Part 12 (1/2)

”Lucky isn't the word I'd use,” I muttered, ignoring Shelby's mildly horrified expression. The witch had given us what we needed-I didn't have to pretend to be on my best behavior anymore. isn't the word I'd use,” I muttered, ignoring Shelby's mildly horrified expression. The witch had given us what we needed-I didn't have to pretend to be on my best behavior anymore.

Vera swished through the door, long black pencil skirt and see-through blouse hugging her skeletal frame in all the right places. If I had been a necrophiliac I might have found her quite s.e.xy.

”Thank you, dear,” said Patrick as he took the report, paged through it, and then handed the top sheet to Shelby. I leaned over to face tightly packed columns of information, mostly useless to us, unless we were going to pull an Elliot Ness and bust the owners of Bete Noire for delinquent taxes, of which there were many.

”Primary name on the deed to the property and the business records is the guy we already knew about,” she said. ”He didn't provide any of the personal information that the state requires, so that's a wash. But here, someone else co-signed a loan five years ago from my uncle's bank.”

The name was Benny Joubert. The loan officer at the bank had attached a copy of a driver's license and the face that stared back was brick-jawed and aggressive, with a crew cut that would make a drill sergeant weep, and hostile little eyes.

”Gotcha,” I muttered, folding the photocopy and shoving it into my jacket pocket.

”You can't-” Shelby started, but Patrick waved his hand.

”It's fine. Take it, if it helps.”

”Thank you so much, Uncle Patrick,” said Shelby, standing up. ”We've taken up too much of your time.”

”Don't be silly,” he exclaimed. ”After this, I'm taking you two ladies to lunch. I don't get to see you often enough, Shel.”

”Oh, darn it, I'm meeting m.u.f.fy and Jody at the country club to play badminton in an hour,” I said, snapping my fingers. ”Maybe another time for me.”

Shelby latched onto my arm with a strength that was impressive, for a human. ”We're really swamped with this case, Uncle Patrick. Sorry.”

He stood up, grabbing his suit jacket off a hanger behind his desk. ”I won't hear it. Meet me downstairs at my car in ten minutes. I know a great little fish-and-chip bar down on the bay where we can all relax.”

Shelby slumped. ”Okay. We'll meet you downstairs.”

CHAPTER 14.

In the elevator, she stripped off her blazer and crumpled it in a ball under her arm, looking like a deranged gun-toting librarian in her conservative blouse and waist rig. ”Believe me, we're lucky to be getting off with lunch,” she said. ”The last time I introduced a boyfriend to Patrick, he took the guy duck hunting and plugged him in the s.h.i.+n with birdshot.”

”Accidentally?” I asked.

”No one ever figured that out for sure,” said Shelby. We rode the slow descent in silence for a few ticks and then she said, ”I'm sorry.”

”For what?” I asked. ”Trust me, I'm used to people being jerkoffs about the were thing. And sure, your uncle is a little overbearing, but I've seen worse. Much worse.”

”I'm not sorry for that,” said Shelby. ”I just... forget it.”

I didn't know what to say back to her. Shelby was trying to say she was embarra.s.sed I'd seen her like this, the meek little good girl that hid inside the bossy detective. I knew it, because when I'd lived at home I'd been the same way. I was sorry for my father being a functioning alcoholic. I was sorry for my mother living deep within the mystical Land of Denial. Ashamed that I couldn't mold my life to normal, no matter how hard I tried.

The elevator stopped on the twenty-fifth floor and a man so tall and wide he made me feel delicate stepped in. The car creaked softly.

”Shelby!” the giant exclaimed when he saw her. ”My girl, why didn't you tell me you were comin' down today?”

A split second of animal panic pa.s.sed across Shelby's face and then she smiled back. ”I thought you were traveling, Uncle Seamus.”

”No such luck for you, girl.” He chuckled. ”What brings you around? And I'm terribly rude,” he said to me, extending his hand. ”Seamus O'Halloran. They let me pretend I run this place.”

