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Cushions were strewn about, clothes had been dumped on the floor and Larsden’s suitcase had been cut to pieces, presumably because the killer had been looking for hidden compartments. I snapped some pictures and then we got into it, tidying and straightening as we looked for clues as to who had done this.
After we’d had a good look around, I stripped and shifted onto four legs. Several scents permeated the room, the most notable being stale sweat and ejaculation. Esme sniffed the sheets closely. Only the man’s smell, she muttered.
He must have been masturbating alone, I noted.
I do not understand. Why would he just not mate with someone?
Masturbation wasn’t a wolfish activity and explaining it was really beyond my capabilities at that moment. Maybe he couldn’t find someone to be his mate, I suggested lamely.
The few times I’d met Scott Larsden he’d actually come across as quite nice, but the USB drive had told me otherwise – that, and the fact that he’d been murdered. Generally, super-nice people didn’t get their throats ripped out, not unless a crazy serial killer was on the loose, and that sort of random crime was incredibly rare. Larsden had pissed off someone enough to get himself killed.
I thought again of Elena. I’d need to speak to her later, to look her in the eyes and ask her directly. She’d lost her brother because of the black tourneys, and she was nothing if not passionate about them getting shut down. She’d worked with Lord Samuel to do it the right way through the Connection, then she’d worked solo to do it the wrong way after the Connection had conducted a raid and let almost everyone inside go scot-free.
Esme and I sniffed around the room, but apart from ejaculate and sweat there wasn’t a single noteworthy odour. Either the person who’d tossed it had used a potion or they’d dressed head to toe in a crime-scene suit to keep their skin cells and hairs where they should be.
I shifted back onto two legs and got dressed. ‘He jacked off last night,’ I said to Greg, ‘but there’s no smell that suggests anyone else was present.’
‘Someone’s masking their scent,’ Greg noted.
‘Did you find anything whilst I was sniffing around?’
‘I found a laptop case but no laptop.’
I brightened. ‘Okay, so maybe we find that and we find the killer.’
‘Here’s hoping.’
‘Let’s go back to our office and check the security feeds from last night.’
‘Great minds think alike.’ He grinned at me.
‘And fools rarely differ,’ I parroted the other half of the phrase.
‘I prefer to think that we are great minds.’
I smirked. ‘So does every fool.’
We closed and locked the door and headed back to our office, hoping that the security feeds would shine some light on who had killed Scott Larsden.
I really did hope it could be that easy.
Chapter 5
It didn’t take long to isolate footage of the right corridor but it took far longer to find anything actually happening, even when we played the video at double time. A werewolf padded in after a run – Thea – I was relieved her and Sophie were doing so well with their shifts, but they didn’t come anywhere near Larsden’s room. I was just concluding that a ghost must have broken in when Greg suddenly leaned forward. ‘There!’
I leaned in and watched as Nicholas Ramsay let himself into Larsden’s room. Son of a bitch! He was in there more than half an hour, and when he came out he had a laptop in his arms. As he carried it out of the mansion we tracked him through the cameras to the gates. A car was idling in the road. Ramsay opened the door, chucked in the computer, spoke to someone for a moment then shut the door. He shifted into his werewolf form and ran off.
Now we were cooking. Excitement coiled through me – this might be the easiest murder to solve ever. Besides, I’d never liked Ramsay: something about him had always seemed just a little… off. He’d always looked at me coldly and I’d assumed he was one of those men who didn’t like the idea of having a Queen, but maybe his dislike was personal. Maybe he didn’t like me because I’d helped shut down his lucrative venture, the black tourney.
‘Nicholas Ramsay,’ I said grimly. ‘Well, well, well. Who’s been a naughty boy? I guess we’d better see if he returned during the night.’ It was easier to go and knock on his door than to watch the screen to see when he’d walked through all the entrances to the mansion.
Greg flicked the screens to live mode and cycled through the CCTV views. ‘There,’ he said as he pointed at the screen. Nicholas Ramsay was sitting in the pack common room next to Philip Harden. The room was still quiet, and I saw no reason not to confront him immediately; everyone needed to learn that I wasn’t backwards about coming forwards.
Why would anyone travel in their chosen direction but lead with their rear? Your enemies would strike at you. It would be most foolish. Esme’s tone was heavy with disapproval.
It would indeed. Let us hope our enemies are foolish.
Of course they are, she sniffed. Otherwise they wouldn’t be our enemies.
