by Jaye Wells
“And?”
“And turns out Alexander Hung owns several businesses.”
“Dry cleaning,” I said, repeating what Dixon had said.
He nodded. “Yeah, but he also owns a company called Waidan Imports.”
“What kind of company is that?”
“They distribute imported alchemical supplies—beakers, herbs, and shit. That’s the company he’s relocating here. I guess they’re refurbishing one of the old steel factories. It’s supposed to bring a lot of jobs to Babylon.”
I shook my head. “Good luck convincing people of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I forget you’re not from around here. It goes back to the steel bust. The alchemist who came up with the new way of processing steel was a Chinese alchemist. Once all the jobs moved overseas, it left a lot of raw feelings in the hearts of all the steel workers who lost their livelihoods.”
“I guess that makes sense, sort of.”
“It’s one of the reasons people are so pro buying ‘made in America’ crap,” I said. “There was this period back in the ’80s where people would publicly burn any products marked made in China.”
“Well, that explains why I can’t find any decent dim sum here.”
“Yeah. But I guess maybe it’s been long enough and people are desperate enough for jobs that they’d be willing to overlook it.”
“You’re forgetting that Waidan is an American company. Alexander Hung is Chinese-American.”
I laughed. “To lots of people around here, anyone who ain’t white ain’t American. You know that.”
“Sadly true.”
I looked out the window at the broken-down buildings that made up the Cauldron. The city needed an infusion if it was going to survive. John Volos thought more magic would fix things, but I wasn’t so convinced.
Letting that depressing train of thought slip away, something else occurred to me. “I don’t suppose you ran into this Alexander Hung when you were undercover,” I said.
“Never heard of him before, but if he’s high enough up the food chain, he’d keep himself clear of the street-level shit.”
“I guess this sort of ruins your theory that the Fangshi players in town are probably small potatoes.”
He pulled the SUV into a spot down the block from our destination. “The Fangshi is a huge syndicate. There’s no reason to believe Hung or any of the other potential players here are in any way tied to my past.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He tossed me a careless wink. “’Course I am, Cupcake.”
The Golden Thread was one of several apothecaries in the Cauldron that sold clean magic potions. They were basically like drug stores in that they also sold convenience items, but the potions were dispensed by a registered wizard instead of a pharmacist. The other difference was that with the right word, a lot of those wizards might also sell you dirty magic potions they cooked on the side or distributed for the covens.
The business was located about three blocks from the massage parlor. There was nothing special about the decor to differentiate it from any other apothecary. The area nearest the door held a long counter from which the wizard dispensed his potions from glass jars stored on the shelves that lined the back wall. The center of the wall held a pass-through window where another wizard worked to cook more complex potions. At the back of the store, there were stand-alone cases that held sundries.
“Welcome to the Golden Thread,” he said. “How can I help you?”
The man behind the counter had long blond hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. His apothecary uniform consisted of a starched white apron and dark jeans. A name tag on the apron read, Jake. It was common for wizards who worked with the public to wear aprons instead of wizard’s robes because the general Mundane population didn’t like the reminder that they were buying magical products. Much easier to digest the idea that wizards were like chefs who cooked rather than sorcerers who cast spells to create potions.
“Hi,” Morales said, “my friend told me I could get a special potion here.”
Jake’s smile remained polite. “Well, potions are our business.”
I hung back behind Morales, which gave me a chance to watch the wizard. He had an ouroboros tattoo on his left wrist that match the one on mine. That meant he was both a made member of the Votary coven as well as a certified apothecary owner, which was odd since he’d have had to go through rigorous testing to be certified to make and sell clean magic. Not to mention there were government oversight and pesky taxes involved in running a legit potion business. Of course, like me, he could have left the coven and gone legit, but seeing how he was running an apothecary in the middle of Votary territory, it was sort of a stretch. Especially since we knew he sold at least one person an illegal and dangerous virility potion.
Playing it cool, Morales leaned in to whisper to the guy. “I was supposed to say Priapus?”
Jake’s expression morphed from professional to feral. “Get the fuck out of here.
Morales reared back and held his hand up. “Whoa, calm down, guy.”
“Are you a fucking cop?” he growled.
I put my hand on my sidearm, which had been hidden under my jacket. “Everyone relax.”
“Hey, Lenny, we got a couple of pigs out here asking about that shit Basil sold us.”
A pale face surrounded by long shaggy hair appeared in the pass-through window. “Fucking Basil.”
“Look, man,” Jake said, “we didn’t know that shit was dirty.”
Morales crossed his arms. “Oh, yeah? Then why was there a secret password to get it?”
Jake looked around quickly, as if he knew he was caught. “All right, we knew it was dirty-ish. But we tossed the rest of the pills, I swear. I don’t want no beef with them dragon ladies.”
I perked up. “What do you mean?”
“The day after Basil got his ass exploded, Krystal LeMay came in with a little old Chinese lady and four chicks dressed like ninjas and shit. Said if we had any more of Basil’s shit, we had to give it to them. We said we sold out, but once they were gone, we flushed that shit.”
