Reginald winced but I seized on her comment. ‘Unnatural?’
‘You know.’ She frowned. ‘Inter-species relationships.’
They were still relatively unusual, but I was willing to bet that there had always been couples who found love outside their own species. Robert, the Sullivan beta wolf, had married a pixie and remained deeply in love with her long after their divorce. I knew other long-standing couples who were in so-called mixed marriages and very happy together. Hell, look at me and Lukas. Even so, there would always be people who seized on others’ differences and found fault with them.
Reginald sent his wife a death stare and coughed loudly in a very pointed manner. She glared at him, then her expression altered and her eyes widened. ‘Oh! Wait, I wasn’t talking about you! I don’t have a problem with your relationship with Lord Horvath. I don’t have a problem with any mixed-supe relationships.’ She shook her head. ‘What I can’t understand is when a human and a supe get together. It doesn’t make sense to me. We’re too different.’
I reckoned Buffy might have something to say about that, given her sudden but seemingly deep-seated adoration of Fred. ‘Quincy Carmichael’s dating agency included humans?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes.’ Beatrice nodded vigorously. ‘Lots of them.’ She shuddered. ‘Fucking weird, if you ask me. Humans are inherently weak and inherently judgmental.’
Look who was talking. If Quincy Carmichael had human clients, it would make this investigation considerably harder. Not only would it widen the pool of suspects but, with no records of his clients, it would be nigh on impossible to track any of them down.
I asked a couple more questions before thanking them for their time. ‘Anything to help Supe Squad,’ Reginald said, in a tone that suggested he meant it.
Beatrice agreed with him. ‘We’re very happy to help. Whatever you need.’
I smiled at them, then I looked again at the old shoe on the counter in front of Reginald. ‘Actually,’ I said suddenly, ‘perhaps there is something else you can help with.’
* * *
Once I’d finishedat the cobbler’s, I made a beeline for the café. The exterior looked shabby, with peeling paint and several letters missing from the overhead sign, but the interior was warm and welcoming. The décor wouldn’t have looked out of place in the seventies and yet it was somehow back in fashion, so the café had a comfortable, bohemian atmosphere. I could see why somebody would come here for lunch every day. In different circumstances, I’d have been tempted to curl up in the far corner and spend the day ordering gigantic cups of steaming hot chocolate while I watched the world go by.
I made a mental note to bring Lukas here if we ever managed to drag ourselves out of this quagmire. I was certain he’d love it. In fact, I realised with a flash of cautious delight, there was more than enough space in that corner for a pram as well. Then I remembered that I might be giving birth in prison and immediately sobered up.
‘Oh, aye,’ the café owner said, wiping his hands on his apron after coming out of the small kitchen, ‘Quincy Carmichael was here all the time. He wasn’t very healthy. He usually had our big fry-ups. Good as they are, they’re not the best thing to be eating day in and day out but he loved them. Couldn’t get enough of our hash browns.’
‘Did you talk to him much?’ I asked.
‘We passed the time of day, but it wasn’t serious stuff. I was surprised when he vanished, but I never thought for a moment that he’d killed that couple. You know, the wolf and the vampire who were murdered around the same time. He wasn’t the type.’
Anyone could kill. We just needed the right – or rather thewrong– circumstances to combine at the wrong time. We all had a limit beyond which we could be pushed into violent action. Fortunately, most of us never reached that limit – but some people’s limits were far lower than others. All the same, I smiled at the café owner. Nobody needed to hear my cynicism, certainly not this fellow. And there was no chance that Quincy had murdered either Simon Carr or Adele Cunningham.
‘Did Quincy come here alone?’ I asked. ‘Or did he bring people with him?’
The man frowned. ‘Hmm. He was usually on his own but there was the odd occasion when he’d have somebody with him.’
‘Can you remember who?’
‘I have a good memory for stuff like that,’ he assured me. ‘Sometimes he was here with a satyr – Kennedy, I think his name was.’ The owner grimaced. ‘He usually had a flask with him that he’d sneak out when he thought I wasn’t looking. There were a couple of other gremlins from time to time – that solicitor fellow,’ that would be Phileas, ‘and a woman who I think was Quincy’s mother. There was a human male a few times, too.’
I stood a fraction straighter. This was new. ‘Do you remember the human’s name?’
The café owner shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. I don’t think we were ever introduced, and I’m not sure I’d recognise his face if I saw it again. It was a long time ago and my good memory doesn’t extend to humans.’
Even if his memory was superlative, I’d have had no idea who the human was. Neither did I have any pictures to show the man, and anyway there was nothing to connect this mystery human to the murders.
‘I do remember that he dressed weirdly.’
I frowned. ‘The human?’
‘Yep. Always looked as if he’d stepped out of a cocktail party a hundred years ago.’ He touched his head. ‘Big hat. Posh jacket, like you see some people at weddings wearing.’
A top hat and tails. A nervous chill rippled through my bones as I absorbed the information. ‘Okay,’ I said finally. ‘Thanks for your time.’
He smiled at me. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Have a slice of chocolate cake. It’s on the house. Anything for Supe Squad, any time.’
I pressed my lips together very hard as I reached into my pocket, slid out my wallet and found a five-pound note. I left the money on the counter while the café owner gave me a surprised look followed by an appreciative nod. I still had some standards left. Then I took the proffered cake.
