“I’ll let you guys manage the broker interviews. It’s more of a head’s up and a request for info, if they have it. Try Walcott again—he’s definitely a priority. He might know quite a bit of info about the set if he’s trying to collect the whole thing. Keep us posted, okay?”
People nodded. Gerring was already going to request a couple of phones and a conference room to work in, smart man. Henri scooped up the cats and got them situated under his coat even as we headed for one of the cars in the back lot.
“Raining,” Clint complained to him.
“That’s why I put you under the coat,” Henri retorted with a roll of his eyes.
“You won’t melt, Clint,” I threw in, shaking my head.
Tasha popped her head up and grinned at me. “Wizard of Oz!”
I gave her a high-five. “That’s my girl.”
As we prepared to dash out into the rain, I gave Henri a side-eye. Since I knew him rather well at this point, I shot him a teasing look and asked innocently, “Should I drive?”
He shot me a look in return, dry as dust. “No. I prefer to live.”
“It’s not like I’d speed in the rain.”
Yes, I was goading him further for my own entertainment.
“Your idea of speeding and mine are vastly different, my dear. I’ll drive.”
And I’d probably be grey before we got there. But I’d live. And Henri might really have a heart attack if I drove on a day like this.
Relationships are all about compromise, right?
Logistically speaking, Jere’s workshop was the closest to us, despite being on the edge of town. And since it might take several attempts before we caught him, I decided to drive by there first.
Jamie sat in the passenger seat, absently petting Tasha in her lap, the pad in her free hand. She was shaking her head in some mix of amusement and resignation.
“I should have known she’d latch onto that first.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Fax machine.” Jamie looked up and blinked, as if realizing I wouldn’t be able to follow what she meant by that. “Ah, sorry, let me back up. We have a machine on Earth that allows documents and pictures to be sent via a telephone line.”
I almost missed a stop sign, that’s how jarring the idea was to me. “But how can that possibly be accomplished?!”
“I can’t give you the nuts and bolts, sorry. I’m not an expert on this myself. But what the machine does is break down the image into little chunks of data and then transmit that information along the telephone line. Another machine on the other end interprets the info and prints a physical copy. Which, I grant you, would be really freaking handy in this world. We’d save a lot of time if we could fax records back and forth between police stations.”
My mind whirled at the implications. The ability to send data like this across cities, perhaps even countries, thrilled me. So much information could be shared, and without the costs and delays of sending it by courier.
“How quick is this?”
“Hmm, depends on what you’re sending? You have to understand, fax machines were starting to fall out of use by the time I came here. Email is a lot faster and more convenient. I think only hospitals and law offices still used fax machines regularly. And government offices because they change as quickly as a slow-moving glacier. But a single page could be transmitted in about five minutes.” She paused, eyeing me sideways. “Did I just blow your mind, Henri?”
“I certainly feel that’s the case.”
Sometimes, she failed to understand how impressive the technological marvels she so casually introduced to the rest of us were. It wasn’t that she failed to realize the implications, because of course she knew what these machines would do to society. How they would move us all. But I think she failed to realize how revolutionary they seemed to everyone around her.
“Going back to your earlier comment—I’m not at all surprised Ellie has latched onto this idea first. If she can duplicate the design here, then she’ll make a mint very quickly. Everyone will want a—what did you call it?”
“A fax machine.”
“Yes, precisely.”
Jamie hummed, a sound that was neither agreement nor disagreement.
“I think, really, she wants it for her own advantage. She wants to send some of her designs over to colleagues, and the idea of doing that in minutes thrills her down to her little toes. I’m probably going to have to pop over and decipher some schematics for her again tonight.”
I tried not to sound selfish as I reminded her, “You promised to show me one of your movies tonight.”
She snapped her fingers. “That was it! I knew I had something planned. Sorry, I knew I should have written that down. I have no memory these days.”
“Neither do I, my dear, no apology necessary.”
It was the strain of back-to-back cases over the past month that had impacted us so. You had to retain so much information while working on a case, details that might make or break it. Eventually the mind grew weary of remembering it all. I’d hoped a day off would help invigorate the brain cells, but alas, my plan had failed.
“Well, I showed you the Avengers movies,” Jamie mused. “What would be good to watch next?”
I’d requested to finally have the inside joke of Clint, Tasha, and Phil’s names explained to me. So, she’d shown me the movie series that featured those characters. It had taken several adjustments of the verbal translation spell, and I’d finally just applied a charm on very thin paper directly over the speakers, which did the job perfectly well. I’d been able to follow the movies without a hitch, except when it came to cultural idioms, which was to be expected. Now, having seen the films, I could understand her choice of names better.
At the reminder, Tasha preened, her tail flicking. “I’m spy cat.”
Clint was just as bad. “Also spy cat.”
“I hate to break this to you, but I think Phil’s the ultimate spy.” I shook my head in amusement. Jamie had pegged them rather quickly. Phil was the quiet, understated one. Tasha was quiet, but in a sneaking, clever way. You’d never see her coming. And Clint was every bit the talkative, personable one who liked to leap off things.
Phil tucked his tail around his paws, trying to look dignified. He was too young for it to stick, but the attempt was cute.
