Third Time's the Charm

by K. J. Emrick

  Funny Chen didn’t mention that before.

  The other thing my mind keeps coming back to is the scene of the theft, from inside Chen’s locked office. I checked on it myself and there was no way into that room. The only way the statue of the dragon and the unicorn could have gotten out was through an open window high above the decorative table where it had been sitting. The window was situated above the back alley, but it was a narrow opening. Nobody could have gotten in through there even after disabling the alarm.

  At least, nobody normal.

  My original theory was that the thief had gotten up on a stepladder outside, disabled the alarm, and then lowered a lasso rope or something similar inside to snag the statue and haul it up. Easy.

  Except now I see that the thief didn’t need any kind of tools to commit the theft. No ladder. No rope. He just had to stretch himself up to the window and squeeze inside and grab the thing with his own two hands.

  I shivered as I pictured Kato being able to squeeze himself through any space. I just put myself on the bad side of a man who could get in and out of anywhere he wanted to. I suddenly felt a lot less safe.

  I’ve certainly got a lot to talk to Chen about. Once we get past whatever outburst he throws my way for being so close to the statue and then letting it get away, he’s going to answer some questions for me, whether he likes it or not.

  Fiskhorn is on the other side of Detroit from my apartment building. When I’m still ten minutes or so from home—thank you, midday city traffic—two things happen. One, my stomach growls to let me know I haven’t put anything in it since Harry’s pork roast last night. Molly stole my Pop Tarts this morning.

  The second thing that happens is my cellphone buzzes to let me know I have a message. It’s laying on the seat next to me, and a quick glance down shows me the text is from Molly. She must have known, with her witchy powers, that I was thinking about her stealing my breakfast. That, or she’s giving me the list of people who might have wanted to hurt her boyfriend. However long the list is, I can add the entire Northside Demons gang to it, thanks to Parker’s information.

  I don’t text and drive. I have a hands-free option for when I need to talk to someone but other than that, it can wait. In a city this size there’s always somewhere to pull over, or a red light to stop at, or a traffic jam that leaves you sitting still long enough to tap out the opening paragraph of a novel on your smartphone’s keypad. I don’t need to risk my life or anyone else’s to look at my phone. Always pull over. It only takes a minute.

  Plus, now it gives me an excuse to stop at one of my favorite restaurants.

  The Shake Shack is a fast food chain that actually started in New York. Now it has places everywhere, even in other countries. I can see why. Their hot dogs are works of art. Me, I’m kind of addicted to their peanut butter shakes. Next to Harry’s coffee, it might be the most perfect food in the world.

  Roxy coughs a little when I find a place along the street for her to park. She’s reminding me that I didn’t change her oil last week like I promised I would. “Tomorrow,” I tell her, rubbing my hand along the front of her dash. “Hang in there for another day, all right? I’ve got to clear some stuff up today but tomorrow for sure.”

  I’m not sure she believes me. I’ve always been rough on her, but only because I know she can take it. Roxy’s tough, but I need to treat her right if I expect her to keep working for me. So. I’ll add that to my to-do list for tomorrow, and for now I’ll concentrate on my cases.

  After I eat.

  The inside of the Shake Shack looks packed at first, with a lineup at the register that stretches halfway to the door. Music plays over the speaker although you can barely hear Elton John’s voice over the people waiting in line talking about what they’re going to order, or the weather, or sports, or any of a dozen other things that occupy their normal, routine day. There’s tables in the dining area and booths along both walls, but most of them are still free. I guess most everyone is taking their food to go. That’s fine by me. I’m looking to eat in peace.

  By the time I finish washing the dirt and dried blood off my hands in the little bathroom off to the side, the lineup for the register is still just as long. After I order and get my food, there’s a corner table just waiting for me to relax in. The peanut butter shake is perfect. The fries are nice and salty. Unwrapped burger in one hand, I set my phone on the table with the other and swipe through Molly’s text, looking at her list of names.

