Chapter 7

Fifteen protestors later, my smugness was gone. I’d had a whole line-up of grumpy people who hated the barrier tax and thought the barrier should be ripped down and a mighty dance held on its grave. And so far no one had long grey or blond hair and everyone had an alibi. Worse, some of the interviewees had given up names of their protestor buddies, so I had even more people to investigate. Damningly, Fluffy had sniffed each one and shown no apparent interest.

I was starting to think we were on the wrong track when the next two drifted in for the interview. They had long, colourless hair – ding ding! We had a winner! Or two winners, perhaps.

Fluffy sat up sharply and whined. He looked at me, then at the women, then back at me. I get you, bud, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue because talking to your dog in front of non-dog people makes you look weird. Dog people understand because we all talk constantly to our dogs, but non-dog owners not so much.

I recognised one of the women instantly: Aoife Sullivan. I checked my list for the other lady’s name: Nora Sullivan. I didn’t need the matching surnames to know that they were related. Looking at all that long hair, I tried to contain my growing excitement under a wobbly poker face.

I gave them my best I’m-not-threatening-at-all smile. ‘Hello, I’m Bunny Barrington. Please come on in.’

‘I’m Nora Sullivan and this is Aoife – I’m her mother. Here as requested, for an interview.’ Nora’s voice had an odd quality that provoked something visceral in me but I couldn’t place what was strange about it and why it made me uncomfortable.

She thrust out her hand for me to shake; her nails were short and unmanicured but her skin was lovely and soft. Despite that, she squeezed my hand like she bench-pressed 200 kilos. Ouch.

‘Great. Follow me.’ I took the two women to the interview room. They were both so pale skinned that I could see traces of blue veins under their skin. Their hair was so white-blonde as to be colourless. Norah’s age was hard to judge, but she didn’t appear to be particularly old.

Aoife was one of the two teenage girls who’d called the fisheye hotline when a drug deal was going down. Her friend Joanne had been bouncing with excitement at meeting me; Aoife had been less bouncy but no less excited. When I’d first encountered her she’d been dressed as a Goth, but now she was wearing conservative clothes. There were no signs of the grinning enthusiasm she’d showed before; in fact, her whole body language told me she was pissed off. Aoife Sullivan did not want to be interviewed by the Fanged Flopsy.

She got straight to the point. ‘We didn’t do anything wrong!’

I smiled. ‘We’ve met before,’ I reminded her.

She looked back sulkily. ‘Yeah. You were cooler when you weren’t arresting me.’

With an effort, I kept smiling. ‘You’re not under arrest. We aren’t accusing you of anything, we’re interviewing those involved in the protest because we’ve had an incident related to the barrier.’

‘Well, it isn’t us. Good chat.’ Aoife stood up to leave but her mother grasped her arm, yanked her back down and shot her a quelling glance.

Norah sighed softly. ‘Forgive my daughter. The banshees are a small group and we’ve experienced our fair share of bigotry. She’s a little sensitive.’

Her pale eyes steely, Aoife scowled at her; she looked about as sensitive as a brick in the face. ‘This has nothing to do with being a banshee and everything to do with the Fanged Flopsy here being wrong.’

I didn’t know a whole lot about banshees and I wondered how many were in town. Was white-blonde hair specific to the Sullivan women, or was it a banshee trait? If it was, that opened up the suspect pool still further – though Fluffy had indicated he’d smelt one of the women at the scene. Was it possible that he’d picked up a banshee scent rather than a specific person’s smell? At times it was very inconvenient that my dog couldn’t speak.

I kept my tone mild. ‘As I said, you’re not under arrest.’ Yet. ‘I’ll record this interview for posterity,’ I said lightly. I clicked on the camera, casually read them their rights then dived straight in. ‘Where were you yesterday between the hours of eight in the morning until five at night?’

Nora answered first. ‘I was at work at the fish plant. I’m sure my supervisor can vouch for me.’

I looked at Aoife. ‘And you?’

She slumped lower in her seat and didn’t look at me. ‘I was at school.’

‘Where do you go to school?’

She huffed and folded her arms. ‘I’m taking college extension classes at the high school.’

I glanced down at the information I had on her; she was nineteen, only four years younger than me. It felt like centuries. ‘Who runs the program?’ I asked.

She shrugged. ‘It’s mostly online but we meet twice a week for a regular school day. It’s through the University of Alaska.’

I jotted down a note, more for their benefit than mine. ‘Do you know Kostas Spencer?’ They both shook their heads. ‘Please answer verbally for the recording.’

‘No.’

‘No.’

‘Thank you. Have you ever attended his property?’

‘No,’ Nora confirmed.

‘I don’t go to strangers’ houses.’ Aoife gave me a bratty, insincere smile.

I made a mental note to ask Kostas if he knew either woman. ‘How do you feel about the barrier?’ I asked, directing the question to Nora.

She gave me a flat stare. ‘I was there protesting about it. You know how I feel about it.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell me why.’

