Jerome looked around.
“Like you said, it’s still early. Let’s talk this out a little over a drink before you stick your neck out. I think there’s a bar around here somewhere.”
That got a laugh out of Griffen. One was never far from a bar in the French Quarter.
They stepped into one of the quieter bars available and ordered a round, carefully choosing seats well away from the other customers and the bartender.
“So, what have you got on your mind?” Griffen asked, settling in and taking a sip from his drink. “And can you keep it short? I really have to get over to the conclave.”
“That’s what I what to talk about,” Jerome said. “You’re so wrapped up in that conclave you aren’t thinking.”
“C’mon, Jer. I thought we were past that.”
“I’m not talking about business,” Jerome said, shaking his head. “I’m talkin’ about what’s goin’ on now. Something smells about the whole deal.”
“What do you mean?” Griffen said, cocking his head to one side.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” Jerome pressed. “You got so much shit goin’ on, you don’t have time to think. Well, take a few minutes here and think. You think it’s a coincidence, Slim getting killed so soon after you went head-to-head with him? While you’re in the middle of tryin’ to moderate that conclave?”
“Well, what else could it be?” Griffen said.
“It could be that someone’s tryin’ to set you up,” Jerome said, pointedly. “If it isn’t a frame for a murder rap, then at the very least someone’s out to embarrass you big-time.”
“I think you’re stretching a bit to think that,” Griffen said, skeptically.
“Well, I think you’re stretchin’ if you don’t think that,” Jerome shot back. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is to think about it and watch your back. If I’m wrong and it is all just coincidence, there’s no harm done. But if I’m right, and you keep trying to wave it all off as coincidence, you could really get blindsided.”
Griffen started to speak, then hesitated. Taking another sip from his drink, he stared at the wall for a long minute.
“All right,” he said at last. “I’ll consider it seriously. My first question would be who would want to set me up? I’m getting along well with everyone at the conclave . . . well, nearly everyone.”
“All it takes is one,” Jerome warned. “Besides, it doesn’t necessarily have to be someone from the conclave. You’re not only a dragon, you’re the head dragon in this area. That makes you a target. Every time you take a breath, you’re gonna upset somebody . . . and they’re going to keep coming after you until you stop breathing. Get used to it.”
“Do you have anyone specifically in mind?” Griffen said.
“Haven’t gotten that far,” Jerome admitted. “Didn’t you and Val go sideways to a couple of Melinda’s boys a while back?”
“Yeah, but we haven’t seen or heard from them since,” Griffen said, then hesitated. “Did I mention to you that George is back in town?”
“The one who tried to kill you a couple months ago?” Jerome said, sitting up straight. “He’s in town, and you didn’t let us know?”
“I think it was more that he was testing me than trying to kill me,” Griffen said. “And as far as him being in town, he says he’s just here on vacation. As a matter of fact, he’s Valerie’s date for the masquerade.”
“Uh-huh,” Jerome said. “You’ve got a known supernatural hit man in town, someone from the conclave turns up dead, and you think it’s a coincidence?”
“He only acts when someone is paying him,” Griffen pointed out. “Which would still leave us looking for someone with a motive. Heck, I’d be more likely to suspect Flynn than George.”
“Flynn? West Coast big-time dragon Flynn? He’s in town?”
“Yeah. I met him a couple of weeks ago, and he’s been giving me advice on how to run the conclave,” Griffen said. “Why? Do you know him?”
“Never met him, but I’ve heard he’s a major power player,” Jerome said. “He’s not one I’d figure to be giving out free advice.”
“Sounds like you’ve been talking to Mai,” Griffen said with a laugh.
“Heard about him long time before I met Mai,” Jerome said. “If she doesn’t trust him, I’d say she’s with the majority. Anybody else in town you haven’t told me about?”
“That’s it. But I take your point.” Griffen finished his drink.
“I’ll go pass the word on to the conclave. You see if you can round up Val and Mai and meet me back at my place. Maybe between us we can sort this thing out.”
“Half a good plan,” Jerome said. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll tag along while you pass the word, then we’ll find the women. The more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that you should have someone covering your back for a while.”
“Hey, Mai. C’mon in. I was just about to call you.”
Valerie stepped back from her apartment door to let her friend in.
“Griffen just buzzed me to let me know he was calling a war council,” Mai said, entering the apartment and flopping down on the sofa. “I thought it might be a good idea if we talked first.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Val said. “Do you think there’s anything to the idea that he’s being set up?”
“I really don’t know . . . but there’s always the possibility,” Mai said. “One thing I am sure of is that it’s time we put a few more cards on the table.”
“You mean . . .”
“I mean we’ve got to tell him about Lizzy,” Mai said. “If we’re going to sort this mess out, he’s got to have all the pieces. That means letting him know who the players in town are.”
“You think she’s behind the setup . . . if there is one?” Val asked with a frown.
“Not really,” Mai admitted. “But as crazy as she is, we can’t rule her out completely.”