  It’s a long list, just like she said it would be. I don’t recognize most of the names but at the very bottom, there’s two that catch my eye. Ulva Dachiana, and Lowell Dachiana. The same family name as Kurt. Are those his relatives? Probably. Dachiana can’t be a very common name. Relatives try to kill each other all the time, when there’s a big inheritance on the line, and I can’t think of a bigger inheritance than getting to be the ruler of the werewolves. What was the phrase Molly used? Lupus Regem. King of the wolves.

  Now add the Northside Demons to that list.

  Relatives and street gangs. Who else? Hmm. Well, I might not know anything about being a werewolf, but I know he’s in a mixed relationship with a witch. Mixed relationships always breed bad feelings. That was something I’d have to ask her about and hopefully we can start narrowing this list down. I’d like to go out to this estate the Dachianas have and talk to some of them to get their take on it. I’d like to see Molly’s apartment, too, and get a sense of where the necklace was stolen from. There’s often clues left behind that people miss. Private eyes see things differently than most people. I’m very good at spotting things that don’t belong.

  My burger is half gone, my shake too, when I close the phone and put it away in my back pocket. I need to remember to get a shake for Harry on the way out. He loves these things and since he can’t come out with me everywhere I go, I take pity on him and bring the best things in Detroit back to the apartment. It’s too bad he’s tied to that rug and can’t go more than a short distance away from it. I’d love to have him see the sights with me someday…

  The table shakes and bumps as Arnie Chen sits down across from me, scraping the chair back along the floor to accommodate his bulk. He chuckles as I grab my shake cup to keep it from tipping over, dropping my burger in the process. Lettuce and half a tomato go flying across my tray. The top bun rolls to the edge of the table before it stops.

  “M-mister Chen,” I stutter. “I didn’t see you come in.”

  He smiles at the way he surprised me. “Despite my size, Miss Stone, I can be quite stealthy when I want to be.” He leans his elbows on the edge of the table, and the way it creaks makes me sure it’s going to break under his weight. “You and I need to talk.”

  I really didn’t see him come in. It’s not just that I didn’t get a future flash of him being here. I didn’t see him come through the door, or make his way past the line of people, and a guy Chen’s size is not someone who blends into the crowd. It makes my skin crawl to know he snuck up on me like this.

  What I see in his eyes makes a shiver run down my spine.

  “I was going to call you later,” I blurt out.

  His forehead furrows with deep lines. “Were you, now?” His eyes look down to the few fries scattered across my tray, the mostly eaten burger. “It would seem you took time off to satisfy your hunger.”

  His voice is as warm as melted honey and just as smooth, with sharp hints of an Asian accent starting to edge his words. He’s a very meticulous man, always put together and sure of himself. The accent he tries so hard to keep hidden only shows itself when he’s angry. I’m guessing he knows about what happened with his statue…and angry might not begin to describe it.

  “A woman’s got to eat,” I tell him. When he just sits there, watching me, breathing slowly, I clear my throat. “Right. So this is what happened—”

  “I am less interested in what took place,” he interrupts me, “than I am to know what you are going to do about it. I want that statue returned to m
e, and I want the thief punished. I thought I made that clear.”

  I pick up my shake cup, just to give my mouth something to do other than talking. The sarcastic reply that nearly slipped off my lips would not have helped my situation one little bit. As I swallow, I tell myself to keep my wits about me. “I take it that when you say you want him punished, you aren’t talking about a court of law.”

  “Of course not, Miss Stone. The punishment for someone who crosses me can not be meted out by a court. I think you would be wise to remember that.”

  Yeah, that was just about as subtle as a train wreck. “Mister Chen, I jumped out of a window today trying to get that statue back for you. If you don’t think I’m dedicated to your case, then you’re free to terminate our contract and hire someone else.”

