20. Fitting The Pieces Into Place
Monday 5th October 1994
Tonks had a busy weekend.
Much of it was spent in the Auror Office, testing her theories against the evidence on hand, but she was still careful to be up and out early on Monday morning to get to her desk by half past seven. It earned her a rare approving nod from Scrimgeour as he passed by on the way to his office. She smiled to herself; most of the department had been staying out of his way wherever possible. His already sharp temper had grown steadily worse with the continuing lack of results from the World Cup investigation.
Getting her notes into shape to present to the team took a mere fifteen minutes. She then spent the next hour nervously checking and rechecking and shuffling them, and mentally rehearsing what she wanted to say. As it happened, the time spent reading over every little detail of the case notes at least half a dozen times while waiting on Will Poppleford had turned out to be very useful. Unfortunately, she had a horrible feeling that she might have let herself become sidetracked, and woven elaborate theories based on insignificant details. All the connections and conclusions that had seemed obvious when they hit her on Friday night now seemed a trifle ridiculous.
Rhiannon Davies was the first to arrive, waving at her as she passed by on her way to get coffee. Tonks gave her a tremulous wave in return. Fortunately Cassius turned up a few minutes later and offered her a mildly encouraging smile.
"You look like a young Auror who thinks she's about to make a fool of herself."
"You got that right," muttered Tonks. She shook herself; there really wasn't much she could do about it now. And there was something she'd been wanting to ask ever since Friday night … She dredged up a grin from somewhere. "So how long have you and Mrs Hallendale been – er, didn't they call it 'stepping out' in your day?"
"We're not stepping out," replied Cassius with a faint blush. "But as you know, we enjoy each other's company from time to time, and we both rather like to dance, so I asked her if she might like to …" He coughed. "I hope we didn't embarrass you in front of your young man by mentioning your, um, talent?"
"You look like an old Auror who's trying to change the subject," said Tonks, smirking and feeling on slightly safer ground for the moment. "Don't worry, I think me and Ches are OK. Lucky she did mention it though, what he said afterwards was what started me thinking the right way in the first place …" Unfortunately, that brought her mind back to the main subject at hand, and that sent her heart dropping back into her boots.
She didn't get much chance to recover, as O'Gregan and Cornworthy arrived shortly afterwards. She led them all down to one of the conference rooms, trying to give an impression of total confidence. It wasn't easy to maintain as they dropped into chairs and looked at her.
"Over to you then, Tonks," said Cassius politely. "I'll start you off if you like. You said we'd chased red herrings because we didn't see how it could be worked – would I be right in assuming you meant Portia's apparent escapades?"
"That's right. An impersonation …"
"Polyjuice Potion, you mean?"
Tonks sighed with relief. "Yes. We kept thinking of it, and then deciding it wouldn't work because they'd need a reliable source of something from Portia's body, didn't we? But there are ways to get that, aren't there?"
"You think someone picked a few stray hairs off her coat or something?" asked Rhiannon dubiously. "A bit risky – tricky to do it without being noticed, and you really need a little clump of it to make enough for more than one dose. Not to mention that making the base is difficult. You can order it ready made, but either way it's expensive and risky. I know Polyjuice seems like an obvious thing to use, Tonks, and they drill it into you to watch out for it when you do your training, but you'd be surprised – in practice, we really don't see cases all that often."
"And remember, you don't want to drink the stuff unless you know exactly what's in it," added Cassius. "If you brew it the wrong way, or mix hairs from more than one person, or get animal hair in there – ugh. I've seen what happened to people who tried it, and it wasn't pretty."
"Or do you think Charlotte took some hairs off a pillow, or scooped up her nail clippings from the bathroom or something?" said O'Gregan, semi-jocularly.
Tonks swallowed. This wasn't going to plan at all. "No. Much easier," she said hurriedly, before the rest of the team could pour any more cold water on the idea. "Who can cut chunks off someone's hair with no questions asked?"
The others exchanged glances. "Her hairdresser?" asked Cassius with a quickening of interest. "The one in the Magical Market?"
Tonks nodded, and O'Gregan snorted at her. "I don't know what potions you've been drinking, Nymphadora, but I wish you'd teach me how to brew them, so I do."
His girlfriend looked at him reprovingly. "No, hang on, Don, that's a very fair point. It would be an excellent way to get samples if you wanted hair from someone specific. Wouldn't it be a big risk to bribe her though? I suppose you could Memory Charm her once you'd got them, but you'd have to be really sure she hadn't told anybody about the deal first …"
"Not if she was the one doing it," said Tonks. She hastened to explain as the rest of the team raised sceptical eyebrows. "Look, for a start, all the time I was in that shop of hers talking about the Ashford case to Portia, she was on edge. I thought at the time it was just your wife winding her up, Don –"
"Sounds like a perfectly plausible explanation to me," put in O'Gregan sourly.
"– but now I think about it, she was kind of twitching at all the wrong moments – or all the right moments, if I was touching on subjects she was vulnerable to. Like – oh, when Norah sneered at her to say she'd get the men where she wanted them if she looked like Portia Blackstock, for example. Or when she was trying not to show she was listening carefully to everything we said about the case? I just didn't pay much attention because I was concentrating on the other two."
