Broomstick - Inspector Wolfe Tales, #1 - Part Three

The Peacelock Headquarters was a maze of passageways. As I recall, Thumb, a senior Peacelock officer, got lost once or twice guiding me to the questioning chambers.

I decided to forgo my right of counsel for questioning, since finding a suitable person for the job could take hours, and Alice was running out of time before she dissipated into complete Nether.

Thumb sat in front  of me, a blindingly bright white werelight right beside his face. It was supposed to intimidate me, I knew. I had read about questioning procedures and knew them inside and out.

Thumb began. “Drink this,” he said, and handed me a small shot glass full of gleaming clear liquid. Truth potion.

I drank it. Thumb asked, “When and how did you discover the body of Aleck Shipton?”

My throat burned, and my eyes watered. Truth potion was strong stuff. I found myself replying, without any conscious will of my own. “I discovered it this morning at approximately 9:00, as I was walking out of the inn.”

“Good. Did you kill Aleck Shipton?”

“No.”

“Have you had any past affiliation with Aleck Shipton?”

“No.”

“Do you have any knowledge whatsoever of what killed Aleck Shipton?”

“No.”

Thumb sighed and leaned forward. “Very well then. You are innocent, or at least you believe you are innocent. It is possible your memory was altered, but that is highly unlikely.” He gestured, and the werelight switched off. I got up and rubbed my eyes.

Thumb handed me another shot glass, this with a purple liquid inside. He told me, “It’s the antidote to the truth potion.”

I nodded and downed the glass. I grimaced. Thumb smirked.

I set down the glass. “Good day.” I walked to the door in two brisk strides and left the room.

Outside the room, I was escorted to the exit of the Peacelock HQ. A cab was waiting for me outside the tall building. I got in and said, “King’s Men Club Avenue, please.”

The cab driver nodded and set off at a trot. I watched inns and shops go past, and then we came by the Peacelock University. There were a few white buildings, large and grandiose, assembled in an academic style, each complementing the others at a different angle.

I stared at the students walking along the pavement, and then I glanced away.

Next we passed a field or two, and then some nice houses and apartments, and at last we came to the rich section of town. Coaches and carriages were everywhere, pulled by fine silk-furred horses. The mansions were tall, with pillars and spires. The shops were large and magnificent. Everything appeared so gloriously.

The cab driver pulled up at the curb of a stone building three stories high. “King’s Men Club,” he announced. “Ten florins, please.” I paid the cab driver and got out of the carriage.

I straightened my jacket and headed to the great doors. Two tall hares in red coats stood at the door. “Member of the King’s Men Club?” asked one of the hares, eyeing me in a doubtful manner.

“Guest,” said I.

The two hares laughed raucously. I thought it insulting. “There ain’t no guests to the King’s Men!” cried the second.

“What’s your name? Who are you, in other words.”

“Wolfe,” I rumbled ominously. “James Wolfe.”

“Persona dramatis, are you, eh? Want to perform?”

“Oh yes! We have a slot open for 6:30 tonight! You a comedian? We would have had Miss Belle the Beauty, but unfortunately her husband is ill. We need entertainment. So, guest, you up to it?”

“Yes,” I replied hastily.

“Now not so fast though,” said one of the hares. “First go to Peter. You know, Peter Rabbit? Yeah, him. He’ll audition you. If you’re any good, you get to stay all day, and you perform at 6:30 PM, sharp. Got it? Drinks on the house if you’re a performer. Ain’t that right?”

“Right,” said the other. “All right, come on in.” He turned and wrenched open one of the gigantic double doors, revealing a red-carpeted corridor inside.

I stepped in, thanking the hares profusely, and treaded quietly down the red-carpeted hall. My footpaws sunk deeply into the rich fabric of the carpet, and I felt a luxury that I had not felt perhaps in my entire lifetime.

I walked quickly and quietly, hoping to skip the whole “audition with Peter” thing and cut to the chase. I was investigating. I needed to be quick and discreet, pick up clues from afar and smell out the quarry before baying and sprinting in pursuit. I needed to go through my leads before they turned cold, and before Alice finally faded into Nether for all eternity.

I turned a corner into the next corridor, and saw a few pigs in fine waistcoats, drinking champagne and chatting excitedly. I brushed past them and kept on my way, until something at the end of the corridor caught my eye.

There were great oak double doors leading into some ballroom or something, but that was not what had initially caught my eye. What I noticed was a broomstick above the door. Its knobbly frame and close-pinched fibers were meant for speedy witch transportation. This was a priceless tool just waiting for some witch to come along and steal it for nefarious purposes. It was just hanging on the wall. With a ladder one could take it off easily.

I noted this and filed it in the recesses of my mind for later. For now it was unimportant, but Alice had not specified anything about the King’s Men Club, so I had to keep a broad perspective on the whole business.

A quick word about the King’s Men Club. This was a society for the greatest elite of Faeraway, where all the rich and famous citizens gathered together for social events. Kings were members of the King’s Men, which was kind of ironic considering the name of the club, but that was how wealthy and influential the members were.

            I pulled open one of the doors slightly, just enough to let me through, and slipped 
into the ballroom.