New Order by Helen Harper

be Sherlock Holmes.’
    ‘Watson.’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘You’re Watson. I’m Holmes.’
    ‘That’s not fair! I’m the one doing something. You’re lolling around a mansion while I get down and dirty.’
    ‘Exactly,’ I tell him. ‘That’s because you’re Watson.’
    He exhales loudly. ‘So?’
    ‘So what?’
    ‘Do you want me to break in?’
    I consider the ramifications. Tam, my old boss at Dire Straits, always made it clear that we were never, ever to break the law, no matter what the circumstances were. But Tam’s dead.
    ‘Do it.’
    ‘Sure thing, boss. I’ll call you back.’ He clicks off.
    I wander deeper into the garden, eventually sitting down on an uncomfortable stone bench. It’s not been twenty-four hours and I’m already regretting my promise to Michael to stay inside the walls of the Montserrat mansion unless he’s with me. Goodness only knows how I’ll manage to get to the Templetons’ house tomorrow. I’m half-tempted to forget about that entirely but if I do, Stephen Templeton will come back. As annoyed as I am at Arzo, I know he’s concerned about me and I don’t want him upset by ghosts from his past.
    The phone rings again. I answer quickly. ‘O’Shea?’
    ‘I’m in.’
    ‘That was fast.’
    ‘Yeah. It doesn’t make any sense. Any magic shop worth its salt would have a perimeter spell. This place isn’t even alarmed.’
    I think about the vampire alert that went off when I entered. He’s right. It shouldn’t have been that easy.
    ‘What can you see?’
    ‘Nothing. The place has been completely emptied.’
    I hiss softly through my teeth. What in the hell is going on?
    ‘Do you want me to hang around? Maybe someone will come back.’
    ‘No, don’t worry about it. You can get back to your real life.’ I try not to sound too bitter. ‘Thank you, Devlin,’ I say quietly. The least I can do is remember my manners.
    ‘You’re welcome.’
    I tuck the phone away and stare up the brightly lit mansion. A babble of voices floats down from one of the open windows, punctuated by laughter. I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them, then sigh. I’m surrounded by people, many of whom I count as friends, and I’ve never felt more lonely in my life.
     
    *               *               *
     
    Eventually, deciding that I need to stop wallowing, I pick myself up and head for Michael’s office. The mystery surrounding the strange green feathers and the abrupt closure of Fingertips and Frolics, not to mention the promise I made to Stephen Templeton to investigate Dahlia’s disappearance, give me something to focus on besides my own situation. If I bury myself in work, maybe I’ll forget everything else. It’s apparent, however, that if I’m to manage that I will need to re-negotiate the terms of my imprisonment. Michael’s been reasonable enough so far. I just need to keep my temper and come across like the balanced person I apparently used to be and I’m sure I can get him to agree.
    I knock on his door and wait to be summoned. I glance down, scuffing the edge of the carpet with my toe. There are two indented trails leading away from Michael’s door. They’re perfectly even, swerving in from the same direction I came from, then leading away in the opposite one. They must be from Arzo’s wheelchair; I guess that after speaking to me, he made his way here to report back. It occurs to me that if I had agreed to see one of the Montserrat doctors, as Arzo had suggested, anything I said would have been passed on. Nothing’s private.
    There’s a muffled ‘come in’ so I cautiously open the door and peer inside.  Michael is seated behind his desk, a tall pile of papers in front of him.
    ‘Do you have a few minutes?’ I try hard to keep my tone polite and non-aggressive. He looks really busy and I don’t want to wait to talk to him.
    ‘Sure.’
    I heave a silent sigh of relief and walk in, closing the door behind me.
    He smiles at me, dimples