by Tess Adair
“As a matter of fact, I would.”
They both stood up without any further preamble, so Jude stood up too, though an ever-growing part of her wondered if there was any point in tagging along. If there wasn’t anything paranormal about this case, why were they even here?
Of course, her real sticking point was the way Alexei Marin kept treating her like some kind of intruder.
As they stepped into the elevator and let the doors close behind them, Jude decided to sneak a quick look at him. To her surprise, she found a tender, wistful look etched into his perfect features. After a moment, she realized that he was looking at Logan…who didn’t seem to notice.
Within seconds, the look was gone, replaced by the kind of rakish smirk that made Jude wonder if he practiced sexy looks in a mirror every morning. She glanced back at Logan, but Logan didn’t notice this either.
So the flirting is a cover for…more serious flirting?
Jude shook her head in mild disbelief.
And all this time, I thought I was repressed.
Unsurprisingly, Ms. Andrea Phillips’s impeccable home stood high up on a hill, on a street populated by large, expensive-looking townhouses. Once the driver dropped them off, they made their way up a short but steep staircase to the door. Alexei paused before pushing the doorbell.
“Not to be rude,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Jude, who immediately braced herself for rudeness, “but try to keep your mouth shut, okay?”
To Jude’s immense pleasure, Logan smacked the back of his head, ruffling his perfectly unkempt hair.
“What Alexei means,” she said, “is that we don’t want the client to know how little field experience you have. So, yeah, try to say as little as possible. But you don’t have to pretend you’re mute or anything.”
With effort, Jude refrained from crossing her arms. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
“I know that,” said Logan, just as Alexei made a noise of disbelief. Before Logan could admonish him again, he rang the doorbell. It opened almost immediately.
Before them stood a tall, gaunt man with skin so pale Jude had to wonder if he’d ever stepped beyond the threshold of the house. He was wearing a simple black suit, like a butler. She stared at him in amazement. Do rich people really still have butlers?
“Hello,” said Alexei, in a tone that was markedly cheerier than the one he had just used with Jude. Jude recognized it immediately—it sounded like Logan’s voice when she spoke to Martin Armstrong. “Is the lady of the house available?”
The man looked at each of them individually, his expression one of displeasure.
“Who is calling?”
“I’m Alexei Marin,” said Alexei easily, his smile never slipping. “I’m the private investigator she hired. She knows I’m coming, I promise.”
The man stood gazing at them silently a moment longer, before taking a step back to let them inside. Alexei bounded across the threshold; Logan and Jude followed at a more cautious pace.
“You will wait in the sitting room,” the man announced, guiding them through the short entryway to the right.
The sitting room was large and lavishly furnished. Jude wondered if the novelty of expensive homes would ever wear off for her. The butler-man vanished from sight immediately, though she barely noticed as she took in the wall of shelving on the other side of the room. It was full of books, trinkets, artifacts, and stylishly framed family portraits.
The man hadn’t specified whether they should sit in the sitting room, so the three of them hovered awkwardly near the chairs, refusing to give in to the temptation to rest in one. Jude wished she had brought the dagger with her, if for no other reason than to have something to fiddle with in her boredom and anxiety. Instead, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts and drifted over to the shelf to read the book titles.
As soon as she got close enough to see the shelves’ content a little better, she found her eye drawn to one of the framed pictures. It featured a gray-haired but muscle-bound man in his 70s, along with the boy she’d seen inside the manila folder. He looked older in this picture, sporting a genuine grin and a robust tan on his uneven skin. He held a massive, upright rifle in his hand, while the older man clapped him on the shoulder. An elegant giraffe lay limply beside them, clearly dead.
Jude felt nauseous. When Alexei said Phillips might have found a new way to show off, had he meant that? Travesty tourism?
