Unshapely Things (19 page)

I joined Briallen back in the kitchen.

"Do you want to sleep here?" She lifted the kettle from the stove and refilled it.

"I should just go home."

As I reached for my cell phone to call a cab, it rang. I stared dumbly at it for a moment. No one in their right mind called me at dawn. It was Murdock.

"Where are you?" he said.

"Briallen's. We need to talk."

"No shit. Don't move." He disconnected.

Briallen crossed her arms and shook her head. "You should rest, you know."

"I will," I said, though neither of us believed it.

The doorbell rang. As I gulped the rest of my tea, Briallen preceded me to the door and opened it. Murdock stood on the threshold in a finely pressed shirt, not a hint of the early hour on his face. He gave Briallen a slight bow. "Good morning, Ms. Gwyll."

"Good morning, Leonard. It's so nice of you to ring my bell," she said with a broad grin. I had a hard time burying my own smile. The last time Murdock had picked me up at Briallen's, he made the mistake of sitting in the car and blowing the horn. Not only is that just not done on Louisburg Square, it's never done at Briallen's house. The horn blew for an hour after that no matter how many wires Murdock yanked out.

"I apologize for the time," he said, and raised his eyes to meet mine. "Do you mind if I take Connor with me?"

"Not at all. He has a tendency to overstay his welcome, then ask for cab fare." She took my mug and pushed me out the door. Murdock chuckled politely as he stepped aside to let me pass.

I shook my head. "You are not going to believe the night I've had," I said, as we walked to where Murdock had illegally parked by a fire hydrant.

"You're not going to have a very good day, either."

I tossed some magazines from the passenger seat into the back and sat down.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

Murdock started the car and backed up the wrong way until we were on Mt. Vernon Street. "Two corpses and one familiar description. You do the math."

"Three corpses." I told him about Tansy.

"Damn," he muttered. "Two fey and one human. It's going to be tough to pry you loose."

"Me!"

"Yes, you, you freakin' idiot. Who'd you think I was talking about?"

"The suspect! You know, big guy, smells bad?"

"I've got the same description from multiple witnesses and a cab driver who had a fare last night with blood on his hands. Guess who it sounds like?"

I slouched in my seat. "This has got to be a joke."

Murdock parked the car in an alley behind Downtown Crossing. "No. It's not. Now tell me everything that happened."

So I told him. When I got to the part about pulling the stone out of the chest cavity, he groaned. I handed him the stone in the bag. He looked at it briefly before slipping it into his shirt pocket. He leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling.

I finished as quickly as possible. Murdock just sat, not saying a word. He sighed, started the car, and began driving again. "Okay, I can probably get you off the tampering with evidence charge because of the whole essence thing, but it won't be easy. The hard part's going to be keeping you out of a cell for suspicion."

"This is crazy. I'm working this damned case."

"No, you're not. You were fired, remember?"

Exasperated, I shook my head. Murdock crossed the Broadway Bridge into South Boston and immediately slowed down. Even from a distance we could see the cars double-parked in front of the station. You couldn't miss the news vans with their giant antennas pointing skyward and ready for action. He brought the car down a side street and into the small lot where suspects were normally loaded into vans for transport to the city lockup. Murdock backed into a tight space that didn't block anyone in. Station lots were probably the only place in the city the police parked with courtesy. The fear that they might block someone who could give them a promotion someday was enough for them to remember how to parallel park.

As we got out, I spotted Commissioner Murdock's black sedan. I shouldn't have been surprised considering the situation, but it was still barely seven o'clock in the morning.

Murdock passed me in through the security door. He glanced over his shoulder as we made our way down the hall. "I didn't tell you. The murdered kid in the warehouse? His father's some bigwig from New York."

"Why don't you just put a bullet in my head?" I snapped.

We took the stairs one flight up and were back in the squad room again. More people were crowding around than last time, since it was a shift change on top of everything else. Murdock went straight to Ruiz's office, knocked once, then let himself in. He closed the door in my face, but not before I felt the essences on the other side of the door. My gut clenched in irritation. MacDuin was in there. Murdock wasn't kidding when he said I wasn't going to have a good day.

