“You have the right,” the Mediterranean cop informed him, “to remain silent. Anything else you say can and will be used against you…”
With a sigh, he allowed the indignation to slough off him and extended his hands to receive his new loan of two beautiful silver bracelets. Again.
Riley was about twenty feet away, perched on a lighting fixture, and the two of them exchanged a quick glance. They knew each other well enough that he trusted her to do what was necessary—fly off at once and tell one of his other, larger friends what had happened so they could rescue him from the slammer for the umpteenth time.
As the officers led him away, though, he puffed his chest out and strode purposefully with the air of a man facing the bullets of a firing squad and determined to do so with courage and splendor.
“Because,” he added aloud, although in a rather low voice, “mark my words. This is neither the first nor the last time I get completely humiliated on the evening news.”
Chapter Twenty
Taylor’s House, Harrison, Westchester County, New York
Two cars headed toward Harrison, and Bobby’s was one of them. Volz rode with her. Agent Gilmore drove the other and was alone.
The dwarf was somewhat restless since he’d taken a short nap before they’d left the office.
“When are we gonna be there?” he asked and squirmed in his seat. “I wanna see Taylor. She’s pretty. Does she have gems at her house? This is boring. Are we there yet?”
“Almost, Volzy,” she told him and tried to be patient. In a way, he was probably having as much trouble as she was, what with the effects of the spell. “We’re in her neighborhood now. See all the big, old, gorgeous houses? Man, I knew she’d live in a place like this.”
It took a few moments of navigating the winding, labyrinthine streets before they came to a gate, as expected. Someone buzzed them in and after another short, serpentine drive up a low hill, the mansion came into sight.
“Wow,” he marveled.
“You said it,” she agreed. She’d seen bigger houses, but Taylor’s was so…ornate and so well-aged, a perfectly preserved relic of a time that had been more barbaric in some ways and more sophisticated in others.
She parked near the far edge of the broad paved area in front of the massive garage. A moment later, as she helped Volz out of his seat, Kendra’s car pulled up behind her.
The agent stepped out and surveyed the premises. “Well,” she stated, “the private investigation business is clearly far more lucrative than I thought. Then again, this looks like seventh-generation money.”
Bobby shrugged. “Taylor isn’t all that forthcoming when it comes to her personal life. I guess we’re about to learn more, though.”
The trio approached the front door, which opened for them as they mounted the steps. Standing beyond the threshold was a dignified-looking elderly man in a black tuxedo and white gloves. He would have seemed out of place—and out of time—in the doorway of most houses, but not there.
“Good day,” he greeted them, his voice tinged a slight upper-crust English accent. “Ms Steele is expecting you, of course. Mr Remington is out on an errand. Mr Warfield is here as well. My name is Presley and do let me know if you need anything to make your stay more comfortable.”
Kendra laughed in a dry but good-natured way. “We will do that. I don’t think any of us are used to the…uh, royal treatment, though. We’re fairly self-sufficient.”
With a nod, the butler stepped aside for them to enter and closed the door.
The foyer beyond was noticeably dark although beautifully furnished in a somewhat archaic style. Bobby was suddenly and harshly reminded of the revelation that Taylor Steele was one of the undead. She only hoped everyone there knew that Kendra hadn’t been initiated and would parse their words accordingly.
“Whoaaa,” Volz drawled, “a piano. I wanna play it.”
Bobby tugged gently on his wrist. He was strong enough to have broken her arm, but he seemed to trust her even in his befuddled state and usually responded to her urgings. “Sorry, Volz, but that’s Taylor’s and we have to be careful not to break it. Maybe after we ask her, okay?”
Kendra cast odd sidelong glances at the dwarf and clearly wondered why being “sick” would cause him to behave like a child or a developmentally disabled person. Even with her augmented brainpower, Bobby didn’t have an answer for that yet.
As the three guests removed their coats and shoes, light footsteps approached and Taylor entered, accompanied by another woman.
“Hello,” the vampire said. “I’m glad to see you made it safely. And I’d like to thank you for working such long hours last night. I’ve been up since yesterday evening myself. I’ll probably retire for a few hours of rest soon but first, we have things to see to.”
She turned to the other lady. “This is Alice Pendlebury, an expert in the occult. We’ve consulted with her on some of the stranger elements of the Moswen case. Alice, this is Roberta Diaz—you may call her Bobby—our office assistant and Kendra Gilmore, who is in much the same line of work as ourselves.”
The woman waved. “Well, hello there, both of you. Lovely to meet you.” She was slightly older than Bobby but slightly younger than Kendra, with large, thick eyeglasses and wavy hair the color of a ripe tomato. Her demeanor was a strange combination of friendly and guarded. She seemed slightly unnerved by Kendra’s presence and more than normally curious about Bobby and the dwarf.
Well, Bobby told herself, that’s our witch. She looks normal. Can she tell what happened to Volz and me simply by looking at us?
Presley, standing off to the side, cleared his throat. “I’ll make a pot of tea and I can show you to your guest rooms. You should find them adequately prepared.”
Conrad wandered in at that moment. “Don’t worry about me,” he said and smiled pleasantly. “I’m perfectly comfortable on the couch.”
