Morning came far too early for Osian the next day. He groaned in complaint when Dannel yanked the blanket off both of them. Not even a warm shower helped coax his mind into functioning.
Dannel guided him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, gently keeping him from stumbling. “What on earth is going on with you? I haven’t seen you this tired since we pulled all-nighters in school.”
“I kept tossing and turning last night.” Osian dropped into one of the chairs around their kitchen table. “I didn’t drift off until around four in the morning.”
“Coffee?”
“A mountain of it.” Osian dragged his fingers through his still-damp hair. “Maybe some toast? Or don’t we have a few pain au chocolat left?”
“Several flaky pastries with chocolate centres coming up.” Dannel bent down to bump his nose against Osian’s head, then continued into the kitchen. “How do you make a liquid into a mountain?”
“Freeze it.”
While Dannel hunted around to find the leftover croissants, Osian grabbed a scrap of paper and pen from across the table. He wanted to jot down a brief list of what they had to accomplish. Podcast, gauntlets, visit Wayne, Abra’s godmum, chat up neighbours, solve a murder. How hard can that be? Oh, and find time to plan our wedding.
Dannel came over to set two mugs and plates on the table. He glanced at the list. “We’ll never get all of this done. Maybe we should divide and conquer?”
“Sounds like a lot of effort.” Osian rested his head on the table, twisting slightly to watch Dannel getting breakfast ready. “Why don’t I drag Abra out to pick her godmum’s brain for a second time? I can swing by the police station as well. Maybe see if Haider will let me chat with Wayne. You and Roland go by his flat. What if one of the neighbours saw something? They may not have wanted to tell the police.”
“Rolly is the police.”
“He knows how to tone down the copper.” Osian glanced down at the list he’d made. “Podcast can wait until this evening, as can the gauntlets. In fact, we can work on our script while beginning the fabrication.”
Dannel brought over the pain au chocolat after heating them briefly in the microwave. “They should release Wayne today.”
“Or charge him.” Osian was trying to remain hopeful. The evidence had definitely been stacked against their solicitor friend. “They’ve only got a few hours left before they have to do one or the other.”
Over coffee and chocolate croissants, they made their plan of attack for the day. Abra had already texted him to say she was on her way. Dannel had plans to meet his brother at their family shop in an hour.
By the time Abra buzzed the intercom downstairs, Osian had managed to wake up a little more. The coffee and sugar rush had helped. He gave Dannel a quick snog, then rushed downstairs to meet up with his best friend.
“Change of plans.” Abra handed him a cup from her favourite café. “I picked up lattes for both of us.”
“Are we not meeting your godmum?”
“Auntie Sue’s busy in court this morning; however, she’s suggested we head over to the Old Bailey. One of her close friends knows Hamnet quite well. They’re at the Central Criminal Court today and can show us around.” Abra sipped her coffee, then looped her arm around Osian’s free one. “The Hamster Judge is presiding over the case. We might get to see him in action.”
“If the rumours are true, I’d rather not see him in action.” Osian paused before starting across the street with Abra at his side. He tried not to stop in the middle of the road when a vehicle parked nearby caught his attention. “Abs? See the Rolls-Royce?”
“Tinted windows? Definitely something we could never afford to touch, let alone own?”
“The same vehicle was parked across the street from the police station.” Osian wondered why a judge’s chauffeured Rolls-Royce Phantom kept popping up. “Did you notice someone following you?”
“Me?”
“Maybe our questions drew the hamster’s attention?” Osian forced himself not to peer over his shoulder. “Or it’s a coincidence. It can’t be the only Rolls-Royce Phantom in London.”
“They’d go out of business if it was.” Abra glanced behind them, ignoring his admonishment not to look. “Car hasn’t moved.”
“You’d make a terrible spy.”
“I’m a paramedic.” She shrugged. “Come on. I don’t want to be late.”
Putting aside his unease, Osian picked up the pace and definitely didn’t peer over his shoulder every five seconds to check for the Rolls. They arrived at the Old Bailey in good time. The Central Criminal Court loomed large in front of them.
“Is your godmum’s friend one of the clerks or a barrister?” Osian kept to one side to avoid being crushed by the bustling throng inside the newer of the two buildings that made up the court. He hadn’t had much need to spend time in a court that tended to handle the worst criminal cases. “I’m definitely underdressed for the occasion. Even the people queued up to get seats in the public gallery are better prepared than I am.”
“This is what happens when you dress yourself,” Abra snarked. She eyed his jeans and favourite N7 T-shirt. “Honestly. A T-shirt in court?”
“Just representing my people.”
“Mass Effect players aren’t your people.” Abra motioned for him to follow her to one side out of the way. She pulled her phone out. “I’m supposed to call the receptionist.”
“Are we meeting a receptionist? I bet they get all the best court gossip,” Osian whispered when Abra hushed him. “What?”
Abra finished up the call then grinned at Osian. “You sound like you’re talking about we’re off to see the queen or something. Court gossip.”
“What else would you call it when someone’s sharing rumours here?”
They argued over court gossip for several minutes until a young person came to guide them beyond the public area through the labyrinth of corridors. They reached the door to one of the many judges’ chambers of suites. High Court Judge Leetha Abbey. Who are we questioning?
Osian read the name on the door a few times before stepped into the reception area. He nudged Abra with his elbow. “You failed to mention we were going to ask a high court judge probing questions.”
“I’d prefer not to be probed.”
“I apologise, your ladyship.” Abra subtly stamped on Osian’s foot when he snickered. “Auntie Sue never mentioned who exactly we’d be meeting.”
