ã€ŠWelcome to Ludwigvilleã€‹


 Chapter 1: The Client

    Junette paced as I attempted to concentrate on the pictures and documents spread across my large oak desk. She stopped to adjust her blue head wrap, the only one I¡¯ve seen her wear. The dull yellow specks splattered across the garment caused the dark blue to stand out. She smiled as she noticed me watching her.

    With hands on hips, she asked, ¡°You gonna stay in here all day?¡± Her thick Haitian accent made her sound angry. Or perhaps she was angry. Being dead tended to dampen one¡¯s mood.

    The benefits provided by Junette justified tolerating her snarky intrusions. Absorbing her meant having access to a wealth of arcane knowledge, along with important connections in Haiti. The lwa¡¯s stronghold on that island deterred most wizards, making the residents powerful allies.

    I scanned the large, open room. Shelves of books lined the walls from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. The polished wood deck was a few shades lighter than my hand-crafted desk. I kept it close to the wall, despite having enough space in my study to host a ball. ¡°This place is quieter.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Go back to the real world.¡± Her features softened. ¡°Find a case.¡± She pointed at the pictures on my desk. ¡°Stop obsessing over this one.¡±

    I peered at the crime scene photos, avoiding the one that showed Maya motionless. My teeth hurt, making me realize how hard I clenched my jaw.

    Junette stepped back. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡±

    A bell chimed, saving her from finishing the sentence and me from pretending that staring at these photos for days at a time would lead anywhere. The sound echoed, not from inside this office, but out there.

    ¡°You gonna answer?¡±

    After taking a deep breath, I nodded. Junette followed me down the hall and to the common room. I imagined an exit on the far wall. The glowing door that appeared shined bright enough to require I shield my eyes. After stepping through, I soared through the fog and back to my body.

    My muscles ached as I stood from the hard wooden chair in my closet-sized office. Unlike my study, this ceiling was only eight feet high. A single shelf adorned the wall to my right. Instead of books, a candle sat on the unfinished wood.

    I stretched and smacked my lips, wanting to brush away the film of sleep. But judging from the footsteps outside my locked door, I wouldn¡¯t have the luxury of freshening up before confronting my visitor.

    ¡°Get moving.¡± Junette¡¯s voice echoed in my head.

    I pulled a pack of gum from my desk drawer and chewed a piece. ¡°While I¡¯m out there,¡± I whispered. ¡°Please remember, I have two ears, but can¡¯t listen to you both simultaneously.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t hear me with your ears.¡±

    Her point rang true. I only heard her actual voice on one occasion. On her deathbed, she had asked me to hide her remains from her enemies. At that point, she barely reached the legal drinking age. Too young to die. I buried her body in an unmarked grave after I absorbed her, restricting her existence to my mind¡¯s boundaries. In return, she provided the protection I needed to walk away from training. Which allowed me to investigate my wife¡¯s death.

    ¡°I¡¯ll shut my yap, if you consider taking the case.¡± She paused. ¡°Even if magic isn¡¯t involved.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± I pulled open the other desk drawer and removed my yellow taser. Despite locking my office, not securing the suite while inside my head was a dangerous oversight. I didn¡¯t want to make another by walking into an unknown situation unarmed. The taser barely squeezed into my pocket. An observant person would notice its outline through the thin fabric of my khaki pants.

    Four steps brought me to the door. I turned the deadbolt and unlocked the knob. At first, I cracked the door and peeked out.

    A tall, blond woman wearing a nice blue cocktail dress scanned my small lobby as she turned on the faded green carpet. While bigger than my office, the space barely held the couch and brown leather chair. ¡°She¡¯s up to something,¡± I whispered. ¡°My gut tells me to turn her away.¡±

    ¡°You think everyone is suspicious.¡±

    I pushed the door open. The woman¡¯s golden hair floated as she whipped around to face me. She forced a smile with her bright red lips. Her alluring French accent sounded angelic. ¡°Are you Detective Radler?¡±

    ¡°In the flesh.¡±

    Junette¡¯s sassy voice filled my head, ¡°Must be nice.¡±

    ¡°Be quiet.¡± The words slipped out before I could stop them. Answering Junette openly became a habit after spending months talking to her in my conjured internal space.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    The woman fluttered her long lashes as her eyes widened, displaying their deep blue. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Not you.¡± I cringed, realizing I was in danger of appearing to be unstable.