‘Why? It is nothing but a con!’ She slammed a fist on a table. ‘A con by the witches to make hard-working folks pay through the nose for their supposed “protection”. It’s an absurdity. We are all supernats here, we don’t need their protection!’

‘There are some humans in Portlock,’ I pointed out.

She waved that away. ‘They are few and far between. The barrier is a waste of time, energy and my money.’

I looked at Aoife; she was silent, admiring her nails, expression bored. My radar hummed. If Nora was the thief, she’d probably have the sense to keep her vitriol about the barrier quiet, so she wasn’t an obvious suspect in its sabotage. But staying quiet, like Aoife was doing right now…?

‘What about you?’ I asked her pointedly. ‘How do you feel about the barrier?’

She slid a glance at her mum. ‘Whatever,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t care. I don’t think Mum cares all that much either, she just wants to get into Ezra’s pants.’

‘Aoife! Show some respect,’ her mum barked, aghast. She also flushed red. Aoife wasn’t wrong about the pants’ thing.

‘Sorry,’ Aoife drawled. She wasn’t sorry. ‘You want to get into Mr Taylor’s pants.’

Nora glared at her and I quickly interceded. I cleared my throat. ‘Right. That’s all. We’ll be in touch. Thanks for your time, ladies.’ I was aiming for casual, but something in me was sure that one of them was the thief. Unfortunately I had no hard evidence, only a visual match on a hair that may or may not have DNA evidence on it. I’d need more than a hair to get this case moving and until I got it, I wanted them to think this was all routine.

Gunnar had already told me off for leaping to conclusions but I was learning that ignoring my gut was often to my detriment.

I saw the Sullivan women out and quickly searched the area where they’d been sitting before the next interviewee came in. They weren’t under arrest and I didn’t have a warrant to collect a hair sample, so if I could find a hair or two from them it might be helpful. I looked around: with two heads of long, loose hair, surely I’d find a few? I shed my long hair like crazy – it was everywhere.

Sure enough, I collected five long white hairs that I bagged, tagged and prepared for the lab. The chain of evidence was vulnerable; I’d been interviewing people all day and I hadn’t seen the hair fall from either Nora’s or Aoife’s head – but now there was something to compare the other hair to. Better than nothing.

I finished the rest of the interviews, but the two women remained my main suspects.

Gunnar strolled in from speaking to the council. ‘How did the protestors’ interviews go?’ he asked me. I filled him in about the hair and my potential suspects. ‘All banshees have white-blond hair like that,’ he explained.

Damn it. ‘I’ll ring Kostas and see if he’s friendly with any banshees. Even so, Fluffy definitely pointed to the Sullivans.’

‘It’s still not much to go on.’

I sighed. ‘I know. We’ll find more evidence.’

‘We’ll have to,’ he said firmly.

‘How did it go with the council?’

It was Gunnar’s turn to sigh. ‘Not great. Everyone is antsy and there were lots of accusations thrown around. A fair amount of blame was laid at Connor’s door for not doing more. Apparently the vampire on the watch shift was on his phone and Connor’s not pleased about that. Still, everyone’s on high alert now so our thief won’t find it so easy to steal another gemstone.’

I bit my lip. ‘Should we put some surveillance on Aoife and Nora?’

Gunnar shook his head. ‘What have I told you about assumptions? You can’t fixate on them as suspects until we have more to go on because it’ll close your mind to other possibilities. Besides, we don’t have the resources.’

‘We could draft in some shifters or vampires,’ I suggested. We often borrowed shifter or vamp bodies when we were stretched thin. Both groups had helped to watch the Nomo’s office around the clock when it had been holding a load of the dangerous fisheye drug.

‘No. If they learn we’re looking at the banshees there’ll be repercussions. The banshees already have a target painted on their back – vampires, especially, don’t like them.’

His lingering gaze told me he was wondering if my suspicions were due to my race. But I hadn’t known I wasn’t supposed to like the banshees, and I certainly didn’t plan on inheriting any problems with any of the supernatural factions. They’d have to piss me off themselves.

Gunnar continued, ‘If some factions learn that the banshees might be behind this…’ He trailed off. ‘Just keep your suspicions to yourself, okay?’

I bristled a little, but before things could get prickly Sidnee came in for her shift. Thank goodness: I was tired, cranky and ready for a cup of tea and some trashy TV.

The phone rang. Since Sidnee hadn’t even shucked off her coat, I answered. ‘There’s been an explosion!’ the caller started right away. ‘I’ve called the fire department already but you’d best come too.’

‘And you are?’

‘Henry Davenport. I’m a neighbour. I live opposite the house that exploded.’

‘Was the house occupied?’ I asked tightly. Please let it be empty…

‘Nah, it’s empty.’

Thank God. ‘You got the address?’ He gave me an address on the other side of town. ‘Thanks, we’re on our way.’

I guessed that cup of tea would have to wait.