I tried my best to turn around nonchalantly to face the room. Most of the faces quickly slipped away, not a few with small smiles on them. After several excruciating minutes, Murdock came back out. "Keep it simple and don't piss anyone off," he said. I was feeling too tired to take offense.

Entering Ruiz's office felt different than last time. I didn't like being that kind of center of attention. The commissioner sat in the same seat, macDuin stood again to the left, and poor Ruiz perched on his chair behind the desk like he was ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Murdock sidled along the side of the office to stand next to Ruiz, leaving room for me between him and his father. Standing between two annoyed Murdocks was not my idea of a good time. MacDuin stood ramrod-straight and glowered at me, doing his best to look intimidating.

The commissioner cocked his head up at me, his dark eyes examining my face for a long moment. I would not want to be his kid when a window got broken. "Detective Murdock tells us you had a busy night, Connor."

I decided to go formal. "I can explain what happened, sir." He nodded, not taking his gaze from my face.

"Yes, do," said macDuin. "I would be very interested to know how you just happened to stumble upon not one but two murders."

I ignored him and kept my attention on the commissioner. "I didn't exactly stumble onto the murder. I was with a friend, a flit who goes by the name Joe. What you may not know is that a third person was killed last night, another flit by the name of Tansy. When Tansy was dying, Joe sensed it and led me to the scene."

"What do you mean, sensed it?" asked the commissioner.

"Apparently, it's an ability. All the flits nearby sensed it and screamed."

"I heard about that," said Ruiz. "I didn't realize it was connected to this."

"It was a direct result, Captain. As I came on the scene, the perpetrator ran past me, inadvertently allowing me to catch the trace of his essence. By that, I was able to follow him. Unfortunately, I arrived at the second murder scene too late. He was already gone."

"Yes," said the commissioner, "Detective Murdock has described this ability of yours to me."

"I wasn't aware you had any abilities," said macDuin.

I gave him the barest hint of a smile. "I have many, Lorcan."

"No one else saw this so-called murderer. They only saw you," said macDuin.

"He was moving fast. In my present condition, I could not match his speed."

"You were removed from this case, were you not?" asked the commissioner.

"Yes, sir. But, again, let me point out that I was out for a social evening. I didn't go looking for this."

MacDuin smiled and shook his head. "I believe in your own mind this was some kind of social evening, Mr. Grey. Commissioner, this man suffered a debilitating head injury in service to the Guild. From what I understand, it's incurable and clearly has begun to affect his mental faculties."

"What are you driving at, macDuin?" I said.

He looked at me with feigned pity. "Connor, we have a suspect in custody. I know we don't agree, but this is taking things too far."

I rested my hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. "What exactly are you implying?"

MacDuin shrugged. "I am implying nothing. I am saying you killed two, excuse me, three people last night in a vain attempt to keep this case open to foster the delusion that your abilities still exist."

Murdock had the presence of mind to place his hand lightly on my arm. It was enough to keep me from lunging across the desk. I took a few breaths. "I didn't kill anyone."

MacDuin turned his attention to the commissioner. "Surely, sir, you find it odd that not one witness saw Grey's mysterious assailant? Where is this flit who helped him? And this other body?"

"Flits take care of their own, and you know it," I said. MacDuin stared impassively at me. I was walking right into his trap. I struggled to calm down. Exhaustion definitely was catching up on me.

The commissioner broke the silence. "Why did you flee the scene?"

"I wasn't fleeing the scene. I was preserving evidence."

Murdock pulled the stone from his pocket and placed it on the desk. I knew then how macDuin must have felt two days earlier when he played the same move. The look on his face was priceless. Obviously, he already knew no stone had been found on the victim and was going to use that against me, too.

"I found that on the victim. It had a strange essence on it that was dissipating, so I took it to be examined before it was gone."

