Perfect Love

by A.M. Burns

2

  Standing at five foot five, Reynaldo Reyes wasn’t an imposing man. He wasn’t a handsome man, either. He wasn’t exactly ugly, and I’m sure some people would find him attractive, but well, he just wasn’t my type. He arrived at the office on time at ten forty a.m. I couldn’t be positive, but I thought he wore the same clothes as he had during our first meeting. He hadn’t shaved and his week-or-so beard growth threatened to turn his black goatee into a full beard. His greasy black hair looked like he had run a comb through it right before he pulled himself out of his expensive gray sports car, which sat on the curb outside the office. He’d ogled Tiffany on his way past and pointedly ignored Dusty in his wolf form at my side.

  Dusty often spent time in his wolf form when I had clients around, partly because he was a bit over protective of me, but his keen nose and ears picked up lies from clients less invasively than I could’ve using telepathy. Plus, it gave me the time to completely focus on the clients and what they said. Overall, it worked out well. It didn't hurt that it let me keep a hand on Dusty's head, often scratching his ears, which he loved more than he was willing to admit since he felt it compromised his dignity. Dusty's wolf form also helped keep the clients from knowing how many people were actually involved in their case. It caused a slight gray area in client confidentiality, but I had them sign forms that allowed for partners in the firm and any necessary personnel in the fine print. Dusty was both a partner and necessary. Besides, no one ever suspected the dog of being anything other than a dog unless they themselves were a bit more than human, although we did have a growing not-quite-human clientele.

  Reynaldo Reyes was strictly human and not necessarily the best example on the planet. Dusty already informed me of the overwhelming odor of pot smoke and Jose Cuervo, but I wanted to cut the man a bit of slack since his wife died less than a week ago.

  He listened quietly to my recounting of our encounter with the wraith of Magee the night before. His eyes betrayed no surprise.

  “I thought this might be useful,” he said. He set a slim laptop on the desk in front of him. “Magee used this all the time. I think there’s a list of the people who were in her groups in there somewhere, but I just can't bring myself to go through it right now.”

  He confirmed that his wife had been taking a series of very strong emotional inhibitors over the past year and that she’d become very reclusive. He also assured me that while his wife stylized herself as a witch, she was nothing of the sort, but a good outstanding woman who just liked to have her friends around even if her friends were a little on the weird side. He didn’t like those friends and thought they were a bad influence on her.

  “Thank you Mr. Reyes, I’ll have my staff go through it to see if there’s anything that might be useful to the investigation.” I laid the laptop on the side of the desk on top of the case file. “So, to your knowledge, did your wife have conflicts with any of the people she was around?”

  “Well there were a couple of people that I never felt right about,” Reyes replied. “Barry Crabtree was around a lot from time to time, but lately he’s been very unstable and Magee was afraid that he’d hurt her. They got into an argument about one of the girls, Maddie Fort. Barry had it bad for her, but she wanted nothing to do with his fat, ugly, loser ass. He threatened Magee about two weeks ago, and after a lot of very nasty emails and voicemails, he finally stopped bothering her a couple days before she died.” He paused and thought while I caught up with my notes. “She’s been really upset lately about someone trying to take over the community group from her. She’s gotten very paranoid about the whole thing, but then I guess if someone’s willing to kill her for it she might not have been so paranoid after all.”

  “Paranoia often has a basis in fact,” I said casually. “Mr. Reyes, can you think of anyone else that might’ve had a major problem with Mrs. Reyes, enough to kill her over?”

  “Well, if I had to point fingers, I’d say Barry first off, then there’s this girl who used to live with us. She had a real grudge against Maggie ‘cause she wanted in my pants and Maggie wasn’t willing to share.”

  “But he sure was,” said Dusty, speaking up for the first time since letting me know about the pot smell. Distaste dripped from his mental voice. Werewolves, like their animal cousins, tended to mate for life. Sure, he’d had sex with other men before me, but he’s my mate now and would never dream of looking at another man while I’m alive. He’d been a werewolf all his life and had a low opinion of humans that would even think about having sex with other people while their husbands or wives were still alive.

  “But I know that Terri wouldn’t have killed Magee just to get to me. She knew there’s always enough of me to go around as long as Magee never found out.” Reynaldo sounded so smug.

  I felt a growl growing in Dusty. In his world only alphas, or betas trying to be alphas, got to be smug and proud. He felt that the person sitting across from us was far from either. I ran my hand through the soft thick fur on the top of his head and scratched his right ear a bit to relax him.

  “If you’d give us what information you can on her, that’d be great. We’ll need to speak to her just in case she might know something that’d be useful.”

  “That should all be in Magee's laptop,” he said, glancing at his watch. “She kept a full address book of everyone she ever knew and Terri's information should be there. Is there anything else you really need? ‘Cause I need to get on to work. I took an early lunch to stop by and see how things went last night. I really can't afford to miss more work than I already have.”

  “I don't see any reason why you need to stay around any longer. I’ll begin working on this immediately and check in with you as soon as I have more to go on.” I stood as he did and reached across the desk to shake his hand. His handshake was small, sweaty and weak.

  “I look forward to hearing from you,” he said, then headed for the door.

  Tiffany appeared as soon as the bell on the outside door sounded indicating Mr. Reyes had left the building. “He's guilty, not necessarily of murder, but of something.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Dusty replied after he shifted back to human form. Being a born wer, he could’ve changed fully clothed and had the clothes come back. But around the house/office he was a bit of an exhibitionist. I think it’s for my benefit. He paused to pull on a pair of grey sweat pants he stored in the bottom draw of the desk for when clients showed up, then sat on the edge of the desk without bothering to slip on the shirt I knew he kept there, too. It was only practiced will that kept my focus in sight of the gorgeous lines of heavily-sculptured muscles and thick hair of his chest. I passed the laptop to Tiffany.

