by K. J. Emrick
“I got your name from a friend and she said you were the one who could help me with my particular problem. Miss Stone, please. Just tell me you’ll help.”
“Let’s drop the whole ‘Miss Stone’ thing, okay? You and me are about the same age but you’re making me feel like I’m way past thirty. Sidney will do just fine. So how about we sit down at the table and you can tell me everything, okay?”
“No, you aren’t listening to me. I can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“Because my…because I have a dog in my car, and I can’t leave him out there alone for too long or he gets really, really upset. It’s almost sundown Miss Stone—I mean, Sidney. I need to get back to him.”
She seems awfully concerned about her dog. It’s nice to see that she doesn’t want to leave her pet unattended in her vehicle, but she obviously has a problem, a serious one, and if I’m going to help her, I at least need to know some of the details.
“Molly, this will only take a few minutes. Let’s just sit and talk—”
“No!” she says frantically. “I’ll…I’ll come back tomorrow, I promise, I just need you to promise to help me. Please, Sidney. Please say you’ll help.”
There’s something in her eyes when I look there. Something sincere. Something I can’t quite put a name to but it’s there. This woman is in trouble deep, and it’s my doorstep she came to asking for help.
Something about all that makes me want to tell her yes.
I don’t need the money, and I’m supposed to be working on Chen’s case, but there are times when you need to overextend yourself to help people. Molly’s boyfriend had something stolen from him. That’s a problem, sure, but one that anyone could have helped her with, including the police. The whole thing about him dying if he doesn’t get it back, though…that sounds like a bigger kind of problem.
Big problems are what I excel at.
So…
“I tell you what, Molly. I’ll listen to you and hear what you have to say, okay? I’ll be here all morning tomorrow. Drop by any time and we’ll talk.”
The relief that flashes over her face is profound. “Yes. Yes, tomorrow will be fine. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll be here. I’ll be here and I knew you’d help. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Not when I heard about you. Thank you. Thank you, I knew you’d help, I just knew it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
After that confusing string of words, she turns on her heel and zips out of my apartment as fast as her feet can carry her.
“Well,” I hear Harry say to me, “that was certainly different.”
He just popped back up at my side, just like that, with a push of displaced air ruffling through my hair. He’s the only person who can surprise me that way, since my gift doesn’t work with him. He knows that, and he still takes every opportunity he can to scare the living daylights out of me.
“You’re a jerk,” I tell him, punching him in the arm again. “You were eavesdropping the whole time, weren’t you? Even before Chris left.”
One of his dark brows arches up comically high. “Oh? Did Chris leave? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Very funny. You don’t have to be so tense around him, you know.”
His arms cross over that massive chest of his. “I am not tense. I am a genie. We don’t do tense.”
“Whatever you want to tell yourself, big guy. I’m just saying that you and he are both my friends, and it would make me really happy to know you were getting along instead of being secretly mad at each other.”
Instead of answering me directly, he just shrugs. Then he points to the door. “I see you just took on another client. Considering you’re already working for Mister Chen, I have to wonder what he will think about you accepting more work before his case is finished. He is not the forgiving type, if you will remember.”
“Yeah, this I know. But it’s not like I’m giving up on his problem. I’ll still find Chen’s statue for him but this woman, Molly…I don’t know. There was something about her that makes me feel like I can help her. Like a connection, or something. I don’t know. Chen will just have to understand that he doesn’t have exclusive rights to me. I’m a free spirit, Harry, and I do what I want.”
“Mm-hmm. I see. So, Sidney Stone. Another story for us to work on?”
“Cases, Harry. They’re called cases, not stories. It’s not like there’s some fourth wall here with people reading about our characters, turning the page to see what happens next.”
I mean, seriously. Can you believe this guy?
“But, yeah,” I shrug. “Looks like I just took on another client. I just wish I could figure out why this one feels so different. There’s something about her, I know there is. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“You can’t? Why, it’s obvious, my lady. She feels different to you, because she is. Molly Knowell…is a witch.”
I look up at him, trying to decide if that was a joke. “She’s a what, now?”
“A witch. I thought that was obvious. Shall we start the movie?”
Chapter Two
Okay. So, here’s the thing.
Not being able to see the future coming at me when it involves Harry has kind of dulled my sensitivity to the future. It’s like listening to a noise for so long that you just don’t notice it anymore. For all my life, I’ve been aware of what’s about to happen. I got used to it. I learned to ignore it when I want to, because otherwise I’d be hearing a constant echo in my head all the time, with voices overlapping, possibilities layering over possibilities, and I wouldn’t be able to function.
Imagine watching your favorite episode of Friends on twenty different screens, all at the same time, each one three seconds ahead of the last one. What would you do in a situation like that? You’d concentrate on one screen at a time so you could enjoy the show, right? That’s pretty much what I do with my life. I decide what to listen to, and what to filter out.
All.
The.
Time.
