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It was time to reciprocate on the intelligence on this case, and fairly quickly too, before Tewel was completely in his cups. He wasn't one who boozed regularly, I judged, and the alcohol would probably knock him flat pretty quickly. On the other hand, he was a serving police officer; I hadn't met a copper who didn't hit the bottle hard from time to time. So I spoke a little to the detective about the missing necklace and the magical properties I suspected it had. I also told him how I had set up the sting on Cairnie Westwood, with its admittedly only partially-successful outcome. At least we all knew how it stood between him and his sister. Tewel asked a few pertinent questions which I answered unhesitatingly, but neither of us came up with any penetrating new insight. "This Cairnie guy managed to pull down the curtain on his whereabouts very successfully for decades," Tewel murmured after I had finished my briefing, half talking to himself, "I'm sure my colleagues will do everything they can to track him down." I could hear the faintest hint of a sneer in his voice. "But you don't think they'll find him, do you?" "No, not a chance," he replied softly, "Not enough imagination." He drained his whiskey glass absently, as if it contained nothing but water. Not a flinch. Then stared absently across the gloom of the bar where there was nothing I could see to keep his attention. "I'll have to do it myself," he concluded, speaking so softly I could barely make out the words. Any reply I might have made was forestalled by the arrival of the waiter with the food and the second round of drinks. I ordered a third, switching to one of those flashily-expensive but nearly alcohol-free beverages which abound these days. I needed to keep a clear head today. I had no idea how Tewel proposed to go about tracking Cairnie. He probably didn't know himself yet. But he had the very considerable resources of the official force to aid him and, now that his own focus and attention to detail was engaged, it probably wouldn't take him very long. I hoped for his own sake he'd get a couple of hours' sleep first, though. Tewel sipped, more slowly this time, at his new drink and then glanced in my direction. "You think Cairnie's after the necklace?" "Yes, I do," I replied, after draining my own drink and setting the new one carefully on the coaster in front of me, "He tried to snuff Mayfield without hesitation. He's killed before, I'll wager, and he seemed to be a Goblin with a plan in mind." "Hmmm. He's a vicious little shit," the detective said, the calmness of his voice belying the fierceness of his words, "These jewels. Do you have any idea where the wretched thing actually is?" "Not at all. I'm sure it would have turned up by now if it had been in Lady Strowan's house." Tewel nodded, rocking his head with the bare minimum of movement. "My boys went through the entire place with a fine tooth comb. We found several things of value which might have been lost or even deliberately hidden, but none of them which resembled the necklace or any part of it." It was my turn to nod sagely. "Mayfield is adamant she didn't take the necklace," I added, "And I'm convinced. Neither she nor Glen showed the slightest sign that they knew anything about it when I first asked." "You know, I think I believe you," Tewel replied, then swept up his second whiskey and swallowed the rest of it in a single gulp. I raised my own glass, mainly to hide the worried look on my face, and sipped much more genteelly. One of us had to maintain at least the pretence of sobriety.
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Part 70