by Ann Denton
Duck woman pats my shoulder, “I’m sure they’re exaggerating things. The news likes to sell ads after all.”
The naked woman shakes her head fiercely, which shakes other things. “No. From what I hear, Clo has stayed in her home since the incident. She’s hired a giant security service. And I mean giant. My nephew sent me a photo. Twenty feet tall.” She grabs her phone and swipes to show off a man posted like a tree by the front door of a house.
How do people on the street know this stuff? Does Bennett already know this?
“What about the others?” I ask.
“I know that cat’s been about. But you know cats.” Both women roll their eyes, like cats are the stupidest creatures in all creation.
Duck Woman cocks her head at me. “You know, I did go by Gor’s the other day. He’s got a great jewelry collection—”
Naked Lady giggles. “Yes. He’s got some pretty sparkles.”
They share some inside joke and I try not to shift uncomfortably.
“Never been there,” I state.
“Oh, you should, dear. It can be a little intimidating. But thrilling.”
“My friend Tabby’s been there.”
“Oh, you know Tabby Blue?” Naked Lady’s eyes gleam. Do I detect a hint of naughtiness? Tabby does have a penchant for gazing at naked shifter men in her crystal ball. And it’s unconfirmed, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mind letting other ladies watch too. I almost caught her and Sarah Snow one time. I think.
“She’s such a sweetheart,” Naked Lady grins.
Cat shifter a sweetheart? Yeah, they’ve definitely stared at shifter men with her.
“She’s best friends with my neighbor. We’ve all been working on putting a wedding together.”
The fact that I know Tabby makes the two women relax more around me. But I guess Tabby’s in their circle of trust. So I’ll take it.
“I’m Lyon, by the way,” I add.
Naked Lady give me the nod. “Julianne.”
Duck Woman smiles. “Matilda.”
“Did you know the guy’s wife?”
Julianne shrugs. “Seen her around is all.”
Matilda taps her on the shoulder, “Isn’t she that one with the blue bleed from her beak?” She gestures to her face.
“Yup,” I answer.
“Oh, yeah, she’s a snot, but there’s no bite to her beak. She’ll gossip, but if you confront her, she’ll totally backtrack. Annoying. Don’t know her but have sat at the same table with her. Feathered Fury fundraisers. Heard her talk. Obsessed with travel. One of those birds who never really flew anywhere in her life. You know.”
Okay, the wife is pretty much a dead end. But, I’m here and these women seem to enjoy the gossip. Heck, so do I. Perk of the job, I guess. “So … like what else do you know about all these City Councilors? Which one do you think might be next?”
Naked Lady grabs her towel. “Well, if you want my conspiracy theory, I’m not getting in the shower any time soon. Let’s head on out to the steam so I can at least get some heat on these old bones.”
I follow the pair into the jungle area of the Baths. The area I swore I’d avoid.
The steam is thick and smells of wet feathers. Yuck. My hair’s immediately plastered to my head. I can’t see more than five feet in front of me. I can’t see more than three feet up. That’s what really worries me. I wish I had an umbrella.
Julianne and Matilda greet several other women and sit down along a bench in the back where the steam is hottest. Thank goodness they don’t shift or ask me to. I would not have an easy time explaining myself.
“Well, I went down to visit Hawk last night—brought coffee—and he was doing Olivia’s hair. Seems like they both think that Giancarlo and his assistant were in on it.”
I purse my lips. “Why would they think that?”
“Jackie Hanna told them it was his gun. Police haven’t released all that yet. But Jackie was on site, can you imagine?”
“Dunno why she hasn’t gotten a promotion yet,” Duck Woman—I mean Matilda—says. “Her story made national news.”
“Oh, there’s drama there too. Apparently, that station head is a real sexist jerk off. Hawk says Jackie’s rants could be heard all over the station.”
“Well, I for one, think that Russo is being framed,” Matilda leans forward.
“Why do you think that?”
“There was only one sweet blood nominee. They only had a one in three shot at that Councilor spot. What better way to even the odds?”
I think of Eudora. Military. Strategist. Survived half a millennia. It’s not a terrible theory.
