Chapter 35 ~ Interrogation
Thanksgiving dinner was over. Their chairs were pushed back and Buffy was take-charge gal. “OK, gentlemen, we’re proceeding with a time honored tradition here. Well, almost anyway…we’d like you to retire to the library…in this case the other side of the sofa….but no cigars…Spike will get you small tumblers of something appropriate…while we ladies clear the table and retire to the kitchen to talk about you.”
It took Dawn all of one beat to protest, “Oh-ho no! I did not travel to England to do dishes.”
“No dishes Dawnie. OK, not exactly true. We will clear the table, scrape the plates, and put leftovers away, but there will be no washing. Giles really hooked us up here. We just stack the dirty dishes back in the baskets and place them outside the door. Tomorrow morning, just like magic, the basket reappears with a scrumptious breakfast. You, my precious baby sister will be eating cafeteria food,” Buffy said, smiling the smile of a sarcastic older sis.
Xander jumped in, “Which is way above average and to make it even better, you’ll be taking your meal with Giles and me! What could be better?”
As Spike was about to bring the drinks into the others he passed behind Buffy and whispered into her ear, “Methinks Bit shouldn’t count on Giles for that breakfast. It looks like he might get lucky tonight.”
Buffy kept her smile frozen and poked at him with her elbow.
“Watch it, Slayer, I almost spilled the drinks!” Spike said as he did a quick step away from her.
In her inimitable fashion Dawn whined, “When am I gonna get lucky?” To which Spike raised an eyebrow … thought about saying something and then thought better of it. The rest just laughed and decided … wisely … to leave it at that!
Leah had half the table cleared by the time Buffy and Dawn started helping and the three made short work of the task. They readied the coffee and filled the teakettle. When the time came for dessert, Buffy would only have to turn them on. It was agreed that no one was in a hurry for dessert.
Just as the ladies finished in the kitchen and were drying their hands, there was a knock at the door. They all glanced around at one another. Their entire little group was here … except MacGregor and it was too early in the day for him.
Spike got up and went to the door. Detective Inspector Arthur and his sergeant stood in the doorway looking grim. Before Spike could say a word, Giles leapt up and went to the door, “DI Arthur, this is a surprise. Won’t you please come in?” He stepped back and led them into the room. “Please have a seat. I think you know everyone. We’ve only just finished dinner and are having an after dinner drink, can we offer you something?”
The inspector looked at his watch and saw that it was a little after four in the afternoon, looked at Carruthers who returned his glance but remained without expression. “I think that sounds like a capital idea,” he said.
Spike took over as host and said, “What’ll you have, mate?”
Arthur replied, “Whatever you’re having will be fine, thank you.”
“And you?” Spike asked the sergeant.
“Nothing for me, thank you.” Carruthers said, taking out his notebook and reflecting with amusement again how well his superior managed people. They were here to roust out a murderer and for all these people knew they were here to become friends.
Buffy followed Spike to the kitchen to get the drinks. She decided that she would give the sergeant a glass of ice water, at least. Spike noticed her troubled expression and said, “What is it, luv? You worried?”
“Well, duh! I may be a superhero and fight for truth and justice and the American way, but me and cops?… unmixy.”
“We’re in England, pet,” said Spike, enjoying her discomfort. For him, tangling with the law was his idea of fun.
She glared at him, “Shut! Up!” He couldn’t help but laugh and made his way to the other room with the drinks. As he passed the drinks to the new visitors, he said, “So, what brings the law to our humble home interrupting our holiday celebration?”
Giles glared at Spike. “Um … eh … I suspect the inspector may have some news about Chastity’s death.” He glanced at the inspector and finished, “Am I correct?”
“Straight to it then, I like that,” said Arthur. “Actually, we’re here with some questions.” He lied as he went on, saying, “We tried you at your office and were advised that you were here. I apologize if we’ve caused you too much inconvenience, but we’re closing in and anxious to get this wrapped up. It’s taken too long already.” He paused for effect and then continued. “This has been an unusual investigation for us. True, some cases are more difficult than others, but once we gather all the facts, the solution most commonly falls into place.” As he spoke, Carruthers opened his notebook and flipped to a scribbled page. He would only fill in blanks if DI Arthur asked.
“Let’s start with the school. We cannot find your mission statement.”