“Big Brother is going to freak,” Valerie said, shaking her head. “From what he said when he called, Jerome is already giving him grief about not sharing the information that Flynn and George are in town. When he finds out that we’ve been holding out on him as well, he’s going to blow his stack.”
“Can’t be helped.” Mai sighed. “Now he needs to know. We’ll just have to tell him that we thought it would distract him from the conclave and decided to handle it ourselves.”
“He’s going to love that,” Val said with a grimace. “What about the other thing?”
“Which other thing?” Mai said.
Val pulled herself up to her full height and patted her stomach.
The two women looked at each other for a long moment, then as one shook their heads.
“I don’t think so. Not now,” Valerie said. “Lizzy is my problem. So is this.” She touched her belly.
“One crisis at a time,” Mai agreed.
Forty-six
Even though it was late, the hotel lobby bar was still open. During its stay, the conclave had spent enough time and money in the bar to convince the management to schedule extra help to keep it open as long as they had customers, and tonight looked to be a banner ring.
Griffen had come and gone, and now a goodly percentage of the attendees had gravitated to the bar both to absorb and discuss the news he had brought.
“I don’t like it,” Tail declared, glaring into his drink.
“The whole situation abounds with things not to like,” Margie said, cocking her head at him. “Which thing in particular don’t you like, Tail?”
Surprisingly enough, of all the tactics the organizers had scheduled in an effort to get the various groups at the conclave to interact, the one that seemed to have been the most effective was the unscheduled poker game. Since that game, the participants had tended to hang and drink together, preferring each other’s company to that of their own specific group.
“I don’t like the idea of the cops poking around the conclave,” Tail said with a grimace.
“Lot o’ differences.” Kane spoke up. “For one ting, dere are a lot of us dat have gathered in this here place. Too many maybe. Means de little tings dat make us different and we could normally cover on our own get blown up, dey get exaggerated. How many here you trust to not slip up, keep traps shut ’bout every little ting?”
“There’s also the minor detail that we’ve got a body that is being tied directly to us,” Lowell put in. “I myself don’t like the bit about him being staked through the heart.”
“See? I’m not the only one who’s worried,” Tail said triumphantly.
“I’m not saying that there’s nothing to worry about,” Margie said, raising her hands defensively. “I just think we’d be better off spending our time getting our stories straight instead of just sitting around and fretting. For example, what are we going to say about Slim and Griffen? That’s the main reason they’re coming around, isn’t it?”
“I think I can handle that, since I was there,” Lowell said.
“I’ll just tell them the truth. That there were some harsh words tossed back and forth, but nothing beyond that. Nothing to kill anyone over. What’s more, McCandles didn’t even show up until it was almost over. If anything, there was more bad blood between me and Slim than between Slim and McCandles.”
“Bad blood. Good one dat, vamp,” Kane said with a wink.
“Not sure you should say such a thing to a cop now. Wit how Slim was killed and all.”
“Why not?” Lowell said. “They don’t know I’m a vampire. To them, I’m just another attendee of a weird convention. All of us are.”
“So you sayin’ we cover for him?” Kane said.
“I’m not covering for him. I’m just going to tell them what happened,” Lowell said. “Besides, I don’t think he did it.”
“Because he said so?” Margie said.
“Because I don’t see where he’d have any reason to,” Lowell corrected. “If anything, quite the opposite. He’s been knocking himself out trying to run this conclave. Why would he do anything to disrupt it or to draw unwanted attention to it?”
“I’ll have to go along with that,” Tail agreed. “He rubs me the wrong way, but he’s also doing right by us. We all expect certain things from dragons; Griffen has turned at least some of my ideas around.”
“That’s certainly true for us changelings,” Tink said. “He always has time to talk with us and make us feel welcome. This whole thing with Slim, it’s almost as if whoever did it wanted Griffen to look bad.”
A silence fell over the group as they looked at each other.
“Why? Seems a powerful strong way to wrong someone,” Kane said softly.
“Someone already said it.” Tail frowned. “To mess up the conclave.”
“Maybe by setting up one of the groups, like, say, us vampires, to appear to be disruptive influences, if not killers,” said Lowell. “By the way, Tail, we really didn’t send you that cake from the Three Dog Bakery.”
“I think the real question,” Margie said, “is not ‘why?’ but ‘who?’ Who would want to see the conclave fail at Griffen’s expense?”
“What about a dragon?” Tail said, darkly.
“What is it wit you ’n’ dragons? You got a serious mad on for a reason?” Kane grimaced.
“No. Wait a minute,” Lowell said. “Tail might have a point there.”
“How do you figure that?” Tink asked.
“Think about it,” the vampire said. “Remember all the things we’ve heard about dragons, and how ruthless and power-hungry they are. This is the first time we’ve had a dragon at one of our conclaves, and we all like, or at least respect, McCandles. That’s got to have some kind of impact on other dragons. They may see it as degrading.”
“Or as an opportunity to do Griffen some dirt,” Tink said. “Anything that happened could get blamed on his being involved with the conclave.”
