by Jaye Wells
We fell silent as we each pondered the possibilities for McGinty. I wasn’t sure about Shadi, but talking about retirement got me thinking about my own future again. I was still a couple of years shy of thirty, so I still had plenty of time before I was eligible to retire. But once Danny went off to start his own life, would I end up alone with nothing outside the work to give me purpose?
“Hey,” Shadi said, cutting into my thoughts, “you seeing the bogey at six o’clock?”
I picked up my binoculars and took a gander. A man was walking around the corner and headed toward the massage parlor. “Asian male, mid-forties?”
“That’s the one. Pretty expensive suit for a man going to a five-dollar hand-job joint.”
“Hold on,” I said, refocusing. “I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“I swear I saw that same man in the mayor’s office this morning. Last name’s Hung. Didn’t get the first. Volos said he’s looking to move his company headquarters to Babylon.”
Shadi nudged my arm and I handed over the binoculars. While she looked, I pulled out the book where Morales had left his notes from the night before. I didn’t see any mention of a man matching the description on the list of people seen coming in or out of the place.
“You sure it’s the same guy?” she asked.
“He was wearing that same suit,” I said. “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s see what he does first.”
Hung went to the front door of the parlor and walked inside. Using the binoculars, I looked through the front window and saw him speaking to the lady behind the front desk. She handed him a package wrapped in brown paper. He bowed to her and left, coming back out the front door.
This time, he looked around for potential threats as he hurried down the street, with the package tucked under his jacket.
“Want to guess what’s in that package?” Shadi said.
“Let’s follow and find out.”
We slowly pulled out of our parking space. Meanwhile, Hung got into a black Mercedes parked on the street about half a block up from the massage parlor. Once he’d made it to the light down the street, Shadi followed half a block behind him.
Something was niggling at me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was more than just the fact I’d seen Hung at the mayor’s office that morning.
“California plates,” Shadi said.
I jotted down the number to call it in later. “Got it.”
“Surely they’re not dumb enough to make an exchange that much in the open.”
“Maybe not of potions, but cash? Absolutely.” I pointed. “He’s turning right on Exposition.”
She smoothly followed, still far enough back not to be obvious. “Do you think this Krystal chick has really taken over the coven?”
I shook my head. “I think Abe’s calling the shots and she’s just his eyes and ears.”
“Why would your uncle make a partnership with the Chinese?”
“Who knows? Maybe they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“Like what?”
“I’m actually too scared to contemplate the possibilities.”
Half to herself she said. “Is he going to that restaurant?”
Sure enough, the Mercedes pulled up on a side street next to a Chinese restaurant that was designed with a green pagoda roof. The sign out front identified it as Jade Moon.
“Maybe he’s hungry?” I said, tongue in cheek.
“He’s going around the back.”
We watched as he pulled around the building and into the alley behind. Shadi slowly drove by the mouth of the alley, not too slow but slow enough for me to get a look at Hung going in the back door of the place.
“You want to go inside?” Shadi asked.
I shook my head. “Don’t want to tip them off yet. Let’s knock off.”
I pulled out the notebook again and copied down the address. In the morning, I’d call in the plate and track down the owner of the restaurant.
“Well, that’s something,” she said. “You want me to drop you at your car?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded and turned in the direction of the gym, where I’d left Sybil. “You meeting up with Morales after this?”
I stopped writing and looked up. “No, why?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering.”
Her tone was too casual to just be a casual comment. “All right,” I said, and went back to writing. When she was ready to say her piece, she’d do it.
Five minutes later, she stopped the car at a red light and turned to me. “Drew’s one of my best friends,” she said.
I didn’t look up. “Mine, too.”
“For real, though, he’s my people. You understand?”
I sighed and set down my pen. Coming from Volos, the talk had been invasive and inappropriate. But coming from Shadi, it was actually pretty sweet. She wasn’t exactly the emotive type, but she and Morales were pretty tight. “Is this the part where you tell me that if I break his heart, you’ll break my legs?”
She looked me in the eyes. “Something like that.”
“I’ll save you the breath, then. I’m well aware of the stakes here, and I have no intention of not playing fair.”
She nodded. “Just so we understand each other.”
“Loud and clear.”
She turned back to the road just as the light turned green. “Good.” She hit the gas and zoomed through the intersection. I went back to making notes with a smile on my face.
Chapter Eleven
Mona Kostorov lived in a small bungalow on the Mundane side of town. The area had been settled by Russian and Polish immigrants, and, while lots of upwardly mobile young professionals were moving in now, there were still enough old-timers that the streets still smelled like cooked cabbage on Sundays.
An American flag swayed in the breeze from a bracket on the porch. Two hanging baskets overflowing with purple petunias hung from under the eaves, and on the bottom step, a statue of St. Francis stood guard.
“How do you want to play this?” Morales asked as we approached the house. He sounded more nervous about interviewing an old woman than he ever sounded going into an interrogation of a hexed-out criminal.