“I’m only ‘her ladyship’ in court. Please call me Leetha.” Judge Abbey waved away the apology. “Why don’t you both join me in my office? Less chance of us being overheard.”
The office seemed straight out of a Pinterest barrister aesthetic board. One wall was covered entirely by shelves filled to the brim with old law books. The judge settled into her plush leather chair behind her solid antique desk.
Osian glanced at the expensive carpet underneath his shoes and realised he’d definitely underdressed for the occasion. After Abra introduced both of them, he filled the judge in very briefly on what they were doing. “Abs’s auntie thought you might offer insights into Hamnet Allsop.”
“We called him Hands Hamnet at university.” She twisted around in her chair, reaching down to retrieve a leather photo album from one of the lower shelves. “He was two years ahead of me at Cambridge. Thankfully, he never seemed interested in me. I didn’t have the right family name, connections, or money. Even now, that hasn’t changed much.”
“Did Judge Allsop have any issues with Barnaby Sharrow?” Abra asked.
“I suppose it would depend on your definition of issue.” Leetha offered a wry smile. She flipped through the pages in the album, stopping on one about halfway through. “We were all appointed to the judiciary around the same time. Sue and I were the only women of colour. And two of three women in a much larger group of men.”
Osian leaned in closer to inspect the photo. “Do you believe Hamster was having an affair?”
“Oz.” Abra shook her head, then glanced over at the judge, who’d begun to chuckle. She rolled her eyes at Osian. “Why do you never have a sense of decorum?”
“Olivia got all of it.” Osian sat back in his chair, not wanting to crowd the desk. “I’m sure you hate to speak ill of the dead or of another judge. But would you anyway?”
Leetha pulled her album back across the desk; her eyes glinted with amusement. “Barnaby Sharrow and I never had much interaction outside of the usual. I’m not as fond of parties and mingling as some of my fellow judges. He seemed a competent barrister for the most part, perhaps distracted in the last few weeks of his life.”
The judge clicked through the pages of the photo album. She seemed to be considering something. Her fingers rested against a particular image for a few seconds.
“You’ll step on a number of well-connected toes if you poke your nose around these hallowed halls too much.” Leetha eventually closed the album. “I have no idea who murdered poor Barnaby Sharrow. Your friend Wayne seems an improbable candidate even with the overwhelming evidence.”
“A few mashed toes never killed anyone,” Osian joked, though he did take her warning to heart. “Who do you think we should poke first?”
“You’re looking for someone who had the most to lose with Barnaby alive and Wayne free. Enough for them to risk being caught in the act of murder.” Leetha paused when a knock sounded. One of her clerks popped in to remind of her a meeting. She waited until the door shut to continue. “Or, perhaps, a person so accustomed to their position of privilege they’d never even consider being found out or punished. They quite literally believe they can get…”
“Away with murder.” Osian knew the type. He’d run into them often enough as a paramedic. “We’ll be cautious.”
Abra snorted beside him.
“What? I can be cautious.”
Abra coughed a few times, the last sounding suspiciously like the words “Down a well.”
“Rude.”
Leaving the judge to her meeting and Abra to head off to work, Osian walked to the police station in the hopes of speaking with Wayne. He wanted to know more about the judge and his philandering ways. The journey gave him time to consider the best approach to convincing one of the detective inspectors into letting him in to see their suspect.
“No.”
“I haven’t even said anything.” Osian had barely made it halfway up the steps to the police station when Haider came down the steps toward him. “Busy day?”
Haider sighed so deeply that he sounded like a pierced balloon. He finally motioned for Osian to follow him. “Let’s grab a coffee. Maybe it’ll get me through the rest of the day.”
“How’ve you been? How’s the wife and kids? Hasn’t the weather been lovely?”
“First, I’m desperately in need of a holiday. Second, I’ve no wife or kids, as you well know.” Haider jogged across the street with Osian following close behind. “It’s been raining all day. Why don’t you get to the point?”
“I’m hurt.” Osian feigned outrage. “I thought we were friends.”
The grumbling detective shouldered his way through a throng of people and led the way into the café. They waited ten minutes before they managed to get coffees and pastries. Osian opted for a sausage roll.
He considered continuing with small talk, but Haider was likely to be most receptive while enjoying his break. “Any word on my favourite solicitor?”
“Wayne Dankworth should be out soon. He’s not been charged.” Haider glared at him over the rim of his coffee cup. “And no, I can’t tell you anything else about the case or why we’ve released him.”
“I sense you mean ‘hasn’t been charged yet,’ am I right?” Osian noticed the tightening around Haider’s mouth.
“We’ll be thorough in our investigation as always. No arrests have been made. Nor will they be until we’re certain,” Haider promised. He paused for another sip of coffee. “Try not to get yourself into trouble. Maybe leave the police work to the professionals.”
“Me and my sausage roll practice safe…” Osian trailed off, snickering. “I won’t fall into any wells or get myself electrocuted by a ghost.”
Haider smiled briefly before turning serious. “How have your dreams been?”
Osian’s smile became a little forced. “I haven’t turned into Mystic Meg.”
“Osian.”
“The nightmares have stopped mostly.” He shrugged. “Therapy does help. The group you introduced me to helped as well. Pity there’s not an instant cure for post-traumatic stress. I’m doing better, though. Promise.”
“Small steps.” Haider patted him on the shoulder. “I should get back to my desk. I imagine you’ll see your solicitor friend in less than an hour. Try to resist the urge to poke your nose into this one. Please.”
“Sure,” Osian lied through his teeth with a convincing smile.