The Deathsniffer’s Assistant (The Faraday Files Book 1) (9 page)

The air hung weighted and clung to everything in the aftermath of the Duchess’s outburst. While propriety demanded Olivia respond to such an impassioned show of honesty from a woman who didn’t seem prone to either passion or frankness, she didn’t. She paced back and forth before the dangling body, and Chris watched her shoes on the hardwood floor, still not daring to look up at the obscene sight displayed there.

Olivia’s steps stilled and she let out a long, thoughtful stream of air. “So what you’re saying,” she said slowly, “is appearances matters very much to you, and you would go to lengths to protect them.” She hummed cheerily and the joyous tone of the song somehow served only to make it all that much more macabre.

They searched through some of the Duke’s things while the Duchess left them, presumably to gather up the tattered shreds of her dignity. They found nothing of insight. Olivia studied the corpse at length before reluctantly using the magic mirror to contact her police supervisor about clean-up. Questions were posed to the help—
were you here last night?
and
have you worked here long?
and
did you see or hear anything suspicious?
―all which garnered similar answers:
yes, ma’am
and
yes ma’am
and a shy, apologetic
it’s our business not to see or hear much of anything, ma’am.
They tried to question Analaea, but the younger val Daren was off with her artist and neither could be found.

On the leather seat of the val Daren winged carriage, Christopher put voice to the question that had been on his lips all day. “Do you think it was the Duchess?” he asked.

Olivia didn’t seem startled by the sudden break in silence. “It certainly seems possible, now doesn’t it?” she murmured, staring out the window.

Chris looked down at his notebook.

Duchess?
he weaved in clean, deliberate script, and then closed the cover.

wish you’d let me wear cosmetics, Chris!” Rosemary pouted at her reflection in the swirling glass of the magic mirror. “Just some powder and blush! That’s all I’m asking!”

Chris was trying to decide how to word a response that would put the matter to rest when the stairs creaked behind him. Surprised and a bit alarmed, he turned to see a familiar grey head shaking in fond exasperation and a cane pointed like an accusing finger at his sister. “Oh, no. We know you too well for that, young miss. Next it’ll be just a mascara and just a little colour on your lips and just a little kohl and before we know it, we’ll have a little harlot on our hands.”

“
Fernand
,” Chris muttered.

“Fernand!” Rosemary stamped a foot and planted her fists on her hips. She was grinning, though, and within a moment she sniffed and turned back to the mirror, posing and playing with the brim of her hat.

Chris gave Fernand a look of gratitude, and the old man smiled like a proud uncle. He always knew just how to handle Rosemary, and throwing her a scrap of the scandalous was one of his best tricks. “I didn’t know you were here,” Chris said. “You know I hate it when you come find work on weekends.”

“Oh, but I do so love work!” Fernand beamed and indicated a file he had tucked under his arm. “And to work efficiently, I had to pick up some things from your father’s study”

Fernand Spencer was a very old fixture in this house. He had handled Grandfather Buckley’s finances and then Michael’s. After the Floating Castle, Fernand had moved on to serving Chris. And when he’d advised dismissing the entire staff, Chris had signed his letter of dismissal himself, only to have him refuse to leave. Family stays together, he’d said firmly, and Chris had known better than to point out there was no blood between them. Sometimes, that wasn’t what mattered.

“Going somewhere nice on your day off?” the loyal old man asked.

“White Clover!” Rosemary said into the mirror, fussing with one of the curls framing her face, trying to make it bounce right.

Fernand chuckled. The sound was like boulders rolling down a crag. “Ah, the old family tradition. Aren’t you two getting a little old for a zoo?”

“It’s not a zoo!” Rosemary protested, still not looking over at them. “It’s much better. At a zoo, you only
look
at animals, but at White Clover Farms, you can actually do things with them. That makes it better.”

“Oh, I see,” Fernand nodded knowingly.

Chris indicated Rosemary’s fine leather shoes. “You’re probably not going to want to wear those. Unicorns may be prettier than horses, but their droppings certainly don’t smell any better.” Rosemary flushed and quickly set about obeying.

“Chris…” Fernand began. “I know you prefer to let me control your finances without your supervision, but you might want to make an exception this time.”

The gravity in his voice straightened Chris. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Well…” Fernand looked away as if ashamed. “The fact is, Christopher, I had a look over your finances yesterday, and it’s worse than I thought.”

Chris’s heart sank. “Oh?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “How bad is it, then? Should I be worried?”

“Savings are dry.”

