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‘Rude Jingo,’ the bird said with an unimpressed whistle that sounded like a fart.
‘Jude Jingo?’ I corrected and gaped a little. Jingo had been a thorn in the Connection’s side for years. He was a wizard like me, but unlike me he had no morals and no qualms about using the IR to further his own shady agenda. I’d seen his rap sheet once and it was as long as a porn star’s cock.
The bird made a derisory noise again. ‘Rude Jingo. Jingo Rude. Glad dead. Smash-smash.’
Lovely: I had a vengeful pigeon on my hands. ‘Who smash-smashed him?’
The bird gave a hop and a shrug. I hazarded a guess. ‘An ogre?’
‘Not ogre, stupid bitch.’
‘I am not a bitch. Call me that one more time and I’ll tell the RSCPA that you clawed your last owner to death.’ My threat was ridiculous and completely empty, but the bird seemed to take it seriously.
‘Pig?’ it asked hopefully.
‘Are you seriously asking if you can call me a pig?’
‘Pigdog?’
I glared. ‘My name is Inspector Stacy Wise.’
It squawked again, ‘Inspector Dumb not Wise. Not ogre.’
‘Those wounds were made by a mace,’ I argued.
‘Your face made by nightmare,’ it countered.
Chuckleberry Finch was back to insulting me. It had been a long day – I’d already worked a shift and then some – and now the damned bird was talking back to me. If it hadn’t been a material witness, I would have passed it over to the RSPCA in a flash. As it was, I needed to do something with the bloody thing because I couldn’t explain the situation to my Common colleagues. It looked as if the bird was coming home with me. It wasn’t exactly the roommate I’d dreamed of.
The SOCO van pulled up and the occupants piled out. They started pulling on their protective white overalls, booties and masks.
‘Stay here and be quiet,’ I instructed the bird. I cracked the window of the car a little to give it some fresh air. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ I put my phone away and climbed out. ‘Hey,’ I greeted the team.
Today’s officers were Henry, Ed and Frankie. The latter flashed me a friendly smile before donning her mask. ‘Hi, Stace. How are you?’
‘I was better before I saw the body in there. It’s a mess,’ I warned them.
‘So we heard,’ Ed grunted.
‘Samuel not coming?’ I asked casually.
‘No, he’s already on another scene – another messy one. Someone stabbed a girl to death with scissors,’ Henry volunteered.
I hoped it was true that Sam was on another scene, but lately I’d had the distinct feeling that my ex was avoiding me. I wasn’t exactly sure why he’d be avoiding me now, as opposed to when we’d actually broken up, but I hadn’t run across him in weeks and it couldn’t be a coincidence.
‘Roberts is in there, but it’s my scene,’ I ordered. ‘Copy all reports to me.’
‘You got it,’ Henry said cheerfully, like he wasn’t about to go and check out a body that looked more like pie innards than a man.
Ed looked at me and gave a little nod. Like me he was from the Other realm, and like me he’d been hired by both Cheshire Constabulary and the Connection. You’d think more people would volunteer to be cross-over staff and collect a double wage, but in truth the Connection’s pay is shit, and trying to get holiday leave from both organisations is like trying to lick your elbow. I didn’t regret my choice but I could see why not many others chose to do it.
When the Connection was set up, it was designed to promote unity between the various magical and supernatural elements in the Other realm. Now, some eighty years later, the organisation had the lumbering speed of an arthritic elephant and the bite of a lion with severe gingivitis. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the work I’m doing; I believe in justice – but I also believe that both could be better served than by what the Connection is doing right now. Corruption is depressingly rampant; that, tied with a good healthy dose of nepotism, means that it isn’t the most efficient of beasts.
‘Ed, a moment,’ I said lightly. ‘I saw an amazing sport yesterday. I know you’ll love it.’
To give Ed and me a cover story if someone overheard our many weird conversations, we’d concocted a story that we both loved outlandish sports. It was nothing more than an excuse to have a private word, but we’d had to come up with some weird stuff when put on the spot and consequently I now genuinely researched some seriously strange sports. It had become a real hobby – not that I was going to tell anyone about it.
‘What is it?’ he asked curiously.