Taylor smiled, then squinted as something occurred to her. “Where is Alex?”
“The bank,” Bobby replied. “I sent him to deposit cash before we left and told him to call us when he was done. If the rest of us will be here, he probably should as well, don’t you think? He’s not very nice, yeah, but I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”
The vampire nodded. “Agreed. If he calls you instead of me—which is likely—tell him he may come over.”
Alice, meanwhile, had drifted over to Bobby and Volz.
“You two are an interesting case,” she quipped, leaned close, and almost seemed to sniff the air around them. “That’s quite an impressive hex you’ve collected. Someone with real talent and power, I’d wager.”
Bobby almost panicked when she felt Kendra’s eyes on them all.
“Ha-ha.” She fake-laughed, “I guess I’d expect an occult expert to put it that way. Volz is sick—we think he might have MS or something—and I get like this when I’m stressed. Let’s talk, though. I read a fair amount of…uh, paranormal stuff, so I bet you can explain some things to me.”
She put a hand on the witch’s shoulder and led her away down the hall, hoping Taylor wouldn’t object to her barging deeper into her house like this.
The vampire, though, made no comment and only stepped between them and Agent Gilmore, making small talk and vaguely asserting that they were making progress on the case.
The two women reached a door that opened into a lovely formal sitting room and Bobby continued to urge Alice along until they stopped in the far rear corner.
“Sorry about that,” she whispered, not wanting a sorceress angry at her, “but Kendra hasn’t you know, had the talk. She doesn’t really know what’s going on. We have to be extremely careful. She’s an FBI agent, too. She’s on our side and has even bent a few rules to help us, but I think she’s already suspicious that something weird is going on. She’s seen things I’m not sure how she even rationalizes.”
Alice blinked a few times but seemed to take the message in stride. “Ah, I see. Not a problem, although in my
opinion, you might as well try to initiate her. That might make her more sympathetic if anything.”
Bobby frowned. “I think we should leave that up to Taylor. Until then, as far as Kendra is concerned, Volz is merely short, Riley doesn’t exist, and Moswen is merely a foreign mafia princess hopped up on PCP. Understood?”
The witch shrugged. “Aye. Well, I suppose it’s partially my fault, anyway. I put a glamor over New York City and its suburbs a few years ago—a potent one, too, if I may say so. That is probably part of why she’s remained a skeptic even if she’s seen unusual things. Being a fed, she has to be the observant type so blame magic, not her. But yes, yes, I’ll keep my big mouth shut until the Queen Bee says otherwise.”
She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Alice seemed like a reasonable type of person. Although she had only the vaguest idea of what the witch was talking about with this glamor thing.
“You were right, though,” she continued. “Volz and I were hexed. Someone sent a mail bomb that…affected our intelligence. He got dumber and I…well, became way smarter.” She blushed.
Alice nodded slowly. “When there’s time, I can look you both over and advise you on how to deal with that. There are multiple things to consider. I’m sure you’ve already touched on many of them.”
That was an understatement. In more ways than one, the universe had turned inside-out and she was no longer certain of her place in it.
The two women wandered back toward the foyer, where almost everyone had sat and now conferred over their next course of action. Bobby felt like her brain was being overloaded. She’d met a real, actual witch on top of everything else.
“Excuse me,” she said gently to the group. “I’m going to get some fresh air for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Taylor gave her a nod and the others watched her for only a second before they returned to their conversations.
She stepped out onto the front steps, pulled the door closed behind her, and released a long, whistling sigh. Her gaze drifted to the slate-colored clouds overhead that hovered above the grasping claws of the brown trees which were still a good month from producing green buds.
Her eye caught something moving through the air and she tensed. For a second, it had looked like a bird, but she soon realized it was a fairy.
Riley flapped up, her face drawn and her eyes wide. “Remy’s in trouble!” she blurted. “He got arrested again.”
“Arrested? What for?” Bobby hadn’t expected to hear that.
The fairy spread her small hands. “Something to do with being naked and dancing around singing. My colony made him do it in exchange for fairy dust. They thought it would be funny.”
The receptionist put both hands over her face. “Oh, no. Great. Well, thanks for telling us. This sounds like a job for Kendra, though. She’s a fed and can probably throw her weight around to get him bailed out.”
“But,” Riley protested, “she doesn’t understand what’s happening.”
She shrugged. “We’ll think of something.”
They went inside. Everyone except Agent Gilmore noticed the fairy but did not let their gaze linger on her nor say anything to acknowledge her.
Bobby raised a hand. “Okay, excuse me, but while I was out there, I had a phone call.” She breathed deeply. “It turns out that Remington is in jail. We need to bail him out.”
Taylor slapped a hand to her face and her usual composure cracked. “Again? For fuck’s sake.”
Almost in unison, Kendra and Conrad asked, “What for?”
Bobby’s mind cycled quickly through the possibilities that each response was likely to bring. “He didn’t say, exactly. While working the case he had to do something he wasn’t supposed to, and the cops caught him and took him in. Kendra, do you think you could help?”
The agent frowned. “Possibly. One more abuse of my position isn’t likely to matter much at this point.”