"But …" began Cassius.
Tonks carried on; she didn't dare let him stop her and pick holes again now before she'd had a chance to say her piece. "She even said she was short of money; and she supposedly had a private client the night it happened – but she was very close-mouthed about who it was supposed to be, wasn't she? And I know she could have kept hair samples – I bloody saw them being carefully separated out!"
Rhiannon's eyes widened in recollection. "Oh boy. That little dustpan and brush thing she's got?"
"Exactly!" said Tonks, heartened. "When she was doing Norah O'Gregan's hair, it swept all the cuttings into their own little box. I'll bet she kept samples for all her customers, just in case! And we know she's got the potions expertise she'd need to brew the base, she makes all her own stuff for that shop!"
"Why though?" exclaimed O'Gregan. "What would she stand to gain by trying to kill Ashford?"
Cassius was looking thoughtful. "You think she was the one in cahoots with Charlotte Perks? But what about the connection between Charlotte and Portia?"
"I don't think it's Charlotte who's her connection, or she would probably have said something suspicious under Veritaserum even if we didn't ask her the question specifically," said Tonks, crossing her fingers. The next bit had seemed so plausible when she pieced it together over the weekend, but it was guesswork … "I think it's Mickey Ashford who's the link. Couldn't he be the boyfriend she's supposedly 'taking a break' from – probably because they don't dare to be seen together in public under the circumstances, just like Charlotte and Portia? The one whose girlfriend didn't turn up at the World Cup, so he had to try to get his money back on the ticket?"
"With money troubles of his own then, perhaps?" said Cassius, definite interest on his face now.
"Yeah. I remember, Charlotte actually said he was a losing gambler – I mean, come on, it's not like he'd be the only man ever to bet more than he could afford to pay, is it? He could have nicked her card from their tent to send with the chocolates, no problem. He was right there on the campsite, so he could have nipped into the post office tent and sent them at any time without anyone batting an eyelid."
"And she would have brewed the Heart-Enfeebling Potion to soak them in," mused Cassius. "Yes, that would fit. Mickey would know what chocolates his uncle liked just as well as Charlotte would. I'd also be prepared to speculate that he could have known, at least subconsciously, that Charlotte was Ashford's favourite out of the three of them, so he might have been a little resentful of that and willing to put the blame on her … It's definitely an idea, Tonks. But you do realise this is all completely circumstantial and highly speculative, don't you?"
"It sounds plausible though, Cassius," put in Cornworthy, speaking for the first time. Tonks could have kissed him. "It's not like we've come up with any better theory yet. It does make sense of the Charlotte and Portia situation – the reason we can't seem to prove they were directly involved in the crime would be that they aren't. They're just being set up to take the blame."
"I kind of got the impression when I was in there that both Marcella Mascarra and Don's wife were aware of the connection between those two, or at the very least which way Portia was inclined," added Tonks, much more cheerful now that the team seemed to be considering her ideas seriously, at least. "What's the betting Portia told her hairdresser she was planning to cry off from the Bletchleys' party, and what she really needed the special hairdo for that night?"
"I think even Mickey might like those odds, if your guess is right," said Cassius with a thoughtful look. "Even if 'Portia' was quickly identified at the Transfigured Toad, the real one wouldn't dare say what she was actually doing in case her parents heard about it. It would match with the psychological pattern we noticed – a willingness to take some risks, but covering the bets as far as possible. Almost the opposite of Mickey, in fact."
"Mascarra might well have worked out the plan, then."
"Yes … yes, that would fit. Let's see; using Portia's very striking appearance in a place like the Transfigured Toad would give her the opportunity to hand-pick her, erm, fall guy. She could expect Portia Blackstock not to be known there, so she wouldn't necessarily be a link back to Miss Mascarra – but if Portia's name ever did come out publicly, a casual anonymous hint to us about the Charlotte Perks connection would give her a motive, and give our hairdresser another layer of defence. I've heard worse plans," he finished judiciously.
"All right, it's not too shabby an idea, I'll grant you," said O'Gregan, who seemed slightly disgruntled that the junior team member had come up with it and not him. "But even assuming it's right for the sake of argument, how are we ever going to prove it?"
"What do we know about this woman, Tonks?" asked Cassius. "Can I assume you checked her in the Auror records?"
"Yeah, of course, I had that Gogol chasing around half the weekend," said Tonks, picking up her notes. "Her real name's Jacqueline Carrack – it would be a bit of a coincidence if she was actually called Marcella Mascarra, wouldn't it? There are a few MLE observation reports that mention seeing her in that dodgy pub in the Magical Market, but then loads of people must have been in there at one time or another. Muggle-born, so I suppose she'd know all about Clapham Common muggers and the like. I checked her school record – she got good N.E.W.T.s overall and Outstanding in Potions and Charms, but as far as I can tell she was passed over for some of the better jobs and went into business on her own instead. Done quite well for herself considering, but I don't suppose there's a lot of money in her line of work unless you can make a big name for yourself."
"And I reckon she'd have pretty stiff competition there from Madam Primpernelle in Diagon Alley," added Rhiannon.
"Where did she get the Liquor of Jacmel though?" asked Cornworthy. "She definitely didn't brew that."
