Death Swipes Right, page 2
Gently but firmly, she moved Talin aside. Pulling down her sleeve so she wouldn’t leave fingerprints, Abbie gently reached inside Niara’s cleavage. Her fingers found a metallic object, not a broken rib. Good.
With his eyes shut tight, Talin asked, “What did you find?”
Abbie used her other sleeve to flick across the screen. “It’s your auntie’s mobile but, like mine, it’s not working.”
With a disappointed sigh, she tucked it back inside Niara’s cleavage. The police might need it in case it had information about whom Niara had come here to meet.
As she withdrew her hand, her fingers scraped by a hard piece of paper. Taking that out, she scanned it.
“This business card is for eOrbit,” she said. Its slogan read, Time to find your ideal partner. “Sounds like a dating site.”
“She had a virtual first date this morning,” Talin said. “She should be home drinking coffee and waiting for his call. That’s why she canceled our breakfast today.”
“Could he have asked her to meet him here, in person?”
“No,” Talin murmured. “I asked auntie about that when she told me about her date.” He gave a deep sigh. “In-person meetings were against the agency’s COVID rules.” His teary gaze met hers. “I need help to find out who did this, Abbie.”
“It looks like a straightforward murder case,” she began with caution. Abbie left such events for the police to resolve. Her specialty was supernatural shenanigans that might require a Grimm’s special touch.
He shook his head. “It’s not!”
“What do you mean?” she asked, glancing at Niara. This murder was brutal. Senseless even. But not unnatural.
Talin tilted his head towards his auntie’s face. “That is the work of Mama D’leau. I hear her name in my head, over and over. It’s also all over the net. Rumors fly that she’s on the move.” His head dropped to rest on Abbie’s shoulder. “Everyone’s shouting her name.”
“Mama...?” Abbie asked.
“D’leau,” he murmured. “A vengeful spirit, known to disorient her victims in the woods and then kill them.”
“We’re not in the woods,” Abbie said, cautiously, because she didn’t want to argue. Not in Talin’s current emotional state. “Is blunt force her MO?”
“No,” he murmured, sounding confused. “She usually drowns her victims or throws them over cliffs. Why would she attack my auntie like this? Also, Mama D’leau usually goes after blokes. She’s known for punishing faithless Trini men.”
“Of Trinidad ancestry?” Abbie said, frowning, trying to piece together a motive.
He nodded, looking devastated.
Abbie’s heart squeezed with compassion. Now his initial horror and anger were wearing off, Talin was slipping into shock. Which might explain his latest strange theory.
She understood how his mind went there, though. His Auntie Niara was his strongest tie to Trinidad. They both had a connection to that country’s people and culture.
About to ask, What would this Trini spirit be doing in England? Abbie swallowed back the question. She could check Klaus later, her book of Grimm tales.
She held up the card instead. “There’s a handwritten name on this,” she said, to distract him. “Do you know this man?”
Blinking back tears, he flashed the card a glance and then shook his head. “Too much noise,” he whispered. “Too much chatter. Make it stop, Abbie.”
All had gone quiet. There were no babbling voices. Whatever Talin heard happened inside his head. Not good.
DSI Callum Radford, Judith and Talin’s boss, was also Talin’s uncle. His older sister had married a Trinidadian, Talin’s father. Considering that close family connection, officers outside of the Chipstead nick might be called to investigate this case.
Better if she wasn’t caught holding this card.
Sirens suddenly sounded closer.
“Must be Judith,” she whispered in comfort.
Using her sleeve as before, Abbie tucked the card back within his auntie’s bosom.
Abbie had barely finished putting the card back when Judith raced around the building with Ducky. Help was here.
After Judith inspected the crime scene, she sent Ducky to their car to report this incident using their shortwave radio. Her partner looked ashen. The sight of blood always made him queasy. Poor Ducky.
He ran away as if Mama D’leau was chasing him.
Once Ducky was out of sight and hearing, ignoring social distancing, Judith gave Talin the biggest hug, which started him quietly sobbing again.