“Alexei!” said a voice behind them. Jude turned around to see a pretty blonde woman, maybe in her 40s, wearing a cream-colored blouse tucked into a floral, form-fitting pencil skirt. Her hair looked professionally styled, and her makeup was so smooth it was almost undetectable. When she took a step, Jude noticed that the soles of her high-heeled stilettos were bright red.
Alexei’s smile popped back into place before he turned around.
“Andrea!” he cried in return, striding over to greet her. She held out her hand, and he caught it in his, bringing it up briefly to his lips. “You look wonderful, darling. How are you holding up today?”
Andrea’s expression shifted to one of well-practiced grief.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” she said.
“You’re a champion,” Alexei assured her. He took her by the arm and guided her further into the room. “Come, let me introduce you to my confederates.”
“Oh! All right.” The smallest change on the woman’s face served to express her surprise. She had expected Alexei to come alone. Of course.
“This is H.C. Logan, another special investigator, like myself.” The way he emphasized the word “special” led Jude to think he meant paranormal.
So, Andrea Phillips knows about magic, but she needs euphemisms to talk about it?
“Lovely to meet you, Ms. Phillips,” said Logan, extending her hand. Ms. Phillips hesitated a moment before taking it.
“And this is her business partner, Miss Li.”
Jude couldn’t say why, but she bristled when he said her name. The “Miss” felt diminutive, even incorrect, though she knew she didn’t mind it as much when Knatt called her Miss Li. And was it just her imagination, or did Alexei’s hand motion at her seem more disrespectful than the one he’d used for Logan?
Of course, Jude didn’t want to shake the blonde lady’s hand. So instead, she hung back and bowed her head slightly, keeping her hands firmly in her pockets. Maybe she’ll just think it’s an Asian thing.
If Ms. Phillips even noticed, she made no outward sign of it. Her eyes barely swept over Jude before returning, resolutely, to Alexei.
“They’re going to be assisting me on the case,” said Alexei, lowering his voice as he explained. He sounded almost…conspiratorial.
“Oh no,” said Ms. Phillips, clutching one hand to her heart. “Have you found something? Does Todd’s case require more help than you originally thought, or—”
“Not at all,” Alexei hurriedly assured her. “No, it’s nothing like that. Miss Logan is an associate of mine—going back to ancient times.” He gave Ms. Phillips a kind of knowing look that Jude didn’t entirely understand. “She happens to be in town, so I asked her to consult with me, for old times’ sake. Two heads are better than one, after all, isn’t that right?”
Don’t you mean three heads? Jude thought, more bitterly than she would have liked.
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Andrea, nodding. “Why don’t you all sit down? Would you like some coffee?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” said Alexei as he took a seat on one of the pristine cream-colored couches. Logan sat down next to him, leaving Ms. Phillips no choice but to sit across from them. Jude barely entertained the idea of sitting next to her before she decided to hang back near the books. She could stand for a few more minutes if it meant not having the off-putting rich woman as a seat mate.
“Can you tell us a little bit about your son?” asked Logan. “Is he college age?”
Ms. Phillips huffed. “Well, he’s enrolled in college, if that�
��s what you mean.” She stopped herself there, glancing over at Alexei. “Alexei, dear, are you sure we couldn’t talk…privately, perhaps?”
If Jude hadn’t been watching him so closely, she would have missed his tiny, subtle wink.
“Why don’t we just stick to the basics for now,” he said, his tone reassuring, inviting. “And if there’s anything else you need to tell me, we can discuss it later.”
Jude was amazed at how much suggestion he could cram into two syllables.
“Well…all right,” said Ms. Phillips, mollified and nearly blushing. “As for Todd…lord, this is, oh, third or fourth attempt to finish a semester? I’ve lost count now. He always finds some reason he needs to take time off, you see, usually right before an exam period.”
She let out a heavy sigh, then motioned to the butler-type, who still hovered near the doorway. At her wave, he turned to a side table, picked up the pitcher of orange-and-cucumber water, poured a small glass, and handed it to her.
