18

“He was lying through his teeth! I could smell the bullshit!” Ridley snarled as he banged his fist on the thin chipped diner table between them. Nairo blew on her now cold coffee absentmindedly, her brow furrowed as she read and re-read the report.

“Well yeah, he was lying, that much was obvious. Why he lied is what I can’t figure out. There’s no mention whatsoever of burns, not even a note about the suspicious lack of defence wounds.”

“Coz he’s lying through his fat gappy teeth!” Ridley gave the fragile little table another thump.

Nairo suspected by this point he was doing it because he enjoyed the way all the cutlery and plates would rattle rather than as an outburst of indignant rage. She sat there for a moment and listened to the rain as it pounded against the window, the outside world was grey and dingy.

“But why?” Nairo asked, looking up at him.

Ridley shrugged and then went back to massaging his aching shoulder in petulant misery. Nairo sipped her coffee, pulled a face, and waved to the waitress. A surly Goblin female trundled over in a frilly apron and pink tunic. She was large and round shouldered, her pendulous watermelon shaped head threatening to slope off her neck and fall into her apron pouch at any moment. She wore the scowl of a person on their second shift of the day: hard cynicism and a longing to be home.

“Yurr?” she growled.

“Could I have a top up on my coffee, please?”

“It’s still full,” the waitress grunted, showing off the Goblin’s natural distaste for wasting anything.

“It’s cold.”

The Goblin made a contemptuous sucking noise and sloshed some steaming coffee into a fresh mug.

“Whadd’you want?” she grunted at Ridley.

“How bout your address, sugar?” Ridley flashed her a smile while Nairo choked on her coffee.

“I would break you, little man,” the waitress grunted, turning and shuffling away, sucking her teeth at them.

“Really?” Nairo said.

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” He tapped the table in thought and then sunk conspiratorially into the collars of his coat. “Someone got to him.”

“How do you know?”

“Secretary was flustered like someone had barged in.”

“Someone did barge in. You.”

“He was definitely hiding something.”

“That’s circumstantial.”

“I don’t need evidence, I’m not a p… copper!” He slumped back in frustration. “We know he was lying! We saw the body!”

“Maybe we were wrong,” Nairo said as she scooped her mug up before Ridley slammed his fist on the table again.

“We weren’t wrong… I could have been wrong, but both of us?” He was leaning almost all of the way across the table now.

Nairo could feel his desperation for the collar, she had seen that same look in many a detective’s eye at the station. They knew they had their man and they yearned with every ounce of their will for that one piece of evidence. That blade with blood still on it under their beds. The sack of gold buried in their garden. The eye witness that could shatter their false alibis. That one perfect piece of irrefutable, tangible evidence that would prove they were right. But the real world wasn’t like that. And it was that reality that took good coppers down a dark path. The same path that leads to evidence being planted, witnesses being leaned on, and crime scenes being tampered with. It was always too tempting, especially when you believed you were doing it for noble reasons.

“We follow the clues and we do it by the book, Ridley,” she said firmly.

Ridley put his head down and rhythmically bounced it off the grimy table.

“Come on, we’ve just got to keep working the case and something will turn up,” she said, reaching out to pat Ridley on the shoulder before stopping halfway and letting her hand hang awkwardly. “You never know, De Woolf might have been at home and is sitting in a cell at HQ just waiting to spill his guts and reveal all.”

“Oh his guts have been spilled, just not the way we want,” Ridley grumbled. “Listen, you don’t get it. Whatever De Woolf says, it’s clear now that a hand up high is pulling the strings. No matter what we do now, we’re only gonna solve this case with the outcome they want.”

“Which is?”

“I dunno. But I do know, there ain’t gonna be no mention of a Diamond that can blow holes in people!” Ridley hissed this last part.

Nairo sighed again and raised her hand for the Goblin waitress’ attention.

“Can we get the bill please?” Nairo asked the towering Goblin.