Chapter Two
“I’m so sorry, Talin,” Judith said. “Your Auntie Niara didn’t deserve this. We’ll find and bring the culprit to justice and maybe bring the hurt to them.”
Abbie shook her head in warning, afraid Talin might go off again about Mama D’leau, but he remained quiet. Had he realized he could be wrong about that theory?
After a while, he sat back down, taking his auntie’s hand.
Judith and Abbie stepped away to speak privately.
“Once the lightning storm broke, we started up some systems,” her friend said. “Cars and independent gasoline-powered units were the easiest to restart. The grid is still down, including HOLMES.”
The police database was down? Fearing the worst, Abbie asked, “How about the hospitals?”
“Most of their equipment had backup systems that started and, thankfully, have kept things working,” Judith said.
Abbie sighed, the tension at her back dissipating.
“None of the smaller batteries seem to have been affected, either,” Judith continued. “Those in torches and remotes. Mobiles are iffy. Some work. Some don’t.”
“Thank heavens,” Abbie said, her thoughts on pacemakers.
Ducky returned with several people. A police van and an ambulance had arrived. After consultation with a doctor on the shortwave radio, the EMT on call declared Talin’s auntie dead, and the ambulance transported her to the morgue.
“The SCD, the Serious Crime Directorate’s Major Crimes Unit, is in charge of this case,” Judith said as she ushered Abbie and Talin over to a police unit. Then she leaned in and whispered to Abbie, “Say the minimum.”
Before long, they arrived at a gray concrete building with windows on the upper floors. Inside, the ground floor walls were bare. She rarely saw anyone pass by. This place, which should have been humming with activity, was a tomb.
What made it even more bizarre were the lights flickering down every corridor they passed. That widespread blackout Judith mentioned must have affected this building, too.
They separated them, taking Talin down another corridor.
She called out, “Everything will be fine.”
“No talking!” her PC said, leaving Abbie frustrated.
“Where is everyone?” she asked. This absence of people couldn’t all be because of the blackout, could it? Judith had mentioned that many officers worked from home these days because of the COVID lockdown. The combination left this building deserted.
Ignoring her, the PC opened a door to an interview room with a flickering fluorescent tube above. He placed his unlit torch on the table for her to use if needed, and left her alone, shutting the door.
Inside the interview room, a rectangular table had four chairs arranged two to a side. A clear plexiglass partition stretched lengthwise across the table. Probably a COVID precaution. Abbie sat and knocked on the divider. Reinforced? It was spotless. Except for her knuckle prints.
Besides the torch, a box of tissues and a hand sanitizer rested on the table. Opposite her, a TV screen was affixed to the wall. It was off or no longer working. Was that why they dragged her and Talin—both mere witnesses—to this deserted headquarters? Because remote questioning was impossible?
“Good questions,” Robert said from beside her.
Abbie kept her face and eyes still. Hard to do when she wanted to smile like an idiot at having her ghostly BFF beside her again. She treasured his company, and if she could have, she would have turned and hugged him.
Although there weren’t any threats of COVID contamination at embracing Robert, she was fairly certain that someone could watch her through a CCTV camera. If it was still working. Even if it wasn’t, she didn’t want to take any chances of it recording Abbie enthusiastically hugging thin air.
“Shall I check on Mr. Higgins?” Robert’s voice gentled, as if he sensed her elation at his presence.
“Yes,” Abbie responded in mind-talk, grateful for the suggestion. Talin always looked up to and responded well to Robert. “Afterwards, please keep the children company. Tell them I’ll be home soon and not to worry.”
He sent her a concerned glance before he faded.
After the first hour of twiddling her thumbs, waiting for someone to come in and take her statement, Abbie put her head down, and pretending to be overwhelmed, used her cord to contact Judith. “What going on?”
The message back, which Judith whispered even though no one but the two of them could hear each other, was that they had placed another DI in charge of this investigation. Worse, this DI viewed Talin as a suspect rather than a witness.