Taylor folded her arms. “I could handle it myself but that would cost us valuable time and potentially draw scrutiny toward Moonlight. Agent Gilmore, if you think you can spring him, that would be a tremendous help to us.”
The agent strode toward the door. Bobby accompanied her out to the front walk, with Riley hovering behind. Presley closed the door.
“I can do this,” the agent said, “but I need to know where he is, obviously, and more about what the hell actually happened. Are you sure he didn’t mention what he was arrested for?”
They were already halfway to the cars. Riley hovered close to Bobby’s ear.
“We were in Washington Heights,” she whispered. “So whatever place the police would take people from there.”
She relayed this information. “And, to be honest,” she added, “he did mention that it involved…uh, public nudity.”
The woman stopped in her tracks. “I see. This keeps getting more and more interesting.” Briskly, she resumed her stride.
Bobby hung back and turned her head slightly to speak to the fairy. “Go with her. Hide in her car or something and remind Remy that he needs to get those ingredients. Make sure they don’t cock it up.”
The fairy agreed and buzzed toward Gilmore’s vehicle. As she reflected on the situation, Bobby suddenly regretted her choice of words.
34th Precinct, Washington Heights, New York City
Remy, from his cell, had the privilege of overhearing the discussion—really more of an argument—between Agent Gilmore and the precinct chief over whether or not he should be granted his freedom.
“Sir,” she urged, “as far as I’m concerned, he probably should be prosecuted for this.” She shot him a fiery glance. “But under the circumstances, his presence is required for our operation.”
The chief, a hulking man with a sour face, threw his large, meaty hands up. “What the hell kind of operation requires him to prance around naked in the street, shouting gibberish at passersby? I’m curious, Agent Gilmore.”
While the agent and the chief had this conversation, Remy looked calmly at them and stood ramrod straight with his hands behind his back. The idea was to emulate the pose that Hannibal Lecter used at the beginning of Silence of the Lambs. He felt it might make people respect him more under the circumstances.
Probably not the guy in the cell across from him, though. A brooding, malevolent-looking individual scowled and flexed his hands, probably looking forward to the privilege of beating the crap out of sex offenders and other such low-ranking convicts.
At least Kendra was already there. She was almost better than Taylor, after all, given her status as a legitimate public servant.
“We both know,” the agent went on, “that there are strange things going on in this city lately and the Bureau is doing whatever’s necessary to deal with it. There was a miscommunication as to exactly when and where Remington was to begin his diversionary action. And it won’t happen again.”
The chief sighed and grumbled his disapproval. “I’d better see documentation for all this. Even if there is an ongoing investigation, we can’t have idiots running around bare-assed in public and acting like they’re high on goddamn acid. The people have certain standards.”
“I understand,” she replied, her face grave but empathetic. “This never should have happened. Still, given the seriousness of the operation at stake, we have to demand his immediate release.”
He glowered at her, then at the prisoner. “Fine. Pull him out and get his ass the hell out of here.”
Kendra did not speak as they walked to her car, which made Remy suspect that she would chew him out as soon as they were safely within the vehicle. What surprised him, though, was to see Riley crouched in the far corner of the backseat.
“Get in,” Kendra said and opened the passenger’s side door.
He obeyed, and during the few seconds it took her to slam the door and walk around to the driver’s side, Riley spoke.
“Remember, we need to get the fairy dust.” Her voice, already tiny, was so soft he barely heard it but he nodded
in acknowledgment.
As the agent climbed in, he turned to her.
“Hey, thanks, and sorry about this. Trust me, I have my reasons. Also…uh, can we stop at Fort Washington Park? It’s only a few minutes away. I need to get something.”
She stared at him. “You have your reasons? I cannot possibly think of what they might be. This whole incident makes me question your competence—not only in the sense of how good you are at your job but in the sense of the term ‘mentally incompetent.’ If you’re going to pull shit like this, you probably ought to be languishing in an institution.”
Exhaling slowly, he responded with, “I was put up to it. I can tell you all the details later after we’ve taken care of Moswen. For now, though, there simply isn’t time so please, trust me when I say it won’t happen again. Also, the park. We need to go there.”
“What for?” she snapped.
“Some friends will drop off a package I need,” he explained. “It will help with the situation.”
She scoffed and shook her head. “A package? What is it—drugs? Black market weaponry? Non-prescription Viagra for the next time you plan to run around naked on a cold day?”
Remy pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of the above, although those are…uh, fairly good guesses. But please, do this for me. Taylor would approve. In fact, she insists. If this isn’t worth it, she’s as guilty as I am.”
Kendra had been heading north. Now, she took a sudden turn to the left, presumably to loop around to the south and the park. “Sometimes, I wonder if all you people are simply plain nuts,” she grumbled.
Moments later, they arrived and Remy directed her to park near his usual place but slightly farther away to reduce the chances that she’d see any of the details of his transaction.
He thanked her, stepped out, and paused to say “Thanks, and I’ll be right back,” which left the door open long enough for Riley to slip out.
“Oh,” Kendra said coldly, “no problem at all.”
Under Pressure (Moonlight Detective Agency Book 4) Page 19