“Pixies are notorious for causing chaos. And look at the mess this murder has become,” Julianne shakes her head. “She’s probably up in her hotel room laughing it up.”
“Well, if she gets caught up for that, they’ll probably sniff out her pixie dust ring,” Matilda makes a disapproving school marm face. “So I hope she didn’t do it.”
“Wait, what?”
“You think half these chickens would be in the air without her?” Julianne sweeps her hand around the room. “Eudora’s the only reason they’re all flying.”
“I’m lost,” I bat my eyes. I really am lost. But I’m trying so hard not to look judgmental and start spouting off statutes right now. Shit!
Matilda leans forward and pats my hand. “You haven’t lost that battle with metabolism yet. Once you do, pixie dust is the only way you’ll fly. Watch.”
She pulls a necklace out of her sagging cleavage, one I hadn’t even realized was there. She pops the jewel to the side and takes out a little dust. She sprinkles it on herself and then shifts into a swan. Nobody around gasps, so I guess they’re used to this sort of thing at the Baths. She takes flight. Julianne and I watch her disappear into the mist.
“Wow. I feel naive.”
Julianne pats me on the hand. “You really haven’t ever heard of E? Eudora’s been selling dust here for nearly a decade. You better get on her list. Because it’s long. And by the time you get to the top of that list, your aching wings will need it.”
So, one of the candidates is a dust dealer. Question is, would she kill to hide that secret?
Chapter 14
When I get back to the office, I head straight to Bennett’s door. It’s locked. I peer through the blinds on his glamorous, hall-facing window. (Perk of being the boss at a government op. The illusion of grandeur.) He’s not in there. So I find the second in command on this investigation. Who happens to be my favorite: Diego Flores.
Flower's office is everything you'd expect of a meticulous asshole. Minimalist. Spartan. Box of Magic Muscle bars on his desk along with one of those shaker bottles that athletic people use to show off their energy drinks. Whenever I hear those balls clattering in mixer bottles I narrate in my head. Deep steroid man voice: “Yeah, check it out. Stop working and look at me. I’m so hot. You know you wanna be this hot. But you can’t. You know why? You can’t get over your ridiculous addiction to food. I’m not weak like that. I love the taste of cardboard.” You know what I love to do when I see people drinking those things? Bust out a candy bar. A real one. With caramel. Enjoy it in front of them as they get algae/whey/collagen/pig crap sludge build-up on the roof of their mouth.
Flowers isn’t there, but his computer screen is on and a half cup of coffee sits near it. So, I’m guessing he’ll be back.
Guess I’ll sit and wait. That’s when I realize, his office doesn’t have chairs. What?
I don’t even see one behind his desk. I go around behind it. And of course, there’s an exercise ball back there. I'm totally tempted to roll the exercise ball out and start bouncing but Flowers is just a little bit too scary. I mean, you can’t be right in the head if you don’t even let guests sit in your office, right? Maybe he’s such an asshole he never gets guests? I start to think about what kinda guy he actually is. I mean, tiger-shifters are loners by nature …
Flores walks in before I can dissect his inner
workings, looking pissed as usual.
“What do you want, Fox?”
“Sir, I just came from the Baths. I wanted to tell you what I heard.”
“You came in here to tell me petty gossip from those feather-headed fools?”
“Nice alliteration.” The compliment does not soften his expression. “Captain French asked me to go there and ask around about Bell’s wife.”
“And?” Diego Flores crosses his ankles and leans against the front of his desk. His eyes dare me to make contact. I’m not brave enough. The man just radiates … fury. “Well, rookie?”
“Some of the women there claim Eudora Daisy’s running pixie dust ring.”
Silence. And more awkward silence. I risk half a glance at Flower’s face. He’s stone-cold pissed.
“What was your assignment?”
Is this a trick question? I just told him. “To go ask around at the Baths.”
“About whom?”
Crap. “The wife.”
“How many people did you speak with about her?”
“Two.”
“How many people did you speak with total?”
“Two.” My stomach starts to feel queasy.
He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Were the Baths empty?”