“What did they look like?” Morales asked.
Jake rolled his eyes. “I told you, man—they looked Asian and shit. The ninja chicks were hot, though.”
“Damn straight,” said Lenny sing-songed like a chorus.
And they were all women, which ruled out Alexander Hung, I thought.
“Oh” Jake continued, “and the old broad had a horn.”
“A horn?” I asked.
“Fuck,” Morales whispered.
He lifted his index finger to his forehead and pointed to a spot just to the right of center. “One tiny horn, just here. It was green. Like a fucked-up unicorn or some shit.”
“We heard the Votaries were partnering with the Chinese,” I said because Morales had gone uncharacteristically quiet. “Why would they be hassling you?”
He made a disgusted sound with his mouth. “I plead the Fifth.”
I shook my head. “You’re not under arrest, idiot. We’re looking for the person who killed Basil. But if you keep giving us a hassle, we’ll make an exception.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” He sighed and raised his hands, all innocence. “I’m legit, but occasionally I’ll connect an interested customer with a special product.” He shrugged. “Times are tough, you know?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “The Chinese,” I prompted.
“So, Basil came to me a few weeks back and said he had this new connect. Chinese wiz who’s running a special potion. Said it’s super hush-hush because it’s a sex potion.”
“He didn’t want Aphrodite to find out,” I said, nodding.
“Right. The Hierophant ain’t exactly forgiving, if you get my drift.”
“We’re acquainted,” I said.
“Anyway, Basil had this plan. He was going to get the pure product from the Chinese and pad it with some cheap shit and put it in pill form
to double the supply.”
My eyes widened. “Which would double his profit and screw the suppliers out of some of the take.”
“Right. But I guess they figured out what he was doing, because we only sold a few doses before Basil went boom. Couple days later, the Chinese showed up and we closed up shop on that potion.”
“Who’s calling the shots? The Votaries or the Chinese?”
Jake shrugged. “That’s above my pay grade.”
“Have you seen the horned lady or her handmaidens again since they came in?” Morales said. I frowned at the word handmaidens. The way he’d said it sounded an awful lot like he’d heard of them before.
He shook his head. “Message received, you know?”
“You heard of anyone else around here having problems with them?”
“Tell them about the massage parlor,” Lenny said.
“Hush, asshole,” Jake hissed.
“Hey!”
I raised my brows. “The Happy Ending? What about it?”
Jake paused his lips and crossed his arms.
I sighed. “All right, you have the right to remain silent—”
“Hold up!” Jake interrupted. “No need for all that. I’ll tell you.”
“Go on,” Morales said.
“This is just rumor, mind you,” he said.
I circled my hand in the air to hurry him up.
“I heard Krystal is paying protection money to the Chinese.”
I played dumb even though I’d seen it with my own eyes the night before. “Why?”
“On account of the fact that no one recognizes her as the legit leader. Lots of people haven’t forgotten she sold out Puck.”
“Bitch,” Lenny said from the window.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jake said. “At first, everyone was falling in line because word was the big guy himself had tapped her to take over.”
Morales shifted his weight. “You mean Abe?”
Jake nodded. “But it didn’t take long for word to spread about what she did to Puck. Then no one wanted to follow her. So, I guess she made a deal with the Chinese.”
“Hold up, let me get this straight,” I said. “Abe tapped Krystal to take over. Krystal betrayed Puck to make sure it happened. Then once she was in charge, she had to pay the Chinese to protect her from her own coven?”
Morales frowned. “Why wouldn’t Abe’s bona fide be enough to protect her?”
We looked at Jake. “Don’t look at me,” he said.
We turned our attention to Lenny. He waved his hands in a not-my-business gesture and disappeared back into his lab.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said as Morales ducked into the lab’s doorway.
Jake looked relieved. “Maybe you should go talk to Krystal. Like right now.”
I tapped the glass counter. “We will. Right after we book you and Lenny.”
Ruckus sounds came from inside the lab, but before I could verify Morales had Lenny cuffed, Jake leapt over the counter and took off toward the door.
I cursed under my breath. “Morales, we’ve got a runner.”
The sky had been threatening to open up all morning, and by the time I followed Jake outside, it was pouring. I spotted his apron flapping in the wind as he turned the corner down an alley. My feet pounded the slick pavement. I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit the speed dial button for Shadi.
“What’s up?”
I talked into the phone as I turned into the alley. “You down near Blackmoore and Liberty?”
“Why are you breathing heavy?”
“I’m chasing an asshole down an alley.”
“I’m two blocks away.”
“I’m headed west in an alley. We’ll be coming out on Elm.”
Through the phone, I heard her car’s engine rev up. “I’m on my way. Stay on the line, though.”
“10-4.”
Up ahead, Jake had almost reached the end of the alley. I dug in to speed up so I wouldn’t lose him once he hit the street. He reached the end and turned left. “He’s headed north on Elm now,” I said. “Blond, ponytail. Wearing an apron.”
“Almost there,” she said. “Turning on Elm now.”