Giles looked startled, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Yes, that’s precisely it, you see. We don’t understand. Your students are of all ages, and to put it mildly, not particularly … scholarly.” Giles gestured as if to interrupt. The inspector stopped him. “No please, there is more. Some of your students are from wealthy homes and pay fees commensurate with similar institutions. Other students seem to pay no fees at all. I suppose that may be explained with the admission of some charity students. The problem, sir, is that your books do not balance.”
“May I speak, Inspector?” Giles said, using his most authoritative voice.
Spike cautioned, “Perhaps it is best to not to say anything just now, Rupert.” His tone was that of the cultured English person he once was, but his comment stemmed from a century of dealing with people on the seamier side of life. It was best to hold your tongue lest you say something incriminating. Giles may not realize it yet, but Spike was fairly certain that Giles was their number one suspect.
Taken somewhat by surprise, Arthur gave Spike his attention. The inspector was known for his keen eye and powers of observation. Very little ever got by him. Often, one glance was all he needed to sum up a person. In Spike he saw a remarkably handsome man, very well dressed in expensive casual slacks and a purple silk shirt open only at the collar. Black loafers, very posh, and no socks. He had longish curly hair with bleached tips. Arthur suspected that he was gentry … had been through a rebellious phase and now had come to his senses. The lack of socks supported that too. His soul was still rebellious but he dressed to please convention. He likely had a doting father with lots of cash he was careful not to disappoint. Perhaps Giles wasn't the fool he seemed to be. Maybe this fellow was his barrister.
"I'm sorry," said the inspector. "I don't believe we've met. I thought I'd gotten around to everyone on campus. I'm Detective Inspector David Arthur of Scotland Yard." He extended his hand.
Spike stood and reached to take his hand and knocked over one of the wineglasses, which ended the possibility of any handshake as he fumbled to pick up the broken glass. He apologized for being clumsy. "Oh, how embarrassing. I do apologize. How do you do, I’m William Sanger.”
The reaction of the others in the room, while silent … was varied. Buffy was amazed again at her quick thinking, handsome lover. Giles was grateful. Xander wondered who the hell this William Sanger was and what had he done with Spike. Dawn was wholeheartedly amused. College life wasn’t nearly as much fun as being with these people. Most people considered themselves lucky when they had an adventure a day. With them, it was an adventure a minute.
The detective smiled at Spike and went on with his interview while Spike and Buffy cleared the broken glass and wiped up the spilled wine. David Arthur was a particularly astute man. He recognized immediately that this person was more than he seemed. He was most affable and one could hardly help but be drawn to him, yet, there was definitely something off about him. “And what is your position here at the school, Mr. Sanger?” he asked.
Spike walked across the room to get himself a fresh glass, “I’m just a guest,” he answered. “I’m staying here with Mr. Giles’ ward,” he said, smiling at Buffy. “Well, she was his ward when she was younger, now she’s a grown, independent woman. She and I were … friends … in America. Mr. Giles told me of her visit and I made arrangements to see her.”
“I see,” said DI Arthur. “And she invited you to stay?”
“Yes,” Spike said simply as if daring the inspector to take issue with the arrangement.
Changing the subject, Arthur asked, “Just what is it you do then, Mr. Sanger?”
The air in the room stilled as all held their breath.
“I’m in antiquities,” Spike answered without skipping a beat. “Actually, my work is similar to yours except I deal more with things than people. I do investigative work connected with antiques.”
“For whom do you work?” asked Carruthers, pencil in hand and ready to write down the answer.
“I’m an independent contractor.”
“An independent contractor,” the inspector repeated. “Have you ever considered Police work?”
That one caught Spike by surprise. His first instinct was to tell this fellow to sod off. It was his dearest wish that this portion of the interview was ending when he said, “Actually, I don’t think the Crown can afford me,” he said as he gave the inspector his most charming smile.
The inspector nodded his head in understanding and said, “Well then, where were we?”
Sergeant Carruthers consulted his notebook and said, “You were talking about our concerns regarding the school.”
“Ah, yes,” Arthur said, “Mr. Giles, I believe then that the ball was in your court.”
Giles cleared his throat to speak and Spike interrupted again, “Giles. Think about this.”
“Thank you, William. I have thought of little else since this nightmare began. I must go on.”
Carruthers poised his pencil. The smile on his face reflected his certainty that they had their man and a confession was imminent,
Giles began, “Gentlemen, do you believe in God?”
Spike stood up abruptly and said, “Right then. That’s it for me, I’m out of here.”
As quickly as Spike stood, Carruthers stood and blocked the door announcing,” I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir.”
