by Gina LaManna
“She’s a friend of mine,” I said. “Can you please all agree to keep quiet and treat her respectfully? I don’t want any of this attitude directed her way. Understood?”
“Are you gonna set her up on me?” Carl sounded a bit too eager for a couch. “It’s been too long since I’ve had some nice imprints on my cushions.”
“I was going to, but apparently my couch is a pervert,” I said. “She gets the bed. You get my ass.”
Carl groaned.
“Yeah, and I’m going to eat dairy tonight,” I told him. “So, just enjoy, my friend.”
I pulled out a hunk of cheese, some saltines that probably weren’t expired, and cereal that definitely was expired. Did cereal really expire though? I wondered. To me, it just tasted vaguely more like cardboard.
“Don’t feed that poor girl your expired junk,” Fred said. “She’s a friend, not an enemy. Take some time to buy me groceries, and this embarrassment won’t happen.”
I shoved the cereal back in the cupboard. I’d still eat it, but he was right—it wasn’t exactly food for bright and sunny Willa. I heard the shower flick off and ran downstairs to the kitchen.
I’d made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t steal food from my own kitchen, but it looked like that wouldn’t be happening. I whipped up a quick salad from the prepared ingredients, grabbed some pizza and mozzarella sticks, and headed upstairs. Willa was just emerging from the bathroom looking clear-eyed and smiley.
“I have food!” I held up my offerings and kicked the door shut behind me. “I’m sorry you’re probably sick of the food here, but I didn’t have a ton left in the fridge.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, that’s perfect. Sit down, sit down. Let me fix you some tea.”
“Um—”
“Yes, I know you’re the host, but you had a long day at work, didn’t you? My mum always fixes me some tea when I come home from a horrible day at Blott’s office. She feels so awful that she can’t work and help bring in money, but it’s not her fault. She’s so ill.”
“I’m sorry, Willa. I didn’t know. What does she have?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, scrounging below the cabinet, “but do you not have a tea kettle?”
I couldn’t tell if Willa was dodging the question or just scattered, but I understood wanting to not talk about a subject, so I let it go. “I think I have an old one in that cupboard.”
“Voila. You do. My mum’s from England. She was born human, but went through Orientation when she met my father in order to move with him into the borough. Gave her a right bloody shock when she realized he was a wizard!”
“Does your dad...is he—” I stopped. I didn’t know how to word the question.
“I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead,” Willa said. “He left when I was four. That’s about the time my mom started to get sick, and she’s been going downhill since.”
“I’m really sorry, Willa. I would never have guessed.” I sat at the table as she popped the kettle onto the burner, already surprised by how comforting the simple image of her leaned with a hip against the stove, a finger pressed to her lip in thought, was to me. “You always seem so optimistic, and—what am I saying? I’ve only just met you. I guess I’ll just shut up now before I get myself in trouble.”
She bubbled with laughter. “No, no, it’s a fair question. I guess I just think about it and figure—what do I have to be sad about? I don’t want to be a grumpy old gus because my dad left when I was a kid. So what? I had a nice time with my mum. We made the best of things. Now, I am just making the best of whatever time I have left with her. When she’s gone, I suppose I’ll be alone, and maybe that will be harder.”
My heart hurt for Willa. “No siblings?”
“Sorta hard when there’s no man in the equation, isn’t it?” She gave me a rather grim smile. “I’m sorry, I joke about it because that’s how my mum says I deal with conflict. No, I’m an only child. I would’ve loved to have a barn load of brothers though, I think. Never a dull moment. My cousin—the one with the bum spells—is around quite a bit, though.”
“Never a dull moment,” I agreed. “Not sure that’s always a good thing, but we’ll go with it.”
She laughed again as the kettle boiled. “Now, those teacups?”
“Um, teacups?”
“Surely you have a teacup?” Willa spun around and looked as if I’d just admitted to murder. “Well, I guess if you don’t, we’ll make do with this thing.”
