I breathed in and breathed out. I focused on cleansing my mind of all the clutter of the day, everything except Pamela and her murder. I could hear Margaret Twigg’s voice in my head. “Focus, Lucy. Magic is about focus and intent. Where your intent lies, your magic follows.”
I had looked in my family grimoire for truth spells, but sometimes I found I did just as well or better creating my own spells. I sat quietly, feeling Nyx watching me. Pamela’s scarf was in my hand. The candles flickered around me. For a moment, I thought about the face of the gargoyle.
One who is hiding in darkness, may he reveal himself today,
Let his real self show clear
Let me operate without fear
He has taken a life and for that he must pay
So I will, so mote it be.
I closed the circle then, and feeling calmer and clearer, I got ready for the evening.
I dressed simply, in jeans and a white shirt with a woolen blazer, and tied around my neck was Pamela’s scarf. I also wore the silver bracelet Gran had given me, feeling myself wrapped in her love and care. Then I went down and waited outside. Rafe was right on time. He took one look at me and said, “Are you nervous?”
He could always pick up on my emotions. “I’m so nervous, I feel sick.” Also, my heart was beating against my rib cage so I imagined he could probably hear it. His hearing was extraordinary.
He reached out and took my hand in his. “Your motives are pure. That’s what matters. If you can help solve a murder, then you’ve done us all a service. If not, you’ve tried.”
That was comforting in an oddly frustrating way. I did not want to try and fail. I wanted to succeed. But, even for me, I was winging it here. I had never, ever manufactured evidence before. Hester had come through for me, and I had a couple of photographs in my handbag that would, I hoped, be dynamite.
However, I knew that on its own, a doctored photo wouldn’t be enough. All I could do was to nudge things forward in the right direction. If I was wrong, if my entire theory was a bunch of garbage, I wouldn’t change the outcome. If I was right, we just might catch a killer.
As we purred through the darkening countryside, I went through everything again in my mind. This was it. As Rafe had warned me, I had one chance to get into the Percival Brown’s home. One chance. I’d better not blow it.
No pressure then.
When we arrived at the front door, Hugo Percival Brown opened it himself. He did not appear very welcoming. There was a furrow between his brows. “You said it was important, Rafe. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Rafe had been around a lot longer than Hugo Percival Brown, and if everything he told me about his very long previous life was true, he’d been up against a lot tougher characters than this one. He pulled himself up to his full height, which was like six feet three or something, and said, “I think it’s going to be an interesting evening. Thank you very much for accommodating us.” Hugo might be a bazillionaire and looked up to by everyone from high school kids to leaders of government, but he didn’t impress Rafe, I could tell. Hugo could tell it too. He nodded curtly and stepped back, letting us both in.
We were the first, as I had hoped we would be. Within fifteen minutes, everyone who had been at the original dinner where Pamela had died was back again. They hadn’t worn their Gargoyle costumes, which kind of made it all the more surreal. Without the fancy coats and waistcoats, the eight undergrads just looked like that. Eight undergrads forced to spend the evening at one of their parents’ homes instead of being out on a Saturday night.
And the older men just looked like four dads. Mrs. Percival Brown was the only one who seemed to have dressed for the occasion. She wore a gorgeous black dress that showed off a stunning figure. Her frosted hair was in an elegant chignon, and diamond drops glittered at her ears and throat. Her high heels strangely reminded me of the ones that Pamela had worn the night she was killed. However, her expression was cold and distant. She might be forced to entertain all of us, but she made it clear that she wasn’t going to enjoy it.
Rafe went to her immediately and kissed her on both cheeks, European style. “Genevieve,” he murmured. “You’re looking lovely, as always.”
He managed to thaw her by a scant degree.
I had given Rafe instructions on how I wanted everybody positioned. It was obvious that Hugo would listen to him when he would never listen to someone like me. In fact, I’d deliberately echoed the black and white outfit I’d worn last week, as a subtle reminder that I was of little importance, of so little threat I was nearly invisible.
So, as people gathered, Rafe asked them to go into the dining room and take the same seats that they had occupied at the beginning of the evening that Pamela had died. This put Hugo Percival Brown at the head of the table and his son at the foot. Everyone then took the places they’d had before. Genevieve Percival Brown said, “Well, I wasn’t here, so I’ll be upstairs if anyone needs me.”
I sent Rafe an urgent look, but it wasn’t
