seen get the better of Zerbrowski’s constant teasing. The only people he didn’t tease were the ones he hated, and he didn’t hate many people.
Zerbrowski grinned and patted his belly. “Hey, it was doctor’s orders that I get smaller. My cholesterol is in the normal range now. I get to eat junk food once a week.” He rubbed his stomach as if just thinking about it made him happy.
“Congratulations on the lower cholesterol and the cheat day,” I said, and smiled.
“Thanks. How do you want to play this?”
“You be nice cop, I’ll be cranky cop, and Nicky will be scary cop.”
“He’s not a cop.”
“No, he’s a special consultant that I’ve brought in for this case. As a U.S. Marshal with the Preternatural Division, I can do that.”
He looked up at the bigger man, taking in the short blond hair and the one blue eye. “Glad you got rid of those club kid bangs, hard to see to shoot people when your hair is over your eyes like a shaggy dog.”
“Not ‘eyes,’ Zerbrowski, just ‘eye,’” Nicky said, again totally serious.
“Yeah, I see you rocking the eye patch, never seen you in one of those.”
“It’s new.”
Zerbrowski looked at him as if waiting for more, and when it didn’t come, he let it go and turned to me. “Okay, I’ll ask nicely who would be in charge of emptying the ashes into containers and giving them back out to people.”
“You be nice until it’s time to not be nice, and then it’s my turn.”
“And what will scary cop do when it’s his turn?”
“When Anita gives me the signal, I’ll tear off my eye patch and let them see the scar. If they don’t piss their pants, I’ll think of something else.”
Zerbrowski looked up at him as if not sure whether he was serious, then nodded, trying not to smile. “You could always yell boo when you rip off the eye patch.”
“Great idea,” Nicky said, and even I couldn’t tell if he was serious.
* * *
—
Not only did Harold Ramon clean the crematorium but he was the go-to guy for putting the remains in containers for loved ones and the police. He worked late and alone, a lot. He had to be our guy.
He was friendly, shook all our hands as if he was really sincere about working his way out of cleanup and into customer service. His eyes flicked to take in the serious muscle development that no amount of clothes could hide on Nicky, but I couldn’t hold that against Harold. Nicky’s size made a lot of people nervous.
He denied everything, until Zerbrowski took a step back and made a small, go-ahead gesture at me. It was my turn at bat.
“The woman in the hospital, who’s dying, is named Justine. She has a baby and parents who love her. She’s their only child.”
“I’m sorry that she’s sick, but I did not do what you’re accusing me of.”
“If you help us find the remains and stop the spell before she dies, then maybe all this goes away, maybe you don’t even get written up for abuse of a corpse.”
“I did not . . .”
I held my finger up and went, “Shhhh, but if you don’t help us and Justine dies because we couldn’t stop the spell in time, then you will be as guilty under the law as the practitioner who cast the spell. Do you understand what that means, Harold?”
He frowned at me, eyes darting around the room. He’d stopped wanting to make direct eye contact somewhere in my little speech. His hands were clutching the chair arms, and he was leaning back in the seat because I’d moved forward to invade his personal space.
“I . . . I don’t know. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It means, Harold, that if Justine dies because of this spell, then I’ll have a warrant of execution for the magical practitioner, or practitioners, that cast it or caused it to be cast. That includes anyone that sold them illegal ingredients