“Relax. Old ladies love me.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said.
“You seem to forget that I live with a senior citizen.”
“I’m not forgetting anyone. I just don’t think you can judge the entire old lady population’s opinion of you based on Baba. She’s not exactly average.”
“She’s…spirited.”
“Last time I spent the night, I got up to pee and saw her dancing naked in the backyard.”
I snorted. “It was a full moon.”
“Yes, and I got an eyeful of it.”
“Okay so Baba’s not normal, but I still have a way with older ladies. Just let me do the talking.”
He muttered something under his breath that I didn’t catch.
The front door was painted green and had a straw welcome mat in front. I rang the bell and stood back with a friendly smile on my face. The door cracked open a fraction of an inch.
“What do you want?”
“Mrs. Kostorov? Hi, I’m Detective Prospero. My friend Baba—”
A loud snort cut me off. “I told that old bat I didn’t want nothin’ to do with no cops.”
“She said you were expecting us,” I said. “I promise it’ll just a take a moment of your time.”
She didn’t answer, and I chose to believe the lack of angry response was a good sign. So, I forged ahead.
“Ma’am? We’re trying to track down the wizard who sold your husband the potion he took.”
“He bought that potion legally. You can’t arrest me!”
I held up my hands. “No one wants to arrest you, ma’am. It’s the person who sold the potion we’re after. You said your husband bought it legally? Do you know where?”
“Store in the Cauldron.”
&n
bsp; “Do you know the name of the store? Or a street?”
“No, now, I told you—I don’t want to talk to you. I’m in mourning.”
“We appreciate that this is a difficult time, but anything you can tell us would be really help—”
The door slammed in my face.
A male snicker sounded behind me. I rounded on my traitorous partner. “You think you can do better? Be my guest.”
His brow rose at my challenge. “All right.” He cleared his throat. “Step aside.”
I held out my hands and stepped out of the way.
He knocked on the door lightly. “Mrs. Kostorov, I just have one more question.”
“What?” The reply was muffled by the door.
“Do you have any more of the potion inside the house?”
No answer.
“As my partner said,” he continued, “we’re not here to arrest anyone, but if you have any of the sample left, it would really help us track down the guy who’s responsible for your husband’s death.”
Silence.
“Or if you can remember what the pills looked like, that could help too. We’ll put the bad guy away for a long time.”
When no response came again, I tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s try later,” I whispered.
But he held up a finger. “I know what it’s like to lose a loved one to magic, Mrs. Kostorov. People shouldn’t be allowed to harm others with potions.”
His admission shocked me. Morales didn’t talk a lot about how his father and little sister, Blanca, had died in a terrible accident when his father tried to make a potion. Drew was eight years old at the time and tried to go into the burning house to save them, but it had been too late. All he had to show for his effort was a scarred left hand and a lot of guilt.
The locks on the doors clicked. A moment later, the panel opened to reveal a birdlike woman with a nest of blue hair perched on her tiny head. She wore a black dress and sandals with pantyhose. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.
I instantly felt guilty for my annoyance at her lack of cooperation.
“He got them at an apothecary called the Golden Thread. Friend of his told him to ask a guy there for it. The code word is Priapus.”
Her hand shot out and put something in Morales’s scarred left palm. “You find that bastard.”
Morales looked solemnly down at the woman. “You have my word.”
He held his hand behind his back to show me a tiny plastic zip-top bag with some powdery residue inside. The outside of the bag had a red cupid with a bow and arrow printed on the front. We’d deliver it to Mez, but it was pretty clear Mr. Kostorov had purchased Basil’s bad potion.
She turned to me. “And you tell that Baba that I need some more of her Widow Juice.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The tiny woman pulled herself up, as if having done her duty she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go lay down.”
“Of course,” Morales said, “thank you.” He handed her his business card. “If you think of any more information or need anything, please call.”
She looked at the card for a moment, and when she looked up, tears flowed freely from her eyes. “My Sergei was big like you. I miss him.”
He put his hand on hers and squeezed. “He was a lucky man, Mrs. Kostorov.”
“We were both lucky,” she corrected. “You married?”
“No, ma’am.”
She patted his hand. “Big man like you won’t stay on the market for long. Just be sure you don’t marry one like that one.” She pointed at me.
“Hey!” I protested.
“Why’s that?” Morales asked, ignoring my indignation. I couldn’t see his face, but his tone sounded strangled, as if he was fighting laughter.
“Man like you needs a soft woman. Woman who’ll give him children and bake bread.” She shot me a look that was so full of scorn, I gasped. “That one over there don’t appreciate a good man. She’s probably a feminist.” She spat out the word like a curse. “They’re all trying so hard to be like men that they forget to be women.”
“Listen here—” I began, but she cut me off.
“Hush, man-hater.”