  “See what you can get from this. You know what I'm looking for.” She smiled with the knowing look that only passes between people who have worked together for a long time.

  “I'll get right on it and Tech’s coming over to make sure that there’s nothing I miss in the search. We should have something on your desk by two at the latest.”

  “Sounds like a plan. So what's next on my morning schedule?”

  “Well, you've got about twenty minutes until Mrs. Davidson arrives for you to go over those pictures of her husband with that floozy from his office, along with the other pictures of him and the janitor. I particularly like the one with him bent over the trash can. The pictures are in the folder marked Davidson, on your desk. Oh, and before I forget, that bitch, Carmine, with the Council called a few minutes ago and wants to speak with you. I told her you'd call her back when you got time.” Tiffany flashed one of those smiles that got her through almost any door. You know the type, lots of dimples just a hint of teeth.

  “Well so much for a bit of fun before the next client,” Dusty pouted as he slid off the edge of the desk.

  The paranormal community isn’t tight-knit by any stretch of anyone’s imagination. A few years back, when there started to be more and more of us, someone had the bright idea that there needed to be some sort of governing council that over
saw the whole community. The Council is composed of representatives of the various factions in the paranormal world. There’re vampires, shape-shifters, magic-users, psychics and more than a few other dimensional (ODs for short) that sit on the council. It’s also a bureaucratic nightmare. Soon after its founding they realized the need for local, national, global and inter-dimensional offices.

  ODs are the politically correct term for demons. They think it feels less threatening. The reason that they’re covered under the Council’s charter is for their protection and ours. For a magic user to legally be able to summon an OD, they have to pass a council-sponsored course and pay a tariff each time. For an OD to be on the acceptable list of summoning, they had to agree to the terms of the Council in what they can and cannot do while here in this dimension. Due to past problems with it, they aren’t allowed to do the whole wish thing. And there’s a whole list of curses that they aren’t allowed to perform without fear of having their licenses revoked and other things that are too numerous to explain.

  Normally, the Council has its own group of enforcers who work directly for them and make sure that things go smoothly. But every once in a while, something happened. Either they get too busy, or someone’s trying to sweep something under the rug and they call for help. The former was the most likely reason for Carmine’s call. Since she bothered to call and not just send one of her flunkies after me meant that I hadn’t crossed any lines that I was aware of. I did my best to keep my nose clean and out of their way. The impending client arrival was a good excuse should the call drag on too long.

  Dusty whined and gave me his big-eyed puppy-dog look as I slipped on my blue-tooth headset. I leaned over, gave him a deep kiss on his firm silky lips and fingered a hard nipple. “Later my love,” I whispered softly. I slid one hand across the hairy hardness of his pecs as I pushed the speed dial for Carmine.

  “I'll hold you to that,” he smiled lustily.

  Carmine picked up on the first ring, and before I could say anything, she said, “Took you long enough to call me back, Peters.” Caller ID had done wonders for not being able to catch people off guard anymore when calling them.

  “Sorry Carmine, I was with a client.” I knew Dusty heard everything she said as he rolled his eyes and made mouth-like motions with his hands.

  “Yeah, a client that left over five minutes ago,” she snapped

  Sometimes talking to psychics could be a real pain, or in Carmine's case, a real bitch. It was nearly impossible to keep things from her since her sense of clairvoyance was nearly omnipotent and she didn’t mind lording it over people. Personally, I think her annoying personality kept her at the Dallas office instead of moving up in the Council.

  “So what can I help you with today Carmine?” I replied. “Surely you didn’t call just to see how long it’d take me to call you back.” No use trying polite excuses with her. Just cut right to the meat of the issue.

  “Oh I don't know, every so often we get a betting pool going around here to see how long it’ll take you to call back. The interns like to use it to hone their skills. But today we find ourselves shorthanded and could use your help.” Her tone changed slightly. It always irritated her to ask for my help after I left the Council's official enforcement team years ago rather than keep working under her. I just didn’t do well under her heavy-handed management style. She’d copped an attitude with me ever since.

  “Wow Carmine, you need my help?” I didn’t bother keeping the arrogance out of my voice. “I was pretty sure I hadn't done anything to warrant your call. And since you hadn’t sent any of the enforcers down here to push me around, I kind of figured you needed something.”

  “Yeah, Peters, enjoy your moment here when I ask you for help. You know if you want to keep your license, you have to help me when I ask and you have to do it at your lowest rate.”

  “I know Carmine,” I sighed. “So what’s the problem? Remember I do have paying clients that take up my time too.” I knew that Tiffany would, in her meticulous fashion, comb over every angle of Carmine’s job and find some way to bill it back to the Council, if not at full rate, then at least at the highest possible.

  “Right, well instead of chasing ghosts and cheating husbands, I need you to keep an eye out for an unregistered witch or magician of some sort who’s illegally calling unlicensed ODs into this plane.” She sounded more than a little concerned and not quite so smug. “So far, we have at least three instances in the Dallas area. They’ve been very short and haven’t come up in the same area twice. I figure you can keep your eyes open as you’re out and about in the general populace. Think of it as just as a favor for old time’s sake.”

  “I'll see what I can do.” A buzz on the phone was the signal from Tiffany that my next client had arrived early. Dusty smiled as he peeled off his clothes and kissed my free ear before resuming his wolf form and set his head on my knee.

  “Well Carmine, not that this hasn't been fun, but I've got to go. I'll keep my eyes open and let you know if I come across anything out of the ordinary.”

  “You see that you do, Peters,” she said curtly, hanging up before I could.

  I had just enough time to take my headset off before Tiffany opened the office door and showed in Mrs. Davidson.