Keeper of the Moon - By Harley Jane Kozak Page 0,43
to be able to go into other districts without worrying about stepping on another Keeper’s toes. Also, some Keepers are less experienced than others, and we don’t want their districts given short shrift.”
Great. That was aimed at her. She was about to respond when she was struck by the fact that George himself had a certain magnetism. Especially if one liked grizzly bears. Distinguished grizzly bears with hearing aids.
“George, speak to whomever you please,” Highsmith said. “You don’t need my permission. But phone and email are out of the question, particularly now, and being seen together will draw the attention of the Others, so significant travel is out of the question, too. In a perfect world the law enforcement authorities will find the murderer. This being the world it is, law enforcement will need our help. Dividing L.A. into districts is what we have done since the 1930s, and with over four thousand square miles in Los Angeles County, simple logistics dictate we continue to do that. The challenge we have is tough enough without taking on one another’s districts. Now, if there are no more questions, I’d like to—”
“This isn’t a monarchy, Charles,” Justine Freud said. “Do you really propose that each of us remains sequestered, with no exchange of information as a group—”
“We will absolutely share information, at a meeting that will be called as soon as we have sufficient information to make sharing worthwhile. Let’s not forget the debacle that occurred during the Malibu fires, when excessive communication and the use of cell phones created a security breach that—”
“What do brushfires in Malibu have to do with this?” Sailor said, her fever making her both restless and talkative. “Were Others the targeted victims? Were Elven the only ones whose homes burned down? And that was forever ago. My God, I was in high school.”
“Easy as that is to believe,” Highsmith said, “it’s perhaps best not to remind us of your extreme youth.”
“Given my extreme youth,” she shot back, “maybe you can enlighten me. What do you suggest? Going door to door, questioning Elven, and sowing seeds of suspicion about vampires and shapeshifters? Why not start with the obvious, these four women?”
“Because we’re not the police, Ms. Gryffald. Let our people in Robbery/Homicide do their jobs. And which of those victims lived in your district?”
“None of them. But it’s clear that—”
“None of them. Three of them, however, lived in mine. One of them, Ariel MacAdam, lived in Phaedra Waxman’s district. Do you think Phaedra needs your help?”
Sailor glanced at Phaedra, who reminded her of the high school volleyball coach who’d made her teenage years hell. “You’re missing the point. I—”
Highsmith continued as though Sailor weren’t speaking. “What we don’t want is to add fuel to the fire of panic already spreading, creating more death and destruction on top of the four victims already dead. Every military campaign begins with a reconnaissance mission, and that’s our obvious first step. Now, each of you has a piece of paper in front of you, and a pen. A yes vote agrees with my plan. A no vote disagrees. I will abstain.”
Sailor scrawled “NO,” folded the paper and put it into a lead crystal bowl being passed around. Charles read the votes aloud. Six and six.
“As the tiebreaker,” he said, “I vote yes. We investigate within our own districts and pool information in a meeting to be announced shortly. As for Ms. Gryffald,” he said quickly, seeing Sailor once more on the verge of interrupting him, “her district is large and she herself is new, and especially in light of her current disability, assigning her a mentor strikes me as an excellent option.”
“I’ll take her district, along with my own,” Phaedra Waxman said.
“No, you won’t,” Sailor said, finding her voice.
“I’ll help her, Charles,” Justine said.
“I think not, Justine,” Highsmith said.
“I’m happy to team up with Sailor,” Reggie said. “Our districts are adjacent, so it makes sense.”
“Fine,” Sailor said, before she got stuck with the volleyball coach. Her body temperature had dropped, and all thoughts of affection and goodwill had been replaced by anger and frustration. She pushed her chair away from the table and walked away and out of the mansion, not trusting herself to even say goodbye without exploding.
“Wait up, Sailor!” she heard, and turned to see Reggie Maxx running to catch up. “My God,” he said, “was that unbelievable?”
“Which part?” she asked, heading toward her car. “Me getting stuck with a babysitter? Or Highsmith’s stupid, ineffectual nonplan?”