Spike’s eyes flew open in disbelief. “You …?” He spread his feet and assumed a defensive position. “Well then, I’d like to see you try.”
Buffy jumped up and took Spike’s hand, looked at him imploring him not to make a scene and said, “Let’s just sit down and let Giles handle this.”
He looked at her thinking she’d gone mad, tried desperately to have a conversation with is eyes, but it was clear that Buffy was having none of it. Didn’t she realize that if Giles intended to tell the truth of it then HE would become the prime suspect. Once again, here he was looking happiness in the eye and someone was going to poke a stick in it! Jaw twitching, he said, “Bloody hell. Fine, I’ll sit!” He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Whatever happened, he intended to hold onto Buffy for as long as possible.
Arthur was surprised by Mr. Sanger’s outburst. He hadn’t considered him a player in this drama. Now he had to rethink things. “So, Mr. Giles, we were interrupted. What was it you said?”
“Um, yes. I believe I asked if you believe in God. It will make explaining things to you so much easier if you believe in the Almighty.” Giles began his tale of good and evil, of vampires and demons, witches and warlocks, and spells and magicks. He spoke of a secret organization that existed to study all these things and in the case of vampires and demons, to eradicate them. Giles explained that the organization (he didn’t want to mention it by name) had existed for centuries, worldwide. It was enormously wealthy and had connections with the most powerful people in the world.
Arthur and Carruthers exchanged glances as they remembered being cautioned by headquarters to tread lightly where Mr. Giles was concerned. Evidently there was some truth to this fantasy.
Relaxing a little as he warmed to his story, Giles explained that they suffered a tragedy a short time ago, but like all great and noble institutions, even against all odds, it would carry on.
Giles paused in his tale and Buffy said, “Perhaps I should start the coffee and put the kettle on.”
Giles smiled, “Thank you, Buffy.”
Xander stood and offered to help. Spike intervened, posh accent gone, “Ta mate, I’ll be helping my lady.”
Giles watched them go, took a deep breath, smiled and said, “I suppose now I should tell you of the Vampire Slayer.” He informed them of the pivotal role she played in protecting the world from dangers it is not willing to admit exists.
Buffy called in, “My ears are ringing, are you talking about me?”
“Yes, Buffy, I’ve gotten to your part of the story.”
Dawn said, “It was nice Buffy, too bad you missed it.”
Giles lifted his hand to stop them from going any further. He understood how this group handled tension with humor, but he doubted that the Inspector would find their banter humorous.
“Do you mean to say that Miss Summers is a vampire slayer?” Inspector Arthur asked,
his voice hesitant.
“Yes,” Giles nodded, taking off his glasses for the first time since they started. He pulled his handkerchief from his vest pocket and polished them as he continued, “THE vampire slayer, actually. Technically, ALL the girls here are slayers.”
Carruthers asked where he might find the loo. Arthur sat quietly, worried that his sergeant excused himself because he was ill. He would never tell his assistant that being left alone in this room with these people was disturbing.
When all were seated again, Giles recapped the collapse of the Sunnydale Hellmouth and the spell that enabled all potential slayers to be activated.
“This school and two others like it were opened to provide a place for the hundreds of girls around the world to learn to deal with their powers.” Arthur’s skeptical expression was not wasted on Giles. “You see, the girls have superhuman strength and dexterity. Some of them have enhanced hearing and vision, but no more so than you might find in the normal population.” Giles knew they thought he was barmy, but he was determined to tell all. “They also have what we have come to call “slayer senses” that allow them to know when vampires are near. Not all the girls feel this the same way. Some describe tingles, some have abdominal cramping and some hear ringing in their ears.” He thought for a minute and then added, “Perhaps other manifestations as well that we haven’t heard of yet.” He glanced around the room, making eye contact with his friends. No one interrupted him or challenged anything he said. Sighing heavily, he went on, “So, yes, your questions about our school are well founded. We hoped to keep the true nature of the school from public knowledge. For centuries people have turned a blind eye to the existence of the paranormal. I sincerely doubt that humankind will ever give up their delusions. I expect it helps them to sleep better at night.” Giles paused, smiled and raised his glass to Spike as a gesture meant for him to please fill it…and quickly!
With a fresh drink in his hand, and refreshed, Giles moved on to specifics … telling of the existence of vampires and demons in this community as they only recently and most regrettably learned. He explained that they had an informer who gave them reliable information about the vampire responsible for Chastity’s death and they were closing in on him and expected to have the matter solved before the weekend.