    She scanned the room as if confirming we were alone, then raised her eyebrows. ¡°You seem busy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m working a few cases.¡±

    She stepped towards me.

    The sweet scent of vanilla with a hint of cherry swirled around me, the same as Maya used to wear. My heart sank merely thinking her name. I spun the gold ring on my finger as the woman locked eyes with me. ¡°But I can squeeze in another.¡±

    Junette sighed. ¡°Cinderella shows up, and your schedule mysteriously clears.¡±

    My desire to answer Junette almost caused another bluster. Her questioning my motives after insisting I take the case irked me, but I kept the thought to myself.

    ¡°With that set of legs, of course you¡¯ll make time.¡±

    I said, ¡°Please have a legs.¡± After shaking my head, I corrected myself. ¡°Please have a seat.¡± Fumbling through my words, I added, ¡°Your legs¡­ must be¡­ tired from walking in those high heels.¡± Before she replied, I asked, ¡°Can I get you anything Miss¡­¡±

    ¡°Missus Beauvais.¡± She stepped forward and offered her hand, palm down. ¡°And to answer your question, I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Damn right she is.¡± Junette smacked her lips. ¡°If I had a body, I¡¯d switch teams for an afternoon.¡±

    My skin tingled as I shook her hand.

    Junette sighed. ¡°She expected you to kiss it, Prince Charming.¡±

    Turning back to face Mrs. Beauvais, I said, ¡°You can call me Ludwig.¡±

    ¡°Nina.¡± She sat on the couch, setting her large pink purse beside her. Metal studs covered the unusual bag, like large silver pimples on a teenager¡¯s face.

    My leather chair squeaked as I slumped into it and sank into the cushions. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.

    ¡°Don¡¯t gawk at her. Ask questions.¡±

    ¡°What brings you here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°My husband.¡± Nina¡¯s smile faded. ¡°He¡¯s missing.¡± She fished a small pack of tissues from her purse. ¡°The police won¡¯t investigate. Not gone long enough. But I know my Claude.¡± She pressed a tissue against her eye. ¡°Lieutenant Artigas said you might help me.¡±

    ¡°Yasmin Artigas is a good detective. We¡¯ve worked together on a couple of cases.¡± I nodded.

    Junette scoffed. ¡°Worked together, my ass. She threatened to arrest you for obstruction, then promised to run a background check on your PI license, which you don¡¯t have.¡±

    Again, her assertion was accurate. Working together was more than a stretch. Besides my wife¡¯s investigation, I¡¯ve only attempted two others. Both brought me into Yasmin¡¯s path. My sleuthing techniques didn¡¯t thrill her. She wanted me far away from her cases. Her referral suggested she didn¡¯t take the man¡¯s disappearance seriously. ¡°When did you see him last?¡±

    ¡°At brunch,¡± Nina said.

    ¡°The man¡¯s only missing a few hours?¡±

    I glanced at my watch. ¡°It¡¯s four now. Did you mean brunch yesterday?¡±

    Nina shook her head. ¡°We argued last night but apologized during the meal.¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°He offered to get some bubbly and make up properly.¡± She blushed while staring at her feet.

    Junette chimed in, ¡°A man skips quality time with Cinderella. Sounds like foul play.¡±

    Nina glanced at me. ¡°I stopped at a little market near our hotel. When I returned, the chilled champagne sat in our empty room. His cell rang under the bed when I called him.¡±

    I leaned back. The circumstances of his disappearance raised some questions. Why would Yasmin dump this case on my front door? ¡°What was the fight about?¡±

    Nina turned her head and stared out the suite¡¯s only window. It offered an amazing view of a brick wall. If she pressed her forehead against the glass and peered down, she could admire the dirty alley below. ¡°We¡¯ve had an ocean between us for two years. Finally reunited, I expected uninterrupted us-time. but he spent two hours talking to a patient.¡±

    ¡°Is he a doctor?¡±

    ¡°A psychiatrist.¡± She shook her head. ¡°He suggested this client might hurt himself or someone else.¡± The tissues fell from her lap as she shifted in her chair. ¡°The client offered to fly here for a session.¡± She shivered. ¡°Like I¡¯d want some crazy man visiting.¡±

    ¡°Did he know where you stayed?¡±

    She leaned forward. ¡°Claude told his clients the city name, but no other details.¡± Her mouth gaped open for a moment. She dabbed her eyes with the tissue. ¡°Do you think he¡¯s involved?¡±

