Unfallen Dead

CHAPTER 15

The Boston Police Area B station house down on West Broad-way had the look of a grizzled survivor. Even though the Boston P.D. paid my bills more often than they knew, I never felt welcome at the station house. I worked on cases because they didn’t. I helped close cases they couldn’t. They tolerated me because of Murdock, but I was under no delusion they liked me.

As if to demonstrate the point, everyone in the detective bullpen managed to be on the phone as I waited at the counter. A full fifteen minutes passed before someone offered to track down Murdock. He appeared in the hallway and motioned me to follow him. He opened the door to a dingy conference room with a table, a few scarred wooden chairs, an empty watercooler, and peeling paint. An open file box sat on the table.

“MacNeve sent the Ardman file,” he said

“She must really be bored to move this quickly.” I tilted the box and removed the files. Folder after thick manila folder slid onto the table, and Murdock tried hard not to look panicked that I was making a mess. Except for his car, he’s tidy. We each grabbed a stack and began reading.

The Merced investigation had been referred to the Guild when the fey connection had been made. Given Viten’s history and the Guild’s usual interests, he must have scammed an important fey or two. Otherwise, the Guild wouldn’t have taken that kind of case for a human normal.

Murdock slid an old file photo across the table. “Rosavear Ardman. She’s still in Boston.”

The woman in the picture looked petite, but strong. She had a pleasant enough face, not particularly beautiful. Part of a wing was visible behind her, the sharp and narrow profile of the Inverni fairies. The Inverni clan had a power struggle with the Dananns eons ago, literally, and they lost the rule of Faerie. Ardman had looks, money, and, most importantly, royal connections. It’s no wonder the Guild grabbed the case.

Murdock straightened the folders. “Viten scammed Ardman. He lived with her at the same time he was married to Merced. Neither knew about the other. Josef Kaspar apparently put the two con jobs together and went to the Guild.”

“Why would he go to the Guild and not the police?”

Murdock shrugged. “It happens all the time. The Guild may not take the bait on a human case often, but when it does, it bites hard. If someone thinks they’re getting nowhere with us, they try the Guild.”

I shook my head. “I had no idea.”

Murdock gave a small smile. “You didn’t think just because the Guild is manipulative that it couldn’t be manipulated, did you?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but it made sense. Bureaucracy was bureaucracy, no matter what species was involved. I whistled and slid a financial summary sheet to him. “Viten had millions.”

Murdock didn’t look. “He scammed over a dozen women. Most of the money disappeared. His typical con involved marrying money, getting his name on the assets, then moving them before the women found out. He would vanish before that, take a new name, and select a new target.”

Viten was a fraud, all right. The Olivia Merced divorce file documented a trail of financial gymnastics that Wall Street wished were legal. Merced caught on to him earlier than the others. Still, he managed to seduce a fair amount of money from her. He must have suspected he was caught, because his assets started disappearing before Merced filed papers on him. The money was never recovered.

“Keeva told me he had a partner,” I said.

Murdock sorted through the files and handed me one. “A druidess named Rhonda Powell. Unconnected as far as I can tell. They ran different scams together. Powell usually posed as an heiress, and Viten would act as some kind of father figure looking out to protect her money.”

I flipped through the file. Powell had been as bad as Viten, bilking lonely widowers out of millions as well. A New York City police report deep in the file caught my attention. I showed it to Murdock. “He killed her.”

Murdock nodded. “Things apparently went sour between them. If I had to guess, she wanted money. Viten handled the cash. As far as I can see, she needed his access to get it. When Viten died, the case was assigned to the fraud unit.”

He frowned and flipped back and forth between several pages. “He shot Powell at Rockefeller Center, in full view of several witnesses. It was an execution.”

I nodded in understanding. “Her abilities would have been a match for him, but her shields couldn’t stop a bullet. He probably had enough ability to keep the bullet path from warping.”

Murdock shook his head. “Still, why so public? If they were partners, he must have had ample opportunity to kill her and not be seen.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe he wanted to send a message to someone. Maybe she threatened him, and he didn’t have time for anything else.”

He moved the file pages aside. “I’m putting this on the odd list. The only murder. The only partner. Public. It doesn’t fit what else we know about Viten.”

“Did the victims get their money back?” I asked.

Murdock shrugged. “Some of the cases were years old. They targeted elderly people who were…” He paused, searching for words.

“… not fey,” I finished. The Guild always lost interest when the essence level plunged. Murdock didn’t respond. He knew the story.

The New York angle surfaced when Viten was arrested in Boston. Once his glamour had been stripped, it was evident he was a Teutonic kobold-thin lips, hooded eyes, and a small, flat nose. The skin tone tends to a pale tan, the hair a drab, wispy white. They’re cousins in a way to the Celtic brownies, only their manic sides are more integrated into their personalities. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes not. All kobolds bear an uncanny resemblance to one another. With such subtle features, they were expert glamourers. It doesn’t take much to hide their true selves under an illusion. Viten played on that when he was arrested, claiming mistaken identity.

Murdock handed me another set of papers. “Do you know how Viten died?”

I pulled out investigation reports with Meryl’s name all over them. “I just found out yesterday.”

Murdock kept his eyes on his file. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I glanced at him. “Meryl told me what happened. It was a legit takedown.”

He let it drop. I found an evidence receipt. “What’s in this?”

Murdock opened a file. “Personal effects. There’s a list here somewhere.”

I sat back and folded my arms. “You’ve read this entire file already, haven’t you?”

“Not the whole thing. You sleep late, remember?”

I looked out the window. “I had a busy night.”

“Everyone’s dead,” said Murdock.

“What?”

“Everyone’s dead. The only living person related to the Ardman case is Ardman. She was a victim. Other than Viten, I don’t see a connection to Merced and Kaspar. I don’t see a motive.”

I shrugged. “Maybe Ardman needs an interview.”

Murdock gave me a thin smile. I closed my eyes. “You’re going to ask me, aren’t you?” I opened my eyes. Murdock hadn’t changed his expression. “She might not agree to do it.”

He shrugged. “Hey, not my fault the fey avoid the police.”

I crossed my arms. “Hey, not my fault the police avoid the fey.”

He did not lose the smile. I sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask Keeva to set up a meeting with Ardman. I hate you, by the way.”