Carruthers stopped several times in his note taking to squeeze his cramping fingers. He wore an astounded expression as he documented every word.
DI Arthur held his mouth tightly closed. He’d spent years perfecting a blank expression no matter what he heard. Today he couldn’t hide his expression of incredulity and at least once, his mouth fell open. He was certain this entire story was madness and he was in a room of very sick people. Still, there was no question Mr. Giles was sincere. It was clear he believed this lunacy with all his being and it appeared the rest of the gathering did too. What shocked Arthur most of all was that Leah Graham, a most respected physician and the local medical examiner sat next to Mr. Giles prompting him when he lost his train of thought.
DI Arthur’s first impulse was to instruct Carruthers to contact the precinct to send officers to keep this group under strict guard and then to get to hell out of there. Unfortunately, duty demanded otherwise. He directed his next question to the room, “Exactly whom do you suspect?” Giles gave the name of Eamon Binnemon, a vampire formerly a guard at the school.
Carruthers head shot up. “I beg your pardon. I’m trying to keep up. I must have misunderstood. It sounded like you said the school hired a vampire.”
Giles answered simply, “Yes, that’s right.” Carruthers looked to Arthur. His facial cast screaming, ‘Help!’ Arthur gestured to his sergeant to remain calm.
Giles told his story quickly. Confessing all they knew and their plan to solve the crime was a relief. When he began to explain that if they were successful, Binnemon would be dusted and there would be no further risk as the crime spree would likely end with his elimination, Carruthers looked up from his notepad, clearly shaken, “I’m sorry sir, did I understand you to say you are planning to eliminate someone?”
The Inspector feared Carruthers was losing control and might even bolt. He had to take control. “Thank you, sergeant, I’ll take it from here. Mr. Giles, are saying that you and your band of … (he wanted so much to say weirdoes) friends intend to commit murder?” the inspector asked as calmly as he could manage.
“What?” Giles shouted, flustered. “Good Lord, no! Where did you get an idea like that? Have you heard nothing I said, man?”
Arthur’s tone rose in response to Giles’ comment, “Eliminate? You did say you intended to eliminate someone. I may not be up with all the current jargon, but in my book that means you have murder in mind.”
Spike held his tongue as long as he could. Quietly, he said, “Dust…he said dust. Giles said Binnemon would be dusted.” He adjusted Buffy on his lap and said, “It’s what happens to …um, it’s what happens to vampires when you off ‘em.”
“Ah, yes, vampires …,” the inspector said, sarcasm dripping. Better to show sarcasm than fear.
Buffy didn’t like that. Giles seemed to be the center of this investigation, and she had no intention of letting him go down alone. “Vampires are dead already, so eliminating them isn’t killing. It’s just correcting the natural order of things. When you kill a vampire, they burst into dust, presumably because if they had been permitted to decay their bodies would have turned to dust. So, you see, inspector, when you kill a vampire, you don’t leave any evidence … there is no corpus decaprio.”
She heard titters, but no one had the courage to correct her faux pas.
“No evidence … That’s very interesting. Thank you for clearing that up, Miss Summers.” The inspector stood up placing his glass on the table and said, “I’ve heard enough for today.” Sergeant Carruthers flipped his notebook shut and stood. “I’ve interrupted your day long enough. Thank you for your time and patience. Mr. Giles, I’d like to meet with you in your office in the morning.”
“Yes, quite right. I’ll clear my calendar.” Giles answered.
Spike stood and opened the door for the police officers saying, “Ta,” closing the door after them. He leaned his back against the door and looked over at Buffy, “…correcting the natural order of things?”
Buffy frowned, let out a great sigh and said, “Oh, now, don’t you start.”
Once the door closed the rest of the group began a buzz of conversation about the visit. Some were breathing sighs; some laughing and some concerned. With Buffy’s comment, talk ceased and all eyes turned to the couple.
Spike stepped toward Buffy with his cat like walk. “This isn’t your old song, is it? You know the one … where I’m an evil, disgusting thing?”
Buffy threw up her hands in frustration and cried, “Aaaaagh! I’m the Slayer, Spike. I kill vampires. You know that. Hell, YOU kill vampires. Why are you being all sensitive man all of a sudden?” She looked to the others for support; “Did I say anything that wasn’t true?” Their answer was a chorus of unintelligible groans. Buffy just rolled her eyes.
