Murder by Magic (38 page)

Boneen nodded. “A tiresome little old man who dabbles in useless magic for the most part. He’s not actually a member of the Brotherhood.”

Torin blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think that sort of thing was permitted.”

“With new wizards, it isn’t.” Boneen reached into the bag he always carried over his shoulder. “But Efrak’s a couple centuries old. He predates the Brotherhood, and they let him be as long as he registered with them and stayed out of mischief.” He pulled the components for his spell out, chuckling bitterly. “That certainly won’t be an issue anymore.”

Torin led Garis toward the back doorway, which presumably led to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s give him some room.”

The primary duty of the magical examiner at a crime scene was to cast a “peel-back” spell. It read the psychic resonances on inanimate objects and showed him what happened in the recent past. This generally meant he was able to see what happened, how it happened, and, most important, who did it.

Danthres followed him into the kitchen, which smelled worse than the living room. The place was an even bigger mess, with several part-full mugs of various liquids (or congealed messes that were liquid once), plates of unfinished food, and still more papers and books freely distributed about the table, chairs, countertop, and cupboard. The cupboard itself was the source of the worst stench. Torin recognized the sigil on the cupboard door as that of a freezing spell, but he also knew that it had to be renewed every few days—something Efrak was no longer in a position to do.

“Why would anyone want to have animate furniture?” Danthres asked.

Torin shrugged. “It gave him someone to talk to? If he lived alone, shunned even by other wizards, he probably didn’t have much by way of social interaction.”

“We should talk to his neighbors, starting,” she said with a look at Garis, “with the one who called you. Take us to her.”

The peel-back generally took half an hour or so, which left the lieutenants with the task of questioning potential witnesses. That pool was fairly shallow. The neighbor who summoned the guard referred to Efrak as a “stupid old man who talks to himself.” His other neighbor said that he had very few visitors, usually people seeking out potions or other small magicks that they didn’t want the Brotherhood to know about. “Y’know how these young folk are—they think if they don’t tell no one, no one’ll find out,” he said with a wink. That neighbor hadn’t seen anyone go in recently, though.

The house was across the street from a park Lord Albin and Lady Meerka had had built a year before as a children’s playground. No one there was particularly helpful: the parents were too busy watching their children, the children were too busy playing, and, since they’d only all been there a few hours at most, it was unlikely that they saw anything useful to the investigation of a day-old murder.

Garis, meanwhile, tracked down two of the Youth Squad and told them to fetch a cadre of guards, since in addition to removing the body, they’d need to take the furniture in for questioning.

Boneen came out of the house after a half hour, looking even more sour than usual. “Bad news, I’m afraid. The peel-back was inconclusive.”

Danthres’s eyes flared. An inconclusive peel-back was a rare thing indeed. “Why?” she asked sharply.

“That damned furniture, that’s why!”

Torin closed his eyes and exhaled. “Let me guess. They don’t count as inanimate objects?”

“No,” Boneen said. The peel-back spell only worked on unliving items. The living interfered with the spell’s ability to work—a term that didn’t apply to Efrak’s corpse, of course, nor would it to, say, a zombie or vampire, but apparently did to magically animated furniture.

“We have to remove the furniture, anyhow,” Danthres said. “Maybe after that—”

Boneen shook his head. “Won’t work. Something about the way that old ass performed the spell interferes with the peel-back. I can tell you two things, though. One is that it’s just the lantern, the one chair, and the couch. All the other objects in that house are
properly
inanimate.”

“And the other?” Torin asked.

“Efrak died about a day ago, and there was someone else in the house yesterday. But I can’t tell you if it was before, during, or after the murder.” Boneen smiled—a most unpleasant expression that didn’t remotely suit him. “Actually, it’s good news for you two, isn’t it? It means you have an actual mystery on your hands.”

“Wonderful,” Danthres muttered.

“Oh, I thought you detective types loved a good mystery.” Boneen was still smiling.

“Actually, we hate them,” Torin said, “with great passion and vehemence. They’re irritating, they involve a good deal of effort, and they tend to be exceedingly messy.”

Danthres nodded in agreement. “I prefer my crimes simple and my criminals stupid and easily found.”

