Poison Fruit

The other brow rose to join its fellow. “Please state your unofficial title for the court.”

“Hel’s liaison,” I said.

Dufreyne consulted his notes. “To clarify, that would refer to Hel, Norse goddess of the dead, yes?”

Members of the jury perked up. Yep, they were curious now. “Yes.”

“And Hel presides over the underworld known as . . . Little Niflheim?”

“Yes.”

He checked his notes again. “And what do you do in your capacity as Hel’s liaison?”

“I’m, um, a diplomatic liaison between Little Niflheim and the Pemkowet Police Department,” I said. “I work to ensure that the eldritch and mundane communities coexist in peace.”

Dufreyne gave me a significant look. “And do they?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“What happens when they don’t?” he inquired.

“I do my best to deal with it,” I said. “That’s my job.”

Daniel Dufreyne turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to revisit the video footage previously introduced into evidence.” The monitor displayed footage of Cody’s and my ghostbusting forays from last autumn. “Miss Johanssen, can you describe in your own words what we’re seeing here?”

“Officer Fairfax and I are in the process of laying a ghost to rest,” I said.

“Can you explain this process for the court?” he asked. “Exactly how does one lay a ghost to rest?”

I wondered where Dufreyne was going with this and how long it would take for Lee’s untraceable call to go through. “You cast a ghost’s shadow using a spirit lantern, then drive a nail into it.” I pointed at the screen, where Cody was executing a knee slide on the parquet dance floor of the S.S. Osikayas, hammer in hand. “Like that.”

“And where does one obtain a spirit lantern?” Dufreyne inquired.

“Hel provided it.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So Hel herself, the Norse goddess of the dead, was concerned about this ghost uprising and took measures to quell it?”

“Yes,” I said. “As did the Pemkowet Police Department.”

Dufreyne glanced at Judge Martingale, who gave his gavel an officious little tap. “The witness will confine her responses to the question.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Dufreyne turned back to me. “Miss Johanssen, can you explain the cause of the ghost uprising to the court?” I gave a brief account of Sinclair’s mother setting her father’s spirit loose on the town and stirring up the restless dead. “I see. And this . . . duppy . . . resulted in the monstrosity that terrorized East Pemkowet at the Halloween parade?” Dufreyne asked, clicking the remote to show footage of the Tall Man’s axe-wielding skeleton rampaging down Main Street, spectators shrieking, shoving, and attempting to flee.

“Yes.” I wished Lee’s call would come through. I was beginning to sweat and I could smell a faint odor of acrid herbs and warm leather rising from my cleavage.

Dufreyne consulted his notes again. “Miss Johanssen, isn’t it true that on October twenty-ninth, you and Officer Fairfax met with Police Chief Bryant and Amanda Brooks of the Pemkowet Visitors Bureau and asked them to cancel the Halloween parade?”

Oh, crap. So that’s where he was going with this. I wondered how he’d found out about it. “Yes,” I murmured.

His gaze bored into mine. “What were your reasons for the request?”

I wiped my sweating palms on my pants. “We were concerned.”

“Can you be more specific?” he asked. “What, exactly, were your concerns?”

“Well, Officer Fairfax and I were concerned because we hadn’t managed to catch the duppy,” I hedged.

“You were concerned for the public safety?” Dufreyne pressed me. “Is that fair to say?”

I gestured at the screen, where the image of the Tall Man was frozen in midrampage. “Look, we didn’t expect that!”

Judge Martingale gave his gavel another tap. “The witness will answer the question.”

Dufreyne raised his eyebrows at me.

“Yes,” I said reluctantly. “We were concerned for the public safety.”

“So.” Daniel Dufreyne smiled his bland smile, but his voice took on that weird note of reverberation as he exercised his powers of persuasion for the first time since I’d entered the courtroom. “In your authority as Hel’s liaison, you asked the chief of police and the director of the visitors bureau to cancel this event in the interest of public safety, and they refused?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“So you’re saying that knowing that this . . . duppy . . . was still at large,” he continued at full reverb with an added blast of thunderous indignation thrown in for good measure, “and with the complete support of the Pemkowet, East Pemkowet, and Pemkowet Township boards and city councils, Chief Bryant and Amanda Brooks refused to consider a direct request from Hel herself and continued to promote this parade as a fun, safe activity, encouraging visitors to attend?”

In the jury box, heads were nodding. So was the judge’s.

“I didn’t say that!” I protested. “Asking to cancel the parade was Cody’s and my call, not Hel’s. And none of the members of tri-community government even heard about our request! You can’t just lie about it!”