“To answer your actual question, Ms. Logan,” she said pointedly, holding her glass as primly as possible, “my son is twenty-six years old.”
Jude turned back toward the picture with the sad dead giraffe. Glancing around at the other shelves, she realized that every single framed picture featured the elder, now-deceased Herbert Phillips, his son Todd at various stages of development, and the corpse of an exotic animal. None of them included Andrea.
“Has he ever—” Logan started, then paused. She and Alexei exchanged a glance, and she leaned slightly back, allowing him to lead. Jude watched her quickly smooth out her face, guessing she was hiding resentment at the need to play second fiddle.
“Has he ever gone missing before?” asked Alexei, his eyes expressing nothing but sympathy and understanding. “Right before an exam, perhaps?”
“Once or twice,” said Ms. Phillips easily, taking a sip from her fancy water. “Never for so long, of course. I usually hear from him within a few days. It never takes too long for him to run out of money, you see.”
Jude got the distinct impression that Andrea Phillips wanted to roll her eyes, but through sheer force of will, she remained composed.
“Last time,” she continued, “he called me after two days to say he was in Rio de Janeiro ‘chasing the spirit of greatness,’ or something like that.” She took another drink, and Jude saw her composure slip. “The wild of the world just calls to him, you see. His father was the same way, so at least I know where he gets it. Herbert, at least, managed to finish a degree at an Ivy before he went off the deep end. Todd can’t seem to finish a credit at a goddamn public school.”
For a moment, it looked like her open disappointment might begin to build, but then she caught herself. “Apologies. I’ve had a very long week.”
She glanced down at her drink, somewhat suspiciously. Alexei seemed to spy his opportunity.
“Sounds like you could use something a little stronger than that,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps we both could.”
This dude is shameless, thought Jude, now holding back her own eyeroll. Of course, she had scarcely finished the thought before Ms. Phillips enthusiastically agreed.
“That sounds like just the thing,” she said, motioning to the butler-man again, this time with a wave of her fancy water.
This time, the overdressed man retreated to a bar cart out in the hall, returning with two identical glasses full of an indeterminate light brown liquid. He brought the lady hers first.
“Where was I?” she asked, swirling her new drink before taking a careful sip. “Oh, yes. Todd called me from Rio. He’d blown through his entire discretionary fund for the semester, and the backup card wasn’t working. Forgot to tell anyone he was going on a last-minute trip to South America, naturally. He wanted me to wire him money for the rest of the week. He claimed the trip was just as good for his education as finishing his classes would have been.”
She laughed a mirthless laugh.
“I’m not an idiot, of course. I’m sure he went down there for some third-world pussy, or some equally asinine ‘adventure.’” She made air-quotes with her fingers as she said adventure, her lips twisting bitterly. “Herbert was exactly the same.”
Jude did her best to keep her eyes from popping out of her head. The last word she’d expected to tumble from this prim rich lady’s mouth was pussy, but she wasn’t sure whether that was more or less shocking than her blasé attitude toward her belief in her husband’s infidelity.
“So I bought him an airline ticket and nothing else. I told him he could stay where he was and starve, or he could take the free ride home.” Triumph flashed over her features. “He was back within the day, and just as sweet and contrite as he could be. He was quite hungry, too. Never been a fan of airline food, you see.”
As Jude heard her last line, she suppressed a laugh. Ms. Phillips seemed to have mastered the art of making her son sound like an idiot. Must have been embarrassing, having to run home to Mommy in the middle of an “adventure.”
Before her, Logan’s expression remained unchanged, though Alexei humored the widow with a catch of her eye and a knowing smile.
“So, about how long has he been missing?” asked Alexei, a calibrated display of casual interest on his face.
“Almost three weeks,” said Ms. Phillips.
“Have you contacted the police?” asked Logan. Her tone was somehow firm and relaxed at the same time. Jude marveled at her, while Alexei pasted on a brilliant smile, all for Ms. Phillips.
