If I can do anything to help, I will.”
“I’ll take you up on that, as soon as I figure out what to ask. I just gotta poke around. In the meantime, I’m turning up the heat on Harvey Jekyll for the divorce case. His wife is convinced he’s up to something, and if I can find a little leverage . . .”
Back in my younger years, I didn’t think of myself as a nosy person, but I fit in with lots of different people. I kept quiet, but within earshot of gossipy types who dished out juicy stories like rumor-mongering Typhoid Marys. I collected these details, thinking of them as tools for future use, rather than hand grenades to lob indiscriminately. If the information doesn’t help me solve a case, then I do nothing with it. People—whether natural or unnatural—are entitled to their privacy, so long as they don’t hurt anybody.
Being a detective isn’t a fantasy profession like astronaut or pro football player or movie star, not something I had dreamed of doing since I was a kid. But I’m good at investigating, and the only way I can stay good is to maintain my personal social network of contacts, friends, even a few paid informants.
In order to have someone owe you a favor, you have to do them a favor first—earn the goodwill before you can spend it. I pay for McGoo’s drinks most of the time, but that’s just a minor gesture. After all, he’s my Best Human Friend, and it gives him the opportunity to grouse about his minuscule cop’s salary, although my earnings as a private detective, dead or undead, are just as minuscule.
As Francine delivered our second round, the door opened, and I saw the plaid suit jacket coming first, with Brondon Morris arriving half a second later.
The trio of zombie ladies at the bar perked up. “Brondon! We hoped you would come,” cooed Sharon.
“I can help him come more than once,” cackled Victoria.
Cindy patted the empty bar stool at her side.
Without the least bit of embarrassment, Brondon sauntered up to the bar and stood behind the women so he didn’t have to choose one over the others. “Oh, barkeep!” He raised his hand. “I’d like a Scotch and soda, please.”
He acted as if he didn’t know Francine’s name and she didn’t know damn well that he drank Scotch and soda. I’d seen the sales rep in the Goblin Tavern several times, and I found it odd that he treated the human bartender with less respect than he gave the undead clientele. “And another round of drinks for these lovely ladies.” He leaned closer to the cackling cadavers. “What’s your poison? Lemon drops?”
“Margaritas tonight.” Cindy lowered her voice to a raspy whisper that everyone in the bar could hear anyway. “Tequila makes me horny.”
Based on that, I thought it might be best if she steered clear of the tequila, but that wasn’t my call.
“You three look ravishing tonight.” Brondon set his sample case up on the bar and opened it, removing tiny sachets. “I’d like you to try this. A towelette for just a sniff, not enough to give it away, but these are the first samples of our Fresh Loam scent.”
The three women fawned over him. Over the course of the conversation, I watched Brondon “accidentally” trace his fingers over Sharon’s shoulders and give Victoria’s arm a playful touch. He flirtatiously brushed against Cindy’s back.
Next to me, McGoo shuddered and concentrated deeply on his second beer. “Guess the guy likes cold fish. I don’t even want to think about what they might do together.”
“You’re being prejudiced, McGoo. Even unnaturals want love.”
“Well, that guy’s looking for love in all the wrong places, as the song goes. Hey, Shamble, do ghouls eat popcorn with their fingers?”
I was distracted by the interplay at the other side of the bar. “What?”
“No, they eat the fingers separately!”
I doubted Brondon had ever actually slept with any of the ladies, but he treated them as something special. It was all a game, which they seemed to enjoy as much as he did. They went home with perfume and toiletry samples, and he inspired goodwill with the core customers of Jekyll Lifestyle Products and Necroceuticals.
In my earlier surveillance, I’d seen Brondon tagging along with Harvey Jekyll, no doubt feeling special because the boss had invited him to party with the big boys, though I’d never figured out what sort of party Jekyll was attending. Brondon might be an opportunity for me to