The Necromancer: Part Six

      It was true that she still did not understand Lockwood's rationale for clearing Jones as a suspect, and she had received no further word on the subject. The detectives were also surprised, and, she could see, seriously displeased. In her opinion, there was no point in dwelling on it. Whatever Lockwood had learned in that interrogation, he wasn't telling. It wouldn't make any difference if he did. He was the High Commissioner; if he said that Jones was no longer a suspect, then Jones was no longer a suspect.

      Still, Emma disliked loose ends and she had not been able to resist going to Lockwood's office to make one more attempt at getting an explanation out of him. Thinking that it might be wisest not to see him first thing in the morning, she waited an hour or so, and went at ten o'clock. One of the secretaries, an attractive red Acara with a Neopia Central accent, was present; Mr. Lockwood was not. The secretary informed Miss Ward, not hiding her smirk particularly well, that Mr. Lockwood was never in his office before noon.

      That seemed to close that course of action. Emma went back to her own office and found Detective Chase there waiting with a cup of coffee for her. "I thought you might appreciate this," he said in greeting, setting it on her desk. "You were up even later than I was last night."

      "Thank you," she replied, moving the hot cup off of her papers. "I appreciate the gesture, although your time would be better spent in investigating the case at hand."

      "Oh, yeah, some good that would do. It's at a standstill, we have no leads about Lawson's third mystery visitor, and thanks to your boss we now have no suspect."

      Emma sat down at her desk, quickly scanning over the neatly arranged stacks of paper. "Well, Nicholas, this may surprise you, but I have work to do."

      He only grinned, refusing either to be annoyed or to adopt her businesslike tone. Nick had a temper, it was true, and he was often far too hasty in losing it. But when he was in a completely good mood, he was cheerful to the point of being infuriating. He absolutely refused to be irritated, or, worse, to take anything seriously. Emma could tell he was in one of those moods now.

      "Doesn't surprise me at all, Emma darling. You're the type who will always find a way to work, even if there's nothing that actually needs doing."

      She was not especially amused by this observation. "At the moment I have an unsolved murder investigation to work on. So maybe you'll excuse me while I have another look at the papers we found in Lawson's office."

      "You really think you're going to find anything new? Fifteen people must have gone through them last night."

      "I think it's certainly a possibility, and I have nothing more important to do at the moment," she replied coolly. Emma had a very realistic idea of her own capabilities. Other people tended to make errors. She did not. She was thorough, conscientious and totally efficient, and she saw no reason to pretend otherwise. Pointedly ignoring Nicholas, she moved one of the neat stacks to the spot on the desk directly in front of her, and began methodically to read through them.

      Ninety-nine out of a hundred people would have found it slow going, because the contents of Lawson's desk, even by the most optimistic conventional estimate, could only have been called intensely boring. But to Emma they were quite intellectually stimulating. There were a good many facts, figures and estimates, drawn up without any visible mistakes. Besides, she had worked in the Public Relations department for over six months; she was familiar with its programs and its business transactions. And here, she noticed, were none of the strange inaccuracies she had so disliked in her time there.

      Nevertheless, it was two hours of steady reading before she found anything possibly relevant to the murder. Strictly speaking, it didn't necessarily seem relevant in its own right, but it was strange enough to warrant a second look. The document in question contained a minute description of each component of some government agency. More remarkable still, it was like no document Emma had ever seen before – certainly not standard for Public Relations. No, unless she was mistaken (and Emma was rarely mistaken) this looked like... an Internal Affairs investigation.

      But if that was the case, then why had Assander said nothing about it? It was oddly hard to understand, but from what she could tell, the report pointed specifically to corrupt officials and activities within the department, and it looked very damaging. On the other hand, it was hard to imagine how it could have been related to Lawson's death. An investigation of that kind would have been worse for him than for anyone else – she could have understood Lawson's motive in killing to cover it up, but why anyone would have wanted Lawson dead she could not guess.

      Guessing, however, was not her plan of action. Now she had something concrete to go on, a new lead to follow up, however small and doubtful. Although what had happened that night in Lawson's office was not yet clear to her, Miss Ward was quite convinced that a logical chain of events existed and that it had only to be uncovered. When they followed the chain to its conclusion, they would find the answers they were looking for.

      She went to inform the High Commissioner of her new discovery and ask for his orders; but to her annoyance he was still not in his office, and it was past twelve o'clock.

      Emma had a great respect for the chain of command. If, however, Mr. Lockwood was so little interested in doing his job that he didn't even bother to show up, then she considered that she had very little choice. There was no time to be lost in this. It was bad publicity to have a high government official killed, and worse still for the case to go unsolved. In any case, Lockwood had given her the authority to act in his name. He could hardly expect her not to use it.

      She reached Internal Affairs at approximately twelve forty-five, where she was informed that Director Assander was not in his office, but that she was welcome to schedule an appointment.

      Since there was nothing else to be done, she set one for two o'clock the following afternoon.

      Emma returned to her office to find that the High Commissioner had still not showed up. Her next resolution, motivated as much by her annoyance with Lockwood as by anything else, was to go and pay a visit to Conrad Jones. Since he had been officially cleared as a suspect, it was true that there was probably very little to be achieved by talking to him. And yet there was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that her superior did not particularly want anybody else interviewing Jones. But if he was not present to consult, and she had received no orders to the contrary - what was there to stop her?