I redirected Jamie’s attention. “What about one of the movies you like the songs from? The one the Felixes are constantly singing, about cats.”
“Ahhh, Aristocats! Yes, an excellent choice. That one’s animated, though, so might be a bit interesting for you.”
I didn’t follow. “Animated?”
“Right. Think of them as cartoon drawings, but there’s motion to them.”
“Oh.” I thought I understood what this meant but had a hard time visualizing it. “Well, I’d still like to see it.”
“You’ll see all the movies, trust me.” Jamie’s grin was in her tone, a naughty sort of glee. “And k-dramas. And anime. And everything else my sister loaded on those two external drives.”
Between all of the cases and such, I hadn’t spent as much time with Jamie and the gifts her family had sent as I would have liked. It left me with questions.
“Have you managed to review it all?”
“Eh, sorta.” She put the pad into her messenger bag. “I’ve scrolled through all the files, at least. They loaded up everything that was on my own computer, plus the movies and music they know I like. And a few other movies and shows they’re pretty sure I will like. My sister’s taste in movies and books is very similar to mine, so odds are, I will. They actually sent my Kindle along with the two others, so I know most of what’s on there. They did download more, though. Things I had marked on my wish list.”
She sounded excited while listing all of this. I knew the lack of familiar entertainment here in Kingston was a sore point for her. Without understanding the cultural references, most of the comedic plays didn’t make sense to her. Velars was still a challenge
to read, so leisurely reading was a goal but not something she could do comfortably yet. Having something from home had to be blissful.
In this sense, her courage and tenacity astounded me. I was very much a homebody. I had no illusions about it. If I was ever taken permanently from Kingston and thrust into a land and culture I didn’t know, I’m not sure I would have fared as well as Jamie had. But thrived she had, and with a smile on her face.
I’ve often wondered why I loved her so immediately. I didn’t mean in the romantic sense, as that took longer to grow, but in the platonic meaning of the word. Why I became so quickly attached when, generally speaking, it took time for me to warm up to people. I rarely formed such a deep bond with someone, but I think her courage was one of the reasons for it. How could you meet this woman and come away with anything but admiration?
She perked up suddenly. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we take turns? I love it when you read to me, but what if I pull out a favorite book and read to you some nights?”
“That sounds splendid, my dear.” I was, in truth, very keen on learning more about her culture and the things she loved. And since the thrice-cursed spell wouldn’t adhere to the Kindles properly, reading them on my own was currently not an option.
“Oh, dear.” Jamie chuckled, sitting back again. “I can tell that reminded you of your current problem.”
“That translation spell won’t behave,” I grumbled. “I’ve contacted Seaton and asked if he wants to join me in figuring it out. He’s keen to do so.”
“I trust that between the two of you, you’ll figure it out.”
“It won’t win,” I promised her darkly. “No machine will ever win. I’ll beat it into submission if I have to.”
She snickered again, amused by my attitude. The frustration was a gnawing thing, chewing on my chest, but I had faith I’d figure it out with Seaton’s help. Maybe pull Leor into it as well. Surely between the three of us, we’d manage to reach a solution.
But there was no time for it now, as we were practically at Jere’s door. I put the thought aside and pulled into the gravel driveway next to the large green barn. This place had originally been farmland, before Kingston’s borders started expanding in every direction. Now it was a barn on the outskirts of the city limits, no farmland to be had. Jere found it perfect for his needs.
Jamie stepped out of the vehicle, her nose flaring as she took in the air. “Wow. That’s a very potent scent of magical…something.”
I’m sure to her senses it was nearly overwhelming. The odor was strong even to me.
“Jere specializes in protective covers, boxes, and wards for grimoires.”
Jamie shot me a sharp look. “You mentioned he was the one who built the boxes for the Reaper’s Set. That’s why?”
“In part. He’s an exquisite craftsman and they no doubt wanted a protective box that fit the volumes. He makes every element from scratch, including the dyes, hence the odor around this place.”
“That makes a lot of sense. Think he’s here?”
“Well, there’s smoke in the chimney, so odds are good.”
I was heartened to see it. Jere was very careful to bank the fire if he left the building even for a few minutes. He wasn’t the careless sort.
I led the way to the front door, which was around the corner of the building. It was ajar, for once, hinting that things had perhaps gotten a bit too potent inside the building. I gave the bell hanging near the door a good thwack as I entered.
“Jere!”
It was impossible to see him around everything. The place was well organized but crammed with shelves of material. At least in this section. The upper level was for all of the crafting, a way to keep the dust out of things. It was filled with leathers, woods, dyes, paper, and jars upon jars of things I couldn’t easily put a name to. Any craftsman who stepped inside would have swooned with envy on the spot.
A thump sounded above us on the wide wooden planks, and Jere’s raspy voice called back, “Henri Davenforth, is that you?”
“It’s me!”
“Got your message about dropping by.” As he spoke, his voice got closer, accompanied by the thump of footsteps against the stairs.
I turned, orienting myself to face the foot of the stairs as he descended. “I have a bit of bad news, I’m afraid, and I wanted to consult with you.”