  Casually, he reaches over and takes a fry from the tray and slides it into his mouth. As he chews, he says, “I won’t spread my business around to everyone. I have told you about my problem, and that will be enough.”

  “Sure. I mean, I am that good, but you haven’t told me everything about this case, have you Mister Chen?”

  His eyes flash. “Are you calling me a liar, Miss Stone?”

  “You tell me. Turns out the guy who took your statue knows you. The way he talked about it made it sound personal. And, the guy is a Person of Magic. So you tell me. What don’t I know?”

  Part way to picking up another fry, Chen’s hand stops, suspended in midair. “He was a…what?”

  Why does everyone have such a hard time with that phrase? “He’s a Person of Magic. He can use magic, just like you. Only, not like you, I guess. He’s got some crazy, bizarre, weird, stupid insane magic. Dear God,” I say to him, remembering back, and not sure how to put it all into words.

  That summed it up pretty well, in my opinion.

  “His name,” Chen asks insistently. “What was his name?”

  “Samuel Kato. That was his name. Lives in Fiskhorn, works as an actuary.”

  “Never mind that. You’re sure that was his name?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Kato. Samuel Kato.”

  After a long moment, he picks up the fry, and chews it slowly. Then he shakes his head. “I have never heard of this man.”

  “Are you sure? The way he was talking made it sound like he had a grudge to settle with you. You’re sure you never heard of him?” I drop my voice so low for this next part that even I can barely hear myself. “I doubt you could forget this guy, he could bend himself around like a pretzel and break through glass without getting hurt and…”

  But then I stop, because his expression has changed. There’s recognition there now. Something about what I just said must have registered with him. He sits back, making the chair squeal in protest, and stares through me.

  “Mister Chen?” I ask after another moment. “You do know Kato, don’t you?”

  He starts to get up, moving his huge body awkwardly, almost as if his joints had turned into springs. Or like his bones had turned to bendy cartilage, maybe. Anyway it looks weird.

  “I need to go,” he says, not looking back at me. His accent rings clearly through his round tones now and for the first time since I’ve known him, he stumbles over his words. “I need…I need to go.”

  “Wait. What you need to do is tell me what’s going on here. If this guy is someone you know that will help me find him.” The way he’s acting, now I’m certain. There’s some kind of history between Chen and Kato.

  He pauses just long enough to look over his shoulder. “I don’t need to tell you anything. Do your job, Miss Stone. Nothing I know about this man will make any difference to you.”

  I stand up now, too, even though it doesn’t come close to putting us eye-to-eye. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of what helps me?”

  He stares at me, and I stare back, until finally he scoffs dismissively. “You found this man once without any extra information. Do it again. Do it quickly. You had two days to bring me his hide, as you will recall. This one is more than half over.”

  With that, he walks away, somehow managing to slip through the close-set tables and all the people without bumping into anything. In the next moment he’s out the door and gone.

  Chapter Seven

  I hate being kept in the dark.

  As a soldier, I couldn’t do my job without proper intelligence. Okay, sure, the soldiers on the line might not need to know everything about any given operation, but we were told what we needed to know to get the job done. Information is the key to a successful operation. It’s the same in the private eye business. I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the facts from my clients.

  Arnie Chen is keeping something from me, and it’s going to make it that much harder to find Samuel Kato again. Thankfully, I know someone who knows a lot more than I do about the world of magic.

  Back at my apartment I take the stairs two at a time with a peanut butter milkshake in a takeout cup held tight in my hand. No straw this time. Apparently plastic straws are destroying the environment and a lot of places have stopped giving them out. They have paper straws instead, and I personally can’t stand those. Sucking a drink through paper is just wrong. Might as well chew the wrapper when you eat a candy bar. Blech.

  “Harry!” I call out to him as soon as I’m through the door. “Hey, I brought you something, and I have a question to ask you.”

  I figure if Chen isn’t going to tell me anything, I’ll go right to my usual source about all things having to do with magic…

  He’s sitting right there at the table. No need for me to shout. It’s like he’s been just sitting there, waiting for me.

