Iron Kissed (Mercy Thompson #3)(58)
Author: Patricia Briggs

Cool relief flowed down my spine. If the Gray Lords were willing to accept the time and notoriety of an investigation, then Zee’s chances had risen exponentially. But Uncle Mike hadn’t finished speaking.

"…So you may leave the investigation to us and to the police."

"Good," said Samuel.

Now it was true I had no idea where to look for O’Donnell’s killer. Perhaps it had been Fideal, or another of the fae, maybe someone who cared for one of the victims, who had somehow discovered O’Donnell was the killer. If it were one of the fae, which at this point was probable, I didn’t have a chance of finding out anything. So maybe if Samuel hadn’t said "Good," my response to Uncle Mike would have been different – but probably not.

"I’ll make sure and keep you informed when I find out anything interesting," I told them gently.

"It is too dangerous," Uncle Mike said, "even for heroes, Mercy. I don’t know what relics the killer has, but the things we recovered were lesser items, and I know that Herrick – the forest lord – was a guardian of some greater items."

"Zee is my friend. I’m not going to leave his life in the hands of people who were willing for him to die for this because it was more convenient for them."

Uncle Mike’s eyes glittered with some strong emotion, but I couldn’t tell what it was. "Zee seldom forgives trespasses, Mercy. I have heard he was so angry that you betrayed his trust that he will not speak to you."

I paid close attention to that "I have heard." "I have heard" wasn’t the same thing as "Zee is angry with you."

"I’ve heard the same," I told him. "But I am Zee’s friend anyway. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to bed now. Work starts bright and early."

I heaved myself out of the chair, tucked the book under my arm, and waved at both of the disapproving males as I limped out of the living room on my sore feet. I closed the bedroom door on them and did my best not to listen to them discussing me behind my back. They weren’t very polite. And Samuel, at least, should know me better than to think I could be persuaded to sit back and leave Zee to fae hands.

Chapter 11

I called Tim the next morning before I went to work. It was early, but I didn’t want to miss him. He’d caught me off guard last night, but I had no business dragging a human into my mess of a love life – even if I liked him that way, which I didn’t.

Maybe I couldn’t live with Adam – but it looked like I was going to try. If I went to Tim’s, it would hurt Adam and give Tim the wrong impression. It had been stupid not to just refuse yesterday…

"Hey, Mercy," he said as he picked up the phone. "Listen, Fideal called me last night – what did you do to tick him off? Anyway he told me that you came to our meeting to do some investigating into O’Donnell’s death. He said you knew the suspect they have in custody."

There was absolutely no anger in his voice, which pretty much meant that he must have been speaking the truth when he said he wasn’t interested in a romantic entanglement. If he’d been interested in me, he’d have felt used.

Good. He wouldn’t feel bad when I told him I couldn’t go.

"Yes," I said cautiously. "He’s an old friend. I know that he didn’t do it, which is more than anyone else investigating can say." Zee’s name was still being withheld from the press, as well as his being a fae. "Since no one else was doing anything, I’ve been poking around."

"I suppose we’re on the top of the list of suspects," said Tim matter-of-factly. "O’Donnell wasn’t exactly rolling in friends."

"On top of my list until I attended one of your meetings," I told him.

He laughed. "Yeah, none of us is exactly murderer material."

I didn’t agree with him – anyone can be driven to kill, given the right cause. Except for Fideal, though, none of them were capable of killing someone the way O’Donnell had been killed.

"I didn’t think of it at the time," he said. "But after Fideal talked to me, I started thinking. That walking stick in your car was O’Donnell’s, wasn’t it? He’d just bought it off of eBay a couple of days before he died."

"Yes."

"Do you think it had something to do with his death? I know the police say they don’t think that robbery was the motive, but O’Donnell started collecting Celtic stuff a couple of months ago. He claimed it was pretty valuable."

"Did he say where he got it?" I asked.

"He said he inherited some of it and the rest he picked up on eBay." He paused. "You know, he said that it was all magical fae stuff, but he couldn’t get any of it to do anything. I assumed that he was just being conned…but do you suppose he actually got something that really belonged to the fae and they decided to take it back?"

"I don’t know. Did you get a good look at his collection?"

"I recognized that staff," he said slowly. "But not until Fideal told me that you had a connection with O’Donnell. There was a stone with some writing on it, a few battered pieces of jewelry that might have been silver – or silver plate…If I took a look at his collection, I might be able to tell you what is missing."

"I think the whole collection is missing. Except for the walking stick." I saw no need to tell him that the fae had gotten some of it back.

He whistled. "So it was a robbery."

"That’s what it looks like. If I can prove that, then my friend is no longer a good suspect."

The Gray Lords didn’t want any mortals knowing that they had magical artifacts, and I could see their point. The problem was that the Gray Lords could be ruthless in making sure that no word got out. Tim already knew too much.

"Did Fideal know about the collection?" I asked.

Tim considered it. "No. I don’t think so. O’Donnell didn’t like him, and Fideal never went to O’Donnell’s house. I think the only ones he showed it to were Austin and me."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Look, it might be dangerous to know about that collection. If he did manage to find something that belonged to the fae, they wouldn’t want that known. And you, of all people, know how ruthless they are. Don’t talk to the police or anyone else about it for now."

"You do think it was a fae who killed him," Tim said, sounding a little taken aback.

"The collection is gone," I said. "Maybe one of the fae sent someone after it, or maybe someone else believed O’Donnell’s stories and wanted it. I might be able to figure out more, if I knew what he had. Could you make a list of what you remember?"

"Maybe," he said. "I only saw it the once. How about I do my best to write it down and we can take a look at them tonight?"