But then, was she ever?
"So you're ringing me because . . . ?"
"Because another card was found in the pocket of the second victim—this one for the Blue Angels."
Which Rhoan would have no doubt already checked out. And I couldn't see the point in me doubling his work, especially given if he had found anything worthwhile, it would have been in his report. And she, subsequently, would now be hunting down the bitch behind the kills. All of which I wanted to say, but wisely refrained. "Is there any connection between the two clubs?"
"There is, actually. They both hired last-minute replacements from the same booking agency."
"I gather the Directorate has talked to the agency involved?"
"Yes." She hesitated. "And so have I."
Poor them. "And . . . ?"
"I told the agency owner to inform me of all last-minute requests for musicians," she snapped. "And he just did."
Hence the reason for the call. Wonderful. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and flicked the blankets off me. "I'm guessing you're not sending the Directorate to check her out."
"Rhoan hasn't your reaper, nor your ability to sense dark spirits."
The Directorate witches had the latter, if not the former. But again, I held the comment back. She didn't want the Directorate to find this killer—she wanted me to, so that she could then get her revenge. And what Hunter wanted, Hunter usually got.
Unfortunately.
I walked into the bathroom. Having a pee while talking on the phone wasn't something I usually did, but it was oddly appropriate when it came to Hunter—if only because I wished I could so easily flush her from my life.
"So where is the stand-in going to be playing tonight?"