Abbie sat back, stunned by that absurd disclosure. “How could anyone believe Talin could hurt his aunt?”
That woman had been like a mother to him these past several years after his parents died. He’d adored the Trinidadian woman who’d left her home to come to England specifically to take care of Talin.
“Close family members are usually the prime suspects in violent murders and kidnappings,” Judith said matter-of-factly.
“Not Talin!” Abbie said. He’d confided in Abbie once that his auntie had even taught him to speak like a proper Trini and made her laugh by mimicking that accent beautifully.
How yuh going? Wuh is de scene? Wuh is de plan?
“I know that, as do you, but she doesn’t.” Judith began and then abruptly went quiet.
Must no longer be alone. Had they left Abbie in here to stew to make her angry or nervous enough to let slip something that might incriminate Talin?
If so, they would be sadly disappointed.
She massaged her scalp as she sent her next mental message to Klaus to check into Mama D’leau. When she sensed the book come to her, she frantically told it to stay in her bedroom.
She didn’t want to explain to the DI how a book had magically transported itself into the Serious Crime Directorate without authorization.
Once the book settled back inside her room, Abbie set Klaus to track down all mention of Mama D’leau.
Next, she pretended to check her fingernails while contacting her mother.
Margaret Grimshaw was justifiably shocked to hear her daughter speak inside her head.
Abbie informed her she was using her Grimm cord to connect to her mother, and that the police had brought her in as a witness to a murder. She might be awhile before returning home. She asked her mother to please notify the South-East Coast Ambulance Service that she couldn’t be on call today.
“Be careful,” her mother warned, “about using your Grimm gifts arbitrarily.”
Drumming on the table, Abbie considered that advice.
After a while, feeling thirsty, she went to the door and requested a water bottle.
The PC posted outside was the same fellow who’d escorted her here. She tried to chit-chat with the stiff-boots constable about Talin. He rebuffed her.
Thirst satisfied, Abbie relaxed back in her seat, hoping Talin fared favorably, though she doubted it. She resisted the urge to check in on him. Aside from her mother’s warning, if a DI was present in his interview room, Talin’s reaction to Abbie’s voice in his head might make the investigator even more suspicious of her subject.
Would he even hear her over all the other mental “chatter” that seemed to bother him?
A more intriguing thought was if she mind-touched Talin, would she hear the same sounds that inundated him? A fascinating conjecture she might try out if his emotional turmoil didn’t improve.
After doing nothing for another interminable hour, she shrugged off her mother’s caution and mentally touched base with Klaus. She thumbed through the various stories he related long-distance about Mama D’leau.
It made for fascinating reading and helped pass the prolonged waiting period. As she pursued one terrifying tale after another, she didn’t notice the overhead lights give up the ghost and leave her in darkness.
When the interview door opened abruptly, without a warning knock, Abbie had to blink several times before she returned from the latest tale she’d been perusing. The story had taken place in a Trinidadian forest in the year 1690.
A tall pale woman with a narrow face and angry eyes had entered Abbie’s interrogation room, duly masked. A male plainclothes officer, also masked, accompanied her. He had dark hair and a broad, pale, and lined forehead, and wore dark-rimmed glasses.
Abbie recognized the woman, and her disappointment was instant. DI Turner. Why hadn’t Judith told her it was this DI who was in charge of Talin’s case? Judith knew of this woman’s past animosity toward Abbie. She wouldn’t be an impartial judge of any evidence she uncovered.
Back in February, this inspector had questioned her after Abbie and Judith recovered Granny Chan. To Abbie’s Grimm instincts, the vibe coming off her interrogator was strong and clear. Not only did Turner distrust her, but she also viewed Abbie as a threat.
Turner now set a portable light on the table with a bang that rattled Abbie’s already fraught nerves. Was she annoyed because her witness appeared serene?
The officer introduced himself as Haldon. “What were you doing in the dark?” he asked with a pleasant inquiring smile.
