Chapter 5: Knockturn Alley Sisters

They had been waiting in The Leaky Cauldron for over half an hour. It was still empty, the fire making more noise than the patrons. Gideon sat at a table, reading the paper, his blue eyes flicking seriously over the articles. Fabian had, predictably, gotten bored within the first five minutes and was now having a competition with Frank, in which players had to try and throw a Knut into a goblet from a great distance. Amelia was sitting quietly, staring blankly at the wall, swirling the whiskey in her glass. She took a sip and then stared at it for a second, watching the liquid go around in a whirlpool. Then she drained the entire glass and slammed it onto the table. Taking out her cigarettes, she turned to look at Tom, who still stood behind the bar.

"Mind if I smoke?" she asked.

"Do you whatever the hell you like," Tom sighed, "It's not like it really matters anymore."

Amelia lit one and stuck it between her lips, resuming her stare at the wall.

"Bones," Fabian yelled, aiming for and missing the goblet, "are you sure that girl is actually coming?"

Amelia leaned back in her chair and exhaled the smoke. It danced before her in a cloud of grey, before disappearing into the air.

"Of course she's coming," she replied, "we just have to be patient."

They had to be patient for a lot longer. Amelia had finished her cigarette and Gideon was done with the paper when the door that led out to the Diagon Alley entrance was pushed open; it was the young woman from outside the Hangman's Noose. She looked scared, but relieved to find that the Aurors were waiting. Amelia smiled, more to herself than to the girl. She had always been able to read faces and the woman's face had told her that she had something to say. But she didn't know quite who to say it to. The woman ran her hands through her thick, brown fringe and sat down opposite Amelia.

"I wasn't sure you'd still be here," she said.

Amelia said nothing, but offered her the packet of cigarettes. The woman shook her head.

"No thanks, I don't."

Amelia nodded her head forward and put them back in her pocket. Fabian and Frank had stopped playing when the door opened and they came over and sat beside Gideon, who had taken out a notebook. The women looked at the notebook, her eyes wide. Amelia caught the look and signaled to Gideon to put it away. The woman relaxed.

"What's your name?" Amelia asked.

"Rowan," the women said after some thought.

"Last name?"

"We don't use last names."

Amelia sighed and looked at her.

"I'm wanting information, not trying to buy you."

Rowan twitched and looked down at the floor, abashed.

"Rowan Griffith," she said, "Are you here about Ches?"

Raising an eyebrow, Amelia questioned, "Ches?"

Rowan nodded and pulled her chair closer to the table.

"Francesca Dyer. She's my roommate. We, we work together. Only, she's missing. I haven't see her in about a month."

"Is it usual for her to leave for long periods of time?" Frank asked.

"Sometimes she would go away with a client," Rowan said, "but she always sent an owl if she wasn't going to be home."

Amelia reached into the front of her jacket and took out the photograph of the murdered girl. She placed it on the table and pushed it towards Rowan.

"Is this Francesca?" she asked quietly.

Rowan glanced at the photo and she gasped. Her breathing became heavy and she nodded slowly.

"Yeah, that's her," she said, her voice hoarse, "Oh my God."

"We don't know much about the circumstances of her death," Gideon said, "Can you tell us when you last saw her?"

"Take your time," Amelia added kindly, "Tom, could Miss Griffith please have a glass of water?"

The landlord brought Rowan a drink and she smiled at him. Amelia guessed that there were few people willing to get her a drink for free.

"I last saw Ches at work," the girl stuttered, "it would've been, maybe, three weeks ago. She had to go to a meeting with someone."

"Did she mention who?" Gideon said.

The girl shook her head.

"Nah. But I reckon she was meeting the Boss. The Boss was paying lots of attention to her recently. I told her to be careful."

"The Boss?" Amelia said, "Do you mean Darius Finch?"

Rowan tensed and grabbed the side of her seat, as if to stand up.

"Fine, fine," Amelia placated her quickly, "you don't have to confirm that. So your boss was paying extra attention to Francesca and you told her to be careful. Why did you do that? Is he someone you need to be careful around?"

"Well he's not the kind of guy who asks a girl out for her thoughts and opinions," Rowan answered, "he's gotten violent in the past."

"What was Francesca doing with him?" Amelia asked.

"He used to take her to parties," Rowan said, fidgeting with her shawl, "with his friends. I told her not to go, but, well, a party was a party."

"You didn't like his friends?"

"They scared me. The kind of people who aren't afraid to walk around at night, if you know what I mean."

Amelia had a pretty good idea what she was talking about; criminals or worse. She had another photograph in her pocket and she placed it in front of the other witch. It was the close up of Francesca's wrist.

"If you look closely at this photograph you can see some needle marks," Amelia said, pointing out the dots, "Did Francesca use drugs?"

Rowan narrowed her eyes.

"No," she cried, sounding affronted, "No, not Ches. Some of the other girls tried it. Not me and not Ches."

"Is it possible she had it at the parties you mentioned?" Fabian asked, "Maybe she was forced into it?"

"Never," Rowan insisted, "Francesca would have told me if something like that was going on! We were like sisters."

She looked at the table, as if the unbelievability of the whole situation had just dawned on her.

"We were like sisters," she repeated sadly.

Tears started to fall down her cheeks, black tracks of mascara staining her white face. She sniffed and rubbed her eye with her fist. Gideon, frowning, pulled his wand from his jacket and conjured a handkerchief, the air twisting itself into white silk. Silently, he handed it to her. Rowan gave a small smile and dabbed at her face with it. When she had calmed down, Amelia went on with the questioning.

"Do the names Fredrick Bartholomew and Kieran Swann mean anything to you?" she asked, "They could have been clients or maybe Francesca knew them in a friendly capacity."

"They don't sound familiar," Rowan said.

Amelia took out the pictures of the dead men and showed them to her, but Rowan shook her head.

"Sorry, I've never seen them."

Amelia nodded. She stood up and cleared the photos.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Griffiths," she said, "If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to come to me. And don't worry, your name will not be brought up."

Amelia picked up the tab, paying for her drink and giving Tom a tip for putting up with their interview. So they now knew who the dead girl was. All they had to do was work out where exactly she fitted in.