Jade Monkey

I’d worried for a moment that the fall might have injured the Reporter. That was until he started snoring loudly and tried to turn over and make himself comfortable on the loam. It only took us a few minutes to haul him out and get his recumbent form into the van.

Bar the thunder of whatever alchemy Stiles had performed under the vans bonnet, the half hour trip to Petes was quiet. I’d told Stiles that I needed to bring Pete up to speed and didn’t want to go through things twice, which was mostly true, but also gave me time to think.

I sat across a small table from Stiles in the backroom, waiting for Pete’s take on a full English breakfast. The reporter was safely stowed on same the sofa that I’d slept on before and showed no particular sign of waking up any time soon. We’d smuggled him in through what Pete calls the ‘Stage door’ and hunger had finally won out over years of caution and I’d taken Pete up on an offer of brunch.

I had my hat in my hands as Pete walked in wearing an apron that read ‘Reel Cooking’ and more importantly carrying several plates piled high with eggs, bacon, beans and sausages. He set the plates down and dislodged a stuffed badger to pull up a chair.

‘Talk and eat?’ He suggested.

I nodded, conscious that a forkful of beans was already on its way to my mouth with seemingly no human intervention. Stiles sipped his beer and grinned.

‘The good news is that there’s a new criminal syndicate in town.’

Pete snorted. ‘That’s the good news?’

‘Yes.’ I said.

He took chewed on some bacon thoughtfully for a moment before saying ‘Why?’

‘Because we know that they’re there’ Answered Stiles, ‘Which is more than I did this morning.’

‘Don’t feel too bad, whoever’s running all this has got their stuff together. They’ve let events unfold and done damage control when they’ve had to. They’ve kept tabs on me to see how my investigation would pan out. They’re smart, organised and sneaky as all hell. Which is the bad news.’

‘If there’s a syndicate out there,’ Stiles said waving his fork, ‘they’ve kept out of sight of press and the police.’

‘What part of smart and sneaky did you miss? I sighed. ‘Support for Miss Michelle’s agenda has meant some changed priorities for the Force right?’

Stiles eyes widened, and he nodded slowly. ‘And you think that stories on organised crime aren’t making the front pages?’

I shook my head. ‘Any pages. Ginger said that crime stories used to be daily, now, not so much. However, our intrepid friend here on the sofa has managed to ruffle a few feathers. Last time I saw him he was working an angle about the Archaeologist and the Mayors bodyguard.’

Peter almost choked on a hash brown.

Stiles looked across the table. ‘I take it that that’s unlikely then.’

I grinned. ‘She hated him like poison.’

‘So what lead do you think he picked up?’

I waited for Peter to drink some water before answering. ‘I don’t know for sure. I’m more and more convinced that our murderer was a guest at the museum party. If the reporter was looking into Mr Charles’ movements he might have found something.’

‘The hat and trenchcoat that the murderer was wearing would be good.’ Stiles said.

‘You’ve read my statement?’

He ignored me and carried on. ‘They had to have come from somewhere and be disposed of afterwards. We haven’t found them, and we’ve pretty much taken the museum apart.’

I tried casting my mind back through the blur of the last couple of days. ‘Scary Anthony couldn’t have taken them. He’d already looted the room, put the chains back on the crate and left by that time.’

‘Its possible that someone who had access to the museum stored them there in advance.’ Stiles said.

‘It’s possible.’ I said. ‘But where they’d go after the shooting?

‘Cloakroom maybe. Then an accomplice or accomplices check them out as they leave.’

I nodded approvingly at Pete. ‘Just one more thing, the head of the syndicate.’

‘A criminal mastermind?’

My former approving nod was now tempered by my withering look. ‘I was thinking in terms of an actual identity.’

‘You have any ideas?’

‘No, nothing concrete.’ I said. ‘But there’s been a couple of things that I can’t ignore.’

‘Like what?’ Stiles said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Well, first things first. The guys at the graveyard were Miss Michelle’s goons.’

Stiles and Pete both leaned back into their chairs slowly.

‘So she comes into town, knocks down and then knocks off the old crime regime, pays for some friendly new police who then harry the opposition, offs the mayor and looks to install someone more pliable. Her goons are looking to have a quiet chat with a reporter who’s come to the attention of the criminal syndicate because he’s turned up some evidence. That about the size of it?’ Said Stiles.

‘That’s what it looks like.’ I stabbed a sausage with a bit more violence than was strictly necessary.

‘Then she employs you as a catspaw to keep you around so she’s the first person to know if there’s any evidence of her crimes, with the added bonus of your old friend trying to off the only witness to the shooting. Smooth.’ Stiles nodded and started on the fried bread.

Peter tilted his head to one side. ‘It makes sense. But you aren’t entirely convinced, are you?’

‘No, I have real trouble believing that there’s anyone who’d be more pliable than the mayor when you were going to give him money. I don’t think I’ve found the motive for his murder yet.’ A memory resurfaced. ‘There was something wrong with Mr Charles as well.’

‘There were lots of things wrong with Mister Charles.’ said Peter.

I scowled. ‘I mean there was something wrong with the way he was killed. No signs of a struggle, no visible wounds.’

Stiles nodded. ‘It was a highly deadly poison actually.’

I stopped chewing and grimaced. ‘Stiles, you could have told me that after I’d finished eating.’

He shrugged. ‘Sorry, I forgot about you and poisons. They didn’t find a vector though.’

‘Have you been reading the magazines in the morgue again?’ I asked.

‘I meant Homicide didn’t find a cup of coffee packed with arsenic on the floor, nor did they find any signs of poison at all apart from in his body. They haven’t finished the autopsy yet, I only got the edited highlights from Ed.’

That surprised me. ‘Ed’s still in the morgue?’

‘He’s never left.’ Pete said.

‘How on earth long’s it been now?’

Stiles shrugged. ‘Pretty much forever.’

‘Still it doesn’t fit.’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t use poison.’

‘Miss Michelle, or …?’

‘Yeah her.’ I broke in quickly. ‘I’ve no idea what Miss Michelle’s MO is. But she was at the house directly after I left. At the time I thought she was cleaning up the scene.’

‘And now you don’t.’

‘I’m not so sure, no. Shoot him yes, stab him maybe. She’s had all the practise she really needs to be able to drop someone quickly and quietly. A lot of things have changed, but I’d be really surprised if her attitude to poison had.’

‘What about him?’ Pete said, gesturing at the supine reporter. ‘Where does he fit in?’

‘I’m guessing he doesn’t. They’ve been trying to keep the existence of the syndicate quiet. If he found out about it… I doubt “quiet” is even in his vocabulary, and with a story like that.’ I shook my head. ‘Miss Mills is the problem. I don’t see her as the type to fold under pressure.’ I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘I need to talk to her secretary again.’

Stiles grinned at that. ‘Really?’

‘Its not like that.’ I grumbled. ‘She’s the mostly likely person to know if there’s any pressure from Miss Michelle, or anyone else for that matter to keep things out of the press.’ I turned to Pete. ‘Is Andy still about?’

He nodded. ‘In the upstairs room. Why else d’you think everyone’s sleeping on the sofa?’

‘Good I’ll need to talk to him later.’ I said.

Stiles nodded. ‘Excellent. You aren’t going to find anything concrete until you start kicking things.’