      Of course, it was also highly rational to speak with Mr. Jones, as a potential source of information. She would never have done it otherwise. That would stooping to Nick's level.

      When she arrived in the dungeons, Master Vex was playing Cellblock as though he had never moved. For all she knew, he hadn't. "Back again, are you?" was his only greeting.

      "Yes. I would like to speak with Conrad Jones."

      "Hmm." He was silent for such a long time that Emma began to consider repeating herself. Finally, however, he answered her - if indirectly. "It's fortunate that you are now invested with Commissioner Lockwood's investigative authority."

      "Why is that?" she asked with barely concealed impatience.

      "Because I received specific orders from him this morning that nobody was to speak to with Mr. Jones."

      Nicholas, she thought, would be thrilled if he happened to come along with the same thought of questioning Jones that she'd had. Perhaps it was only her imagination - a function which she actively tried to suppress - but it did seem as though Lockwood was blocking Nick's investigation at every turn. "As you say, then, it's fortunate. May I be shown to his cell, please?"

      Vex shrugged with infuriating indifference. "As you wish. Fifth door down the second hall to your left. If you get lost, just ask one of the prisoners for directions."

      If that was supposed to be funny, Emma did not appreciate the humor. There was nothing remotely amusing about her reason for being here. She thanked him very coolly and set off as directed down the hall. His directions, she found, were good, and there was nothing difficult about finding Jones's cell except for the unpleasantness of walking past the other prisoners. Some of them stayed at the back of their cells, so well hidden in the dim light that all she could see were sets of reflective eyes. Several, however, came eagerly to the front and leered at her through the bars, and one of them - a hideous old Lupe with heavy chains around his wrists and ankles - laughed outright, very raucously in the silent dungeon. "Oh, Emma," he said between his howls of laughter. "Oh Emma, Emma, Emma."

      She ignored him and continued to walk past, but it was difficult to avert her eyes when he grew quite serious and said her name again in a strangely commanding tone. "Emma Ward. You're riding for a fall, you know. So very sad. A scrumptious little thing like you..."

      Emma saw no point in answering a madman's ravings, but she did resolve to have a word with Master Vex about the way he ran his prison. She couldn't imagine how the prisoner even knew her name. Clearly, order was too lax here. The inmates should not have access to that kind of information.

      Once past the Lupe, who continued to laugh and moan in a highly disturbing manner, Jones's cell was almost immediately to her left. It was a curious thing about these dungeons that sound did not seem to travel; within a few footsteps, the screaming faded to nothing. The acoustics had to be a result of the architecture, though it was generally the case that stone corridors like this one had an echo, not a muffled quiet. In any case, when she first saw him, the Kyrii was sitting on his bed, head hanging down, absolutely motionless. "Mr. Jones," she said, her crisp voice cutting through the silence. He jumped and looked around wildly.

      "There's no need to be alarmed. I only want to ask you some questions." Emma was not perhaps the most reassuring person alive, but he did seem to grow slightly calmer as she spoke.

      "I have nothing to say," he replied hoarsely. "I've told you everything. I told you last night."

      Emma crossed her arms and pushed her glasses farther up her nose. "Actually, you did not. You told Commissioner Lockwood. Now I'm asking."

      "I told you everything... last night," he repeated, though his final syllables faded almost into nothing.

      "You were highly cooperative yesterday. I don't understand why you're being so obstructive now." He didn't answer, and she pressed on. "What did you see last night in Lawson's office?"

      "I saw Lawson. We talked. That's all that happened, why won't you stop asking?" he cried in sudden anguish.

      Emma was beginning to feel very irritated with this man, and not at all sorry that he was currently in a prison cell. "What did he want to speak with you about? You said there were irregularities in the accounts. What were they?"

      "They were from my embezzling. That was why he wanted to talk to me about them."

      Emma wasn't buying it. "But you implied earlier that it had to do with he accounts of other departments."

      "It didn't. I was confused. I lied. Stop asking me, won't you! I can't tell you anything! I won't tell you anything! Just leave."

      "Have you been threatened? Is that why you refuse to cooperate?"

      Jones began to shake. "No," he choked.

      "Anything you tell me will be kept in strictest confidence. There's no reason to be so afraid." That was a lie - she had no intention of keeping anything in confidence, but in this case she felt that the ends justified the means. Jones would come to no harm by what he told her unless it was a direct confession of murder. Besides, nothing but a binding written agreement between the two of them was valid in the eyes of the law. She could say whatever she liked - that did not make it so.

      "I'm just a family man," he said, a certain strain of indignation rising through his terror. "Just an honest hard-working citizen. I know my rights! And I didn't deserve this. Things like this just don't happen. Why me? Why now?"

      "I am going to ask you just one more time," Emma said, slowly and distinctly, barely bothering to conceal her contempt. "What accounts did you speak to Warren Lawson about? Tell me, and I will ensure that nothing happens to you. Refuse, and you're on your own."

      "You!" he exclaimed, apparently hovering somewhere between tears and laughter. "You can't protect me! No one can!"

To be continued...