26 March 1686 of the 6th Era, New Market Square, West District
Mr Ludwik Placek, the head of the State Investigation Unit office in Ledavia, turned out to be a very lively and cheerful dwarf of a bit over three hundred years old. With his neatly combed and braided ginger beard, bright green eyes, and stout, somewhat plump build, he immediately reminded Charlotte of those “Wish you were here” postcards she would sometimes receive from her friends. The office they were presently sitting in, however, did not even remotely resemble the shimmering sands of faraway beaches or lush greenery of the tropical canopy. Elegant armchairs and sofa in the sitting area, an expensive-looking writing desk with a dozen or so folders neatly arranged on either side of it, a bookshelf with literature on forensics, magic, and alchemy.
Yes, behind Mr Placek’s carefree appearance hid a keen mind and many years of experience. He had solved hundreds of cases in the course of his career, and was, according to Antony, looking forward to a somewhat early retirement. Finally spend more time with the grandkids, work in the garden, open his own brewery… The man was visibly overjoyed when Antony explained the reason for their visit.
“If you want to look into it, by all means, do,” he clasped his hands, leaning on the back of the plush armchair.
“You’re not worried that I might find something pointing towards his innocence?”
“Despite what the rumours say, my lads have done a thorough investigation,” Mr Placek promptly replied without even a hint of anger or annoyance. “But we all make mistakes. Trust me, they’d rather be proven wrong than find out that they have sent an innocent man to the gallows. And if you come to the same conclusion as them, the better.”
“You cannot imagine how glad I am to hear that. I have dozens of questions,” Charlotte slightly relaxed after hearing the answer.
“The faster we begin, the faster we finish,” Mr Placek cheerfully proposed. “I want to buy some cheese and wine from the market before it closes.”
“Alright. Who discovered the body and when?”
“Let me see,” Mr Placek opened the file and traced his finger along the lines, murmuring as he went, “Jasper sure has terrible handwriting. Need to talk to him about those lessons he promised to take. Hm. It was Mr Isaak Fincke, the Welz’s butler, at around 7:40 AM on 6th February. He received a day off on the 5th, went out of town to pay his parents a visit. They live in a nearby village, just a few miles away from Ledavia.
“According to this, Lord Welz’s valet, Mr Timothy Cook, found his master’s bedroom vacant and requested the aid of the senior servant, who was passing by the room at the time, to look for him. Mr Fincke then proceeded to the study while Mr Cook checked the other bedrooms.”
“That… sounds very weird,” Charlotte admitted after a moment’s silence.
“Oh, it’s just Jasper’s way of writing things down, I’m afraid,” Mr Placek covered his face with his palm. “Most likely what happened, the valet sees the bedroom empty, calls out to Lord Welz, the latter, due to being dead, obviously doesn’t reply. He gets overheard by Mr Fincke who suggests checking the study, then proceeds to open the door. The rooms are opposite each other,” he fished out a rough sketch of the floor plan and set it in front of Charlotte. “The boy joined us what, three years ago? He’s not even thirty, so still a lot of that eagerness and desire to be as thorough as possible, even when it comes to paperwork.”
“I hated that even when I started working at the university,” Charlotte chuckled. “Grading, assessing, writing study plans… Ugh. Those who find joy in writing long and thorough reports are either enamoured by the written word or crazy. No inbetween.”
“I can relate. I’ll also add that you’re spot on with that observation. Jasper wanted to be a writer before he became an SIU agent. Maybe this is just a means for him to express his creativity.”
“Ah,” Charlotte nodded in understanding. Thank Saint Peter he never became one. “As long as he doesn’t go overboard with the creative bits, I guess.”
“I do give him a good scolding from time to time to prevent that, and personally read all of his reports. Really, he’s not as terrible as I made it out to be, just a bit… out there. Now, according to this, the butler found the body beheaded in the middle of the room. Seemed like someone had gone through the study searching for something. Contents of the drawers scattered across the floor, safe emptied, some of the books, too, taken out and thrown into the pile.”
“Were you present during the initial search of the crime scene?”
“Yes. You want to know if it looked genuine or staged?” Seeing Charlotte nod, he stroked his beard. “It looked like whoever was looking for something knew where it could be, or found it rather quickly. As for if it was entirely staged… No, I wouldn’t say so. It looked rather organic.”
“What was the cause of death?”
“A stab through the heart with a sharp narrow object, possibly a sword, from the back. He was also lying face… uhhh, on his stomach when found. We discovered no traces of magic tampering, but you know, it’s never a certainty with how some spells can be concealed. No signs that he fought back, either. Time of death is estimated at around 2:00 A.M.”
“So either he didn’t know the attack was coming at all or he didn’t expect it from whoever was in the room with him at the time given,” Charlotte concluded. “Out of curiosity, how did you ascertain it was Lord Leonard Welz and not someone of similar build and age dressed up as him?”
“His family provided us with some means. A birthmark on his left palm and a large scar across his chest.”