“Well, perhaps I should have, but—no.”
With a slight, almost invisible touch to Logan’s knee, possibly telling her to hold back for this one, Alexei leaned forward.
“Ms. Phillips, may I ask—and if you’d like it to remain between the two of us, please do let me know—is there a reason that you contacted me instead?”
“Well—yes and no.” Ms. Phillips straightened her back, still clutching the glass. She glanced nervously at the corner of the room before looking back at Alexei. “That is to say—I don’t think there’s anything funny about his disappearance, if you catch my drift. But—well, Todd did spend a lot of time with his father, even more so in the years leading up to his passing. Herbert assured me that he never took Todd anywhere that was truly dangerous, but…well, I know my husband. He loved all that…occult nonsense.” It looked like the word pained her to say.
“There’s no way Todd didn’t know about it, at least a little. So, I suppose there’s always a chance.” She shook her head in disdain. “And, well, Herbert frequently praised you for how discreet you could be. And I do hope to keep this as quiet as possible.”
The word discreet sent a funny, creeping feeling up Jude’s spine. Ms. Phillips looked at Alexei as she said it, and her interest seemed clear as day to Jude. Alexei seemed to receive it warmly, however, with a slow smile and a flutter. Was that a wink?
“Discretion is an integral part of my business,” he said easily. “It is for Logan, as well.”
“Absolutely,” said Logan with a flash of smile. “Ms. Phillips, would you mind if I took a look at Todd’s room here? If it’s not too much trouble, that is. I just want to make sure he hasn’t left us any easy clues, perhaps hidden in an unusual place.”
Ms. Phillips paused for a long moment before she spoke again.
“Not at all,” she said, with the air of someone who did, in fact, mind, but wanted to seem like they didn’t. She gestured at the butler-man again. “Frederick, will you please show Miss Logan to Todd’s bedroom?”
Frederick stepped forward and inclined his head; something about him, either his manner or his appearance, reminded her of a crocodile.
Logan got up to follow him, and Jude made the split-second decision to follow her, even though she wasn’t particularly keen on seeing the young giraffe killer’s room.
The only thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to find herself alone with Alexei and Ms. Andrea Phillips.
Call of Evil
To Jude’s relief, the silent butler left them alone with the room. He ushered them toward the door, cracked it open, bowed slightly, and disappeared.
Some people lead different lives, thought Jude with a shrug.
She turned to take in the rest of the room and had to stifle a small gasp. As large as her own bedroom at the estate was, this room was easily twice the size—and in the middle of San Francisco, no less. The furniture was mostly dark and modern, and right in the middle of the far wall, a giant flat-screen TV had been mounted, complete with accompanying game systems and large speakers, and a long, low couch right in front of it. Jude nearly groaned with envy—she’d always wanted to play video games, but her parents had never allowed it. They seemed to think playing even a single video game could get her automatically rejected from any college worth attending.
While Jude ogled the apparent centerpiece of the room, Logan slid the door softly shut behind them. Then she pulled a pair of white latex gloves out of her pocket and slipped them on.
She started her search with the bed, carefully peeling back the covers and poking around, even sliding her hand under the pillow, as if she might find the missing kid’s itinerary tucked beneath it.
“So, uh,” said Jude, “why did you want to come up here, exactly?”
Logan straightened up, apparently done with the bed, and turned toward the nightstand. “You never know what kind of clues people might leave behind, even if they think they’re covering their tracks. Based on his mother’s description, did Todd Phillips sound particularly clever and resourceful to you?”
“Nope,” said Jude, shaking her head.
“Exactly,” said Logan. She gave the drawer in her hand a shake, then started to feel around its contents. “He’s the sort of person who ends up doing half of your work for you, provided you know where to look.”
“I see.” She started looking around the room herself, though without gloves, she figured she’d better keep her hands in her pockets.