She took a deep gulp of her coffee and looked over at Ridley. He looked up momentarily and then buried his head again when he heard the word bill. Nairo muttered under her breath and reached for her purse.

“Already been paid for,” the waitress said.

“What? By who?” Ridley asked, his head popping off the table.

The Goblin nodded, her head towards a tall trench coated figure who had just slipped out of the door. The figure paused for a moment, looked at them from under the wide brim of his hat and then whipped around and stalked away.

“Quick! Come on!” Ridley hurtled out of the booth after the figure.

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Nairo leapt to follow him, she stopped, and dropped a few coins on the table for the waitress.

“Thank you!” she said as she flew by the Goblin who looked at the tip and tutted.

Nairo hit the street running. She ignored the almost familiar pain in her hip now and caught sight of Ridley's coat flapping around a corner. Visibility had dropped in the gloom of the early evening shower. Her breath fogged in clouds in front of her as she willed her battered body to run on. Rain water splashed around her boots as she sped through the puddles forming on the uneven cobbles of the dark alleyways, floating islands of filth bouncing off her boots. She rounded a corner and ran smack bang into Ridley. She slammed into his shoulder and bounced off cracking her hip on a corner of the alley wall.

“Ass, shit!” Ridley snarled, clutching his already wounded shoulder.

He bent double and unleashed a stream of concussive swearing. Nairo rapidly rubbed her hip, eyes screwed shut as she hopped around in circles.

“Why did you stop?” she shouted at him.

“I lost sight of the bloody guy!” Ridley snapped, his jaw clenched in pain.

“Damn, damn, damn!” Nairo hopped in circles while the rain soaked them, trying to get her hip to stop lancing shards of pain through her back.

“I'm sorry about that,” came a slow drawl from the shadowy alcove in the alley.

Ridley and Nairo leapt in surprise, and even though he denied it later, she was sure she had heard Ridley give a little yelp.

“Who are you?” Nairo said, rainwater washing into her eyes as she peered into the shadows.

“Sally, it's me.” From the shadows stepped out the gaunt figure of the coroner’s apprentice Drake.

“Ahh! He's gonna eat us!” Ridley cried, his back pressed against the wall.

“They suck blood, they don’t eat people!” Nairo snapped.

“Does he think I'm a vampyr?”

“No.”

“Yes”

“Hush, Ridley!” Nairo said impatiently. “What's going on Drake? Why the chase?”

Drake shuffled nervously and looked up and down the alleyway.

“Anytime, mate, I'm going to drown out here,” Ridley said as he chucked away the waterlogged smoke he was trying to light.

“Shush,” Nairo hissed at him, pushing her sodden hair out of her face.

“What? Won't he melt in the water?”

“That’s witches!”

“I'm not a vampyr,” Drake moaned.

“Don't listen to him, he thinks he's witty. Now would you like to get out of the rain, somewhere warmer?” Nairo asked, trying to shield her eyes against the rain. The downpour had become so heavy they could barely hear each other.

“No!” Drake shouted above the rain, his normally docile features arched in fear. “We need to be quick, I can't afford to be seen with you.”

“Seen by who? What's going on?” Paranoia was starting to gnaw at her guts.

“I told you!” Ridley punched the air and then clutched his shoulder and cursed. He lowered his voice and shuffled closer, so they now formed a crooked triangle. “Someone got to your boss, didn't they?”

Drake shuffled uneasily again, even in the heavy rain she saw the gleam of sweat on his brow under his wide-brimmed hat. He swallowed and looked up and down the alley again.

“It's okay Drake, you can trust me,” Nairo said, giving his bony arm a comforting squeeze.

He returned the smile with a weak upturn at the corners of his mouth, which disappeared when his eyes fell on Ridley.

“You can trust him. He's rude but he's on our side.” Nairo reassured him. “Ridley?”

“Yeah, course,” Ridley said, even trying for his own reassuring smile, which died on his lips, stillborn.

