Dragons Luck

Forty-seven

Griffen wasn’t sure what to expect from the conclave the morning after Slim’s death. He had made calls to the various speakers and leaders the night before, after talking with his own inner circle, Jerome, Val, and Mai. He had almost called Mose, but the old dragon’s distant attitude lately made Griffen hesitate. The advice from the others would have to be enough.

The conclave was already winding down. Today the scheduling was light, and tomorrow there wasn’t anything serious at all before the big masquerade ball. It seemed they were used to everyone wanting to have time to rest up before the real party. Griffen had been assured that the speakers could handle most of the workload that day if he needed to deal with more important matters.

Which was exactly the problem. Griffen wasn’t sure where his priorities should be. The loss of Slim had him mixed up emotionally, but he had been engaged as moderator. A moderator who didn’t know which meetings during the “light” day were actually important. The weight of the tragedy and the weight of his inexperience were combining into something truly crushing.

So he was going in a bit early, to gauge everyone’s reactions and feelings after having a night for the news to make the rounds and settle into everyone’s mind. Then he would decide how best to use his energies. He tried not to think about what Slim would want him to do. Slim, who had been one of his biggest supporters as moderator until the unfortunate incident with Lowell.

As Griffen walked into the hotel lobby, he saw he wasn’t the only one getting an early start. He wasn’t sure which surprised him more, Harrison sitting in one of the low chairs in the lobby or the two uniformed police standing some distance behind. The last thing Griffen would have expected from the scruffy vice detective was obvious flaunting of what he was, but the uniforms didn’t seem to have any other purpose.

Harrison was leaning in toward a young woman, someone associated with Gada and the magic types if Griffen remembered right. Harrison was talking low, but the girl kept glancing around nervously, afraid of who might see her and what they might think. Of course her back was to the door, so that she could see the two uniformed officers, and Harrison could see anyone who came in.

He looked up at Griffen, and the lines of his face deepened as he scowled. A few more words to the girl, and she craned her head back, eyes wide and startled. She muttered something back and quickly rose and scurried out of the lobby.

Harrison stood, and the two uniforms stepped up to flank him.

“This needs to be in private,” Harrison said.

He turned and didn’t bother looking back. Griffen hesitated only a moment before following him, the two uniforms falling in behind him. Harrison went into one of the conference rooms set up for the conclave itself. Once Griffen had entered as well, the door was closed by one of the officers, leaving the two men alone.

“Detective Harrison, I ju—”

Harrison grabbed Griffen by his shirt, cutting him off. Griffen was surprised by the strength of the man who jerked him around and slammed him facedown onto the conference table in the center of the room. Griffen had to concentrate hard to keep down his body’s ever-growing reactions to danger. The last thing he needed was for Harrison to see scales.

By the time he was sure he wasn’t going to slip, he felt the metal of a handcuff bite into his wrist.

“Griffen McCandles, you have the right to remain silent. Something you seem to be very good at, you little shit.”

“Detective.”

“Shut up! You held out on me. I thought we were square, McCandles. You seemed to get the rules. You do not jerk me around.”

Griffen let his other arm be pulled back, hands securely cuffed behind his back. He didn’t know if he could actually break a pair of handcuffs, but he was willing to give it a try.

“Not only do I find you know exactly what Slim has been involved in, because of you being the frickin’ ringleader here, but I hear you and he been going sideways at each other. And I have no less than three local street performers willing to witness that you were looking for him before he was killed. You know how badly you got to screw up in this town for people to talk to the police?”

“I didn’t kill Slim,” Griffen said.

“You are the number-one suspect, and you are going in for obstruction and withholding. And I should break your teeth in. You are never getting another favor out of me or any of my boys, McCandles.”

“Why is this even your case? I thought you were vice.”

“I know the vic, I know the suspect, and it’s my beat. It may not be my case, but they will understand me wanting to get at you first.”

“With all the jurisdictional nonsense I hear in this town? I find that very hard to believe,” Griffen said.

Harrison grunted, and Griffen was hauled back again. A heavy hand pushed him down into a chair, which wrenched his wrists. Idly, Griffen wondered if a dragon claw could pick a lock, if he knew how to control his shape changing that well… or knew how to pick a lock.

Harrison moved into the chair at the opposite end of the table. There were no bright lights in Griffen’s eyes, no two-way mirror along one wall, but he knew an interrogation scene when he saw one. Except Harrison was definitely bad cop, with no good cop in sight.

“So maybe I called in a favor,” Harrison said. “Just so I could hear it from you, why you lied to me, or why you killed Slim.”

“I didn’t lie… I just decided to wait till a better opportunity to talk to you. And I didn’t—”

“Kill Slim,” Harrison interrupted. “Yeah, and you know, I almost believe that. So tell me, what is this collection of whack jobs you’ve got going on, and what’s your connection?”

“Honestly, I didn’t help organize it. I just got asked to come in as a neutral party. Kind of keep the peace. That’s the only reason me and Slim had a problem. He was causing a little trouble, and I had a word with him, it wasn’t any more than that.”

“Well, that can be an awful lot. And you didn’t tell me who these people are.”

Griffen looked at him levelly.

“You really don’t want to know, Detective. Trust me.”

Harrison looked back.

“The last thing I am going to do right now is trust you… but I might agree with you on that.”

Harrison stood and walked over to Griffen. A few moments later the handcuffs were back in his pocket.

“There is no evidence, no sign of you on the body. No murder weapon. And witnesses who talked to me… might not be so willing to talk to whoever gets the case. But, McCandles, this is your mess, and you got a group of people, suspects, who are skipping town in a couple of days.”

Harrison opened the door. The uniforms were gone. Griffen wondered if they had been there just for him.

“You have till the end of your little convention here to get me some answers I can use. Or I am dragging you, and every last one of them, in on whatever charges I can cook up. And then I find out… everything.”

The door closed behind him, and Griffen sat in the chair, rubbing his wrists and trying to figure out if he was more or less confused than he’d been earlier thas morning. A soft knock came from the door, which opened a crack. Jay poked his head in tentatively.

“We are ready to start the first meeting, if you are done with the room, Griffen,” he said.

“Sure, sure,” Griffen said absently.

“Are you busy, or will you be sitting in?” Jay asked.

“I, uh… I’ll sit in.”

Jay nodded approvingly. He opened the door fully and in walked several of the conclave members. Griffen barely paid attention as they all found their seats, clumped into their cliques and groups.

The changelings gathered close to him, and after a few more distracted seconds, Griffen realized they were looking at him. Especially Robin and Hobb, their eyes wide and eager.

“Yes?” Griffen asked.

“Well, uh, we wanted to know, since you are still leading the meetings,” Robin began, hesitantly.

“Are we still going to have our pre-Halloween ghost tour?” Hobb asked.

“Pleeeease,” several of the changelings said at once, eager as puppies.

Griffen found himself smiling.

It was all about priorities.