Antony politely cleared his throat.
“Something wrong?”
“Were those two the only traits they gave? Or was there more?”
“Not that we needed more,” Mr Placek shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”
“Thing is, that scar… This was the very first thing he told about himself when he met new people,” Antony resorted to examining the rich green carpet under his feet. “Showing the size, location. Had all the reasons to be proud of it, too. Got it some thirty years ago while serving in the army. Eastern Archipelago Joint Forces Campaign, battle at Cape Hope.”
“So he was one of the survivors? That was a massacre from what I remember.”
The two men looked at Charlotte.
“You read about it?” Mr Placek slightly furrowed his brow.
“I wish. I was there when it happened. Not during that particular battle, I only saw the aftermath,” she gloomily explained. “I was part of a special mission, dealing with… adjacently connected matters, let’s put it this way. We received a call for aid, but by the time we arrived, it was mostly over. I fought in the battle at the Temple of Keltech, and in a few others. If you don’t mind, I’d leave it at that. Not exactly the most pleasant memories.”
Mr Placek readily nodded, seemingly having gained a new level of respect for the sylph in front of him, “Never would have expected someone like you to have gone through that hell. My nephew served in that campaign. Thankfully he made it out alive, but many of his friends didn’t.”
“I wasn’t planning to. Got dragged into it while trying to prevent a disaster of a different kind. Uhm… I have a somewhat special connection to the Lady of the Dead Moon. You could say I’m her favourite,” Charlotte chuckled suddenly, stealing a glance at Antony. He returned a bemused look. “There are times when she asks me to interfere. An exceptionally powerful lich, someone about to unleash a curse of a level that shouldn’t even be possible, or some artefact suddenly resurfacing that could bring about great tragedies. This was one of those. Someone unsealed a shrine, letting out a very dangerous ghoul that I was tasked with hunting down. Successfully in the end.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“As I said, perhaps it’s a story for another time. I would rather get back to Mr Brook’s case. I understand what Mr Levy is trying to hint at,” Charlotte briefly closed her eyes. “If these were the only two traits, with nothing, how should I put it, more intimate to add, the body might actually not belong to him.”
“That is indeed a concern. I’m certain his identity was established using as many points as possible, but best if we check with the coroner. If you want, we can go together.”
“I would be grateful. While we’re definitely dealing with a murder and a robbery, I’d prefer to be sure we actually know who was murdered.”
“You and me both,” Mr Placek agreed.
Charlotte picked up a small teacup that Mr Placek had helpfully placed in front of her at the beginning of the meeting, thinking about her next questions. All she could do was retrace their steps. Had she at least been to the crime scene, no matter if right after the body was found or after the SIU had examined it, her life would have been so much better right now. Oh, even seeing the study while Lord Welz was still alive would have been enough. Instead, she had to make do with a crude drawing depicting the general position of the body and the furniture. No additional features, no mention of possible clues or oddities.
It was outright frustrating.
The large clock on the wall began striking four, filling the room with loud chiming that almost, but not quite, managed to drown the sounds of the market crowd in the street below.
Antony seemed to have his own ideas, as he suddenly asked, “When did Mr Brook become the main suspect? Was it right from the start?”
“As surprising as it sounds, no,” Mr Placek leaned back in his armchair and thoughtfully clasped his hands together. He looked at the papers in front of him, then again at Antony. “It would have been a no-brainer to accuse him from the start, but nothing pointed towards his involvement. For one, he had no motive. If anything, he’s the only one who had everything to lose. You know it better, I’m sure. Having an employer murdered with you present in the vicinity is never a good thing to have on a resume.”
“No,” Antony shook his head. “It’s basically an end of career event. Perhaps he would have found success in a different field, or in an entirely different country. His fiancèe is from Lundhaven if I remember right,” Charlotte nodded to that, and he continued, “so maybe not all is lost. Or was, at least, seeing that he’s now awaiting trial.”
“Yes. We did a background check on him, of course. No debts, no ties to any underground organisations, no weird sums suddenly appearing or disappearing from his savings account. Honestly, to me, he seemed like an upstanding citizen of Enua. And then, out of the blue, he tried to run. We found the missing money in his flat, and that was grounds enough for an arrest.”
“Did you find anything else? The murder weapon or bloody clothes, for example?” Antony continued.
“Neither, otherwise the trial would have already happened,” Mr Placek closed his eyes, thinking. Sitting languidly in the plush armchair, he reminded Charlotte of a large ginger cat lazily basking in the evening sun and waiting for a mouse to show its nose out of its hiding hole. Then, the cat would pounce, revealing its sharp teeth and claws, tearing into the hapless prey. Only that instead of mice, Mr Placek dealt with murderers, arsonists, and other dangerous criminal elements who were already too much for the city guard or the average band of adventurers, but posed no interest to the Nightmare Poets.
“And yet you’re convinced that this would be enough to hold in court,” Antony asked sceptically.