She pulled a huge mug-style soup bowl from the cupboard, and then a second plain white one with a chip in the side. From the scrunch in Willa’s nose, I could tell she didn’t approve, but she didn’t say anything aloud.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t realize teacups were supposed to be a staple.”
Willa waved her hand, scrounged up two teabags from an old box I hadn’t realized I had, and dunked them in. “Here,” she said. “It’ll do. Tell me about your day, hon.”
“No, it’s a drag. I don’t want to bore you with it.”
“Detective, you’ve got blood on your sleeve and you wandered in at one a.m. on the night of a full moon. No offense, but your night was probably more interesting than mine.”
I gave her a wry smile. “Are you sure you want to hear about it?”
She nodded at the pizza. “We’ve got tea and food. The only thing that’s missing is gossip. Now, spill.”
I never would have considered policework gossip, but it did have that feel as I sat back in my seat and cupped the large mug in my hands. Oddly enough, once I started talking through the case, the words just kept coming and coming as if I couldn’t stop. She oohed and ahhed at all the right places and looked downright exhilarated when I described the battle with the werewolf. She asked me to tell it twice and giggled with delight the second time around, cheering on Matthew in the virtual scene.
I told Willa all but the more confidential bits of the case, ending with a list of my doubts. My doubts about Grey’s ability to have murdered his girlfriend, about whether or not the creature we’d fought had actually been a werewolf, and why the HoloHex portrait had looked familiar to me, but I hadn’t been able to place it.
“That’d be downright cold of him, I think,” Willa said with a frown. “Grey, I mean. Even if he wasn’t mated for life with Lorraine—love is love, you know? I suppose it could have been a crime of passion, or maybe a wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. Say, if she was around when he transformed and it was an accident, but I agree with you, Detective. I don’t think he did it.”
“It’s Dani,” I told her for the zillionth time. “You don’t have to call me detective.”
“It’s either detective or boss, and I feel like detective makes me sound more badass,” Willa said with a grin. “But if you really don’t like that, I can call you Dani.”
“I prefer Dani. I’m retired from the force, and plus—you’re...” I almost said she was a friend, but that was ridiculous. We’d only just met. I must be more desperate than I thought! After all, the only thing we’d done was spend some of the day together and talk over tea. But that was my brain speaking, not my heart. I knew, deep down somewhere, that Willa was the kind of friend who came around once in a blue moon. “You’re a friend,” I finished. “Let’s stick with Dani.”
“Oh, Dani.” She stood up so quickly her chair flopped over, and I could hear Fred groaning at the abuse of his buddy. “You’re such a great friend.”
She threw herself onto me with such wild abandon that it was overwhelming. As she squeezed me to her chest, I realized it had been months, maybe years since I’d gotten a hug like this one.
Sure, when I’d gone through breakups I’d gotten the sympathetic pat on the back from acquaintances. My mom hugged me, but in a motherly way which was great, but different. When Matthew had hugged me, it’d been a firm, strong, protective stance—he’d never have thrown himself so freely at me for fear of breaking my bones.
I hugged her back.
When we
parted, I cleared my throat to ensure no emotion leaked through when I began to speak, but Willa beat me to it.
“God, you’re a great hugger, you know that?” Willa exclaimed, beaming. “I’ve never made much in the way of girlfriends before. I mean, there are plenty of women I like, whose company I enjoy, but never that real deep friendship it seems others magically have. Maybe that will be us! What do you think, Dani?”
I laughed. “I think I’d like that.”
“Let me top off your tea. Any chance it’s illegal to show me that HoloHex thingy you were saying?” She teetered over to the stove dressed in the spare pajamas I’d given her—red flannel pants and a loose fitting black t-shirt—and put more water to boil. “I’ve always wanted to see one. Never been privy to the workings of a secret agent.”