Tonks winced. This was one of the weaker points of her theory. "All right, I'm not sure about that. We're assuming she probably got the information about the potion she used from Lore of Yore, and we know our 'Butler' bloke went there too. My guess is that she met him there by chance and got talking to him just like Beatrice Easton did."
"Perhaps she could have offered him a trade?" suggested Rhiannon. "I'll brew you some potions to order, you supply me with the one I can't make?"
"Well, we'll find out when we question her, won't we?" said Tonks optimistically.
Cassius shook his head. "That's a long way off, Tonks, even if you're right. First we need some supporting evidence."
"Oh," she said, her face falling.
"But to start with, let's attempt to confirm your speculations," said Cassius with decision. "It's well worth a try – as Arnold says, we don't actually have any better theories. We can probably get an interview with Portia Blackstock now without getting into political trouble from her parents – she'll be worried that we'll tell them about her affair with Charlotte. Donnacha, Arnold – do you think you can get in and out of that shop in the Magical Market without leaving any sign that you've done so?"
The two Aurors looked at each other and nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem, Cassius old son," said O'Gregan. "She can't have anything too bad in the way of curses on that little place, can she now?"
"And if she does, that in itself would be an indication of something to hide," pointed out Cornworthy. "You can check first, Don."
"Thanks!"
"Can any of you remember enough from your observations to get a rough list of her customers, with pictures?" asked Cassius, suddenly clicking his fingers. "And Trina Orevel's customers, for that matter?"
"I should reckon so," said O'Gregan. "We can use Arnie's Image Projector. Why – what are you thinking of?"
"Well, we're speculating that she's using Polyjuice based on her customers' hair samples, aren't we?" he explained, to looks of dawning comprehension from the others. "We're also guessing that she may have visited Lore of Yore to find potions texts. If so, I wouldn't be at all surprised if she went there in disguise too, if she was shopping for something dubious. If we can find a customer of both places who is willing to swear – or even better, can actually prove – that they haven't been to that bookshop, that's a solid piece of circumstantial evidence."
"I doubt we'll be able to get Orevel to say who was there and who wasn't," said Tonks, "but we can interview Mascarra's customers and, I don't know, pretend to be doing a survey or something?"
"I've been keeping an eye on the bookshop recently, remember," said Rhiannon. "I can give you a list of her customers, and probably fake up something convincing with Mascarra too."
"And I think we should have a word with Mr Farley again, so I do," said O'Gregan grimly. "Just in case he has anything we add that we forgot to ask him about last time around."
Cassius gave a broad smile at them all, which became particularly approving when he turned to Tonks. "Feels pleasant to have something specific to follow up, doesn't it? Let's make a start."
-----
Wednesday 7th October 1994
A couple of days later, Tonks found herself sitting with Cassius at a table outside a small Diagon Alley café, waiting for Portia Blackstock to show up. She wasn't sure exactly what combination of charm and steel Cassius had used in order to arrange the interview; but since it had apparently worked, she decided that she'd rather not inquire too closely.
She glanced up as Cassius rose with a smile to greet Portia, and to her surprise saw that Charlotte Perks had also come along. The look on her face was challenging, perhaps even pugnacious, and didn't bode well. "Right, we're here," she said. "And I know I wasn't invited, but after what you bastards did to me I wasn't going to let Portia come here on her own so you lot could have a free shot at her. Got that?"
"Yes, Miss Perks, I think we have," said Cassius quietly. "I did wonder if you would accompany her, actually. And I should apologise for our recent treatment of you. It was an honest mistake, but even so I can understand that isn't much consolation."
"No, it bloody isn't." She glanced at Portia and they exchanged oddly soft smiles. "Go on then. What was it you wanted?"
"Well, chiefly, we wanted to ask Portia who might have known where she was the night before your uncle was stabbed."
"And why does that matter? She was with me in Paris. We've got at least a dozen witnesses."
"Witnesses who didn't mention her originally," pointed out Tonks. She bit her lip; that hadn't come out quite right. She didn't really want to antagonise them before the conversation even got started.
"Well of course not," said Charlotte with scorn. "We asked them not to. We'd no idea you were going to try to drag Portia into this, did we? And … well, it wouldn't have been a good idea for everyone to know we were involved." By everyone Tonks assumed she meant Portia's parents.
"Why do you want to know, Mr Smethwyck?" put in Portia tremulously, speaking for the first time.
Cassius hesitated, weighing up the two women opposite him for a moment, then said simply, "Because, as you may remember, the man who actually carried out the stabbing did so under the influence of Dark Magic. And someone exactly fitting Portia's description was seen with him the previous night, leaving a pub just off Knockturn Alley that has a very shady reputation."
This received the predictable reaction. Portia paled and her mouth fell open; Charlotte spluttered and for a moment couldn't seem to think of anything to say. "What?" she said eventually. "Don't be ridiculous! I don't know what game you think you're playing trying to drive a wedge in, Smethwyck, but it won't work!"
"Mr Smethwyck, please," said Portia, looking horrified. "You can't think I'd do something like that!"
"You do have a sort of motive, Portia," pointed out Tonks, as kindly as she could. "I mean, you're … erm, connected to someone who stands to inherit a lot of money if Mackenzie Ashford dies."