“No, sir.” Yup. Definitely queasy.
“But you choose to talk to two people. Only two.”
I bite my lip. Damn Ly. Idiot.
Flores lets me stew in my own stupidity for a minute.
“What did you find out about the wife?”
“She’s a gossip. But not good with confrontation. They didn’t like her.” I’m close to whispering. I’m embarrassed. I can’t even believe myself.
“That’s it?”
I nod.
“You found out nothing about her relationship with her husband? Nothing that lets us know if she was actually willing to commit murder?” His brown eyes turn into black pits and I’m pretty sure I’m staring at the devil, being judged and found wanting, about to be condemned for all time to a burning pit of humiliation.
“No, sir.” I look at the floor.
“So, you found nothing of use to this case whatsoever.”
My eyes fly up. “But Eudora Daisy—”
“Lives beyond The Veil, yes? Is outside our jurisdiction ninety-nine percent of the time? Tell me, what kind of proof did the two women you spoke with offer?”
“Umm…”
“Ms. Fox, do you remember our lesson on hearsay? I know it’s been a few weeks, and your abysmally tiny brain might find it hard to hold onto information that long, but gossip is not the basis for a case. Shit, I couldn’t even get a warrant to search that pixie’s tiny, two-inch suitcases based on what you’ve got.”
My face heats. I wish I could disappear. Of course, I can’t. Because I have the suckiest powers in the universe. I stare at the floor again. Part of me wishes Flowers would shift, eat me, and put me out of my misery. Because I just discovered I suck. I suck at this job. I made a mistake. I got so gossip-happy that I didn’t even stop to think.
Flowers interrupts my pity parade. “Cat got your tongue? Nothing to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry I wasted your time.”
“Fox, don’t you dare submit that receipt. The department doesn’t have the gold to pay for your mistakes.”
I close my eyes and nod. Here comes a week of candy corn for dinner.
“To prevent future fuck ups, you’re going to get a daily quiz on all the content we’ve studied so far. After hours, my office.”
“Sir?” I’m in a daze.
“You heard me.”
“But, when am I going to study?” It comes out aloud, but really, my brain is just reeling. I already have Academy. Then this investigation. Shadowing and writing up the reports for the actual investigators. Then, because I haven’t learned to control my powers, I’m usually scrubbing toilets for an hour with whoever else landed on the shit list. Then JR … how am I going to find time to study, too?
“You’re sleeping, aren’t you?” Flower’s expression is dead serious.
Part of me wants to punch him. But the other part of me sags in defeat. He’s right. I can’t eff up again.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be here.”
“And, Fox? Next time you need to sit and think before you run your mouth. Why the hell would a drug dealer kill her customer base? Why would Eudora off a bird if she’s wrapped up in dealing to them?”
I open my mouth and close it. I don’t have an answer for that. Other than she wouldn’t.
I’m a triple idiot.
I turn to leave only to find Seena stepping through the door. He looks almost giddy, in contrast to how I feel. He raises his brow at my expression, but I keep quiet. No way am I admitting how bad I just messed up.
“French wants you both in his office,” Seena keeps it clipped and formal, but I can tell he’s fighting a grin. He walks a little too fast to be casual when we follow him down the hall. He must have found something. Mother effing dammit! If my mother were more powerful, I’d say she’d orchestrated this whole thing. But unfortunately, fate’s just a bitch like my mom.
We crowd into Bennett’s office. The ballerina medic from the crime scene—who I officially hate, btw—is standing next to Bennett’s chair. Seena scoops his laptop up off the only guest chair in the room and sits, starting to pound away at the keys. So no chivalry there.
Ballerina’s talking in her dainty-as-glass, annoying-as-hell voice, “—calculate that the poison was designed to be triple potency. Meaning whoever did it wanted to be sure their target died.” Ballerina floats her hands close to Bennett’s chest.
I growl internally. Dammit. I have no reason to do that. I just had cutesy moments with Luke earlier. Ignore, Ly-ly. Ignore that. It’s over. He didn’t fight you. Focus on how you’re gonna un-suck at this job.