  “Not much else for a genie to do,” he mutters, as if he could hear my thoughts. “Not when I can’t leave the apartment. Nothing to do but sit and wait for you to come back.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry I was gone so long. Really, Harry. I am. I’ve just got a lot going on. Does this make up for it at all?”

  I put the shake down on the table, take off my lightweight jacket, and sit down across from him. He takes the cup, and pops the lid off—which is plastic, but apparently not as dangerous as a plastic straw—and smiles down into the thick drink. “Thank you, my lady. I do love these.”

  “So do I.” I wait, but he doesn’t start guzzling his drink down like I expected him to. I can’t help but notice there’s no coffee on the table for us, either, like I’d been looking forward to. “Is something bothering you, big guy?”

  His gaze lifts up to meet mine. “Sidney Stone, I am meant to be your protector. As your genie, I grant you wishes when you ask, but I also live to serve in every way I can. That includes keeping you safe. How can I do that? Please, explain to me how I can fulfil my purpose on this Earth, if I can not go with you when you walk out that door?”

  He points, but I know what door he’s talking about. This apartment is pretty much his whole world day in and day out. There’s been a couple of times when I’ve been able to carry his rug out of the apartment, over my shoulder, and squeeze it into Roxy’s back seat so he can come with me, but even then he’s limited to an area around the car. It’s not like I can wear the freaking rug like a cape wherever I go. The thing is seriously heavy. It’s too bad, really, because I love hanging out with Harry, and having him with me when things get a little dicey, but it’s part of his nature that he’s tied to a particular object in this world. In his case, it’s the rug.

  Too bad he doesn’t live in an oil lamp like that blue guy in Aladdin. That would make life easier for both of us. But since he can’t, most days I’m on my own.

  “You know Harry, I do a pretty good job of taking care of myself. I was a soldier, and when I’m not around People of Magic I’ve got my future-sense to kind of watch out for me, you know? I’m not defenseless.”

  He twists the cup around in his hand, letting the thick milkshake slosh from side to side. “It is not the same, my lady. Not the same as being there with you, instead of sitting here where all I can do is wonder about your fate, a
nd worry.”

  “You worry about me?”

  “You are never far from my thoughts,” he promises.

  It’s kind of flattering to have a man tell you that you’re his whole reason for living. Especially a guy who is basically drop-dead gorgeous. Even in that knitted turtleneck sweater he’s got on, those lips don’t lie, and his sculpted muscles aren’t something he can hide. The edges of his metal wrist cuffs, the symbol of his status as a genie, peek out above the cuffs of his shirt. He’s a good guy, and it’s okay that he cares about me…but I’m no damsel in distress.

  “Harry,” I say gently, “you’ve had other masters before, right? Did you worry about getting around with those guys?”

  He shrugs and sets the cup aside. “For most of them it has not been an issue. My master before you was homeless. He carried my rug around in a shopping cart from street to street, and I was always at his beck and call. In the Sixties I was with a man who drove a van with an open area in the back. He laid my rug out on the floor of the vehicle and took me everywhere. It would embarrass me to tell you the sorts of things he would do on that rug with women…and men…”

  “Okay, okay! I get the idea. No need to elaborate on that one, thank you.” Sometimes, I really wish I didn’t have this vivid imagination like I do. Some things are just better left unimagined. “Harry, you’re one of my best friends. You are absolutely a part of my life, but we can’t always be joined at the hip. It’s just the way it is, and sure it sucks, but you’re going to have to trust that I can do some things for myself. I’m tough. You wanna feel this muscle?”

  I flex my arm jokingly, bulging my bicep as hard as I can, even though it looks pitiful next to him sitting there, relaxed and very not-flexed. When he doesn’t even crack a smile, I drop my hands back into my lap. “Harry, look. There’s more than one way for you to protect me.”