Ceri came in just as I was putting the last lasagna into the oven. “Need any help?”
“You can keep an eye on the food, but other than that, we’re set.” I undid my apron and slung it into the laundry. I updated her on everything I’d discovered over the day, then added, “I also did the accounts. The weepy wife’s payment went through.”
“Good. I was a bit worried she’d renege given she really didn’t want the news we gave her.” She glanced at her watch. “You’d better go change. Everyone will be arriving at any minute.”
I did just that. Guy, not unsurprisingly, was the first to arrive.
“Harri my friend,” he said, as he came through the front door. “I’ve bought some beer.”
I raised an eyebrow. Not only had he bought beer, but he’d dressed for the occasion. He was wearing a shirt and tie rather than his much beloved blue singlet, although the shirt was bright green and the tie purple. Color sense and ogres weren’t often on speaking terms. “Why? It’s not Christmas yet.”
The ogre grinned and grabbed a can before thrusting the rest of the slab at me. “Moe and Curly heard you were making lasagna and invited themselves around.”
Just as well I’d made plenty of lasagna. “What about Shemp? I thought those three travelled in a pack?”
“His missus put her foot down, and there ain’t no wiggling room when an ogress does that.”
I laughed and headed for the kitchen, making room for the beer in the fridge then tossing the empty box into the bin. Keale wandered in, looking tired and limping just a little. He nodded a greeting to Ceri then sat down beside Guy.
“I was thinking about Rebecca—how to find her, I mean.”
“And?”
“I remember her mentioning a friend. Lena something. She lived out Lalor way.”
“We need a bit more than that to go on,” Ceri said.
“No kidding?” Sarcasm edge Keale’s tone. “She works at the airport, in the air traffic section.”
Ceri and I exchanged a glance. She said, “If Rebecca is involved in this, she could have easily gotten hold of the pilot’s flight plans.”
“The question is,” I countered, “would that have left enough time to drug Keale and prime him to hit the helicopter?”
“Hell, yeah,” she said. “That stuff is potent. Within ten minutes of consumption you could get them to whistle Dixie in a pink tutu.”
“Now that is something I’d like to see,” Guy said, raising his can of beer at Keale. The dragon gave him a one fingered salute.
“How easy is it to get, though?” I asked. “I know small quantities are readily enough available on street corners, but not the amount required to make a dragon malleable.”
And if he had been drugged, then it was by someone who was familiar with the drug, because if he’d been given too much the side effects would have been evident by now.
“No, but just about any street dealer can tell you where to get it.” She hesitated. “I could check with an old source, and see if she knows of any largish sales of the drug recently. If we could track down who sold it, we might be able to uncover the buyer.”
“Worth a shot.”
She nodded, and glanced at Keale. “Did Lyle mention whether or not the test results had come through?”
He shook his head. “He barely spoke to me. Just did what he had to do in court, and rushed off.”
To do what? I wondered again uneasily. It seemed odd behavior for someone who’d seemed intent on drinking himself into oblivion until then.
Ceri frowned. “Those results should have been through by now given the high profile of the case.”
“That’s what I thought.” I hesitated then added, “I asked Kaij to check whether they’ve been done or not.”
Surprise rippled across her features, but before she could say anything, Guy said, “Kaij? The dark fae who abandoned you, Kaij?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “That one.”
“You want me to arranging a good thumping?”
I smiled, and touched his arm. “Thanks, but no.”
“I will. Any time. The bastard deserves it.”
Yeah, he did—but back then, not now. Ceri said, “When did he arrive back?”
I shrugged. “He’s the preternatural squad’s investigating officer on Mona’s case, though.”
She eyed me for a moment, concern evident. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, but was saved from saying anything as the doorbell rang. I rose and walked down the hall, but the door opened before I could get there. Moe and Curly smiled in greeting, handed me a large platter of appetizers, then moseyed on past. Like Guy, they’d dressed up for the occasion, wearing matching red shirts and yellow ties. If nothing else, it was going to be a colorful night. My brother might just find himself being outshone.
Maggie arrived next, parking her broom in the closet before handing me several bottles of homemade wine. “Give it to the ogres,” she said with a grin. “It’ll ease the risk of wind outbreaks.”