I finally reached the end of the alley in time to see Jake running and a crappy blue sedan barreling toward him in the background.
I said into the phone, “That’s him headed toward you.”
“I got him.” A banging noise came through the phone as she dropped it to focus on snatching her prize. Suddenly, the car veered to the left and jumped the curb. She slammed it into park and flew out of the door. She was on Jake so fast, he barely saw her coming. She tackled him like a cowboy wrangling a wayward calf.
I sped up to go help, but by the time I reached her, she already had a zip tie around his wrist. She rose and put a foot on his bound wrists. I was gasping for breath, but she was barely winded.
“You want to take him in?” she asked. “Or do you want me to do it?”
I held up my hand and tried to catch my breath. Finally, I said, “Morales has another one a couple blocks back.”
She nodded resolutely. “Let’s go see.”
She pulled Jake off the ground. Once he was upright, the height disparity between them was comical. Shadi might be small, but she stored a lot of power in a small package. She maneuvered Jake into the back seat of the car and waited for me to join him in the other side of the back seat before she shut the door.
“What the hell just happened?” he said, sounding dazed.
“Jake, meet Special Agent Pruitt.”
“Damn, girl,” he said, wincing. “I think you broke my collarbone.”
“Quitcherbitchin,” she said. “Where am I going, Prospero?”
I gave her the address and she backed off of the curb and took off toward the apothecary. I pulled out my cell and called Morales.
“Where are you?” he asked, sounding worried.
“With Shadi. She was nearby, so she helped me scoop up Jake. How are things there?”
He let out a relieved breath. “Lenny and I were trying to find you.”
“There he is,” she said.
I leaned to the side to be able to see through the windshield. Sure enough, there was Morales all but dragging cuffed Lenny up the road.
“Stay where you are,” I said. “We’ll pick you up.”
Chapter Thirteen
I hadn’t been to the Cauldron precinct in several weeks. I didn’t want to be there that day, either, but we couldn’t have asked Shadi to handle Tweedles Dee and Dum by herself.
We led them inside and straight to booking. This had been my old turf back when I was a street cop. The cop on duty in booking was an old warhorse named Butch. He’d seen pretty much everything, so he wore an expression that could only be described as “perpetual lack of surprise.”
We deposited Lenny and Jake at the benches along the wall and went to go start the procedure.
“Hey, Butch,” I said.
He looked up from his computer monitor. “Prospero. Long time no see.” His tone was so even, you could lay a level across the words and the bubble would stay dead center. “What you got for me today?”
“Two warm bodies. Charged with resisting arrest—”
He shook his head. “Fill out the form. I’ll get it entered once they’re processed.”
“That’s new,” I said. We used to have to walk each perp through the process and then fill out all the paperwork. It meant booking could take all day sometimes.
“You been gone awhile,” he said.
“True enough.” I took two clipboards and pens. “Thanks, Butch.”
He didn’t acknowledge the words. Just looked back down at his monitor and started typing again.
Morales and I took the clipboards into the break room to fill out. Cops in uniform milled around, getting snacks or energy-potion drinks from the vending machines. I only recognized a couple, who gave me the briefest of nods.
I leaned in to begin filling ou
t the forms. “Well, it’s official.”
“What is?” Morales said, squinting at his own forms.
“I’m not one of them anymore. Not that I ever really was, I guess.”
Back when I’d been a beat cop, I’d worked on my own and liked it that way. It was easier than dealing with partners who thought my last name and my dominant left hand meant I was still a criminal.
“Fuck ’em,” he said.
He’d been monosyllabic since we left the apothecary. I wanted to question him about it, but it would have to wait until we left the precinct.
I took a sip from my paper cup and immediately regretted it. “At least the MEA has better coffee.”
He huffed out a forced laugh but didn’t look up from his paperwork.
We worked for several minutes, occasionally asking each other questions about what went down at the apothecary so our reports would be accurate and identical. I was almost done when a voice called from the doorway.
“That paperwork better be for the Valentine murder.”
I glanced up to see Duffy glaring at us from the doorway. “It’s related, yeah.”
“My office,” he snapped.
Morales and I exchanged an unimpressed look and then put our heads back down to continue working.
Two minutes later, Duffy reappeared. “Hello?”
I signed my report with a flourish. “What’s up?”
“I just asked you to meet with me in my office.”
“Actually, you just said, ‘My office.’” I looked at Morales. “You want to go grab some food once we drop these with Butch?”
He stretched and yawned. “Sure. Chasing people works up an appetite.”
“Jesus H.,” Duffy said. “Will you come to my office? Now. Please.”
“Oh, fine,” I said, “but only because you asked so nicely.”
He hovered by the door this time to make sure we got up to follow him. Once we left the breakroom, we followed him until I detoured toward booking to give Butch the paperwork. Morales stayed with him so he wouldn’t blow a gasket.
When I ducked in to give everything to Butch, I saw that Lenny and Jake were gone from the bench. Butch saw me looking and said, “They’re getting mug shots now.”