Death & Desire: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 2)

by Deborah Wilde

  “Ah yes, a fruity blend with notes of muted aggression and chamomile,” I said.

  Priya set the tray down on the coffee table, just shy of a slam.

  “You’re right. Let’s change the subject.” I reached for a biscotti, then stopped, stymied by my stupid mitten-hands.

  Levi laughed.

  “Could someone please get these off me?”

  Priya took my hands and carefully worked the gauze off. My knuckles were still badly bruised, but the swelling had gone down and they were no longer hideously misshapen.

  I squeezed her hands, barely wincing. “I’m here for you.”

  She squeezed mine back gently. “I know. Let me work through this.”

  It was as good as I’d get. I leaned over to snag a biscotti, but Levi stole it away from me and handed it to Priya.

  “Could you be more immature?” I said.

  “My biscotti. My rules.”

  Priya, the traitor, munched away, her eyes half-slitted in bliss.

  “You realize that constitutes taking sides,” I said. “I’m never sharing your mom’s pity food again.”

  “I’m open to counter-persuasions,” she said, spraying crumbs. “Like dinner.” She patted her stomach. “We missed it and I’m starving. Levi, you hungry?”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “If I’m bribing you to like me, why do I have to feed him as well?”

  “I’m making it a condition.”

  “I’m not hungry, but I appreciate the offer, Priya.” Levi took a biscotti and sat back in the chair with a smile. “Smart and kind. What a wonderful way to go through life.”

  “Almost as good as my delightful brand of misanthropy.” I poured myself tea, splashing some onto the tray. “Did Miles check in about Nadija? Did he give her the Blank?”

  I’d left the vial at Levi’s house and when I called to arrange the plan for him to be at the park for the hand-off, I’d instructed him to give it to Miles and why.

  “He administered it and it seems to work for both the compulsion and the pain.”

  “It was confirmed that she had that disease?” I stirred milk and honey into my mug and then pointedly took another biscotti.

  “It was. I’d never even heard of that condition before.” He shook his head. “Hell of a thing.”

  Between her medical disorder and the compulsion, Nadija had been dealt a shitty hand. I’d forgiven her for trashing my office, because I understood all too well how far a person could go to relieve their pain, but she’d brought Priya into it. I’d never forgive her for that. This wasn’t about petty revenge though. Other than murder and rape, kidnapping was one of the most serious charges under the Canadian Criminal Code and I wouldn’t stand in the way of justice on that front.

  “Her illness may mitigate her sentencing down the road,” he said, “but she’s been charged with kidnapping and unlawful confinement.”

  Priya’s spoon clattered against her mug. “I’m okay,” she assured us. “Just thinking about having to testify.”

  “I’ll do everything to make it as painless as possible,” Levi said. “But yes. We’ll need your testimony and Ash’s, as well.”

  “I figured. You’ll need to speak to the Asian chemist from the Star Lounge and get more Blank. Nadija’s pain is a lifelong condition. Even in prison, she needs to manage it.”

  “Already on it. We’d like him to deal exclusively with us.”

  “Get the magic-suppressing drug off the streets before anyone realizes that Blank has that side effect on Nefesh,” I said.

  “That and it would be a useful tool in our arsenal.”

  “Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”

  Levi smiled enigmatically.

  I sipped my tea. “There are a couple more loose ends to tie up, and then the Curious Incident of the Angel of Death will be a wrap.”

  “Where’d you get the dog?” Priya said. “He was a cutie.”

  “Jasper belongs to a friend of mine,” Levi said.

  The same friend he’d spent the night with when Omar was attacked? Not my business. “Thank him or her. He was a useful prop.”

  “I will.”

  While I’d still rather gouge my eye out with a rusty spoon than meet Levi’s alibi woman, it would have been nice to have a Googleable name. Then again, curiosity killed the cat, and jealousy around Levi was an uncomfortable emotion. Best to let it lie.

  I yawned, my mug listing perilously. “Order food and put it on my card. I want a shower.” A nap would have rocked, but I had too much to do.

