He looked unconcerned. ‘Personal responsibility is a modern concept that doesn’t take into account the pressures of a supernatural existence. I’m all about my own well-being, and my well-being demands vodka. Or gin. Absinthe. Whisky. Hell, even fermented mushrooms will do, as long as they’re forty percent proof.’
‘Stop talking shite,’ Buffy snapped, finally undoing the last knot.
Kennedy smiled at her – then a second later he bolted for the door. Unfortunately his foot caught in one of the luxurious thick rugs that covered the wooden floor and, instead of escaping, he stumbled forward with his legs and arms akimbo. He only narrowly avoided smashing his head against the corner of the glass-topped coffee table.
‘Oops,’ he burbled as he struggled back up to his feet and tried again to dash for the door. For fuck’s sake.
‘The rope’s for his own good,’ Buffy said, jumping forward and looping it around Kennedy’s wrists again.
‘Hey,’ he protested.
‘We need to ask you some serious questions, Kennedy,’ I said.
He gave me a look filled with alarm. ‘Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.’
‘All I need is fifteen minutes of your time,’ I continued. ‘Can you give me that?’
He smiled sloppily. ‘Anything for you. Come talk to me next week. Tuesday is good.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Actually, nah. Better make it Wednesday. I’ll give you all the time you want then.’
‘We need to talk now, Kennedy.’
‘I’m busy now.’
I walked around until I was facing him. ‘Please.’ I needed him to agree before kidnapping and false imprisonment were added to my list of personal failures.
Kennedy blinked at me slowly, looked towards the door then looked back at me. ‘Alright,’ he said finally. ‘But only because it’s you. I like you.’
I breathed out. ‘Thank you.’ I motioned to Buffy.
‘He’ll try and escape again,’ she said. I shook my head. No, he wouldn’t. ‘Fine. But I’m not running after him again. You can do it.’ She released him for a second time.
The satyr grinned at her, winked at me and lurched for the door. Buffy gave me a look as if to sayI told you so. Kennedy, however, halted and spun around several times like an unbalanced ballerina before facing us once more. ‘Fooled ya.’ He lowered himself to the floor. ‘Go on then, detective. Whaddaya wanna know?’
‘You can sit on the sofa, Kennedy.’
‘I like the floor.’
I glanced at Lukas. He shrugged. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. ‘I need to ask you about Quincy Carmichael,’ I said. ‘I know the two of you were friends.’
‘Quince?’ A melancholy smile flickered across Kennedy’s face. ‘Quince is dead.’
I blinked. Kennedy was the first person I’d spoken to who didn’t believe that the entrepreneurial gremlin had run away. ‘Why do you say that?’ I asked carefully.
He made a show of looking around. ‘Because he’s not here.’
I sighed. ‘Kennedy…’
‘If Quince was still alive, he’d be here,’ he said. ‘He’d be in London. Everyone thinks he ran away, but he wasn’t the type to do that. He had his faults but he faced up to his mistakes. Always. And he loved London. He loved being a supe and working to improve things for supes. He’s not in Spain, he’s dead. I’m sure of it.’ He squinted at me. ‘But I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking. He was my friend. My buddy. My…’ he screwed up his face and thumped his chest ‘…brother from another mother. We were kindred.’ His words, although faintly slurred, were heartfelt.
‘Did you tell anyone you thought he was dead?’
‘Plenty of times. Nobody believed me.’ His bottom lip jutted out. ‘I went looking for him – I spent weeks trying to find him but there was no sign of him.’
‘Did you go to his cottage and look there?’ I asked. ‘The Love Nest?’
Kennedy leaned forward and took my hands. ‘How’s that crossbow coming along? Can you use it properly yet?’ Once upon a time, Kennedy had taught me how to aim and fire the crossbow correctly. His help had been invaluable, but it had nothing to do with Quincy Carmichael.
‘Did you go to the Love Nest?’ I persisted.
