Traps peabody

"Harry... we failed," she said. She swallowed. "An innocent man is going to die. The killer is still loose. That entire battle took place and didn't accomplish anything."
I looked up at her. Then, moving deliberately, I opened the manila envelope Vince had given me.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Surveillance photos," I said quietly. "Shot through a telephoto lens from a block away."
She blinked at me. "What?"
"I hired Vince to take some pictures," I said. "Well, technically Murphy hired him, because I was worried about my phone being bugged. But I'm getting the bill, so really, it was me."
"Pictures? What pictures?"
"Of the Way to Chicago from Edinburgh," I said. "Where it opens up into that alley behind the old meatpacking factory. I had Vince take pictures of anyone coming out of it, right after I informed Edinburgh about the meeting on the island."
Molly frowned. "But... why?"
"Didn't give them time to think, kid," I said. "I was fairly sure the killer was in Edinburgh. So I made sure he or she had to come to Chicago. I made sure he didn't have time to get here by alternate means."
I drew out the pictures and started flipping through them. Vince had done a crisp, professional job. You could have used them for portraits, much less identification. McCoy, Mai, Listens-to-Wind, Bjorn Bjorngunnarson, the other Wardens were all pictured, both in a wide shot, walking in a Right Stuff group, and in tight focus on each face. "And I made sure Vince and Mouse were there to watch the only fast way into town from Scotland."
While I did that, Molly puzzled through the logic. "Then... that entire scenario on the island... the meeting, the fight... the entire thing was a ploy?"
"Wile E. Coyote," I said wisely. "Suuuuuper Genius."
Molly shook her head. "But... you didn't tell anyone?"
"Nobody. Had to look good," I said. "Didn't know who the traitor might be, so I couldn't afford to give anyone any warning."
"Wow, Obi-Wan," the grasshopper said. "I'm... sort of impressed."
"The smackdown-on-the-island plan might have worked," I said. "And I needed it to get a crack at the skinwalker on friendly ground. But lately I've started thinking that you don't ever plan on a single path to victory. You set things up so that you've got more than one way to win.
"What I really needed was a weapon I could use against the killer." I stared at the last photo for a moment, and then flipped it over and showed it to her. "And now," I said, a snarl coming unbidden into my voice, "I've got one."
Molly looked at the picture blankly. "Oh," she said. "Who's that?"

Turn Coat Chapter 46, Page 473-474


"I first became suspicious that Morgan was being framed... well, basically when I heard the ridiculous charge against him," I said. "I don't know if you know this man, but I do. He's hounded me for most of my life. If he'd been accused of lopping off the heads of baby bunny rabbits because someone accused them of being warlocks, I could buy that. But this man could no more betray the White Council than he could flap his arms and fly.
"Working from that point, I hypothesized that another person within the Council had killed LaFortier and set Morgan up to take the blame. So I began an independent investigation." I gave the Senior Council and the watching crowd of wizards the rundown of the past few days, leaving out the overly sensitive and unimportant bits. "My investigation culminated in the theory that the guilty individual was not only trying to fix the blame upon Morgan, but planting the seeds of a renewed outbreak of hostilities with the vampire White Court, by implicating them in the death.
"In an effort to manipulate this person into betraying himself," I continued, "I let it be known that a conspirator had come forward to confess their part in the scheme, and would address members of the White Council at a certain place and time in Chicago. Working on the theory that the true killer was a member of the Council-indeed, someone here at headquarters in Edinburgh-I hypothesized that he would have little choice but to come to Chicago through the Way from Edinburgh, and I had the exit of that Way placed under surveillance." I held up the manila envelope. "These are the photographs taken at the scene, of everyone who came through the Way during the next several hours."
I opened the envelope and began passing the Senior Council the photos. They took them, looking at each in turn. Ebenezar calmly confirmed that the images of the Wardens exiting the Way together with himself, Mai, and Listens-to-Wind were accurate.
"Other than this group," I said, "I believe it is highly unlikely that anyone from Edinburgh should have randomly arrived at the Way in Chicago. Given that the group was indeed assaulted by creatures with the support of a wizard of Council-level skill at that meeting, I believe it is reasonable to state that the killer took the bait." I turned, drawing out the last photo with a dramatic flourish worthy of Poirot, and held it up so that the crowd could see it while I said, "So why don't you tell us what you were doing in the Chicago area last night... Wizard Peabody?"
If I'd had a keyboard player lurking nearby for a soap-opera organ sting, it would have been perfect.
Everyone on the Senior Council except Ebenezar and, for some reason, the Gatekeeper, turned to stare slack-jawed at Peabody.
The Senior Council's secretary sat perfectly still beneath his little lap desk. Then he said, "I take it that you have proof more convincing than a simple visual image? Such things are easily manufactured."
"In fact," I said, "I do. I had a witness who was close enough to smell you."
On cue, Mouse stood up and turned toward Peabody.
His low growl filled the room like a big, gentle drumroll.
"That's all you have?" Peabody asked. "A photo? And a dog?"
Mai looked as if someone had hit her between the eyes with a sledgehammer. "That," she said, in a breathless tone, "is a Foo dog." She stared at me. "Where did you get such a thing? And why were you allowed to keep it?"
"He sort of picked me," I said.
The Merlin's eyes had brightened. "Mai. The beast's identification is reliable?"
She stared at me in obvious confusion. "Entirely. There are several other wizards present who could testify to the fact."
"Yes," rumbled a stocky, bald man with an Asian cast to his features.
"It's true," said a middle-aged woman, with skin several tones darker than my own, maybe from India or Pakistan.
"Interesting," the Merlin said, turning toward Peabody. There was something almost sharklike about his sudden focus.
"Working on the evidence Dresden found," Ebenezar said, "Warden Ramirez and I searched Peabody's chambers thoroughly not twenty minutes ago. A test of the inks he used to attain the signatures of the Senior Council for various authorizations revealed the presence of a number of chemical and alchemical substances that are known to have been used to assist psychic manipulation of their subjects. It is my belief that Peabody has been drugging the ink for the purpose of attempting greater mental influence over the decisions of members of the Senior Council, and that it is entirely possible that he has compromised the free will of younger members of the Council outright."
Listens-to-Wind's mouth opened in sudden surprise and understanding. He looked down at his ink-stained fingertips, and then up at Peabody.
Peabody may not have seen the man turn into a grizzly, but he was bright enough to know that Injun Joe was getting set to adjust another relative ass-to-ears ratio. The little secretary took one look around the room, and then at my dog. The expression went out of his face.
"The end," he said, calmly and clearly, "is nigh."
And then he flung his spare pot of ink onto the floor, shattering the glass.

Turn Coat Chapter 47, Page 487-491