”Luna Wilder, Shelby's partner at the Twenty-fourth.” I shook his hand, expecting another politician's grip, and found my fingers nearly pulped in his enormous palm. I winced and tried to pull away, but he kept grinning and squeezing so I pressed back, letting him feel the were.

”Quite a grip!” he said, letting go of me. ”Pleasure to meet one so lovely. You're quite an improvement over the average flatfoot, my dear.”

I smiled, not meaning it at all, as I studied Seamus. I could see where Shelby got her almost Slavic looks from-Seamus had a shock of white-blond hair topping a powerful, florid face and blazing blue eyes. He was paunchy in the middle but still enormous, the kind of man that you wouldn't screw with physically or any other way.

”Patrick is taking Luna and me out to lunch,” Shelby was explaining. Seamus laughed, a booming sound in the small s.p.a.ce.

”You watch your ring finger, missy,” he told me. ”Patrick's the only O'Halloran never to take the plunge, and someone as beautiful as you is like dangling a steak in front of a starvin' Doberman.”

”I never get tired of being compared to meat,” I said pleasantly. ”Please, if you value your health, don't ever do it again.”

Dead silence clamped down around us. Shelby looked like she might vomit on her ugly shoes. Seamus stared at me, color rising in his neck and face, those hard, hard eyes boring like drills.

I glared back. My head was hurting from being around so many witches and workings, I needed caffeine, and I'd had it with smart remarks directed at me. I figured if Seamus hauled off and smacked me, at least I'd get some paid time off and the satisfaction of handcuffing him.

A grin split Seamus's face, like a thunderstorm rolling back to admit a jolly sun. ”My lords,” he boomed, clapping me on the shoulder. ”My lords, girl, you've got moxie. Good for you.”

The elevator reached the lobby and opened to reveal a huddle of corporate drones waiting for a car. They all shrank back when they saw Seamus.

”Thank the G.o.ds,” Shelby muttered, making a beeline for the stairs to the parking garage.

”No offense meant, Miss Wilder,” said Seamus. ”You're obviously a woman with her head on straight who would never be interested in my idiot little brother.” He whipped out a business card and scribbled on the back with a gold pen. ”If you ever need a.s.sistance- anything within my power-please call that private number.”

”Yeah. Thanks,” I said, and backed out of the car just before the doors rolled shut again. My skin p.r.i.c.kled with raw magick where he had touched my shoulder. Seamus O'Halloran was the most powerful caster I'd ever encountered, and he scared me. I so needed to get out of this d.a.m.ned office building.

A lobby cafe saccharinely named Koffe Kart caught my eye and I bought a large latte without my customary shot of hazelnut. I just wanted to wake up, shake the heavy feeling that being inside of so many workings and wardings gave my body and my mind.

My phone trilled. ”Where are you?” Shelby demanded. ”We're waiting in bay forty on the first level.”

”G.o.ds, I'm coming,” I said. ”Blame your uncle. He gave me his number.” I snapped the phone shut on Shelby's enraged squeak and grinned to myself. Maybe this day could be salvaged.

I pulled out Benny Joubert's photo again as I walked and called McAllister. ”Mac, I need you to look at a guy named Benny Joubert-that's J-o-u-b-e-r-t.”

”Do I wear a short skirt? Do I look like your secretary?” Mac asked.

”No, but thanks for the mental image all the same.”

”Luna, you're not still working that junkie case, are you?” he said. ”Morgan's all over my a.s.s to close it and move you on to other things.”

”Such as what, the exciting world of collating and filing?” I grumbled.

”It beats losing your job, and costing me my best detective,” said Mac shortly. ”Here it is-Benny Joubert has had two arrests and one conviction for possession with intent. Charges were reduced from distribution of controlled substances. Must have rolled on someone... He looks like a mid-level dealer to me. You on to something?”

”Maybe,” I murmured, looking at Joubert's face again. ”I'm more interested in what he is than what he does.”