  “I’m off, too.” Levi grabbed a biscotti for the road and stood up. “Oh, one more thing. Gracie Green. Born in Miami, which is where she lived until she came to Vancouver. Never married, no father listed on her birth certificate. One interesting fact, though. Senior year of her college degree, she suddenly withdrew for medical reasons, but there are no records of anything wrong with her.”

  “Unless a sudden magic awakening was what was wrong.” I gathered up the tea things and carried the tray into the kitchen, raising my voice to be heard. “If some Jezebel died and it activated Gracie.”

  “True,” Levi said. “Like Gavriella, Gracie was a Rogue.”

  “Was she though?” Priya said. “She was born Mundane.”

  “She didn’t register in either Florida or here in Vancouver when she did have magic,” Levi said.

  I joined them at the front door. The grogginess had dissipated enough to get back to work.

  “There’s nothing in place for someone whose magic switches on and who wants to comply,” Priya countered. “She wouldn’t have been believed and, therefore, she’d have been arrested for being Rogue her entire life, which she wasn’t. It’s not like Ash, who has medical records from her accident at a verified point where she was Mundane. What would you have these Jezebels do? There’s so much fear and suspicion of Nefesh already. Why would anyone with this magic ability ever come forward? Especially if it’s only women who have it? It literally would be a witch hunt.”

  “Tell that to your hardheaded roommate.” Levi knelt down to put on his shoes. “She’s insisting on getting registered. Even if it’s just her low level enhanced strength, she’s kicking a wasp’s nest. I’m not one to support unregistered Nefesh but this is going to be a shitstorm. It’s too unusual a registration. Word will get out.”

  I opened the door for him. “Don’t worry, Levi. I’ll protect you from my mother.”

  He gave me a hard look. “But who’s going to protect you?”

  Chapter 23

  Priya was in her room with her share of the pizza we’d ordered, digging up info on Abraham’s wife, while I took a very fast shower in preparation for going in to the office to track down Evil Wanker once and for all.

  The hot water and citrus soap unwound my tense muscles, helping me work through the problem. Fact: the wooden ring was important enough to Gavriella for her to hide it away if she believed Chariot was closing in on her. Fact: it belonged to Evil Wanker’s father. Conclusion: he was the father she’d referred to.

  I stepped onto the bathroom mat, drying off with a fluffy Disney princess towel that neither Priya nor I would claim.

  Why would Gavriella go from an American identity to a Spanish one, forced to become proficient enough in details about the culture to pass for native? Growing up in Miami, she could easily have been bilingual, though she’d have had to adjust her pronunciations to account for differences in pronunciation and word choice with Spanish spoken in Spain. Also, her exposure to Hispanic culture would have been mostly to a Cuban one.

  The simplest answer was that Evil Wanker’s father was Spanish and she’d taken on that persona to honor him. He must have been a mentor to her. Maybe he was even the team leader.

  I shoved some pepperoni and artichoke pizza into my mouth as I got dressed. Since I had to meet Talia, today wasn’t a jeans day, but I was petty enough not to want to go full business appropriate either. I settled for nice trousers and a green pullover sweater, style
d my hair instead of throwing it into a ponytail, and took care with my makeup beyond eye shadow and lipstick. I slid my feet into my motorcycle boots, arranged with Pri to meet at the office later, grabbed a nice trench coat, and left to pursue this much more promising avenue of inquiry.

  For my first stop, I hit up the lounge for a chat with the blonde dancer who’d hung on to the ring and was open to financial transactions.

  Gavriella had never mentioned the ring owner’s name to the dancer, but fifty bucks got me the name and number of a waitress that Gavriella had gone out for drinks with a few times. An extra twenty ensured that she didn’t ask questions about why Gavriella’s supposed kid was asking the name of her own grandfather.

  The beauty of cold, hard cash.

  I hit pay dirt with the waitress, identifying myself not as the daughter, but a private investigator trying to confirm Gavriella’s relationship for an inheritance. People were more inclined to help when a payout was involved.