"But I wouldn't! And why would that be a motive anyway?" asked Portia, clearly puzzled. "I've got Daddy's money, you know."
"Because we might want our own money? Because they imagine I'd care for someone who was capable of that?" said Charlotte in an icy voice. "Portia, a Dark witch? Bullshit! I'm more of a Dark witch than she is, and I hate them and everything they stand for!" Tonks found herself actually half-nodding in approval.
"It must have been someone else who just looked like me," said Portia with a plea in her voice. "I wasn't there, Mr Smethwyck, really I wasn't. I wouldn't dare go into that kind of pub in the first place – I even always cried off when everyone went to the Hog's Head, you know!" Tonks did already know this from the beauty salon conversation, of course, but didn't say so; there was no reason they needed to know Mavis Grimble's real identity.
Cassius looked rather pleased. "Well, there is always the possibility that someone impersonated you, Portia," he said gently, which seemed to mollify both her and Charlotte. "So the question becomes, who actually knew where you would be that night? Did either of you tell anyone about your plans?"
They exchanged glances. "I didn't, Portia love, honest," said Charlotte anxiously. "I know what it means to you not to row with your family. I wouldn't've – not if you didn't want me to."
"And I know I'm a bit stupid sometimes, but I'm not stupid enough to tell everyone my secrets, you know," said Portia, dashing Tonks' hopes. "There's only one or two people I'd trust, you know, and I didn't even tell them more than I had to."
"Ah, I see," said Cassius. He sounded as disappointed as Tonks felt.
"Could anyone have found out …" Tonks trailed off. "Hang on, you said more than you had to. Did you sort of hint to anyone what you were doing?"
"Well, of course I told Marcella I wasn't going to be where Mummy and Daddy expected me to be, you know," said Portia with a smile. "I had to, she does my hair, she's a friend of mine really. I think she worked out I was going to be with Charlie, she sort of winked at me when I said it, you know? But she wouldn't tell anybody."
"Wait a minute," said Charlotte, horrified comprehension dawning on her face. "That's what you two are looking for, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?" asked Tonks warily. She could see the other woman practically fitting the pieces into place as she spoke.
"Polyjuice Potion," breathed Charlotte. "Portia, she could have taken your hair any time she liked! And she'd be perfectly capable of brewing it, I bet!"
"What's Polyjuice Potion?" asked Portia blankly. "And why would she want to take my hair?"
The two Aurors exchanged amused looks. "It's a potion that … makes you look exactly like someone else when you add a bit of their hair to it," said Tonks, hastily simplifying. "Ideal for impersonating somebody."
"But Marcella wouldn't do that!" said Portia, looking very distressed. "Why would she want to do that? She's my friend!" Charlotte put a comforting arm around her.
"Perhaps she was working with someone," hinted Tonks. "Have you any idea who that boyfriend of hers might be? The one she was supposed to be taking a break from? What he does or anything?"
"She wouldn't say a lot abut him, and I didn't ask!" said Portia, still looking upset. "He looked nice enough – better than her last one, you know, who used to hang around that funny pub in the Market. I don't think this one does work much."
"You saw him then? What did he look like?" asked Cassius. His voice was calm, but Tonks could detect his underlying excitement.
"Well – a bit average, you know? Tallish, thin I suppose, sort of fair haired, about Charlie's age … I only actually saw her with him once, I'm not even sure it was him, you know? They were out in the middle of Muggle Birmingham looking in one of those house agent places. I was just passing with Mummy so I didn't say hello …"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Charlotte, her expression stricken. "When was this?"
"About a week before the World Cup," said Portia in surprise.
Charlotte closed her eyes and hung her head. "Mickey," she said in pain. "That's who you're getting at, isn't it?" She looked up again to stare accusingly at the Aurors. "You can't … not our little Mickey … no, he wouldn't do anything like … please?"
"Something that Portia said seems to have given you the idea, Miss Perks," said Cassius softly. "And you're an intelligent woman, you can see the patterns as well as we can. Would you tell us what it was?"
Tonks thought for a moment that she might refuse to answer. "Houses," she said eventually. The word seemed to be wrenched out of her. "The week before the World Cup, Mickey told me he was looking for houses in the Midlands with his girlfriend. I teased him about it – even Abby did – we didn't think he really had one … and then when he turned up without her on the campsite …"
"Marcella told me she refused to go because of all the mess and mud!" cried Portia, aghast.
"And he's thin and fair-haired, isn't he?" said Tonks, trying to imitate Cassius' tone. "I saw him there on the campsite." She reached into the pocket of her robes and took out half a dozen small photographs, spreading them across the table. Their occupants winced and blinked at the sudden bright light. "Was the man you saw one of these people, Portia?"
She glanced at them, nodded and pointed. "That one there in the middle." That was Mickey Ashford's picture, and Tonks felt a sudden rush of complete glee at having been right – rapidly quenched by the sight of the obvious misery of Charlotte Perks, whose lover held her hands comfortingly. "Oh Charlie. I'm so, so sorry …"
"Not your fault, love," she told her. "Just seems my no-good little cousin really was no good …" She trailed off, her eyes suddenly flashing. "My card," she said in a dangerous voice "He must have taken it to set me up. That Marcella woman must have told him all about us. I don't believe it! I wouldn't have believed he'd do that! The little …" Even her usually extensive and colourful vocabulary seemed to fail her.