“Slow down here. Let’s not get carried away,” Margie said. “All of this is just speculation. We don’t know that Slim’s death was anything except random violence. We sure can’t point the finger at any one person or group without some kind of proof.”
“Well, there’s nothing stopping us from doing a little investigating on our own,” Lowell said.
“Reality check?” Margie said, raising her hand. “Exactly what do yo think we can do that the regular police can’t?”
“Lots of things.” The vampire smiled. “How about it, Tail? Is there anything you or yours could do to help track down the killer?”
“Not de way it work, Batman,” the shape-shifter growled. “We’re not bloodhounds. Even if’n we were, got any idea how many damn tourists passed by de scene of de crime by now? Worse’n a needle in a haystack, dat job.”
“We might be able to help with that,” Tink said. “One of the things we changelings are good at is finding things.”
“And that helps us how?” Margie said, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, one of us . . . Tammy, you remember her . . . is particularly good at detecting supernaturals. If she could locate some that aren’t involved with the conclave, and one of them turned out to have a grudge against Griffen, we just might have found our killer.”
“That’s pretty thin,” Lowell said. “And we’ve only got, what, maybe thirty-six hours to do it in? Besides, from what I recall of that little scene at the poker game, I’m not sure Tammy will be all that eager to do a favor for McCandles.”
“You don’t know Tammy,” Tink said. “She’s probably cooled down by now. Besides, it will give her a chance to gain his thanks, if not admiration.”
“And if it doesn’t work, we’re no worse off than before,” Tail pointed out. “Let’s do it.”
Forty-seven
Griffen wasn’t sure what to expect from the conclave the morning after Slim’s death. He had made calls to the various speakers and leaders the night before, after talking with his own inner circle, Jerome, Val, and Mai. He had almost called Mose, but the old dragon’s distant attitude lately made Griffen hesitate. The advice from the others would have to be enough.
The conclave was already winding down. Today the scheduling was light, and tomorrow there wasn’t anything serious at all before the big masquerade ball. It seemed they were used to everyone wanting to have time to rest up before the real party. Griffen had been assured that the speakers could handle most of the workload that day if he needed to deal with more important matters.
Which was exactly the problem. Griffen wasn’t sure where his priorities should be. The loss of Slim had him mixed up emotionally, but he had been engaged as moderator. A moderator who didn’t know which meetings during the “light” day were actually important. The weight of the tragedy and the weight of his inexperience were combining into something truly crushing.
So he was going in a bit early, to gauge everyone’s reactions and feelings after having a night for the news to make the rounds and settle into everyone’s mind. Then he would decide how best to use his energies. He tried not to think about what Slim would want him to do. Slim, who had been one of his biggest supporters as moderator until the unfortunate incident with Lowell.
As Griffen walked into the hotel lobby, he saw he wasn’t the only one getting an early start. He wasn’t sure which surprised him more, Harrison sitting in one of the low chairs in the lobby or the two uniformed police standing some distance behind. The last thing Griffen would have expected from the scruffy vice detective was obvious flaunting of what he was, but the uniforms didn’t seem to have any other purpose.
Harrison was leaning in toward a young woman, someone associated with Gada and the magic types if Griffen remembered right. Harrison was talking low, but the girl kept glancing around nervously, afraid of who might see her and what they might think. Of course her back was to the door, so that she could see the two
uniformed officers, and Harrison could see anyone who came in.
He looked up at Griffen, and the lines of his face deepened as he scowled. A few more words to the girl, and she craned her head back, eyes wide and startled. She muttered something back and quickly rose and scurried out of the lobby.
Harrison stood, and the two uniforms stepped up to flank him.
“This needs to be in private,” Harrison said.
He turned and didn’t bother looking back. Griffen hesitated only a moment before following him, the two uniforms falling in behind him. Harrison went into one of the conference rooms set up for the conclave itself. Once Griffen had entered as well, the door was closed by one of the officers, leaving the two men alone.
“Detective Harrison, I ju—”
Harrison grabbed Griffen by his shirt, cutting him off. Griffen was surprised by the strength of the man who jerked him around and slammed him facedown onto the conference table in the center of the room. Griffen had to concentrate hard to keep down his body’s ever-growing reactions to danger. The last thing he needed was for Harrison to see scales.
By the time he was sure he wasn’t going to slip, he felt the metal of a handcuff bite into his wrist.
“Griffen McCandles, you have the right to remain silent. Something you seem to be very good at, you little shit.”
“Detective.”
“Shut up! You held out on me. I thought we were square, McCandles. You seemed to get the rules. You do not jerk me around.”
Griffen let his other arm be pulled back, hands securely cuffed behind his back. He didn’t know if he could actually break a pair of handcuffs, but he was willing to give it a try.
“Not only do I find you know exactly what Slim has been involved in, because of you being the frickin’ ringleader here, but I hear you and he been going sideways at each other. And I have no less than three local street performers willing to witness that you were looking for him before he was killed. You know how badly you got to screw up in this town for people to talk to the police?”
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