run a good clean business here, a family business, and I don’t want to see it corrupted.” She made an angry sound, her vocal cords vibrating until I feared they would snap like frayed cello strings. “This town might belong to monsters, but I’ll be damned if I surrender to a bunch of thugs.” She calmed herself by stroking the cat sarcophagus. “That’s why I need private security, around the clock. Does your company have rent-a-goons? I need someone big, ferocious, and intimidating.”
I looked down at my average physique, my rumpled and stitched-up jacket. “Chambeaux and Deyer is just me, my lawyer partner, and our receptionist. And as you can see”—I held up my hands—“I’m not all that intimidating.”
The old Egyptian mummy considered. “No, you wouldn’t project a very frightening presence, unless you were willing to let yourself rot a little.”
I don’t give up on a client so easily. “Let me ask around. I know people.” I rose from the chair, placing the fedora back on my head. “I’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chambeaux. And please . . . feel free to stop by anytime. For any reason.”
CHAPTER 6
When I returned to the office, Robin was waiting for me, wearing a good business suit, briefcase in hand, ready to head out the door. “Dan, you made it in time! Come with me to the police station. Officer McGoohan is about to interrogate that necromancer. He said we could sit in, and I think it’s important for our case. Besides, I want to look that creep in the eye.”
“All three eyes,” I said, turning around again. “I’m ready.”
When Sheyenne appeared in the air, I noticed a flush on her semitransparent cheeks—maybe a twinge of jealousy? “How was the brothel, Beaux?”
“A very nice place,” I said. “Professional. Some charming ladies.” One glance at Sheyenne’s face, and I could see that this wasn’t the time or the place for teasing. “I informed the madam that I was unable to provide the services she requested.”
“You’ve got that right! And what services was she after?”
“Protection.” I thought of making a wisecrack that every client at an unnatural brothel should use protection, but decided to keep my mouth shut. “It’s outside the scope of Chambeaux and Deyer, but I promised I’d try to find someone.”
Robin was at the door, holding it open. “Dan, we’ll be late. I want to hear how that simpering worm plans to defend himself.”
I softened my expression and looked into Sheyenne’s big blue eyes. “Spooky, you don’t have a thing to worry about. Really.” I blew her an air-kiss as I followed Robin out the door, and she blew me one back.
Whoever designed the basic police interrogation room must have been having a bad day. An austere room with cinder-block walls painted white, a table in the middle, several uncomfortable chairs, not much else. You’ve seen it in every cop show since the dawn of television.
The necromancer Maximus Max sat on one side of the table, miserable. His embroidered purple robes were rumpled, since Max had slept in them in a general population holding cell—and gen-pop in the Unnatural Quarter precinct wasn’t anybody’s idea of a cocktail party. Max’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot; the third eye drawn in eyeliner on his forehead was smudged.
Robin and I entered the interrogation room with McGoo, who had a notepad and a digital recorder, which he set upright on the table. Anxious to get his ordeal over with as quickly as possible, the necromancer looked ready to babble any confession we desired, so long as we let him go. He had already waived his right to counsel and to keep his mouth shut. Robin gave him a baleful glare as she opened her briefcase, removed a yellow legal pad and a pen, and took her seat.
I sat straight-backed and silent, observing, partly for moral support, partly to make the suspect nervous. It was my job.
McGoo went through the preliminaries, noting the date, time, location, and subject of the interrogation, and confirming that Max had chosen not to remain silent. “Maximilian Grubb, also known as Maximus Max, certified necromancer and, judging from your rap sheet”—he pulled out a folder and opened it—“a small-time troublemaker and general nuisance, the type of person who gives me heartburn.”
“I’m just trying to make a living, a guy who wants to get by.” Max’s voice had a persistent whining quality. “It’s not easy these days. Tough times.”
“We’ve filed only minor charges so far, but it could get a lot