"What do you want us to do, Mr Smethwyck?" asked Portia, with a sombre expression.
He gave her an assessing look. "I'd like you to keep this quiet until such time as we can take action. In other words, don't go away and confront them. Don't let them know what we know."
"Set them up too, in other words?" said Charlotte bitterly.
Cassius shrugged. "Well yes, I'm afraid so, Miss Perks. I'm sorry, but it's not a trivial matter. There have been two attempts to murder your uncle already, and we've no reason to suppose they aren't planning to try again. Can the two of you manage that?"
They both nodded, Charlotte with obvious reluctance. "I don't see Mickey that often anyway."
"And I've got used to keeping secrets, you know, Mr Smethwyck," said Portia bravely. She glanced at Charlotte. "And … well, anything we can do to help, we will. I know Charlie doesn't like you people, and I don't blame her, you know, but … well, I'll make sure she does. This is too horrible not to, you know?"
Her girlfriend gave her a weak smile; both Aurors watched approvingly. "Thank you very much, Miss Blackstock. And you, Miss Perks. Believe me or not as you will, but I am truly sorry to have to break this to you. Tonks – let's go. We have some plans to make."
Tonks glanced back at the two women as they left. They were holding each other tightly, and neither seemed to have noticed the tears that were streaming down their faces.
-----
Thursday 8th October 1994
"Did you find anything on her premises last night, Don?" asked Tonks when the team met the following morning.
"No," he said, frustrated. "Nothing more than circumstantial evidence, anyway. I reckon we can rule out anyone breaking in and nicking the hair, because we tried that and it's all gone from those little boxes …"
"And no-one could have picked stuff up off the floor," added Cornworthy. "I watched her – she was almost obsessive about cleaning the place before she left. Pointed her wand into every little corner."
"Well, that's something, I suppose," said Cassius. "No incriminating potions texts this time, Donnacha?"
"Sorry, old son. Nothing at all that didn't have a good reason for being there."
"Hang on," said Rhiannon, clicking her fingers. "Remember what I said when we discussed laundering those books through Lore of Yore, look you?"
O'Gregan tried to look as if he did, but failed. "Erm, what was that, my love?"
"I said if it was me I'd write the potion recipes I was interested in down in some sort of personal code, so no-one but me knew what they were."
"But we didn't find anything like that," said O'Gregan impatiently. "Except for … oh boy."
Tonks' mouth fell open in surprise as she realised what Rhiannon was getting at. "You mean those things that are supposed to be her lists of ingredients for cosmetic potions?"
"Exactly! Well, most of them probably are, I should think, but no-one else is going to know what the code words stand for, and if anyone asks about the wrong ones she can just lie through her teeth. The 'codebook' is probably all in her head!"
"Clever," said Cassius. "Yes, very clever of her if so. Again, nothing we can prove, but …"
O'Gregan spat out an inventive description of Marcella Mascarra. Nobody argued.
"Any luck with Farley, Don?" asked Tonks hopefully.
"We're bringing him in this afternoon," he explained, brightening a little. "I think we scared him so much last time, so we did, he's only too eager to help. Keep your fingers crossed …"
-----
Crossing fingers was one of the many things that were easier if you were a Metamorphmagus, but waiting on tenterhooks was not. By the time Farley and his legal representative Harris finally arrived, Tonks was beginning to get nervous again.
She listened, with a strange mixture of anticipation and boredom, as O'Gregan and Cornworthy went over the events of the evening in question with Farley once again, only this time with greater focus on what had happened before he'd left the Transfigured Toad. He seemed just as eager to please as he had when talking under Veritaserum, but didn't add much new information.
"Wait a moment!" said Cornworthy, causing. Tonks attention to jerk back to the interview. "You couldn't have been watching her all the time, not in a dingy place like the Toad."
Farley sniggered. "Well, I was doing my best to, mate. There wasn't much else there worth looking at, like. Course, I lost sight of her every now and again, obviously. I think she must've nipped into the loo quite regular, she was knocking it back a bit. Might 'ave been throwing up, mind, I remember seeing her a couple of times looking a bit pale when she came out. Still 'ad er bottle with her though." He grinned, seemingly unaware of what he'd just said.
Bottle? That rang a bell; Tonks was sure she could remember something about a bottle from the interview notes. She flipped through them quickly until she found it. "You said she was drinking from the bottle all night?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Any bottle handy, or just one specific bottle?"
"Same one, I think. Brought it with her, I reckon. Turned her nose up at the drinks in the pub. Wouldn't touch any of 'em – wouldn't even let me get her a glass for it. Finley didn't look as if he liked it much, but I can't say as I blame her, not at the Toad!" He was still grinning at the thought.
The Aurors exchanged glances. "Did she ever offer you – or anyone else – a drink from her bottle?" asked Cornworthy carefully.
"Nah. Wouldn't let me even touch it. She went and got me one in a glass, though." He lost the grin. "Must've been when the cow put that stuff in it, mustn't it? She didn't like the look of it much."
"In what way, Mr Farley?" asked Cassius with interest.
