropping on the kitchen counter. ‘You’re getting better at that,’ I complimented the ghost. ‘Thanks.’

I ate a bowl of cereal and washed it down with two rapid cups of tea. I checked the time: 9.30am. I’d had nearly twelve hours sleep and I felt pretty damned good about it. I’d needed it, that was for sure.

I wondered how to fill my day. Maybe I could go shopping or go out for lunch. I looked at my bookshelves: I had a tonne of books there that I hadn’t touched yet, which was fine because everyone knows it’s not hoarding if it’s books, it’scollecting.I could dive into a good book – Lord knows, I could have used the escape.

I adored a good sci-fi that let me soar into space and discover alien planets. I bit my lip as I contemplated my options. I could dive into a new sci-fi or a well-worn favourite – or I could look at Dad’s case again. Nowthatwas really tempting. I was still contemplating when Loki let out a surprised squawk. ‘What?’ I asked him.

‘Post.’

I looked at my front door. I had mail, and the letter that had caught Loki’s eye was in a rich, cream-coloured envelope with a wax seal. There was no address on the outside, only my name, and it had obviously been hand delivered.

My brain went straight to Quintos or Louisa. Had one of them found out where I lived and sent me a threat? I didn’t know anyone else who would send me a letter with an honest-to-goodness wax seal. Then again … maybe ogres used wax? Was it a letter from Krieg? The sonnet he’d threatened me with?

I finished the dregs of my tea and put down my cup, then padded to the front door and picked up the cream envelope. Examining the red wax seal, I instantly recognised the imprint from the header ofThe Mystic Informer.Huh: maybe they’d found out I was tossing their name around in an interview. They might not have liked that.

I opened the letter cautiously, magic at the ready, but no malady struck me. Cautiously I read the missive aloud so Loki could hear it too.

Dear Inspector Wise,

We heard you used us in a ploy. Well played. But perhaps you’d like to do more than that? We have sources you don’t, and you haveinformation we don’t. We both know that Quintos and Carnforth will try and wiggle out of the charges. They’ll appeal and lock horns with the CPS. We suggest you try them in some form of court: the court of public opinion.

Here’s a number. Call us and tell us the truth about the Masked Masquerade Murder, and we’ll share some information of our own ...

And no, you can’t trace the number, Inspector, because we’ve taken steps. Anonymity is part of our job and assures our safety. We can report the truth but only if no one knows who to come after.

You believe in justice and so do we.

The ball is in your court, Wise.

Gnawing my bottom lip, I stared at the letter. Even with confessions and physical evidence, all too often I’d seen the rich buy their way out of their crimes. They considered themselves untouchable and I’d hoped this case would teach them otherwise, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a small part of me was worried they’d appeal successfully. Perhaps I should have ended them because there was no appeal from death, but I hadn’t gone down that route because my soul needed a break now and again. ButThe Mystic Informerwas right: an appeal would be far less likely to succeed if Other outrage was stirred against them. Should I call?

‘Call,’ Loki said firmly, like he could read my mind.

My phone flew off the breakfast table and landed at my feet. I addressed my ghost. ‘You think I should call too, huh?’

I fingered the thick manilla paper for a moment longer as I thought through my options. Today my brain was crystal clear. After a second I picked up my phone and dialled.

Who needed a day off anyway?