“Meditating,” Abbie replied, feigning calm. She was anything but. “Meditation is quite good for settling the mind after encountering a horrific scene,” she added, flashing a gentle calming smile, hoping to lower the tension level that felt as alarming as the crime scene.
“With your eyes open?” Turner sounded skeptical.
How interesting. She thought she’d shut her eyes while she perused Klaus’s stories.
Abbie aimed for a nonchalant shrug. “I was strolling along a forest pathway and there was much to note.”
Like a screaming man running in circles, with blood dripping out of his eyes—a scene Klaus had been relaying of Mama D’leau’s past activities.
Turner took a seat across from Abbie, with the barrier between them. “Please put your mask back on.”
Abbie complied with a resigned sigh. It had been hot with it on. There were no windows to let in cool air and if there was air conditioning installed, it wasn’t functioning.
Turner pressed a button on her mobile and said she was recording this session, before sliding it toward the barrier and Abbie. Hers must still be working. Good to get that confirmation in person.
Turner tapped a key on her laptop. Then did it again. Maybe she’d had its battery charging when the blackout happened. That might have affected it.
With a huff, she shut the lid and opened a thick manila folder. She had a paper backup file. Too bad.
“You have quite a bit of experience with crimes, Miss Grimshaw, do you not?” DI Turner asked, shuffling pages.
“As an EMT,” Abbie replied, “I’m the first to arrive at crime scenes that involve an injury, even before the police.”
Turner’s annoyed gaze flicked toward her.
“A bombing in London,” Haldon said, leaning over to look at Turner’s file. “A half-squashed body found in a garden. A stabbing murder in Constable Chan’s home garden.”
“You were not called in as an EMT to assist with any of those crimes,” Turner said
“I was called in for the first incident,” Abbie corrected, surprised her voice sounded calm. At that reference to the London bombing, her pulse had set to hammering like a war drum. “Unfortunately, I came too late.”
“I would have called it fortunate since every EMT who attended the incident died, except for you.”
“I did not view it as lucky,” she replied in a soft but dangerous tone. “This spring, they held a memorial service for my teammates. It was a sad and solemn affair.”
“You didn’t attend,” Turner murmured.
Turner knew she’d been busy rescuing Granny Chan.
Talin had gone on Abbie’s behalf. She was glad to have missed it, since she wasn’t ready yet to grieve and release her lost friends. Not until she’d brought the culprit to justice. Not the one who carried out the crime, but the one who had ordered that bombing.
“Were you and your teammates not that close?” Turner continued, as if enjoying seeing Abbie squirm. “Work colleagues can sometimes be annoying.”
Her Grimm cord quivered within her arm, wanting to spring out and slap that smirk off Turner’s face.
Stand down, she ordered the affronted cord. She’s trying to egg us on. I’ll not have it.
Fortunately, Abbie could take out her frustrations behind her mask. While Turner droned on, she stuck out her tongue and practiced touching her nose with it. The exercise helped to relieve some of her tension. Her distraction might have shown in her eyes, though, because Turner seemed to grow morose.
“You missed the memorial because you were with Mrs. Chan,” Haldon asked. “Is that correct?”
“I gave my statement about that in February,” Abbie replied. She’d been interrogated for three hours back then and wasn’t prepared to relive that assault a second time. “If you need more information about that, you’ll have to wait for my solicitor to attend with me.”
Thank goodness for older brothers. One of Abbie’s was a solicitor. David’s usual focus was on his white-collar clients, but he would gladly do a favor for his younger sister. Like her other two older brothers, David, too, was protective of Abbie and her Grimm family work.
Ignoring the tightening of Turner’s lips, she added, “Now, would you like me to write out a statement about what happened this morning when Constable Higgins and I came across his auntie’s body?”
ABBIE LEFT HER INTERVIEW with Turner frustrated and worried. The meeting had turned quite contentious when Turner asked her how she’d contacted Judith when mobiles were not functioning. Abbie told her she’d heard the lines were intermittent, so the call must have connected when it was up. That didn’t satisfy Turner, but it was Abbie’s only answer.