Three guards, each wearing armor with the Unicorn Precinct crest, walked up to the house. One of them said, “Afternoon, Lieutenants. Hear tell we’re, whaddayacall, movers now.”

Nodding, Torin said, “Yes, we’ve got a body, two large pieces of furniture, and a lantern to bring to main headquarters. They’re witnesses.”

“The, whaddayacall, body’s a witness?”

“No,” Torin said with a grin, “just the other three.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t see anything!”

Danthres growled. “How could you not have seen anything? You’re a
lantern
.”

“I can only see things when I’m lit. Efrak was in one of his—his moods. He was only using candles.”

Danthres sat at the table in one of the interrogation rooms of Castle Guard headquarters. The headquarters were housed in the east wing of Lord Albin and Lady Meerka’s castle, which in turn was located right at the end point of the Forest of Nimvale, the architectural centerpiece of Cliff’s End. Three of the wing’s interior rooms were lit only by a single lantern and used primarily for questioning people. Torin and Danthres had found that suspects and witnesses tended to get nervous—and therefore chatty—in rooms that had little light and many shadows.

She had to admit, however, that having two such lanterns—the one hanging from the wall and the one sitting on the room’s only table—diluted the effect considerably.

“Moods?” Danthres prompted after the lantern remained silent for several seconds.

“Oh, he’d just get into one of these things where he’d be experimenting with some magic thing or other. It was always just a phase—he didn’t have
any
discipline, really. He’d always start something, throw himself completely into it for a while, then abandon it unfinished. But every time he did, all of a sudden it was just candles, candles, candles. I’d sit for
days
without being lit—weeks, even. It was just
awful.
I mean, can you imagine having to sit blind all the time?”

Danthres didn’t answer—her first rule of interrogation was that she asked all the questions. “What happened the night he died?”

“I told you, I didn’t—”

“See anything, yes. But I assume you can still hear when you’re not lit, right?”

“Well, strictly speaking, yes, but—”

“So what did you hear?”

A pause. “Well, you see, I wasn’t really paying close attention.”

“You were sulking because he was ignoring you,” Danthres said.

“I don’t sulk!”

She pressed on. “You didn’t like the way he was treating you, so you decided to ignore him. He was treating you like a child, so you were going to act like one.”

“I’d hardly go
that
far, but—well, it isn’t fair. I mean, if he was going to make my sight dependent on being lit, the absolute
least
he could do was light me regularly. But no, he couldn’t be bothered. He just
had
to study by candlelight. ‘It keeps me pure,’ he used to say. Honestly, such pretentious garbage.”

Danthres got up from her chair and paced around the table, her brown cloak billowing a bit behind her as she did so. “So what happened the day he was killed? You must have heard
some
thing, you were right there.”

“Just another one of those idiots that always come in. Even if I had been lit, I probably would’ve ignored him. They just want to use Efrak, you know, try to get around the Brotherhood, like
that
ever works. Honestly, it’s just so—”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“Not really, but you people all sound alike to me.”

“People—or humans?”

Another pause. “You’re right, it wasn’t a dwarf or an elf—and he spoke Common, so it wasn’t a goblin or anything like that. Besides, I’d’ve been able to tell by the smell, even in
that
pigsty. No, definitely a human.”

“I saw the whole thing, Officer.”

Torin smiled as he entered the interrogation room. The guards had placed the couch up against the wall and removed the papers and books, though it was still thoroughly stained and dirt-encrusted. At least Torin assumed that whatever encrusted it was dirt. He decided not to inspect it too closely, instead turning the seat at the table toward the couch and addressing it.

“I’m a lieutenant, actually.”

“Look, I saw everything, Sergeant. It was a human, male, young, black hair, blue eyes. Or maybe it was brown hair, but either way it was tied back in a ponytail, and it was definitely dark red hair. And greenish blue eyes. Anyhow, he came in and started bothering poor Efrak. He wanted a charm for this girl he was attracted to. Efrak said he wasn’t licensed for that kind of thing, and the boy went insane. He punched Efrak right in the face, then broke his neck. He seemed a little surprised after that, actually. Got all angry and started yelling at Efrak. At least that’s what it sounded like.”

