I hadn't realized Murdock still had his hand on me until he squeezed my arm in warning. He needn't have worried, though. I'm sure Briallen had been called worse things in her time. Besides, I knew a glimmer of light when I saw one, and at least the commissioner's tone held some respect.
MacDuin's eyes burned coldly as he looked at me. The image of his wings appeared faintly in the air behind him, challenging the glamour to its limit. "Assuming for the moment your story is true, what did you find?"
"I'm… not sure. I think it's confirmation of a theory I have that the killer has some kind of birth defect. There was some essence on the stone that didn't feel right. These murders might be related to the defect in some way."
"In other words, you have nothing," said macDuin.
I shook my head, then tapped my nose. "I have his scent. I can find him. I just have to figure out where he'll be next. But not if I'm in a jail cell."
The commissioner frowned in annoyance and flicked his hand. "You're not under arrest."
"Commissioner, I must insist…" macDuin began, but the commissioner cut him off.
"Let it go, Lorcan. We're wasting time. You're not the only one who has to worry about politics. I am not going to embarrass myself by having yet another person in custody if yet another murder is committed. As it is, the press is going to have a field day with this. I want hard evidence, and I want it yesterday." He glanced up at Murdock. "Am I clear, Detective?"
"Yes, sir," Murdock said.
"Then get moving," the commissioner said.
He didn't have to tell me twice. I opened the door and was into the squad room before he had a moment to reconsider. Murdock was right behind me, his face grim. We retraced our steps through the building and got back in his car.
"Not that I'm not grateful, but why did your father help me?"
Murdock started the car and eased onto West Broadway. "Maybe he doesn't like macDuin more than he doesn't like you."
He took a left turn from the right lane and drove up Pittsburgh Street. We drove slowly down the alley. A small Honda that had seen better days was parked next to a dump-ster. Murdock pulled up beside it. The dirty driver's window rolled down, and Barnard Murdock smiled into my face.
"Hey, Bar," I said. Murdock's younger brother looked exactly like he was his younger brother. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes set off by that same hawk nose. Only everything looked slightly smaller. Everyone called him Bar. No one dared called him Barney.
"Connor! The man of the hour. Can you step in it any deeper?"
I smiled modestly. "Nice to see you, too, Bar."
He cocked his head forward to look around me at Murdock. "You didn't answer your beeper."
"I am answering it. He in there?" said Murdock.
"Yep. You want backup?"
"Nan. We can handle him."
Bar shrugged. "Suit yourself. You coming to dinner on Sunday, Connor?"
"I'm the last person your father wants to see at the table right now."
Bar laughed in appreciation. "Yeah, I just got off the line with someone who filled me in. After you guys left, the Guild guy tore out in a rage. Nice going."
Murdock drove the rest of the way into the alley and parked by Shay's door. My knees ached as I stretched outside the car. I needed sleep badly. Murdock came around the car with his gun drawn but held down at his side.
"Is that necessary?" I asked.
He gave me an annoyed look. "We lost Robin last night. You want to confess to the murders, I'll put it away."
I held my hands up. "All right, all right. I just think it's a little heavy-handed."
"Fine. You go in first."
I hesitated, and Murdock brushed past me with a smug look on his face. Just because I didn't think Shay was capable of murder didn't mean I was stupid. Murdock pulled open the door. The bright hall light was on. We moved slowly along one side of the hall, not quite touching the wall. When we reached the inside door, Murdock paused. We could hear movement on the other side of the door.
We kept back. "Shay?" Murdock called out. The movements inside stopped. "Police, Shay, open up." He didn't answer. Murdock looked at me, and I nodded. Murdock aimed his gun at the door as I crossed to the opposite side of the hall. The prickly sensation of my body shield activating swept over my head. Just as I tensed myself to kick open the door, it opened.
Shay stood on the threshold. He froze when he saw the gun just as Murdock lifted the muzzle away. "Jesus, Shay. You could have answered."
"Sorry," he said. He turned away and went back in the room. At first glance, the room looked like it hadn't been straightened up since the last time we were there. Clothes were still everywhere, mostly piled on the beds. Then I noticed the open suitcases on the floor. "What do you want this time?" Shay asked. He bent over and folded a pair of jeans.
"Are you going somewhere?" Murdock said. He hadn't put the gun away.
"Like I said the other day. I've had it. I'm getting out." He continued packing clothes as he spoke.
"I don't think you should leave right now," said Murdock.
Shay stopped and looked up. "Is this about the sketch? If you need a witness, you don't need me. Ask Robin. He lied. He saw him, too."
"Where were you last night, Shay?" Murdock asked.
Shay's cheeks colored as he nervously brushed his hair back over his shoulder. "I was working."
"Were you with Robin last night?" I asked.
"Yes. For a while. We argued about that stupid glamour stone. I realized you guys just forgot it in the confusion, but Robin wanted to play with it anyway. I told him it was dangerous to pretend he was fey when he isn't."
"Why did you think it was dangerous? We had someone in custody," said Murdock.
He shrugged. "I heard that guy was human. I don't know what the guy I saw was, but he definitely was not human."
"When did you see Robin last?"
His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Just answer the question," said Murdock.
"About midnight." Shay sank slowly to the bed, not taking his eyes off us. "I left him at some dive on Congress. Why do you keep asking me about Robin? Where is he?" His voice grew calmer the more agitated he looked. Neither of us answered him. His face dropped a little.
He was neither in complete control nor overwrought, but had the barely contained hysteria of someone trying very hard not to believe what he was thinking. I'd worked enough cases to have seen it before. I looked at Murdock, and he nodded. "We found him in an alley last night, Shay."
Shay closed his eyes and slumped forward, clutching his waist. He sobbed quietly as we watched awkwardly. I didn't think he was faking. I stepped over to him and gently placed my hand on his back. Murdock frowned and shook his head, but I ignored him. I looked around for some tissue and found a box on the nightstand. I handed several to Shay, and he wiped his face roughly before lifting his head.
"He was murdered. The killer got Tansy, too," I said.
Anger fluttered across his face. "And the killer got away, didn't he?"
It felt like an accusation. I nodded.
"Why did you leave him?" Murdock asked.
"I had an appointment," said Shay.
"With?"
"He didn't show me his ID."
"I think that's a convenient way of telling me you recognized him anyway."
"Murdock…" I said. I didn't see the point of his pursuing this.
"Even if I did know his name, do you think he'd admit being with me?" Shay glared at Murdock like he was an idiot. Frankly, I thought he was pretty damned close to it.
"Did you see the guy from your sketch last night?" I asked.