“It must be pretty powerful stuff, then.”
“Oh, it is. And it even tastes good.”
She made her way into the kitchen and joined in the conversation. Val and Bryan were the next to arrive, and while I had thought my brother risked being outshone, I really should have known better. The platinum curls had been artfully streaked with pink and gold, and he wore a gossamer shirt that shone with the brilliance of mother of pearl and shimmered with various shades of pink and purple every time he moved. His pants and shoes were metallic gold.
Bryan looked positively staid in comparison, dressed in dark grays and black.
“God,” I said, “It’s only lasagna, Val. You didn’t have to get that dressed up.”
Val waved a hand at me, fingernails glittering. “Darls, we both know another invitation might not be forthcoming, so I intend to shine while I can.”
“Well, you’re certainly doing that.” I stepped to one side, and waved them through. “Though it’s a wonder Bryan’s not gone blind from the glow of that outfit.”
“I was wearing sunglasses until a moment ago,” he said, amusement in his voice. He kissed my cheek then added, “But hey, it’s nice to see someone totally unafraid to express themselves so...exuberantly.”
“That’s one word for it.” I closed the door and followed them down the hall.
“Fucking hell, it’s the neon fairy!” Keale said, his grin wide. “Nice to see you again, old chap.”
“Enough with the old, cinder brain,” Val retorted, and slapped Keale on the back. “Heard you had a bit of a problem with a helicopter.”
“You could say that,” he returned, wincing a little and stepping away from Val’s reach.
As he filled Val and Bryan in on what had happened, I headed into the kitchen to finish meal preparations. Delilah was the last to arrive and, like everyone else, had taken time to dress up. She was wearing black leggings and a blue shirt, and her hair was, for once, contained.
“You look nice, Delilah,” I said, meaning it.
She patted my hand and smiled. “You need help getting the food ready?”
“That would be great.” I waved a hand at the plates and salads. “You can take those over, for a start.”
She did, and the food was quickly served up and consumed. Conversation rolled easily along, and everyone seemed to be having a great time—no surprise I guess since everyone except Bryan had known each other for quite a while.
The phone rang as dessert was being served. I handed over dishing out duties to Ceri, then headed into the living room to answer it.
“What the hell have you done?” My father’s voice, full of venom.
Fear slithered through me. God, had Kaij questioned him after all, even after I’d told him of my father’s threat? I licked my lips, and said, “I have no idea-”
“Don’t give me that shit,” he cut in. “This has your grubby little fingerprints all over it.”
Not Kaij, then, something else. Something bigger. “What has? For fucks sake, I have no idea-”
“I will get you for this, you bitch-”
“Actually,” I cut in, “I’m a bastard. Your bastard. And if you don’t explain what the hell you’re ranting about, I’m hanging up.”
“Frank Logon has been murdered,” he ground out. “And Gilroy has been arrested for it.”
Chapter Ten
Shock coiled through me. Frank Logan was dead? And Gilroy charged with his murder? “When? How?”
“Not ten minutes ago. The police came to the house and there were damn reporters everywhere. Someone tipped them off, apparently.”
“And naturally, you suspect me of being behind it all, because Gilroy is such a saint and hasn’t an enemy in the world beside me.”
“Do you deny threatening to destroy his reputation?”
“Ruin his reputation, not his whole goddamn life.” I ran a hand through my hair. “For fuck’s sake, do you really think I’d murder Frank Logan just to set up your precious bloody son?”
The ensuing silence was heavy with antagonism. Obviously, Bramwell did believe I was capable of such an act—maybe because he was. Which I guess was something of a compliment, given he was more or less implying I was made out of the same sort of steel as him.
“I had nothing to do with Logan’s murder, and nothing to do with Gilroy being arrested or accosted by reporters,” I said emphatically. “And if you believe otherwise, you’re a fucking idiot and I do not want to talk to you any more.”
I hit the end button then dropped heavily onto the sofa and swore vehemently. The shit really had hit the fan now. But none of it was making sense or adding up. Not Keale’s accident, not Mona’s death, and certainly not the fact that Gilroy had been arrested for Frank Logan’s murder.