Torin frowned. “Sounded like?”

“Well, it was hard to get a good look. Efrak tended to leave stuff lying around, and it makes it hard to see exactly—”

“Good sir, if you could tell me what color my beard is, I’d be grateful.”

“It’s red, of course. But I can see fine now. It’s just—Efrak had all that stuff all over me.”

“You don’t have any idea what the murderer’s hair color is, do you? Or what length it is?”

“Well, not as such, no, but I did hear everything that happened. I can tell you this, too, Captain: he didn’t leave right away. I don’t think he took anything, just threw some papers around.”

“Did you try to stop him?”

“No. I think the chair might have, though. I heard them talking, but I couldn’t make anything out. My hearing isn’t always great with all that stuff, either, to be honest, but I definitely heard that blond-haired boy break Efrak’s neck. Probably.”

“It was just an accident.”

“Really?” Danthres said, gazing upon the chair with annoyance.

“Total accident. Efrak tripped right after that boy who wanted the love potion left. Poor kid, he just wanted to impress a girl, y’know? Why do boys do that, anyhow? Try to impress girls?”

“Describe the boy.”

“He was average height, straight brown hair, blue eyes. No beard, but he was obviously trying to grow one.”

“And what happened when he was there?”

“Not much. He came in, asked Efrak for a love potion. Efrak explained about how those things have to go through the Brotherhood and he wasn’t licensed. The boy whined the way boys do, and then he left, talking about how unfair life is and how he’d never get the girl of his dreams. Kind of tragic, really. Poor boy.”

After several seconds, Danthres prompted. “
Then
what?”

“Oh, Efrak just tripped on the table and broke his fool neck. At least I assume that’s what broke. His head hit the table, and then he didn’t get up. Silly old man, he was always tripping over things.”

“I hate magic, I really, really hate magic.”

Torin smiled at Danthres’s words as he entered Captain Osric’s office. His partner was already seated in one of the captain’s guest chairs and had made that comment to the head of the Castle Guard.

Osric sat behind his desk, his perpetually half-shaven face in its permanent scowl, made all the more doleful by a silk patch over his left eye. He, too, had a cloak and leather armor, both emblazoned with a gryphon crest; however, his cloak was red, and presently hanging on a hook on the wall.

Danthres continued ranting as Torin took the other guest chair. “It’s ridiculous. How am I supposed to interrogate someone who doesn’t blink, doesn’t shrug, doesn’t slouch, doesn’t smile, doesn’t—?”

“I get the idea, Tresyllione,” Osric said. He turned his right eye onto Torin. “What did Boneen say, ban Wyvald?”

“To stop bothering him when he’s trying to have a nap.” Torin grinned. “However, I got him to admit that there’s no way to tell if Efrak died by accident. The neck break and the bruising on the side of Efrak’s head are both consistent with Efrak falling into the table, but
how
he fell is impossible to say.”

“From the sounds of it,” Osric said, “the only reliable witness is the chair.”

“It’s the only one who saw everything,” Danthres said, “but I’m sure it’s lying.”

Osric’s right eye bored into Danthres. “Why would a chair lie?”

“I don’t know, but it’s lying. Efrak was murdered.”

“I agree with Danthres.”

Osric snorted. “As if that’s going to convince me. You two always agree with each other when you’re sitting in this office because you don’t want me to think that you ever argue.”

“That’s absurd,” Danthres said archly. “Torin and I never argue.”

“Yes, we do, actually,” Torin admitted.

“No, we don’t.”

“In any case, she’s still right. Efrak was murdered. Bodies don’t, as a rule, fall down with arms on the side perpendicular to the other furnishings. Someone set him down.”

“Probably our lovesick boy. I want to put his description out to the guard.”

“What description?” Torin asked. “The chair’s the only one who described him.”

“True,” Danthres said, “but it’s the only one of the three who got a good look.”

Leaning back in his chair, Osric said, “This still doesn’t answer the question of why a chair would lie. What’s the motive?”

Danthres shrugged, causing her blond hair to bounce. “Either way, the chair’s description is the only one we’ve got. It’s what we have to start with.”