I pictured the cold ice queen with the dyed goldenrod hair. “I never actually thought of her face as sweet.”
Wheeler rested his elbows on the table, though he miscalculated and sank partly through. “Believe me, the Smile Syndicate is filled with the sort of people who have kitten-drowning contests and wear coats made of baby seal pelts.”
Robin gasped. “Monsters!”
Wheeler shook his head. “No, just humans.”
The guard informed us that the visit was over, and we rose from our chairs. Wheeler drifted up, ready to be escorted back to his cell, and he lowered his voice to say one last thing. “Don’t tell Missy I warned you. I may be here in prison, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get shanked—if anybody figures out how to do it.”
“We’ll keep your advice in mind, Mr. Wheeler,” I said.
Thinking of the sinister harassment Neffi had encountered at the Full Moon—the threats, the broken black-glass windows, the smashed cat sarcophagi—I wondered if the Smile Syndicate was trying to move into more unnatural activities than the Goblin Tavern and kitschy souvenir shops. I definitely wasn’t smiling at the thought.
CHAPTER 37
I found myself heading back to the Full Moon again, although this time my reasons weren’t quite as clear cut, certainly nothing that would have convinced Sheyenne. I told myself that many threads of current cases tangled in and around the brothel, and if I were to dig through Neffi’s client records, I would find clues to various mysteries. (At the very least, the information would be fascinating.)
My main reason for going there, though, was to check on the sad succubus whose life seemed to be falling apart. I wanted to make sure Ruth was all right, to see if she had found alternative employment. I tried to tell myself she wasn’t my problem—I barely even knew her—but I wanted to take her under my wing, see that she lived happily ever after. Somebody deserved that.
My feelings were altruistic. I was just being an upstanding citizen, a Good Samaritan. Nothing wrong with that. I was convinced I hadn’t been the target of some kind of succubus glamour.
Probably not, at least.
It wasn’t the sort of problem I could discuss with Spooky.
When the golem doorman led me into the parlor, the languid negligee-clad ladies called me by name—which, in itself, was not a good sign, a reminder of how frequently I stopped by. I told myself it was all business, only business. Neffi’s office door was partially closed, and the unwrapped mummy madam pored over her ledger books; file drawers were open as she added up her accounts. She had been glum ever since the vandals smashed the sarcophagi that preserved two of her mummified cats.
Cinnamon was doing her nails; I didn’t see either of the zombie girls, but one of the upstairs doors was closed. Heavy shuffling sounds came from the room; Aubrey and Savannah were either rearranging furniture or engaged with a very large client, and I didn’t want to know which.
“I’m here to see Ruth,” I said.
“My, aren’t you the brave man after what happened?” The werewolf kept filing away with an emery board.
“Not like that. Just worried about her.”
“You’re sweet on that succubus, I think,” said the raven-haired vampire princess. “No need to feel embarrassed, especially not here. We’re very discreet.”
If my feelings were that obvious, maybe I was fooling myself after all.
“He sees her as much as Wheeler’s ghost used to,” said Hemlock.
“Wheeler is in jail now,” I said.
“For as long as he wants to be.” Nightshade tittered. “For now, she’s all yours. Ruth!”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, embarrassed. Fortunately, having embalming fluid instead of blood makes the flush hard to see.
The green-eyed succubus came shyly out from a back room and smiled at me. “I was just packing up my things, Dan. Time to be moving on . . . though I don’t have any place to go.”
Hearing our voices, Neffi emerged from the office, crossed her sticklike arms over her chest. “Unless you’ve come to tell me about the case, I’m going to have to start charging you for your time with Ruth.” Her face looked even more pinched than usual, although I doubted anyone else would have noticed. “She’s not earning us any money.”
Ruth looked deeply hurt, and I felt the need to come to her defense. “I can solve the problem if I get more information.” I tried to sound as professional as possible. “I’ll see if Irwyn Goodfellow can help Ruth. He found jobs for