The commissioner leaned forward and picked up the bag. He held it up to see more clearly. "An awful lot of stones seem to land on your desk, Captain Ruiz."

"Um ... yes, sir," he replied. Poor Ruiz. Sweat poured off his forehead as he tried to look involved. I had never seen a police captain so marginalized. Of course, with the level of power and animosity in the room, no other captain had ever been in such a situation.

The commissioner handed the bag to macDuin, who took it like someone had given him a dead mouse. While macDuin made a small show of examining the stone, a soft chirping sound filled the silence. Murdock glanced at his beeper and turned it off. MacDuin tossed the bag on the desk. "Another convenient coincidence. No one saw this at the murder scene."

"Perhaps you'd like to discuss the coincidence with Briallen ab Gwyll. I took it to her for examination."

To his credit, macDuin didn't quite blanch. He retained his composure fairly well, but obviously he hadn't expected me to bring up Briallen. The commissioner chuckled. "Curiouser and curiouser someone once said. I think, Lorcan, that we should reward this young man. I haven't seen someone slip out of so tight a web of yours in ages."

"I don't know what you mean," said macDuin.

"I mean I think his story is exactly what he says it is. Unless, of course, you care to dance with the old witch on this."

I hadn't realized Murdock still had his hand on me until he squeezed my arm in warning. He needn't have worried, though. I'm sure Briallen had been called worse things in her time. Besides, I knew a glimmer of light when I saw one, and at least the commissioner's tone held some respect.

MacDuin's eyes burned coldly as he looked at me. The image of his wings appeared faintly in the air behind him, challenging the glamour to its limit. "Assuming for the moment your story is true, what did you find?"

"I'm ... not sure. I think it's confirmation of a theory I have that the killer has some kind of birth defect. There was some essence on the stone that didn't feel right. These murders might be related to the defect in some way."

"In other words, you have nothing," said macDuin.

I shook my head, then tapped my nose. "I have his scent. I can find him. I just have to figure out where he'll be next. But not if I'm in a jail cell."

The commissioner frowned in annoyance and flicked his hand. "You're not under arrest."

"Commissioner, I must insist..." macDuin began, but the commissioner cut him off.

"Let it go, Lorcan. We're wasting time. You're not the only one who has to worry about politics. I am not going to embarrass myself by having yet another person in custody if yet another murder is committed. As it is, the press is going to have a field day with this. I want hard evidence, and I want it yesterday." He glanced up at Murdock. "Am I clear, Detective?"

"Yes, sir," Murdock said.

"Then get moving," the commissioner said.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I opened the door and was into the squad room before he had a moment to reconsider. Murdock was right behind me, his face grim. We retraced our steps through the building and got back in his car.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but why did your father help me?"

Murdock started the car and eased onto West Broadway. "Maybe he doesn't like macDuin more than he doesn't like you."

He took a left turn from the right lane and drove up Pittsburgh Street. We drove slowly down the alley. A small Honda that had seen better days was parked next to a dump-ster. Murdock pulled up beside it. The dirty driver's window rolled down, and Barnard Murdock smiled into my face.

"Hey, Bar," I said. Murdock's younger brother looked exactly like he was his younger brother. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes set off by that same hawk nose. Only everything looked slightly smaller. Everyone called him Bar. No one dared called him Barney.

"Connor! The man of the hour. Can you step in it any deeper?"

I smiled modestly. "Nice to see you, too, Bar."

He cocked his head forward to look around me at Murdock. "You didn't answer your beeper."

"I am answering it. He in there?" said Murdock.

"Yep. You want backup?"

"Nah. We can handle him."

Bar shrugged. "Suit yourself. You coming to dinner on Sunday, Connor?"

"I'm the last person your father wants to see at the table right now."

Bar laughed in appreciation. "Yeah, I just got off the line with someone who filled me in. After you guys left, the Guild guy tore out in a rage. Nice going."

Murdock drove the rest of the way into the alley and parked by Shay's door. My knees ached as I stretched outside the car. I needed sleep badly. Murdock came around the car with his gun drawn but held down at his side.