  Gavriella’s “dad’s” name was Franco. The waitress was certain of that fact because her grandfather’s name was Frank. Gavriella had mentioned he’d passed away shortly before she’d started working at the strip club.

  Franco Behar. Now that I had his name, I could search all the databases, House and P.I. based, that I had access to and track his son, Evil Wanker, down that way.

  I stopped by a hardware store to buy a folding chair and small table as temporary office furniture, until I could secure a loan from Talia, and with much trepidation at facing the devastation once more, dragged myself up the stairs to my office.

  “Ash?” Eleanor strolled out of her office when I entered the common reception area. “I let the delivery people in to your office. I hope that was okay.”

  “What delivery people?” I dropped the folding chair and table with a clatter and ran to my office. Could the Queen and Moran have figured out my ruse and be springing a delightful and terrible trap for me? I stopped in confusion at seeing Cohen Investigations once more stenciled on the glass.

  “Who ordered this?” I said.

  “Didn’t you?” She tucked the pen she held behind her ear. “I’m sorry. It all seemed legit.”

  I jammed my key into my lock, opened the door, and gasped. The room was transformed. Gone was the detritus of Nadija’s attack; my shitty office furniture had been replaced with fancy ergonomic chairs for Priya and myself and desks in a glossy walnut. The filing cabinets had been set right-side up once more and the safe pushed back against the wall. Even the gouge in the floor had been covered with a smart area rug.

  “If you didn’t order all this, then who did?” she said.

  “Priya? She got a new contract. You made the right call letting them in.” I dropped into my chair, testing out all its levers until I had it set to maximum comfort. Then I bounced in it for a bit, because damn, that was deluxe.

  I smiled at the photo of Priya and me, which had been reprinted and replaced in a new frame on my desk. A brand new top-of-the-line dartboard and darts holder once more occupied a place of prominence, though on the opposite wall from where they had been. I glanced to my left where they had originally hung and my hand flew up to cover my cry.

  Fifteen to twenty framed prints of vintage Sherlock Holmes book covers hung on the wall, like a pantheon of my favorite cases.

  I burst into tears, scaring Eleanor, who skittered away as fast as she could.

  I had worked and fought hard to build up every tiny aspect of my business, even my crappy office furniture, and I didn’t begrudge a second of that time. I’d had accolades: from grateful clients and from Priya who was my biggest cheerleader, but this act of unbridled generosity wrapped me up in its tenderness like a fleecy blanket. There was nothing behind this generosity other than an incredible kindness. No, it was more than that. Replacing the furniture was a gift of the highest order, but those items were functional. The addition of the Sherlock posters transformed the office into the specificity of my space, an act of deep thoughtfulness and intimacy that I hadn’t experienced from anyone in my adult life.

  Through my sobs, I called Muffin Top and asked Beatriz for a special order to go out in a rush delivery. She agreed, once I’d convinced her that no one had died and this was happy crying.

  That done, I went to the bathroom, loudly blew my nose, and washed my face.

  I made a makeshift coaster out of printer paper so as not to mark the pristine gloss of the desk with my coffee cup, opened my crappy laptop, and got to work. All the tedious digging through databases to find Franco Behar barely dented my euphoria. My ass didn’t go numb and my properly postured back sang in sweet relief.

  Slowly, I narrowed down possibilities, cross-referencing them until I’d found not only Franco, but his British boarding school educated son, Rafael. Oh, Evil Wanker, I had you.

  I was about to start phoning hotels here in Vancouver like I’d done to find Nadija, when my cell rang. Glancing at the number, I smiled and answered.

  “Cohen Investigations. Ashira speaking.”

  “Three dozen jelly donuts is kind of overkill, don’t you think?” Levi’s smooth baritone was lit with amusement.

  “I’m not sure it’s enough. Why did you do this? Not that I’m not grateful–”

  “Which we talked about.”

  “This is above and beyond. You must have spent a fortune.”

  “It’s just money.” Said by me on no occasion ever. “It was no big deal to get you new furniture.”

