Chapter 9 – Last Will and Testament

“Hey, Knia. Guess what I found. No. No good. Too direct. I think you’ve got the wrong guy. Too obvious.”

Mas almost stumbled into Minu. She laughed loudly, holding his shoulders to steady him.

“Good conversation?” she asked.

“Oh Gods, was I talking to myself?” said Mas.

“Little bit.”

“Gods. It’s been one of those cycles.”

She laughed again. He liked the sound of it.

“Racta later?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, “errands first, though.”

In the end, Mas just presented the parchment and Knia did all the legwork without him having to put forward a case. He knew he’d always liked her for a reason. He should’ve trusted his instincts more. If any of them were working, now that he’d had no sleep to speak of for three whole spans. But since Bobbins was in a holding cell and not him, he could address that.

Sleep this time was not so horrific, maybe his subconscious was settling. He had an Air-sense dream of the dead girl lying in the middle of a huge empty room, with shards of glass raining down all around her. It was oddly calm and relaxing. Mas woke in reasonable time and had a chance for bathing and racta before the constable found him, racta in hand, contemplating the now relocked doors of Bobbins’ shop.

“Funny we found you here,” Don-po, the youngest of Knia’s constables was polite at least. “Bobbins is asking for you.”

“What does he want?”

“Dunno, he won’t tell us, says he’ll only talk to you.”

“I’m an advocate too, now?” Mas sighed, but allowed himself to be led back to the station.

On an impulse, Mas bought another racta from the stall as they passed. He guessed that Bobbins wouldn’t have had much in the way of visitors, creditors maybe, but not visitors. And he was right. Don-po led him down to the custody suite, a row of half a dozen small rooms carved from the ground and lined with found metal to deter obvious attempts at burrowing out. The cell stank.

“Hey, can you empty this bucket?” said Bobbins.

“Sure, when I’ve finished my rounds. You don’t get special treatment,” said Don-po.

“You see what conditions I’m in here?” Bobbins whined.

“My heart bleeds,” said Mas. “Why am I here?”

“Just you,” Bobbins said.

“You okay here?” said Don-po.

“I’m pretty sure I can deal with a criminal mastermind like Bobbins,” said Mas.

Mas proffered the racta to Bobbins, who took it gratefully. They both waited while he drank it and Don-po pottered, cleaning the remaining cells, which all seemed to be empty. When he climbed the stairs and closed the door, Bobbins spoke, “You got the wrong folk, Mas.”

“And already we’re done here,” he stood to leave.

“Wait, hear me out, the boyfriend’s still out there.”

“You’re up to your neck in this Bobbins, you can’t offload it on to some mystery guy no-one could find.”

“I know.”

“Pardon?”

“I said I know I’m involved. But it’s not what you think. I never killed the girl.”

“And you think this boyfriend did?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, but I know where you can find him. And a whole lot else.”

Mas folded his arms, “Listen, this morning, my life was pretty simple: you here, me not, paid up, job done. Why should I complicate everything all over again?”

“I know you, Mas. You can’t bear a puzzle not solved.”

Mas turned back towards Bobbins, opened his mouth, then closed it again. A burst of laughter came from the constable’s break room overhead.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Immunity. Obviously.”

“Right. You know I can’t offer you that.”

“No but Knia can and she’ll listen to you.”

“She nearly had me in here instead of you.”

“Well, I’ve got a whole load to tell you, but I’m not going down for it. Immunity or you get nothing.”

“And you stay in here? Suits me.”

“It’d be safer, there’s still a killer on the loose, remember?”

“So you say.”

“You know I’m right Mas. Get me my immunity and we’ll talk.”

Don-po’s voice echoed down to them, “Hey Mas, time’s up.”

He climbed to the top of the stairs, Knia was already waiting, “No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet.”

“I can guess what your friend downstairs wants, and there’s no way.”

“What if he’s innocent?”

“I’m not largely bothered to have arrested him on this one charge he’s not responsible for, rather than the hundreds of things he’s done about which we know nothing yet.”

“Point taken. But Gods help me, I think he’s right.”

“How’s that making my job any easier?” said Knia, tapping her dagger blade on her desk.

“I guess heading off trouble before it happens?”

“Aren’t I doing that by having Bobbins in jail?”

There was a thin scent of tobacco on the breeze. It made Mas twitchy, “Listen, what if I give myself as surety for Bobbins?”

“Come again?”

“Release Bobbins into my custody and give me one work-span. If I can prove he’s innocent he goes free. If I can’t you get two pains in your ass down here.”

“That’s quite a long stretch to put your neck on the block.”

“Yeah,” said Mas rubbing his nape.

“I still think you’re an idiot.”

“Given.”

“One work-span. Get out of here.”