“I’m hardly a secret agent, but sure—I can’t imagine there’d be any harm in showing you.” I reached into my pocket and retrieved the small HoloDisc Felix had given me. I laid it flat on my palm, then brought my other hand above it, like I was holding an imaginary beach ball before my chest. I waited for the image to appear as it had for Felix.
As the beams of light blinked and glimmered, working their way into the proper lines and curves that represented the face of Charlie Bone—our mystery man—Willa laughed and clapped and watched like I was performing a magic trick or a fireworks display.
When it settled in and displayed the man’s face, I was again tugged by the threads of recognition, though I still couldn’t put my finger on where I’d seen him before. Or if I had seen him. It was possible that he simply looked like someone I knew, and my brain was playing tricks on me.
“Oh, brilliant, you!” She clapped again. “How do you know Harry?”
“Harry?”
She pointed to the face and frowned. “Isn’t that Harry LeFloyd? I guess I could be wrong, but I just saw him the other day. He came in for...are you alright, Dani? You look a bit peaked. Let me pour you that tea. Do you have honey? Oh, who am I kidding. You don’t even have a stick of butter in the house, poor thing. I’ll have to grocery shop and show you how to fill a fridge.”
I barely processed Fred’s audible sigh at Willa’s mention of pampering the insides of his shelves, nor did I notice Willa’s delighted exclamation at the sight of a talking fridge. I was too busy staring slack jawed at my brand-new friend.
“Rewind,” I said. “How do you know Harry?”
Willa turned around slowly. Something in my voice had tipped her off that my question was more important than a sassy refrigerator.
“Um, he came into Blott’s office a few times. He was in just last week, actually.”
“Why was he in Blott’s office?”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t be saying this...” Her eyes shifted to the floor then back up. “You know, it’s understood that a receptionist keeps things confidential, but—”
“Willa! Not only is this a murder investigation, but that pig fired you! Yes, because of me, but still—he treated you horribly. Who is Harry LeFloyd?”
“He worked for Mayor Lapel,” Willa said, and at the mention of the name, her face went white. “Oh, bloody hell. This is horrible, isn’t it? I just realized how this must look.”
“But he was talking with Blott?”
“He wasn’t just talking with him,” Willa said. “He worked for him. Blott stole Harry from the mayor.”
My brain went blank. When it kicked back into gear, I studied her for a long second and let my mind work overtime. As it caught up, it clicked for me—where I’d seen him.
“Harry,” I said, “he was an assistant or something, right? He’s the guy who brought coffee for me and Matthew when we went to talk to Mayor Lapel’s assistant!”
“Oh, you met Verity, too? She’s really nice. I even wondered about asking her if Mayor Lapel had an opening they’d consider hiring me for. You know, what with how awful Councilman Blott was, I liked to keep an ear to the ground. I figured he’d fire me sooner or later, and as for political parties, well, I don’t give a damn.” She winced. “I mean, that’s horrible of me to say seeing as I worked for Blott, but I’d really rather just have the nicest man win. I can say for a fact that the nicer man wasn’t Mr. Blott, and I’d only met Mayor Lapel a few times!”
“Tell me everything you know about Harry.”
“Let me grab this kettle first. It’s about to boil.”
I gritted my teeth, working through my impatience and forcing myself to not demand that Willa sit down and spill her guts at that very moment. I waited patiently while she poured the tea, dunked the bag a few times, and then looked in the fridge for unspoiled milk. She gave Fred a frown, then returned empty handed to her seat.
“I’d really love a few biscuits to go with tea,” she mused. “I need to introduce you to the ones my mum buys for us. They’re freaking delicious!”
“Willa—”
“Right, right. Sorry. Murder.” She grinned. “Well, all I know is that Harry was some lowly assistant at Mayor Lapel’s office. I mean, he hadn’t worked there that long, so how could he possibly have gotten a raise and a promotion yet? Seriously, some people—the nerve. Anyway, where was I?”
“How’d he come to work for Blott?”
