the stage, fighting their way through a tangle of mummies and witches as they shouted for the ghosts to evacuate.
I glanced at Sheyenne. “If it were up to me, I’d strangle him. But it’s your call. He’s your brother.”
Her expression softened. “Get the hell out of here, Travis—and do it before I change my mind.”
Her brother bolted behind the Globe Theatre stage and fled; he was gone by the time the police reached us. Robin finally came up to the stage, her voice hoarse from yelling so much. “We did it! Everyone’s safe.”
McGoo was panting. “You sure know how to throw a party, Shamble—and don’t you dare tell me it was a false alarm.”
“If you check these speakers, you’ll find two high-powered ectoplasmic defibrillators. One of Balfour’s creeps intended to vaporize all the ghosts in the audience, but we stopped him in time. I tore out the wires.”
“Did you catch the senator’s man?” McGoo asked. “We can wrap this whole thing up if we get a confession!”
“He got away,” Sheyenne said.
As McGoo’s expression fell, I added, “We might have enough evidence here to nail Balfour anyway. Harvey Jekyll built and sold the defibrillators, and if we can tie these to him, find a purchase order, compare the serial numbers, you can bring charges.”
“It’s enough to cause a scandal, even if we don’t get the senator in jail,” McGoo said.
“Maybe we can still connect him with the bomb at the brothel,” Sheyenne said.
“And I have dozens more suits and injunctions to file,” Robin said.
“You keep filing your legal challenges. I’ll take a more direct approach.” I looked at Sheyenne. “Will you forgive me for going back to the Full Moon one more time?”
“Only if you promise me it’s business.”
“You know the answer to that.”
CHAPTER 47
Nobody was surprised when gaunt and shadow-faced Senator Balfour gave an emergency press conference early the next morning. In his ponderous voice he denied any knowledge of the unfortunate plot during the Shakespeare in the Dark performance. His frumpy wife, looking equally lifeless and unenthused, stood at his side, supportive in the most minimal way possible.
I had no interest in listening to the speech. I didn’t care about the man’s excuses, nor did I believe him, although I did find it ironic that he somehow managed to label the accusations against him as “unnatural harassment.”
I hoped I would get what I needed at the Full Moon and wrap up this whole mess.
Without a warrant, McGoo would never be able to see Madam Neffi’s client records—and getting such a warrant would be problematic, since his own watch commander was one of her customers, as I knew from my previous glimpse of the files. I, however, had a close connection with the mummy madam, and I hoped she would cut me a break. Given Neffi’s vendetta against Senator Balfour, maybe she would let me look through her surveillance images and client files from the night of the bomb threat on the chance that I’d recognize one of Balfour’s minions. Perhaps the guy-in-tie or one of the demonstrators who had marched on the adult novelty shop.
The withered madam was distraught when I arrived; her long, clawlike fingers fluttered about, showing her nervousness. “It’s been one nightmare after another! Considering this is the world’s oldest profession, you’d think we’d have the kinks worked out by now.”
“Don’t some customers want the kinks?” I said.
She turned her ember eyes toward me. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Mr. Chambeaux. Both of my zombie girls quit this morning, said they couldn’t take the pressure. Necrophilia’s big business here in the Quarter—now what am I supposed to offer my customers?”
Yes, I thought she’d be inclined to help. “You heard what happened during the Shakespeare performance? I’m gathering evidence against Senator Balfour. One more solid nail in his coffin could take him down for good. If you let me look through your client files, I might find the clue we need.”
She led me into her office. “So long as you do it in an unofficial capacity. I can’t let these files go public. The Full Moon is very discreet, and my client list is confidential.”
“Then why keep such detailed records in the first place?”
“Plenty of reasons: for protection, for possible blackmail use, and for occasional special coupon offers. Good business practices.” She pulled out a thick stack of manila file folders from the metal cabinet. “These are the customers from two nights ago.”
I took them out into the parlor and spread them on one of the