I sucked in a breath to respond, but Morales began pushing me toward the steps. “That’s really good advice,” he said to Mrs. Kostorov. “I’ll be sure to look for a woman who likes men.”
She nodded, as if they’d made a deal. “All right, you go now. I’ll call if I think of anything else.” She patted him again before withdrawing back inside. As she closed the door, she looked at me with a scornful sniff.
Once it was closed, Morales turned and put an arm around my stiff shoulders. I tried to keep glaring at the closed door, but he steered me away. “Come on, man-hater. We got work to do.”
He wrangled me into the SUV and ran around to get in and take off before I exploded.
“Can you believe— Who the hell did she think—” I sputtered before we’d made it twenty feet.
“She’s just old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned is when someone prefers penny candy, print books, and Norman Rockwell paintings. That woman sounded like she resented getting the right to vote!”
He shrugged. “Who cares?”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe how mean she was.”
“She did just lose the love of her life, Kate.”
“She seemed nice enough to you.”
He smirked down at me. “Guess that makes me the granny whisperer.”
We rode along in silence for a few minutes. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Do you agree with what she said?”
“Which part?”
I rolled my eyes. “About how you need a woman who’ll give you lots of babies and bake bread.”
He shot me a side-eye. “She really got under your skin, huh?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I mean, this isn’t the first time someone’s acted like me being a cop is a betrayal of my gender.”
“Do you think you’re betraying your gender?” he asked carefully.
“Hell, no.”
“Good. Because honestly? I’m terrified of the idea of you cooking.”
“Excuse me, I can cook. I made a bad-ass potion back in the day.”
“You cooked dirty magic potions. That’s not exactly the same as making bread.”
“Right, it takes way more skill. Just because I don’t cook doesn’t mean I can’t. I’m usually just too tired from chasing down bad guys to make something.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I turned and shot him a suspicious look. “You’re trying to get me to cook for you like that old lady wanted!”
“What can I say? I’m a product of the patriarchy.”
“You’re full of shit. The truth is, you’d be bored as hell with some mousey woman who never challenged you.”
He looked at me. “There’s challenging and then there’s pain in the ass.” He left little doubt about which category I fell into.
Chapter Twelve
After we left Mrs. Kostorov’s, we decided to check out the apothecary she’d told us about. On the way there, I got a call from Dixon.
“Finally got something useful on Basil Valentine’s phone.”
I blinked. I’d totally forgotten I’d asked Dixon to take a look at it. “What’d you find?”
“Tracked a number back to Seattle. Looked like a dead end at first—a dry cleaner. But just in case, I plugged it into ACD,” he said. “That number was tied to an FBI investigation. I guess when I looked it up, it notified an agent who’d worked on it, and he called me just now. Agent Rick Logan. He said they had a case going into a money-laundering operation tied to that dry cleaner a couple of years back.”
“What happened with that case?”
“According to Logan, they had to drop the case when their lead witness showed up dead next to the Fremont troll.”
“Figures.” Witnesses in fede
ral cases had a nasty habit of coming down with a bad case of death. “Who were they going after, though?”
“Logan said they were trying to tie the laundering operation to the Fangshi.”
“Of course.”
“Yep. Said they even had the Seattle field office of the MEA in on the investigation, but they couldn’t turn up shit either. After one of their agents was executed, the trail went cold.”
“Fuck me.”
Morales stopped the car at a light and turned to watch me. I held up a finger.
“I wish I could say that made me happy,” I said to Dixon, “but, you know.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I get it. Also, I ran those plates from the Mercedes. According to my buddy at the DMV, the car is registered to a man named Alexander Hung.”
“Yep, that’s the guy.”
“I checked him out in ACD, too.”
“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“He’s been sued a bunch of times, but no criminal convictions. His name pops up in connection to several criminal cases—no charges, though. Last agent who made notes said they thought he was a hit man for the Fangshi. Officially, though, he’s a legit businessman.”
“What kind of business?”
“Dry cleaners.”
I huffed out an ironic laugh. “Naturally.”
“He came up with some new alchemical cleaning process,” Dixon continued. “He’s got at least a dozen stores on the West Coast.”
“Christ. And last night, we saw him getting a payoff from a Votary outfit. What the hell is going on?”
“That’s starting to feel like something we may be better off not knowing.”
“No shit.” I sighed. “Thanks, Dixon. This is really helpful.”
“You got it.”
I hung up. “Fuck.”
“Tell me,” Morales said.
I gave him the rundown.
“Hold up,” he said. “Didn’t Puck say something about Charm meeting with a Chinese guy in a black Mercedes?”
“Crap, you’re right. When I saw the car last night, it niggled at me, but I didn’t make the connection. Has to be the same guy.”
“Signs are definitely pointing to yes. While you were on stakeout last night, I did some research. You’d mentioned yesterday that Volos was working a deal with a Chinese company, so I looked at recent news in the business section.”
