Kate yawned widely, and as I glanced at her, a little blush tinged her cheeks.
‘Late night?’ I asked.
The red in her cheeks deepened. ‘You may not have been wrong about Troy’s interest.’
‘All right! Way to go Kate.’
‘Nothing happened. Nothing much happened,’ she amended. ‘But we stayed up late talking, which I now regret.’
McCaffrey shook her head. ‘You can’t regret it, Doc. Life’s too short for that.’ She gestured at the body. ‘Case in point.’ She studied the lifeless form on the bed. ‘Another ogre attack?’
‘Purported ogre attack,’ Robbie corrected with a growl.
‘It appears the injuries were done using a decapitated head stolen from a recently deceased ogre,’ I explained.
McCaffrey clicked her tongue. ‘Well, that’s grim.’ She looked at Robbie. ‘Who have you pissed off recently, Your Excellence?’
‘Too many to name,’ he replied mildly.
‘All right,’ McCaffrey said. ‘Someone’s trying to frame the ogres. Why?’
‘The victim is identified as Alasdair Drummond,’ I confirmed, ‘and I met him briefly yesterday.’
Robbie’s head snapped up to look at me.
‘I didn’t speak to him,’ I continued, ‘but he was part of the Anti-Crea protest outside of the office.’
Robbie’s face remained carefully blank.
‘The Anti-Crea suffered catastrophic losses when they came up against the dragons recently. Their numbers must be at an all-time low.’
McCaffrey’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You think they killed Marlow and Drummond as arecruitmenttactic?’
‘They need to stir up Anti-Creature sentiment. What better way than having an ogre brutally murder a prestigious member of society, an important Symposium member?’
‘And this guy?’
‘Marlow didn’t get newspaper coverage, not yet anyway, but serial killers always get attention. They need more deaths, more outrage.’ I smiled. ‘And I’m going to pull it right out from under them.’ I had a contact number forThe Mystic Informer, and I felt a newspaper article coming on. Not one they wanted, but oneIwanted. I’d paint the Anti-Crea as inept and pathetic, and make it clear we knew how they’d killed both men. Hopefully, I’d piss them off enough that they’d come gunning for me.
When they did, the trap would spring.
I was almost looking forward to it. But first, I had groundwork to lay. I pulled out my phone and dialled Ji-ho.
‘Morning, Shirlylock,’ Ji-ho answered, though his voice sounded tired and subdued, as if coffee hadn’t yet made a dent.
‘Morning,’ I said, shifting to lean against the wall. ‘Bad night?’
‘Not the best,’ he admitted after a pause, the clack of a keyboard faint in the background.
‘You should have called,’ I said, though we both knew why he hadn’t.
‘Maybe another time,’ came the wry reply. Then, more businesslike, ‘How can I help?’
‘I need the info you dug up on the protestors yesterday. Any particular red flags?’
‘Two of them were ex-military, both dishonourably discharged,’ he said. Paper rustled, the faint hum of his computer fan filling the silence between us. ‘They both have decent rap sheets. No one else had a criminal record.’
‘All right,’ I said, straightening. ‘I’ll look into them first. Names?’