“You were right,” Drake said after a heavy sigh. “Mister Gamley and I were so excited when that body came in,” he said mournfully. “Mister Gamley thought he could get published from our findings, it would have been the crown jewel in an underappreciated career.”

“My heart bleeds,” Ridley muttered sarcastically, fortunately the rain was so heavy Drake did not hear.

Nairo shot him a look and then motioned for Drake to continue.

“So, it was... you know… magic?” Nairo whispered the last word, even in the downpour the word cut through the din like the crack of thunder.

Drake blanched and nodded slowly.

“There could be no doubt, we even put in an application with the bureau of magical misconduct for a residual magic test... that's when they came.”

“Who?” Nairo and Ridley both exclaimed.

Nairo’s heart thumped in her chest. Were they right? Even worse… was Ridley’s conspiratorial nonsense actually right?

“Elves.” Drake whispered the word.

Nairo and Ridley looked at one another, she was shocked, he was not.

“What happened?” Nairo asked.

“EIF agents came with lawyers and they had a meeting in Mr Gamley's office and the next thing I know the report had been rewritten. I was told I would be fired if I spoke about our findings again,” he said, his head hung low.

“They wanted the fact that it was magic hushed up?” Ridley clarified and Drake nodded.

“But why?”

“Because they’re Elves and they can't be trusted,” Ridley said. “What did they look like?”

Drake shrugged his angular shoulders.

“I only saw the back of them, but they look like Elves. They were mesmerising all dressed in dark suits with their silvery hair.”

“I told you we couldn’t trust those bastards and now they’ve gone and brought the EIF into this as well,” Ridley

“You said that before we had any evidence,” Nairo snapped.

“I wasn't wrong though,” Ridley muttered.

“We need proof, Drake. Would you be willing to come to police HQ and give an official statement?”

“No no! I'm sorry I can't, I will lose my job and so will Mr Gamley!” Drake cried, waving his hands and shaking his head.

Nairo sighed and nodded.

“I understand. Thank you Drake, you have been really helpful and brave.”

“I do have this though,” Drake said and reached into his coat. He withdrew a folder identical to the one they had taken from the chief coroner.

“This is the original report,” he said, offering it to them.

Ridley’s eyes lit up and he practically snatched it from Drake's hand. He used his coat and hat to shield the folder from the rain. There, in black and white, where the first report they looked at had said ‘blade’ now it read ‘evidence of magical homicide, possibly Diamond.’

“This is it!” Ridley crowed in delight. “The Diamond had to be at Benny’s, and somebody killed him with it!” he was almost breathless with excitement.

“It has to be,” Nairo agreed, she chewed her lip and furrowed her brow as she added these new facts to the sprawling web of their investigation.

“Can we keep this?” she asked Drake.

“No, there is only one copy. If Mr Gamely did not drink himself into a stupor after your visit, I would not have been able to sneak it out,” he explained.

“What does it matter, I was right!” Ridley said, doing a little celebratory jig.

“It matters what we can prove,” Nairo said, reading and re-reading the file, trying to commit its contents to memory.

“I must go Sally, the longer this file is gone, the more my job is at risk and…” he trailed off into awkward silence,

“What is it, Drake?” asked Nairo.

“Please, keep any mention of my involvement in this out of it. Not for me, I think they threatened Mr Gamley, he was so shaken after they left. He is not a small man in this city, he has many friends the mayor included, but they rattled him badly. I don't want to mess with Elves, Sally.” He looked down at the puddles forming around their feet.

“Of course,” Nairo promised. “I really appreciate this Drake. We owe you one.”

“Yeah,” Ridley agreed, offering his hand to Drake as he leaned towards him conspiratorially. “I know where you can get fresh blood, good stuff too, none of that homeless person stuff.”

“I'm not a vampyr!”

“Come on Ridley,” Nairo pushed him hard in the small of the back. “We've got work to do!”