“He was delightful company.” Robin flashed a smile at me. “Did you know he used to be a singing barista?”
“Broadway showtunes,” Sheyenne said. “That’s all we talked about. He’s a fan of musicals. Why don’t you ever see musicals with me?”
“Because I don’t like musicals,” I said.
She gave me a spectral raspberry. “When you go out on a date, you’re supposed to do something you don’t like. That’s how you show a girl you care for her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time we go out on a date.” Our cases almost always interfered with our love life—and so did the fact that, as a ghost, she couldn’t physically touch me, which made the intimate aspect of our relationship much more problematic. “Did we at least get paid for the case?”
“We got paid in satisfaction,” Robin said. “That’s our purpose here, to know that justice is done.”
“Right.” I turned to Sheyenne, repeating the question. “Did we at least get paid?”
She showed me a Chambeaux & Deyer invoice, on which she had merely written in capital letters: SERVICES RENDERED, no other details. “Officer McGoohan was true to his word.” She pulled out a stack of other pending cases and floated ahead to place the files on my desk. “One more step in making the world safe for naturals and unnaturals everywhere.”
“It’s a start.” I looked down at all the folders Sheyenne had gotten out, and I knew exactly what they were. Job security.
***
Road Kill Page 3