“I couldn’t tell if the councilman recruited Harry or if it was the other way around, but somehow, they connected. I think Harry first came into the office—oh, a month ago? I didn’t recognize him then. He was just a name in the appointment book and not a very chatty person at all. So, I let him into the office and they talked for a while. I only remember that so clearly because the councilman was whistling after. The councilman never whistles unless he’s got something truly horrible planned for someone else.”
“Something like murder,” I finished. “Dammit, I knew that man couldn’t be innocent. Carry on—sorry. I’m just so furious.”
“I didn’t say murder!” Willa’s face went white. “Don’t take any of this as an accusation, Dani—I am just telling you what I saw, okay? If I’d watched someone plan murder, for fucks sake I would’ve gone to the police!” She looked a pinch angry for the first time. “Sorry for the French. Or English, rather. My mum is a bad influence on me.”
“I’m sorry, I just think aloud. I wouldn’t dream of jumping to conclusions without evidence, and we’re far from having proof on either Harry or Blott.”
She exhaled a breath, a strand of hair fluttering before her face. “Good. I just wanted to be sure. Anyhow, they talked, he whistled—nothing came of it, and I forgot about it. Then he returned a few more times, and I heard even less of their conversations.”
“Was there more whistling?”
She shook her head. “Not after that first time. Harry barely spoke to me when he came into the office. I hardly bothered to look up when I knew he had an appointment. It felt rude to me, but who am I to judge? Then, the whistle returned last week.”
The way she said it felt like a sense of foreboding. “Did you hear what happened during their meeting?”
“Enough of it,” she said. “But it was the meeting Blott called with me after that turned really weird.”
“Well?” Willa was making me drag the story out of her by the ear. She really had a flair for the dramatic, I realized, and this was her moment in the spotlight. “What did he want with you?”
“He told me he was planning to hire Harry LeFloyd. Which wasn’t all that weird, you know, since he hires and fires people quite often. There’s a lot of turnover in the office. This time, though, he said it was different—had to be kept quiet. We were to not file any paperwork for him...yet.”
“Did he say for what? Or why?”
“Oh, sure.” Willa paused for a sip of tea. “He said that Harry was amazing at campaign advertising and the councilman wanted him on our team. He then explained that the subject was a touchy one because stealing employees from the opponent’s team is sort of frowned upon. You know, malicious and all of that.”
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
&
nbsp; “The councilman told me that Harry was planning to quit his job in the next week. We’d be hiring him right away, but if we put him on official payroll and all of that jazz, the mayor would know and would be livid.”
“Probably.”
“So, for the next few months we were going to pay him under the table. When a long enough time had passed, Blott would hire him and things wouldn’t look suspicious. Harry could always pass off the change in party as being desperate for money and taking any job that paid.” Willa shrugged. “You know, like me.”
“He’s nothing like you,” I said, but Willa was uninterested in my commentary. It was her spotlight, and she wasn’t looking for sympathy. “Carry on.”
She sighed. “There’s not much more to it, actually. After that meeting, I didn’t see Harry again. He had probably already started on ideas for the councilman’s campaign, but I hadn’t paid him yet.”
“Why did Blott tell you all this? Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to meet privately with Harry?”
“I was in charge of making withdrawals and payments. You have to understand the councilman was very busy.” She leaned forward and whispered: “By busy, I mean lazy. He probably figured that even if I’m somewhat horrible at my job, I’m not so dull I wouldn’t recognize the same man returning to the office over and over again. And the way he explained it, the whole thing was like no big deal, you know? I didn’t really think much about it until—well, until tonight. It didn’t even cross my mind that it might have something to do with the mayor’s murder.”
“We’re not sure it does,” I assured her, though I couldn’t possibly see how it wasn’t related in some way.
Donny had described seeing someone who looked like Harry at the location the bodies had been found—he must be our Charlie Bone, the man who’d rented the room at the Motel Sixth where the bodies had been dropped. Harry had a connection to the dead mayor—and to Lapel’s opponent. In my mind, the biggest question was who suggested murder: Harry or Blott?