The bottom fell out of the floor. Chris reached out to the bannister to steady himself. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been that. “…oh,” he whispered. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “…are we…done, then?” He looked around the foyer, struggling with the very idea of selling the Buckley home. Reginald Buckley had been one of Richard Lowry’s most trusted assistants on the Awakening Project, as well as one of the first categorized spiritbinders in Tarlish history. This home was a testament to history. Selling it would be…

“Not so bad as that, not yet. That’s what these are about,” Fernand tapped the file.

“Please tell me that’s stuffed with hundred royal notes.”

Fernand chuckled. “Not quite. But you aren’t so far off the mark.” He flipped open one of the files, revealing a document Chris didn’t recognize apart from his father’s tidy signature set at the bottom. “These are your father’s investments. Your income. I had a thought we could sell the shares they represent. You wouldn’t get monthly returns from them anymore, but they could be just the buffer your coffers need while this new job of yours settles in. With the figures you quoted me, you’ll be all right in the end, and if we sell these, you can keep the house this month.”

Chris raised a hand to push up his eyeglasses and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fernand, Gods, you know you’re talking over my head. I’d have lost everything within the first week without you. I trust you. Do what you think is best. I’ve always trusted you.”

“Then trust me enough to take one last piece of advice.” Fernand indicated Rosemary with his chin, who was struggling to pull on a rubber boot, making a face at how it ruined her ensemble. “You don’t want to hear it, but you spoil her far more than you can afford to. That pretty little dress she’s wearing doesn’t look home made.” He squeezed Chris’s shoulder. His grip was surprisingly strong. “It’s only for a few years. When Rosemary is categorized, things are going to change for both of you. She’s already better than half the binders powering this city combined. She’ll set things aright.” He peered at Chris’s face. “Are you upset with me?”

Chris started. “Mother Deorwynn, no! Fernand. You do the best you can for us and ask nothing in return. And your best is much more than I’d even dare ask for. Thank you.”

“Oh, Chris, as if I’ve ever done it for your thanks,” Fernand murmured kindly. “I hope you know I’ll always be here, I―”

The chime of the mirror startled them both.

Rosemary jumped to her feet. “Ooh!” she exclaimed, delighted to find a relief to the boredom of adults talking above her head. “Someone’s on the mirror!” She rushed to stand before it, now peering into the clouding depths instead of her own reflection.

The chimes tolled again and again as the gnomes on either end were forced to connect and intertwine their consciousnesses. The reflections in the mirror darkened and then disappeared, and the faint suggestion of a face emerged. Rosemary leaned close, curious who could be calling them so early. The pane shimmered, the brown glow around it surged, and the vague silhouette in the glass sharpened all in a moment.

It was Olivia Faraday.

She stared at Rosemary. Rosemary stared back. “Ugh,” said Olivia Faraday, folding her arms. “
Tell
me he gave me the right frequency. Does Christopher Buckley live there?”

“Oh!” Rosemary perked up. “Yes! That’s my brother! He’s right here!”

“Wonder. Could you please tell your brother to get off his lazy, unreliable arse and get―”

Chris hurried in front of the mirror, nudging Rosemary to one side and shooing her in the direction of Fernand. “That’s my sister,” he snapped at the mirror. “And she’s thirteen, so if you could please watch your language―”

“Thirteen, really? And you’re still washing her mouth with soap?” Olivia tossed her head. “She hears twice as bad from all her friends, I’ll bet. Probably uses twice as bad, herself.”

“You don’t know anything about my―”

“
Why
aren’t you here?”

Chris paused in the tirade he’d been preparing. He stared at Olivia, at her carefully chosen professional dress, her hair braided no-nonsense down her back. And behind her, dim lighting, flickering candles―she was at the mirror in the office. “…isn’t it…” He half-turned to look at Fernand and Rosemary, who looked back with helpless expressions. “It’s my day off,” he finished foolishly.

When he looked back at the mirror, Olivia’s face was incredulous.

“What, isn’t it?” he demanded, suddenly indignant. “I worked for five days straight. It’s Healfday. Tomorrow is Godsday. You said I would have both off from work. Last week―”

Olivia threw her hands into the air. “Did you sleep through yesterday?” She waited for him to realize what she meant, and when he obviously did not, she growled. “You’re an imbecile. Someone was
killed
, murdered, and whoever did it is probably working on concealing themselves in plain sight right
now
, and you”―she let out an astonished bark of laughter―“and you want to sleep in? What did you think, we would pick this up on Maerday? Like we hadn’t let all the evidence go cold and potential witnesses wander free for two days?”