"She 'eld the glass at arm's length, like it would contaminate her. Maybe it would, I don't know 'ow that stuff works, do I? Thought she just didn't like what I was drinking, didn't I? Mind you, she didn't seem that keen on the whole bloody pub – you should have seen the look on her face if she 'ad to touch anything, she was proper disgusted. I thought, listen love, if you've come in 'ere looking for a bit o' rough, you got to accept a bit o' mess, 'aven't you?"
Harris, who had been watching the Aurors keenly, piped up. "Has my client now answered these questions to your satisfaction?"
Cassius smiled at him. "I think he has, Mr Harris. Yes, I really think he has."
-----
Friday 9th October 1994
Now that they had some reasonable leads, the mood of the team was much more positive at the end of the week that it had been at the start. There was still one very obvious question left, though, and as usual O'Gregan was the first to ask it out loud. "Have we got enough to take this to Old Man Scrimgeour yet?"
Cassius looked around. "I think so. It's still thin, but he'll want to know. You get an instinct about these things after enough time on the job, and mine's telling me that this is the right answer. It looks very suspicious that no-one's told us about her connection to Mickey before."
"Will he authorise an arrest, do you think?" Tonks couldn't stop herself asking this; she was still unsure exactly what they could, or indeed should, get away with.
He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't want to be a killjoy, but even if he would, it might not help, Tonks … I'd imagine she would be quite capable of sitting tight and denying everything. And then we'd have let her know that we know, if you see what I mean." He forestalled the obvious next question that was already on her lips. "And if you're hoping that we can get permission to pour Veritaserum down her throat, I'd like a bit more evidence before asking the Wizengamot if we can have it. Even under the current nod-and-a-wink policy it would be a toss-up whether we got the warrant or not …"
"You call wrong, Cassius. You lose." Tonks' head jerked up in surprise at this bitter comment to see Bentley Williamson looking over the cubicle walls at them.
Cassius seemed equally astonished. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me why, Bentley old chap?"
"Sure." He surprised Tonks by levering himself up and over the partition, his boots landing heavily on top of the notes on Cassius' desk (to its owner's obvious annoyance). He jumped down and perched on the edge, ponytail swinging. "The Wizened Lot –"
"Would it have killed you to walk round?" asked Rhiannon.
"Probably not, but hey, why take the risk? Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted –" Tonks, now she could see him closely, could detect his obvious underlying anger "– a little whisper in my ear from that nice bit of totty Marcie down in Administration Services tells me our wonderful magical council have decided to go back to the old rules for warrants to 'avoid the danger of abuse'. Bunch of pillocks!"
Tonks wasn't the only one to give a yelp of dismay. "What for?" asked Cassius, forgetting his irritation.
"Because one of our oh-so-bloody-well-trained useless new Aurors – er, sorry Dora, present company excepted – got a warrant to investigate some poor sod who went missing presumed poncing about in a mask during that riot at the World Cup. Turned out he only got literally scared shitless and nipped off to look for a tent with a khazi that hadn't been blown up, but our lad was so keen to find that out he couldn't be bothered to look at the rules – or even read what it said on the bloody bottle! So did he get someone from Mungo's to sign off on it like he was supposed to, and keep his stupid fat little arse covered? Oh no, pouring Veritaserum down the bloke's throat was exactly what he did. Half a bottle of the bleeding stuff that he had in his pocket!"
The others winced. "Surely we can work around that, though?" said Rhiannon hopefully. "All right, it wasn't procedure, but if we apologise and wait for it to blow over?"
Williamson snorted, although he didn't sound amused. "You think so, Rhi? Unfortunately, the bloke got a bad reaction from it. Apparently he's now telling everything he knows to anyone he sees, whether they bloody well ask him to or not. He's in St Mungo's, but I don't suppose they can do much – don't you just have to wait for it to wear off? Cassius?"
"I think so," said Cassius unhappily. "But even so, aren't the Wizengamot overreacting a little?"
He snorted again, even louder this time. "Not in their mind. According to Marcie, this bloke was chief dogsbody and cauldron-washer to one of the Wittering Lot, and some of what he was yelling to all and sundry were things his boss wanted kept secret. You know, like the name of his mistress and the exact number of Galleons he was taking in backhanders. That reporter Rita Spittle, or whatever her bloody name is, was sniffing round last night trying to find out what was going on."
They groaned. O'Gregan swore, and everyone else nodded as if he'd expressed exactly what they were thinking.
"So all in all, Cassius, we Aurors aren't in their good books at the moment, and the buggers stick together. Especially as Scrimgeour hasn't caught any real Death Eaters yet, however good a game he talks to old Boney." He jumped up. "Expect a memo by about noon at the latest. Well thank you, Albert bleeding Jenkins. I just hope you're on the way to a new and exciting career in the Centaur Office as soon as Scrimgeour gets to hear about it." Williamson stalked off, leaving a shell-shocked group of fellow Aurors behind him.
O'Gregan eventually broke the silence, slamming his fist onto the desk and letting loose with another stream of profanity. Nobody argued this time either. "We screwed this one up, didn't we?" he finished. "We didn't ask Farley the right questions. We went after Portia hell for leather and forgot everything else … I'm sorry, Cassius." He looked it, too. Tonks suppressed a smile; a contrite Donnacha O'Gregan was a rare sight.