Now, whenever I’m around Harry, the future isn’t there anymore. My future-sense doesn’t work around the magically endowed. I’m starting to get used to that—maybe a little too much. So that’s probably why I didn’t see Molly’s knock on my door coming. There was no future flash of her standing there when I went to open the door. There should have been, and I should have noticed when there wasn’t…but I mean seriously. How was I supposed to know that a witch would be knocking on my door? A witch? There are witches in Detroit? And that little redhead slip of a woman was one of them? She was Person of Magic, and she’d been standing right here in my home. I should have seen it. I just wasn’t expecting it.
Or maybe I was distracted by Chris holding my hand…
No, that’s not it. I’m not the kind of girl to go all mush-brained when a guy gets too close. So I’m not going to use that as an excuse, no matter how nice it felt. Which it did.
There, I admitted it. Doesn’t matter, because we’re still just friends and I’ve got more important things to worry about. Like teaching myself to recognize when magical people are around me, for instance. Harry likes to tell me that my future-sense is magic, and that’s why it doesn’t work with people like him, but I’m still not buying that one. I’m talking about real magical beings from the pages of fairy tales coming out of the woodwork. First Harris the genie pops into my life. Then, Mister Chen the whatever-he-is comes storming in. Now yesterday, a cute little witch named Molly came looking for my help.
Who’s next?
Yeah, I’m really going to have to start paying more attention to those things. Otherwise someone might just come waltzing right up to my apartment and barge through the door without me even—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
My heart jumps at the loud knocking on my door, lodging itself firmly in my throat. Yeah. See, right there is what I’m talking about. I didn’t see that one coming either.
Which can only mean one thing. There’s a Person of Magic out there.
&nbs
p; I didn’t sleep well last night. Not after what Harry had told me, and now sitting here at the table ignoring the Pop Tarts on my plate, I definitely do not need another shock to my system like this. It’s enough to make me want to install a video surveillance system in the hallway. Huh. Why didn’t I think of that before?
Once I can breathe again, I force myself to think. I was waiting here for Molly, and I already knew I wouldn’t be able to feel her coming, but that banging was way too forceful to be her. That meant the person at the door—which I started locking again—had to be a different Person of Magic coming to talk to me. Based on the sharp sound of the knock, they weren’t happy to be here, either.
Which would make the person at my door Mister Arnie Chen. Well, isn’t that just a great way to kick off my day?
“Harry?” I call out, loud enough that he’ll hear me even if he’s down in the basement of his rug. Don’t laugh. He has a basement in there with a six-lane bowling alley.
Before I even finish saying his name he’s here, sitting at the kitchen table with me, a deep frown on that sharp face. The smell of flowers fills the room at his entrance. I’ll never need an air freshener as long as he’s my friend.
“That,” he says, “is Arnie Chen at your door.”
“Yeah, thanks. I figured that out. Can you make us some coffee?”
His eyebrows dance like agitated caterpillars, up and down. “You want me to stay? Are you certain, my lady?”
Not too long ago, whenever Chen would enter a room, he would always push Harry out, like two opposite poles of a magnet repelling each other. Then I got the bright idea of using one of my wishes from Harry to protect him from Chen’s magic. Now he’s immune to it.
Chen doesn’t know that yet. It was our little secret and I’ve just been waiting for the right time to let it out of the bag. Well, I’m in that kind of mood this morning.
“I’m sure, Harry. Let’s see how Chen reacts when he learns he can’t push you around anymore.”
Harry releases a breath out through his flared nostrils. “My guess is he will not take it well. But, you are my master, and I live to serve. Coffee for three, coming right up.”
“Thanks, Harry. You’re a peach.”
He doesn’t have to call me ‘master’ and he knows it. He still does from time to time, just to be sarcastic. It’s fine. We both get the joke.
I hear another knock before I get to the door, just as loud and insistent as the others. The door was recently replaced, brand new after the incident with the birdshot. It’s a really nice door. With Chen’s money to play with I went all out. It has a solid metal core, and a magnifying peep hole, and a deadbolt that would make the guy who designed Fort Knox jealous. It extends a full five inches from both sides of the door into the walls when you turn the thumbturn lever. Now that I’ve decided to start locking my door again all the time, I figure that will come in handy.
At the door there’s no future flash of who’s out there, just like I suspected. With an eye to the peephole I see a large swath of expensive white satin shirt, and a white sport coat, and a white bowtie. His face is lost above the view of the fisheye lens but that doesn’t matter. There’s no doubt this is exactly who I thought it was. Someone who isn’t very forgiving, and who doesn’t like to be kept waiting.
Deep breath, I tell myself, and big smile.
“Mister Chen,” I say with a forced cheerfulness as I pull the door open. “What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to drop in today.”
“And I,” he says in that deep, booming voice I’ve come to know so well, “was not expecting to share your services with anyone else until you found the person, or persons, who stole my property.”
Not much of a greeting, but at least his eyes didn’t catch fire this time.
Arnie Chen is an imposing guy even without knowing that he’s some kind of magically endowed, not-quite-human being. Putting it bluntly…the dude is just plain scary. His real name is Li Qiang Chen, but living here in the good ol’ U.S. of A., he prefers the Anglicized moniker of Arnie. He’s over six feet tall, and I’m betting his tailor gets paid extra to make those fine clothes fit so well to a body that can best be described as puffy. His arms are bigger around than my legs. His triple chin strains against the collar of his shirt and sends that bowtie wobbling with every word.