I search for something else to look at and my eyes land on a bowl of jellybeans on the edge of his desk. Bennett hates jellybeans. The heat of his mouth makes them melt the moment they hit his tongue. He calls them sugar slime. And yet, here he’s put out a bowl of them. A tiny smile creeps onto my face.
I glance at Bennett. His gaze is intense. I can’t tell for a second if he’s still mad at me or not. He basically heard Luke ask me out earlier.
But then he pushes the bowl of jellybeans my way.
Does that mean I’m forgiven? Or that he’s accepted our breakup and is moving on?
I’m full of questions as I snag a few beans.
But I’m not getting answers right now. Right now, we’re discussing a dead bird.
“Did Bell ghost on you?” Ben turns his attention back to Ballerina. About a third of the time, ghosts of murdered people stick around, determined to catch the killer. Of course, they usually only stick if they don’t know who killed them. Curiosity. So, per the Academy slideshow I had to sit through earlier this evening, Bell the Booby sticking around would be a bad thing. I hope Flores’ first quiz for me is on ghosts.
Ballerina shakes her head. “Nah, probably glad to escape that wife of his. She’s been calling non-stop. When can she pick up the body? Will his body be okay for a sky burial? To which I told her, only if she wants to poison all the birds she feeds with it. Well, that didn’t go over well. She about had a conniption. On and on.”
Speaking of on and on …
“Okay, well thanks for the update.” Bennett’s dismissal is terse.
Her response, “Anytime,” is laced with innuendo. Totally not classy. Even Seena looks up from his laptop.
Flores interrupts. “Sir, you wanted to see us?”
Thank God he did it. Because I just about destroyed the jellybeans left in my palm.
“Guess that’s my cue to leave.” Ballerina floats out the door with one last eyelash flutter.
I try not to slam it behind her.
Ben tries to hide his grin, but I can tell he’s loving m
y bitchy mood. Little does he know it’s only half caused by stupid girl’s flirting. He flashes me a hot look before switching to business mode. So, does that mean he still thinks we’re getting back together? He kind of said he didn’t mean to break up. What does he want? Gah! I hate non-verbal communication. I suck at it.
“Seena, tell them what you found.” Crap. Bennett’s sticking to business. Fine. Business. It’s what I said I wanted right? It’s what I want. Yup. Yeah. Focusing on business.
Seena tries not to preen, but I’m pretty sure his glasses don’t need to be adjusted and he doesn’t need to sit up straighter in his chair to talk to us. “Clo is pretty careful with her communications. Nothing in her email could suggest too much. But, she did take a potions course at the community college two years ago. And I looked up their syllabus. It includes poisons. Not making them. But discussion. Theory. And ingredients. Dormio’s on the list of poisons studied. Clo did her final paper on it. I pulled that up. She noted a couple third world magical leaders love to use Dormio for public executions. Because it appears humane. The victim just falls over. But, it would provide a sound example for the remaining population. Of course, you’d have to widely publicize that it was a murder. She did cite a case in Taklit, Turkey where the population didn’t believe a rebel was dead. Months of social media ‘sightings’ followed.”
Bennett stands, “Okay, well I think that’s enough detail for now.”
We all look to him.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s hop in the car and go ask a white witch about her fascination with death potions.”
Chapter 15
Clo’s not at home. (Home being a conch shell magically enlarged to hold a palatial-sized studio apartment.) The warlock butler tells us Clo is visiting Eudora over at Hearts and Powers B&B. So, we jump back into Bennett’s government-issued black SUV and book it to the hotel.
Clo and Eudora are sharing high tea in a doily-infested restaurant to the right of the lobby. We wade through overcrowded, two-chair tables covered in gauzy tablecloths and filled with women wearing over-sized hats. Apparently, tea’s a thing. Outside Britain. Who knew? Definitely not me. Some of the teacups hold a red liquid that I suspect is very much not tea. I mean, vamps run the place. I guess it makes sense. Maybe. To someone. Not me. But whatever. Vamp ladies are getting their class on or something. I guess neck biting doesn’t appeal to everyone.