"What for, Don?"
"I'm sorry, Cassius. I got carried away with the idea that that pretty little rich girl was the one behind it for real, so I did, and if I hadn't dragged you all along we might have had this wrapped up by now!"
Rhiannon squeezed his hand. "Maybe, Donnie, maybe not, but at least it got Tonks into that shop to have ideas, didn't it?"
"Yeah, you've got to give me a chance to make the average quality of new recruits look a little better," she said with a brittle smile. Poor old Albert. He never did pay enough attention. Hope he's going to be OK …
"And I should have seen it before you did, Donnacha," said Cassius tiredly. "I was supposed to be in charge, after all; and now I come to think of it, I'm fairly sure I can remember a case somewhat like this back in about 1950, where somebody bribed a barber. But don't beat yourself up over Farley – we all know it's easy to miss the key question if you don't know to ask it, even when you have Truth Potion to help. And with everything else going on – the lead we had from Beatrice Easton –" Tonks winced "– the World Cup, the Death Eaters, Ballantyne getting murdered – we did perhaps lose focus a little."
"What are we going to do now then, Cassius?" asked Tonks, hoping he might be able to come up with a plan.
He grimaced. "Keep plugging away, unless we can think of something radical. Any more good ideas, Tonks?"
"Nah, afraid not." Fresh out of them today, mate. Sorry.
"Is there anything we can do to lure them out?" asked Cornworthy.
O'Gregan suddenly perked up. "Arnie my boy, you're a genius!"
"I know," he said with a grin. "Er, in what way this time?"
The Irishman's broad smirk had returned. "Because Ben's not the only one who hears inside gossip, my lad! I get to hear little titbits from Ashford, and I know just the thing we can bait a trap with …"
All the Aurors stared at O'Gregan. Cassius was the one to actually ask. "What can we bait a trap with, old chap?"
O'Gregan continued to grin maniacally. "Remember the Ministry were handing out a licence to
import dangerous creatures? And remember old Ashford was the one who won it – just before he got the poisoned chocolates?"
Everybody tried hard to look as if they hadn't forgotten these pieces of information.
"So, I've been dropping round from time to time, keeping the poor old fellow company, you know – and he let slip the other day that the rules say the actual signing has to be done in the Ministry. So he's supposed to go in there at the end of the month, so he is. It's all being kept very hush-hush at the moment, because of his little problem with being a target …"
"… but if we drop hints about it in the right places, we can set a trap on our own ground!" finished Rhiannon. "Third time lucky! Brilliant, Donnie! Would they go for it, do you think?"
"I bet they would if we set it up right," said Tonks, catching the mood.
"Exactly! Ashford's been inaccessible for ages, they're not going to get a much better chance, are they?"
Cassius coughed. "Just a moment, Rhiannon. I'm not sure we want to give them that chance." He seemed resigned to the looks of surprise that appeared on the faces of his team. "Can we really ask the poor chap to risk himself? If Jacqueline Carrack or Mickey Ashford come up with another good plan, it might be third time lucky for them."
"Well yeah, but surely we're hoping to catch them?" she argued.
"Even if we do, it might not be in time. That's the problem."
"Couldn't one of us stand in for him?" asked O'Gregan hopefully. "We're trained, we'd stand a much better chance if something actually did go wrong, would we not?" Tonks pricked up her ears at that suggestion. The job sounded tailor-made for her.
Cassius shook his head. "I'm not sure I like the idea of making an Auror a target either …"
"Come on, Cassius," said Tonks quietly. "Your must have been in that sort of situation plenty of times before. Hell, I've been in that sort of situation before, when I was impersonating Beatrice Easton, and I've only just got here."
"Yes, and you scared me when you got into a four-on-one fight because of it, did you know that?" Tonks, taken aback, looked at him wide-eyed. "If I'd realised how squeamish I'd become about putting colleagues in danger, I would never have agreed to let a novice be assigned to the case in the first place."
"Comes with the job, mate." O'Gregan looked, and sounded, unusually serious. "Don't beat yourself up over it, we all make mistakes, the thing is to learn and not make them the next time. That's what you told young Nymphadora here, isn't it?" Tonks bit back an urge to comment on his use of her first name. It wasn't the time.
"Well yes, you're right, but …" He stared at the younger man, his unhappiness evident. "Maybe I really am getting too old for this job, Donnacha," he said quietly. "I've lost so many colleagues – so many people I care about – seen so many lives get ruined when innocent bystanders were killed – that it's hard to risk another so … so casually."
Tonks, listening to him, had a sudden horrible thought.
"We're all big boys and girls now, we know what we're getting into," O'Gregan told him calmly. "And come on, Cassius; we may be a lot younger than you, but we weren't born yesterday, now. We're going to plan this; none of us are going to stick our heads in a dragon's maw without being damned confident we're not getting them bitten off."
Cassius turned his head away after a moment or two. "All right, Donnacha," he said with a sigh, rising from his chair. "You're making a fair point. Let's go and see our man, at least, and find out what he thinks about the idea."
O'Gregan winked at the others as he and Cassius left for the lifts.
-----
Monday 12th October 1994
Tonks had to work hard over the weekend to hide her excitement at the developments in the case.