Jere appeared, leather apron belted around him. His dark mahogany skin was smeared with even darker ink, and his black hair in its multitude of braids was pulled back at the nape. He looked semi-respectable, which was an unusual turn of events. Normally Jere looked as if he’d gotten into a paint fight with children. And lost.
He took me in with a grin. “I’d hug you hello, but you don’t want ink all over that nice suit.”
“I really don’t,” I agreed dryly. “So, do behave yourself. Jere, this is Detective Jamie Edwards, and her Felixes, Phil, Tasha, and Clint.”
Jere blinked at her and the Felixes, then gave a grin. “Nice to meet you! Don’t let me shake hands, I’ve got ink all over me right now.”
Jamie smiled back warmly. “I’ll keep my distance. Bottle explode on you?”
“You think you’re joking, but someone didn’t put the lid on it properly before putting it on the shelf, and then I tipped it over when I bumped into the shelf, and it went everywhere. I managed to dodge most of it, but not all.”
“Someone?” I questioned, knowing full well no one else was allowed to work in here.
Jere made a face at me. “Yes, I’m someone. Anyway, let’s step out and talk. Not safe for the Felixes to be in here.”
I silently blessed him for his diplomacy. He could tell at a glance that Jamie’s core was not stable enough to be in that hot bed of magical influences. She was likely immune to most of it, but I didn’t want to take chances with her. Jere’s eyes were those of a craftsman. Few things got past him.
He led us around to the side of the building, under an awning with a table and set of chairs. Obviously a spot for lunch breaks and guests, as it was nicely done and comfortable. Jamie heaved a silent sigh of relief upon seeing it.
Jere caught my elbow and indicated back to her with his eyes while mouthing, That’s her?
I gave him a nod. Over the years, I’d told my friends about Jamie. Not everything, of course. Some things I kept in confidence, but they were all aware of who she was, despite most never having met her. I could tell Jere was pleased to finally put a face to the name.
We settled around the table, the Felixes choosing to lounge on the surface for once instead of on someone’s lap. Jere took them in with keen interest.
“Heard about these. Felixes, you said?”
Clint chose to answer for me. “We are.”
Jere nodded, not surprised, and watched Clint with avid curiosity. “I only know your creator by reputation, but he did a good job making you. As a craftsman myself, I can appreciate the quality of work. How did you end up with Detective Edwards?”
“I field cat,” Clint answered, as if that explained everything. His chest puffed out, showing off the police vest he wore.
Since he hadn’t actually explained much, I tacked on, “I acquired him for her, in fact. Jules Felix was so pleased with how Clint developed that he asked if she’d take on one more.”
“So, naturally, I ended up with three.” Jamie shrugged, as if this were the only expected outcome. “They’re excellent companions. And quite helpful to me at crime scenes.”
“Really? We must have dinner, all of us, and get to know each other better. I barely see Henri all that often as it is. We have much to catch up on.”
Jamie, being more sociable than myself, immediately agreed. “Sure, let’s set a time after this.”
“I’m afraid we are here on business,” I said apologetically. “But we can do dinner sometime this week and visit properly.”
Jere nodded, understanding. “It is the middle of the workday, after all. Didn’t figure this for a social call. I’m not sure why you’re h
ere to talk to me, though.”
“It’s about the Reaper’s Set.” I settled in to explain better, resting my hands on the table’s smooth surface. “We’ve recently had two volumes stolen. One of them from a broker at a book faire, the other from Leor Purves.”
Jere’s expression changed from smiling to unsettled in a split second, color draining from his face so that he looked almost grey. “Great gods above. Leor had volume seven, didn’t he?”
“Yes, quite so. Volume four was stolen from the faire. How well do you know the set?”
“I would say intimately well, on one level. I had them in hand for nearly a full year while I crafted the boxes for them.” Jere ran a shaking hand over his face, looking as if someone had tap danced along his grave. Then stomped on it for good measure. “Henri, do you know much about the set?”
“Only the basics at this point. And your reaction is scaring me.” As I eyed him, the sinking feeling in my chest twisted in an uncomfortable fashion. “How dangerous is this set?”
“I certainly wouldn’t let it out in the public, if that’s what you’re asking. Lady Marvella Radman approached me roughly ten years ago, requesting that I make the boxes. Frankly, she hadn’t much money for the project. Her family fortune has been in trouble for the past generation. I think that’s why she wanted me, as I was brand new to the field and automatically cheaper than my business rivals. But she was determined to get them settled right, and I think hoping to sell some of them and get some income. She approached me because of a recommendation from a former professor. You remember Gauldie, right?”
I hadn’t thought of that professor in many years. But she had been one of my favorites, a stunningly brilliant woman with a very unique fashion sense. I’d never before met someone who kept her hair purple.
“I do, indeed. A favorite professor of mine.”
“Well, Lady Radman and Gauldie are good friends. It was she whom Lady Radman asked for a recommendation of a magical craftsman. Gauldie and I are still friends—we meet up for tea sometimes—and she thought to introduce us. Lady Radman’s payment to me was one of the volumes, the ninth one.”
Grimoires and Where to Find Them Page 6