  “And replace my photo and get me a new dartboard and… those book covers.” My voice caught on a sob.

  “Shit, don’t cry. I’ll have to quit tormenting you if I make you cry.”

  I gave a shaky laugh. “We can’t have that.”

  “Exactly. Now go forth and solve a mystery.”

  “I shall and I am. Hopefully I’ll have news about Evil Wanker for you soon.”

  “There you go.” Levi paused. “I’m glad you like the prints.”

  “They’re the best gift I’ve ever received. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “Now quit being mushy. It’s making me more diabetic than those donuts you sent. And thanks for sending office gossip into overdrive about who they were from and what they were for with that unsigned card of yours.”

  “Veronica totally read it.”

  “Of course she did. Your ‘best day ever’ was perfectly vague and insinuating enough to drive her mad with curiosity.”

  “Achievement unlocked.” I leaned back in my chair without fear of toppling over. “Does this mean we’re friends?” I turned the word over, trying it on for size with regards to Levi.

  “God, no,” he said and hung up.

  I held the phone a moment longer, as if that would prolong the warm sparky feeling in my chest. I was glad the two of us were back in our familiar Zone of Antagonism, but at the same time, it didn't quite fit as comfortably as it had.

  There was a low whistle from the doorway. “How much of a devil’s bargain did you have to make with Talia?”

  I pointed at the stretched-out, tattered sweatpants with Dalhousie University Schulich School of Law embroidered on them that were a hand-me-down from Priya’s brother and a sweater that looked like it had formerly done duty for a chimney sweep. “Why are you wearing the latest in Dickensian urchin-wear? Oh, geez. Don’t tell me you broke up with Kai and you’re actually upset about it.”

  “If I had, your empathy would have me back on my feet in no time,” Pri said. “I wore it because I figured you’d want help cleaning up the mess. I see I was mistaken.”

  “So mistaken. Come imprint your fine ass on your new chair.” I motioned her over.

  She handed me a single sheet of paper, before sitting down and swiveling her seat from side-to-side. “Oh yeah, baby. Bond with mommy.”

  “Well, that made it weird.” I read the details of the Dershowitz case that she’d unearthed. “This is useful information. Thank y
ou.”

  “No prob.”

  I studied her covertly from behind my computer screen.

  “Quit it,” she said, not even glancing my way as she adjusted a few levers to reposition the height.

  Best friends who knew you better than you knew yourself were annoying. “Sheesh, some people don’t appreciate being smothered with concern.”

  That got me one of her donkey-braying laughs, though it was half-hearted. Baby steps.

  “Even with money,” Priya said, “how did you arrange for all of this so quickly?”

  “I didn’t. It was Levi.”

  Priya misadjusted, her seat dropping with a sharp jerk. “Was it now?”

  “I may have been unfair to him last night.”

  “You may want to drop to your knees in gratitude. Literally.” She rolled her chair back and forth. “If you don’t, I will.”

  “Have at it,” I said blithely. “I already thanked him in jelly-laden pastry.”

  “Ash, even you, my socially dense friend, must understand the significance of this gesture.”

  “Don’t go putting conventional mores on whatever Levi and I are. He’s loaded. The money didn’t mean anything to him. It was a kind deed for a broke friend.” I stumbled over that last word.

  “Bullshit,” she coughed. Her eyes narrowed on the vintage Sherlock book cover prints. “And I wasn’t talking about the furniture.”

  I wheeled my chair over to her, because I could and it was fun, and pushed her out of her seat. “Lovely of you to drop by, but I have work to do and as you must have a crust of bread to beg for or a pocket to pick, run along.”

  She walked to the door, shooting me the finger. “We should go out tonight. Karaoke?”

  “Noisy and crowded. You up for it?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s our normal, and I could use that.”

  “Karaoke it is.”

  “Laters, Holmes.”

  “Laters, Adler.” I refilled my coffee cup, set it carefully on my makeshift coaster, and dove in to phoning hotels.