She spun back to Spike. Nearly shouting, she said, “Spike. I love you. I have probably loved you forever, but I’m a slow learner so I didn’t get it right at the start. I get it now. You’re a vampire. It’s crazy, but I love you.” Then she brightened, “I love you no matter what … I’d love you even if you were a … a … fyarl demon.” She heard the audible gasp from the others and then added with a tone of finality … “With a cold.”
All their eyebrows raised in shock and the tension broke with laughter.
~~~
DI Arthur left the cottage and paused at the end of the walk. The sergeant didn’t question his superior, just took his place alongside him. Experience told him there might be orders, or a comment. In any event, they were together long enough that he understood it was his to stand and wait.
The inspector took a deep breath as he stared straight ahead into the fading purple horizon. He slowly pulled on his gloves. The air was cool, damp, and refreshing after being in the cottage. His voice was all business as they turned to walk to the car. “Place a twenty-four hour guard on the cottage beginning immediately. Four, I think. Two in front and two in back. Tell them to make sure they aren’t detected.” He scanned the area around the cottage. Then, meeting Carruthers eye, to insure there comprehension, he said, “And arrange to have six men on standby as possible replacements. If any one of them should leave, I want them tailed.”
As they buckled the seatbelts, Arthur said, “One more thing, sergeant. Look into electronic surveillance, please. Maybe we can hear what they talk about when they are alone. Let’s find out if this story of theirs is some kind of game.” They stayed in the car until they saw the guards arrive. Carruthers flashed his headlights in acknowledgement as he pulled out of the car park.
Carruthers finally felt it was alright to speak, “So what do you think sir?”
“I don’t know what to think, sergeant. I guess Granger’s spy school idea wasn’t so strange after all.”
~~~
By six o’clock, the unmarked police van was in place just the other side of the hedges bordering the school property. It was close enough to get good reception from the remote disposable microphones that were fired into the bark of trees surrounding the cottage. Those assigned as guards were reporting their positions and observations and the six others on standby were in a caravan parked at a nearby petrol station. They were used to this kind of assignment and were comfortable passing the time. They would get extra pay for this duty whether they were called into action or not.
Carruthers stopped by to make certain everything was set up as he had requested. He recognized the voices of the people he’d met that afternoon in the chatter from the planted mikes. Behind him, he saw a computer making a transcript of everything that was said. If their conversation was as bizarre as it was earlier, he expected he’d be seeing some startled expressions on his colleagues before long.
Suddenly, the voices took on an edge of urgency. “Anchor, this is Flounder. Tall man in school guard uniform seen approaching the cottage. Advise. Over.”
“Stand down, Flounder. Ears are in place. Monitoring in progress. Over.”
Carruthers and the team listened carefully as the man Carruthers recognized as Mr. Harris said, “I’ll get it. I expect it will be our other undead friend.”
The man Carruthers knew only as Anchor said, “Did he say undead?”
Carruthers said, “Shhh.”
Spike said, “Good, I’m a bit peckish for my favorite snack. I hope he brought some O negative with him.”
Carruthers told the team, “I think that was Mr. Sanger’s voice.”
Anchor noted the name and time for the transcript and said, “O negative? That some kind of designer wine?”
Carruthers repeated, “Shhh.”
Xander said, “MacGregor, my man. Welcome to our Thanksgiving dessert.”
The electronics team could hear the rustling of chairs. Then, a new voice, “I’ve brought something special for you too, William.”
Mr. Sanger answered, “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, mate. I could really get used to this you know. In the States, I have to settle for pig blood. Otter if I’m lucky.”
The conversation turned to multiple overlapping exchanged pleasantries. Anchor turned and asked, “What the hell? Blood?” The sergeant’s coat slipping through the closing door was his only answer.
~~~
Binnemon watched from his perch in the oak tree behind the cottage. He counted himself damn lucky for not having been hit by whatever the peelers all done up as commandos were shooting into the trees. He’d come to rid himself of this so-called slayer and found the cottage full of people … threw a nasty wrench in his plans. Ah well, he thought. Patience got me this far, it’ll serve me well tonight as well. These others can’t stay all night. They’re drinkin,’ sure … that’s to my benefit too. Drink makes ‘em stupid and it’ll add somethin’ to the flavor. And who could have guessed I’d have a floorshow before the main course? He snorted and quickly slapped his hand over his mouth. Didn’t want to give himself away now, did he?
~~~
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you nightshift and cloviss.