There’s no way someone that size can fit through my nice, normal-sized door. Yet he does. Through some trick of the eye he fits right through without so much as brushing an elbow on either side. He didn’t even have to duck to keep from scraping the scalp of his clean-shaven head.
His pudgy hands fold themselves over his rotund belly. Gold rings flash on several of his fingers. “You’ve taken another job, Miss Stone. Yet, I don’t recall hearing an update from you on my own case. I am, as I’m sure you can understand, very upset by this turn of events.”
Although there’s no mistaking the Asian lineage in his features, there’s not a trace of an accent when he speaks. He could have been raised right here in the Midwest, or studied at any Ivy League college in New England. There’s steel in his voice, though. An underlying edge that makes me believe he could cut me with his words if he chose.
Like I said, he’s scary.
He’s also one of the biggest crime bosses in this part of the country—and the pun about his size is intended, believe me. Taking a job offer from him had not been my first choice. It had been my only choice.
“Look, Mister Chen. I haven’t given up on finding your statue. I have a few feelers out to contacts who I trust and I’m waiting to hear back from them. In the meantime—”
“Waiting?” he asks impatiently. “You’re just sitting around your drab little apartment and waiting for my statue to fall into your hands? That is not what I hired you for, Miss Stone.”
“No, you hired me because I’m the best private detective in Detroit. Top three in the whole state, easy.” I was kind of pushing it by reminding him of my credentials, but hey. I’m not wrong. “You hired me because you know the lengths I’ll go to in order to solve a case for my clients. You hired me because you know I won’t stop until I return your property to you. And, maybe, because you know I can see a glimpse of the future and you thought that might give me an edge, hmm?”
With a slow nod of his head, he doesn’t deny it. That had been a real blow to my ego, to find out he knew my little secret. All my life I’ve kept that hidden from people because even my good friends got all weirded out when I knew all the answers on Jeopardy before the questions flashed up on the board. People don’t know how to react to the unexplained. Arnie Chen wasn’t put off by what I could do, he’d chosen to hire me in large part because of it.
He knows my secret, but I don’t know his. Whatever his history is there’s got to be one hell of backstory there.
“Do not play games with me, Miss Stone.” His words are cold as ice. His glare hardens. “I hired you to do a job. I warned you what would happen if you did not give me your full attention until…until…”
His gaze suddenly shifts past me, over my shoulder. He already towers over me so it’s not like he has to strain on his tiptoes to look behind me into the kitchen. It’s just obvious when he does, and it’s just as obvious what he sees there.
And the look of surprise on that wide face makes me smile.
“Mister genie,” he says in a low voice that is nearly a growl. “I did not expect to see you here.”
Harry spreads his arms wide, leaning back in his chair at the table. “You were expecting me to be pushed back into my rug, I expect?”
Chen glides his bulk around me, moving deftly, taking a step toward Harry. He stops, and waits.
When Harry doesn’t disappear, he takes another step.
Then another.
Harry reaches up to tug at one of his earrings. Other than that, he doesn’t show any concern at Chen’s scrutiny at all. “I have coffee for you, Mister Chen. I made it myself.”
From where I’m standing, I can see the d
istasteful expression that wrinkles Chen’s face. You’d think Harry had offered him a roasted tarantula on a stick, rather than some of his amazing coffee. He looks down at the three small cups, steaming hot and frothy. He has to know that Harry didn’t have time to make them in the normal way. He wished them up.
For a moment his eyes open wide, and then he turns to me.
“A wish,” he whispers. That word stretches and seems to echo around the room. A wiiish… “You used a genie’s wish to keep my magic from affecting him. That’s against the rules, as I understand it. You can’t use a wish for your own benefit. Hmm. My, my, what have you two been up to?”
Ah, yes. A genie’s famous rules. Harry explained all of that to me the very first day we met. He can’t bring anyone back from the dead. He can’t make anyone fall in love. He can’t kill anyone. There’s a limit on the number of wishes I can use. Three for each case I work, and no more than that.
And what’s more, he won’t let me use his wishes to benefit myself. If I do, then our arrangement is over. He goes back into his rug for good, waiting for the day that he belongs to another master and starts his cycle all over again. So, no wishing for a million dollars. No wishing for a brand-new car just because I want one—which I don’t. I like my Mustang. Her name’s Roxy, and she’s a great car. Parts of her have been replaced along the way—like the now blue driver’s side door—but she’s still got the same soul. Roxy’s a hard-working girl. Just like me.
My point is, every wish I make has to be used to help other people. Chen thinks I broke that rule.
“I wished for him to be unaffected by your magic,” I tell him, “but I did it for Harry. He didn’t like being sent to his room every time you were around.”
Something like admiration flashes across Chen’s face. “Ah. I see. Well, well, well. You constantly surprise me, Miss Stone. An elegant solution to a tricky dilemma. Be that as it may, it changes little. I am still not happy that you took on another client when my case remains unsolved.”
I tap my foot on the floor, and I cross my arms. “I haven’t actually agreed to take her case yet, but now you’ve got me curious. How do you know Molly was even here? Are you having me watched?”