Page 66 of Slouch Witch
‘Then,’ Winter said, his voice dropping dangerously, ‘where is it?’
‘Geomancy must have checked it out.’ He looked over his shoulder to Tarquin who was still standing, looking bored. ‘Have you got the logbook there?’
Tarquin held up a battered-looking notebook. ‘Yes.’ He scurried over, handing it not to Price but to Winter. Price glared and tried to snatch it out of Winter’s hands; when that didn’t work, he pushed me out of the way so he could peer over Winter’s shoulder. If that bothered Winter, he didn’t let it show. He flipped through the pages, using his finger to track down the columns.
‘Ha! There!’ Price crowed. ‘Marsh’s file was logged out last week.’ He paused. ‘I can’t read that signature. Honestly, some people have appalling handwriting.’
Winter snapped the book shut and handed it back to Price. ‘Thank you for your time.’ He turned away then paused, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. ‘Where were you yesterday morning, Adeptus Price?’
He blinked rapidly. ‘Er…’ He looked to Tarquin for help.
‘You were at that meeting. With Practicus Lee. It was on your calendar.’
Price nodded. ‘Ah, yes. Of course.’ He smiled. ‘Despite being a witch, Practicus Lee knows a fair bit about computers. We’ve been looking into ways of putting our records online. Not here, you understand,’ he added hastily. ‘Offsite where they won’t affect anyone’s magic.’
Winter grunted then glanced at me. ‘I know who took the file. Let’s go.’ He half smiled, half grimaced at Price. ‘Thank you again.’
‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter!’ Tarquin called. ‘I can come with you if you wish. I know exactly what the personnel files look like, so I’m sure I can help.’
Winter’s blue eyes were cold. ‘I think Ms Wilde and I can manage,’ he said. ‘She’s incredibly talented.’ He took my elbow and gently propelled me away.
‘I love you,’ I whispered.
Winter grinned.
***
Once we were back outside, I nudged Winter. ‘Could you really read that handwriting? Do you know who has Marsh’s file or were you just trying to escape?’
‘I recognised the writing,’ he said grimly. ‘Tobias Worth-Jones. He works over at Runic Magic.’
I whistled. Only the best of the best finagle their way into that department. ‘Friend of yours?’ I asked.
‘Not really.’
‘Do you have any friends?’
‘Ivy,’ Winter sighed.
I shrugged. ‘Just asking. But I don’t think we need to find your double-barrelled acquaintance.’
‘I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this. Why not?’
‘Price did it.’
Winter turned to me. ‘How did you come to that conclusion?’
‘He was shifty and nervous. There’s no way he got that job without Diall’s help. And,’ I added, ‘he was wearing slip-on shoes. Never trust a man wearing slip-on shoes.’
Winter started walking again. ‘And here was me thinking you were going to offer something insightful.’
‘I did!’
Winter harrumphed, actually harrumphed. I didn’t know people did that any more. ‘Let me know if you find any real evidence.’
I remained earnest. ‘People always think it’s the big muscly guys you need to be afraid of. It’s not. It’s the weedy ones who have a point to prove.’
‘Go on then,’ Winter said, folding his arms. ‘Why did he murder Diall?’