The news from Cassius and O'Gregan when they returned had been mixed – Ashford, not surprisingly, had proven reluctant, and insisted on taking a few days to consider the idea. Which was all very well for him …
She'd managed to conceal the fact that there had been developments from Chesney easily enough; she really didn't want him asking awkward questions about the situation of his old friend. Fortunately, as it happened he could be easily, and pleasantly, distracted. Unfortunately, her parents knew her far too well, and when she visited them for Sunday lunch immediately realised that something was happening. Even worse, they drew the natural conclusion that it had something to do with her cousin's case, and it took a lot of fast talking to convince them otherwise. Tonks was left feeling slightly guilty that she had no news, and had an uncomfortable impression that they would ask for some every time she saw them from now on.
Monday, however, did bring news. O'Gregan announced in jovial tones as soon as they met that Ashford had finally agreed to the plan, albeit with reluctance.
"Daft sod was planning a quick in-and-out for the signing, but to be fair he didn't like the idea of putting one of us in the firing line either," he told them. "I managed to talk him round, like Cassius here –" the older Auror muttered something about 'blarney' "– but then he objected that he didn't want to have to wait till some other time to sign, so we had to tell him … now what was that legal thing again, Cassius?"
"I told him I was sure his legal representatives and ours could set up an assignment of attorney specifically restricted to the one action of signing, and make it legally and magically binding," said Cassius tiredly. "The DRCMC people probably won't like the idea much, but I'm sure they'll realise it's preferable to the risk of their contractor being murdered on Ministry premises. That would tend to discourage tenders next time around."
"Excellent!" said Tonks. "When's the signing ceremony, Don?"
"Wednesday the twenty-eighth. Nine in the morning. More than enough time to get all the kinks out of the plan."
"We have a plan?" asked Rhiannon, strolling up, conjuring an extra chair and flopping down on it. "Where did we find one of those, then?"
O'Gregan looked at his girlfriend with dignity. "Now, my love, you know I have just spent my whole weekend working. You surely cannot have thought I was but sitting back and scratching my arse while waiting for Ashford to make his mind up."
"That'd make a change, then. So what's this wonderful plan of yours?"
"Well, it so happens, the room they normally use for these things is hidden away in the depths of Level Four. One door, off a corridor, easy to watch …"
"What happens if one of them's Polyjuiced again? I bet they will be if they try it."
"Doesn't matter, my sweet. We know their names. However they arrive, they have to come through the Atrium. We can pick them up on the security map as soon as they do and watch them all the way. Our impostor waits in the room and as soon as they do anything suspicious – like trying to gain access to a private room where some important fellows are signing a big contract – we can pick them up."
"Will Ashford be OK with me being around his place a lot, Don, do you think?" asked Tonks.
"Why would you be doing that?" asked Cassius, glancing at her sharply.
"Well, I might as well make myself useful," she said. "Pretending to look like someone else is my speciality, isn't it?"
"But it's a bloke, Tonks!" said Rhiannon, amused. "You can't do a sex change with that Metamorphosing thing, can you?"
Tonks scowled. "No, but I can change the size and shape of what I have got more or less how I like. Oh, stop sniggering, Don! I've pretended to be a man before. And I'd be wearing robes, it's not like I'd need to change more than the face and hands. An elderly man's a bit more of a challenge with all the wrinkles and stuff, but I could probably look like a house-elf if I really wanted!"
"A challenge you won't be facing, Tonks," said Cassius, shaking his head. "You won't be the one impersonating Ashford. I will."
"What?" said Tonks. "How?"
"Polyjuice Potion would seem to be the obvious method," he said, shrugging. "Take a leaf out of our criminals' book."
"But why not …"
"… let you do it?" He smiled sadly. "Because there's always a chance that something might go wrong, and they might actually get to whoever plays the part. And if that happens, I'd much rather it happen to me, who's already had a life, not one of you young people who are just starting out."
"Cassius …"
He held up a hand to forestall her. "No. No arguments, Tonks. This is an order. I'm not prepared to risk any of you on this. I'll be the one taking Polyjuice, end of story. If you're worried about me, just concentrate on catching them before they can do anything."
"If they even make the attempt, of course," Rhiannon pointed out before Tonks could argue any further. "Do you think there's a chance they'll just shut up shop? Not take the risk of a third attempt with all the security around Ashford?"
"That would be sensible of them, but … no," he replied. "I'd imagine they won't be able to bear the thought of all the effort they've put in being wasted on failures. They'll try again at some point, I'm sure of it. Just like your serial killer. We have to hope that they see this as a good opportunity."
"How do we get the information to them without being too obvious?" asked Tonks, a little chastened by Cassius' insistence. He seemed to brighten up a little as he considered this.
"Well, we do have one or two tame reporters on the Prophet. I'm sure they'd be willing to write a little story that gives the impression that the information has been released by mistake. Perhaps just a mention of the award of the contract, and that the signing will be in the Ministry, as if someone had copied it from official records without noticing that the man concerned had been in the news recently. Make them work to find out the details."
"Perhaps Ashford himself could leak something to Mickey as corroboration?"
Cassius seemed sceptical. "Well, perhaps. We'll ask him when we go to get his signature."