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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 24 из 293He took the two steps that moved him from the big corridor to the smaller one. He’d been coordinating the guards who were keeping everyone away from the crime scene. I had enough guards with me to close off both ends of the hallway, and I’d done it.
When we’d arrived, the hallway had been protected by floating pots and pans, courtesy of Maggie May, the chief cook for the Unseelie Court. Brownies can levitate objects, but not themselves for some reason. She’d gone with Doyle to see if she could get any more sense out of the scullery maid who had found the bodies. The fey was having hysterics, and Maggie couldn’t decide whether the woman had seen something that frightened her, or was simply upset over the deaths. Doyle was going to try to find out. He was hoping the woman would react to him as if he were still the Queen’s Darkness, her assassin, and tell him the truth out of fear and habit. If she were just scared, he would probably frighten her into having a fit, but I let him try. I could play good cop after he’d played bad.
I’d sent Barinthus to tell the queen what had happened, because of all of the men, he had the best chance of not being punished for being a bearer of such terrible news. The queen did have a tendency to blame the messenger.
“Possibly,” Rhys said, “just habit. You use the blade, you retrieve, clean it, and put it back in its sheath.” He pointed to a smear on the man’s jacket.
“He wiped the blade off,” I said.
Rhys looked at me. “Why ‘he’?”
I shrugged. “You’re right, it could be a she.”
I didn’t hear Doyle come down the hallway, but I knew he was there a second before he spoke. “He was running when they threw the blade.”
I actually agreed, but I wanted his reasoning. Truthfully, I wanted not to be in charge of this mess, but I had the most experience. That made it my baby. “What makes you say he was running?”
He started to touch the man’s coat, and I said, “Don’t touch him.”
He gave me a look, but said, “You can see where his coat is raised on this side, that the wound in his shirt does not line up with the coat as it lies. I believe he was running, then, when they retrieved the knife, they went through his pockets, moved his coat around.”
“I’ll bet they didn’t wear gloves.”
“Most would not think about fingerprints and DNA. Most here will be more worried that magic will find them than science.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“He saw something that scared him,” Rhys said, standing up.
When we’d arrived, the hallway had been protected by floating pots and pans, courtesy of Maggie May, the chief cook for the Unseelie Court. Brownies can levitate objects, but not themselves for some reason. She’d gone with Doyle to see if she could get any more sense out of the scullery maid who had found the bodies. The fey was having hysterics, and Maggie couldn’t decide whether the woman had seen something that frightened her, or was simply upset over the deaths. Doyle was going to try to find out. He was hoping the woman would react to him as if he were still the Queen’s Darkness, her assassin, and tell him the truth out of fear and habit. If she were just scared, he would probably frighten her into having a fit, but I let him try. I could play good cop after he’d played bad.
I’d sent Barinthus to tell the queen what had happened, because of all of the men, he had the best chance of not being punished for being a bearer of such terrible news. The queen did have a tendency to blame the messenger.
“Possibly,” Rhys said, “just habit. You use the blade, you retrieve, clean it, and put it back in its sheath.” He pointed to a smear on the man’s jacket.
“He wiped the blade off,” I said.
Rhys looked at me. “Why ‘he’?”
I shrugged. “You’re right, it could be a she.”
I didn’t hear Doyle come down the hallway, but I knew he was there a second before he spoke. “He was running when they threw the blade.”
I actually agreed, but I wanted his reasoning. Truthfully, I wanted not to be in charge of this mess, but I had the most experience. That made it my baby. “What makes you say he was running?”
He started to touch the man’s coat, and I said, “Don’t touch him.”
He gave me a look, but said, “You can see where his coat is raised on this side, that the wound in his shirt does not line up with the coat as it lies. I believe he was running, then, when they retrieved the knife, they went through his pockets, moved his coat around.”
“I’ll bet they didn’t wear gloves.”
“Most would not think about fingerprints and DNA. Most here will be more worried that magic will find them than science.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“He saw something that scared him,” Rhys said, standing up.