“There’s a few more things. First, one of Lord Welz’s children, Lord Marcus Welz, mentioned that his father and Mr Brook had some sort of argument a few days prior to the murder. This was also confirmed by one of the maids, but neither knew what the quarrel was about. Mr Brook is also a skilled swordsman and a talented mage, having fought in the same campaign as Lord Welz. I think this is where they met each other, but I might be mistaken.
“Obviously, he has no alibi. He was the only person in the house with Lord Welz, and he knew he’d be the only one there in advance. If he wanted to plan a murder for whatever reason, there was no better time.
“I do realise that the one truly damning piece of evidence is the money at his flat, and the defence could argue that it was planted…”
“It might not even be the money from the safe,” Antony readily retorted.
“Oh, we’re sure it is. For whatever reason, it was partially marked,” Mr Placek smiled. “Lord Welz’s eldest son told us that. Said his father had been acting paranoid as of late, especially when it came to the contents of the safe.”
“Was it a large amount?” Charlotte asked.
“About three thousand gold pounds.”
“A lot for a secretary, and not exactly a small amount for a noble, either,” she murmured. “But not something exuberant.”
“No. Just the right amount I’d expect to be stored in a safe in an aristocrat’s study for those unexpected requests, like the lady of the house suddenly realising she has nothing to wear to the ball next week,” Mr Placek laughed heartily.
“Speaking of the lady of the house… There’s no Lady Welz, is there?”
“She passed away from an illness when their youngest child was five or six. Lord Welz never remarried. I did hear he was very popular with ladies though.”
“An understatement,” Antony politely coughed. “Maybe not in recent years, but I do recall a few incidents.”
“So you remember Lady Welz?” Charlotte hurriedly asked, startling both Antony and Mr Placek. Seeing their reactions, she apologetically smiled and explained, “The necklace, Mr Levy. Do you remember her wearing it?”
“Uhm… I don’t exactly pay attention to what a woman, especially a married woman, especially a noble married woman is wearing during a social gathering, even when Lord Blackwater insists I join him in the main hall because he absolutely must discuss business matters with some aristocrat or other. I don’t really pay attention to anyone around me at those times, only to what the two conversation partners have to say to each other,” he glared at her.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I know you didn’t,” he sighed. “If anything, I’m angry at myself for not being able to help you when I badly want to. I’m just as curious about the thing as you are, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder…”
“If that was the only thing the thief was really after, why conduct a search of the place,” Charlotte nodded.
“More in favour of it being staged,” Mr Placek shrugged his shoulders.
“Unless they weren't interested in the contents of the safe, but wanted something else in that room,” Antony speculated. “We’re yet to see the necklace or the ruby not because they wanted it, but because it’s harder to sell it. Quite a few people are most likely still on the lookout and would report the item.”
“This doesn’t really make sense. Wouldn’t it have been better to plant both the money and the necklace, then? Right now, there’s some room for doubt as to Mr Brook’s involvement because the trinket is still missing. Also, it doesn’t make sense that he was dumb enough to store the money at his flat, but smart enough to hide the jewel,” Charlotte argued back. “I can imagine that the culprit wanted both the jewel and something else that was in the room, of course. Quite a lot of food for thought here.”
“Heh, you still have a couple of weeks to ponder on these irregularities. Maybe you’ll even manage to piece them together, cause I sure as hell can’t, and believe me, I tried.
“Gotta say, you seem to make a good detective pair. Mr Levy, are you sure you don’t want to join the force? You could do so much more with that brain of yours than waste your time wrangling Lord Blackwater into attending another budget meeting,” Mr Placek chuckled, seeing Antony’s flustered face.
“I’ve told you multiple times, I have no such desire,” Antony tried to avoid looking at Charlotte, who, for once, completely dropped the mask of a dignified lady and was grinning ear to ear. “I am too easily startled, cannot handle pressure in dangerous situations, and am, generally speaking, an utter coward. Can you imagine someone like that confronting a suspected murderer? I’d be dead before I manage to solve my first case. Or worse. Someone else could die because of my inability to act,” he finished quietly.
“You could consider private consultations. What was the name of that famous detective who solved every single case without leaving his room?”
“He had a helper,” Antony sounded more and more desperate.
“You seem to have one right next to you,” Mr Placek raised his hands in the air, laughing.
The two of them looked at each other, falling silent for a bit, then, in unison, “Absolutely not.”
Charlotte stopped smiling and shook her head, “The cases I usually handle… I would fear for Mr Levy’s sanity should he ever agree to such a proposal. I’m an exorcist, I chase after vampires, necromancers, liches, and whatever else dares to defy Death. And the ones I’ve mentioned above are,” she looked directly at Mr Placek, and the dwarf froze, as if mesmerised, “most of the time, they aren’t worthy of my attention, Mr Placek. They’re the street urchins stealing an apple from a market stall compared to my usual adversaries.”
“Ah, well,” he awkwardly patted himself on the knees and stood up. Shall we visit the morgue now?”
