Title: The Mermaid of Mermaid Quay (2/6)
Author: Emma
Characters: Andy Davidson, Jack Harkness, OFC
Rating: PG? I don't know, Jack's in this thing. Say R just in case he gets out of hand
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I l let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Spoilers: None. this takes place in my Homecoming AU, eight or so years before Ianto returns to Cardiff
Summary: Inspector Andy Davidson is on the trail of a killer who might not be human...
Author's Note: This Andy is a little older and a lot sadder and wiser. Dedicated to tanarian

Part one is here

The next afternoon Andy decided to go directly to Jones’s office. He had tracked down the man’s secretary and asked her to meet him there. The station was chancy. Keightley would have been informed of the details of the case, and Andy was not in the mood to handle either the Chief Inspector’s bad behaviour or his unsubtle hints about calling Jack Harkness.

Andy was perfectly aware that he would have to involve Torchwood at some point. Unless the scientific types at Forensic Services could come up with a logical – and by logical Andy meant human – explanation for Jones’s transformation, the whole thing was out of his hands. However, until the results landed on his desk, he had a case and he meant to do his job.

Ieuan Jones Ltd. was located in one of the more nondescript office blocks in Cardiff, although in a good location and boasting excellent security. The office itself was small, but everything, from the old rugs to the cut glass decanters on the sideboard, was first class. The only occupant at the moment was a middle-aged lady who sat behind an elegant desk, hands folded on her lap, staring dazedly into space.

“Ma’am, I’m inspector Davidson. I’m here about Mr. Jones’s death.”

She seemed to shake herself loose. “I saw it in the papers this morning. I didn’t know what to do. I’m Mrs. Blaven.”

“Yes, ma’am. You are exactly the person we need.” Andy said soothingly. “Someone such as yourself, in Mr. Jones’s confidence, would be able to tell us if there’s been anything odd happening lately.”

“Odd?” she laughed without much humor. “Everything has been odd lately, inspector. I have worked for Mr. Jones ever since he set up his own office fourteen years ago. He has been a perfectly satisfactory employer. Considerate, generous…after hearing horror stories from some of my friends, I was very satisfied, even a little smug, in my situation.”

She jumped up and walked over to the very expensive coffee machine hissing away discreetly in one corner. She started preparing two cups without even asking. In Andy’s experience, people going about their regular business were more likely to spill out things that they wouldn’t have told for all the tea in China in an interrogation room, so he simply waited quietly.

“Then about two months ago, everything changed.” She handed him a cup. “He started coming in late or not at all. He kept forgetting to pay me my salary so he handed me the cheque book and told me to help myself. He started frequenting some very expensive restaurants and clubs instead of his usual places… I wasn’t snooping, Inspector, but I do reconcile the bills at the end of the month, and there was no escaping it. Worse, clients were becoming most unhappy. He didn’t seem to care! Then one day he brought her here, and I knew.”

Andy took a sip of his coffee, then leaned forward confidingly. “You knew…?”

“Common little tart, Inspector. Not much to look at, but she certainly knew how to manipulate him. He drew out a large amount from one of the general business accounts and they walked off arm in arm.” She frowned. “Strange, that. He seemed very happy, but he didn’t look it, if you take my meaning.”

“Like he was coming down with the flu?”

“That’s it, exactly! Ooooh… do you think she was slipping him drugs or something?”

Andy drew himself up and tried to look very official. “I am afraid I cannot comment at this time, ma’am. It’s an ongoing investigation.” He leaned in, again. “However, I can say you have been very helpful indeed. One or two more things and I’ll be out of your way. You are going to be very busy, I’m afraid, trying to sort out this mess.”

She preened a little under his admiring gaze. “Indeed inspector. Anything I can do to help.”

“You said Mr. Jones had stopped going to his usual places. What were those?”

“Well, he would have lunch regularly at Annie’s, do you know it?” At Andy’s nod, she continued. “And sometimes a small drink at the Swan on his way home. He used to say, Mrs. Blaven, the worst thing a money manager can do is to try to match the lifestyle of his clients.”

“Quite rightly so. I’m sure you could tell some stories! One more thing. The girl. What did she look like?”

“Nothing much, really. A slip of a thing, blonde out of a bottle, and wearing most unsuitable clothes. Looked down her pert little nose at everything and everyone as if she were better than the rest of us. Cheap perfume, too. I was glad to have her out of here, let me tell you.”

Andy set down the cup and stood up. “Mrs. Blaven, you have been most helpful. Thank you for your time, ma’am. I’ll see myself out.”

As he stepped onto the lift, his phone rang. One glance at the number had him biting his knuckle nervously. “Hello Dinah. Anything interesting?”

“Your Mr. Jones died of massive organ failure,” said the forensics specialist. “Everything went at once. No signs of any sort of violence.”

“So it’s a natural death?”

“Andy,” she said with exaggerated patience, “there’s nothing natural about a forty-two year old man who turns ninety-seven or so in the space of an hour.”

“Could it have been a drug?”

“If it was, it’s nothing I’ve ever encountered. I sent samples off to the lab just in case, but I’m not holding out any hopes… hold on,” she was off the line for a moment. “Message for you from Lily. Stay away from the office. Keightley’s looking for you and he’s not happy.”

“My thanks to both of you. I’ll grab a bit of lunch, then, and do some nosing about before I head back.”

Leaving the building, he cast a jaundiced eye toward the sky, but as it remained resolutely blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds, he decided to walk. Annie’s was a local place, away from the tourist traps and the glitzy clubs. It was the kind of place where people knew a great deal about one another, and what they didn’t know, they could make a good guess at. The place was nearly empty when he got there; too late for lunch and a bit too early for tea. The girl behind the counter was more than willing to chat.

“Yeah, he was a regular until a couple of months ago. Then nothing, well, except for the one time when he brought his little birdie and wasn’t that a right mess.”

“What did she look like?”

“Like something that crawled out of the gutter, if you ask me. And the smell! Some girls never learn to use perfume. He didn’t seem to mind it, though.”

“Did you get her name?”

“Hon, this place is packed most nights. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but orders.” She snapped her fingers. “Tad Will might. He’s a friend of Mr. Jones, they used to play chess together.”

She pointed Andy to an old man with a huge head of white hair sitting at one of the outdoor tables. Andy walked up to him and introduced himself.

“You’re here about Ieuan, then. Sit down, sit down. I told that boy she was trouble, but he didn’t listen.”

“You know who she is?”

“Not by name, but I’d seen her before. She was at the Chandler and Bells with Tim Gardiner a few weeks before she showed up here with Ieuan. Cheap floozy. Trouble, I told Tim, but he, he was crazy about her.”

“Where can I find this Tim Gardiner, then?” 

“That’s just it. Nobody’s seen him. Supposedly moved back to London. He was a hard-working, responsible man, for all that he’s English, and then he ups and decamps without a by your leave? Not bloody likely, I say. Something’s happened to that boy. Something bad.”