    ¡°Something about her don¡¯t seem right.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t discount any possibilities this early.¡± I paused. ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±

    Nina shook her head. ¡°Claude never revealed their names.¡± Lowering her voice, she added, ¡°He probably shouldn¡¯t have even consulted a client with me nearby. I overheard the guy¡¯s creepy Russian accent over the phone.¡±

    ¡°A missing husband, head cases, and now a Russian.¡± Junette scoffed. ¡°Lots of red flags, Lud.¡±

    ¡°Give me your number and the hotel address.¡±

    ¡°Zidol!¡±

    I didn¡¯t speak a lick of Creole, but Junette used that word when disagreeing with my actions often enough to infer its insulting intent.

    Nina straightened her dress as she stood from the couch. She retrieved her room key and a pink business card from her purse, handing them to me as I pushed myself from the soft chair.

    The wife of a psychiatrist makes money flirting with doctors, an interesting dynamic. After two years of living separate lives on different continents, did one of them cheat? If not the spouse, a jilted lover made a promising suspect.

    ¡°Can¡¯t trust a drug pusher.¡± Junette didn¡¯t hide the irritation in her voice.

    Ignoring her, I said, ¡°I¡¯m going to check out the hotel.¡±

    ¡°Should I come with you?¡± Nina asked.

    I shook my head. ¡°The scene might be dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Cinderella might turn into a pumpkin while you¡¯re beating the streets. Get a deposit.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to stay here.¡±

    ¡°After some food.¡±  She rubbed her slim belly. ¡°I¡¯ll try that Korean restaurant around the corner.¡±

    I grabbed my keys, separated one from the ring, and handed it to her. ¡°This isn¡¯t downtown Miami. Overtown is dangerous during the day and only gets worse at night. Go right there and back. Let yourself in.¡± I glanced at the toppled pile of unpaid bills on my desk. ¡°Sorry to ask, but I normally get a deposit before starting.¡±

    She retrieved a checkbook from her purse. ¡°Is five thousand enough?¡±

    ¡°For investigating a husband missing a few hours. What¡¯s she hiding, Lud?¡±

    I nodded, watching her fill out the check.

    ¡°Make sure it ain¡¯t made of rubber.¡±

    I tucked the check she handed me into my back pocket, then offered her my hand.

    Instead of shaking, she hugged me and whispered in my ear, ¡°I really want to change out of these clothes. Can you bring back my luggage?¡±

    I closed my eyes. The aroma of her perfume and the warmth of her body brought images of Maya.

 Chapter 2: The Maniacal Pelican

    Junette didn¡¯t stop talking during our ride to the Seven Stays Hotel. Luckily, the top was down on my Volkswagen Thing, allowing the whipping wind to block out some of her chatter. ¡°Something¡¯s not right with Cinderella.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten used to you complaining about me refusing cases, but now you¡¯re upset I took one.¡± I peered at the windshield, considering for a moment to fold it down, but I wasn¡¯t in the mood to receive a mouth full of bugs.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me started. You stared at those files for months. Not telling me nothing, knowing I can¡¯t read your mind. Damn well lost mine, and I ain¡¯t got nothing else.¡±

    ¡°Do you really want to hear all my thoughts?¡±

    ¡°Men think with their zozo. No thanks!¡±

    ¡°Should I return the deposit because Nina¡¯s attractive?¡±

    ¡°Can you trust her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking her case, not marrying her.¡± I peered out the window as I pulled into the parking lot.

    ¡°You suspect everyone. She throws around money and long hugs like they¡¯re nothing. You can¡¯t see that?¡±

    Junette¡¯s ability to noodle under my skin was tolerable because her advice often proved solid, but her opinions of others appeared arbitrary at times, making me wonder if she was right. Flashes of Nina¡¯s behavior skipped through my mind. Some of her actions didn¡¯t track with her situation, mostly the hug.

    As I exited the car, I said. ¡°Is it possible she¡¯s acting strange because she¡¯s scared?¡± I scanned the hotel. The rooms lined both floors, all with exterior access.

    ¡°Maybe your eyes stopped working when her pretty face blinded them.¡±

    ¡°Nina reminds me of Mia.¡±

    ¡°Your wife looked like a supermodel, too?¡±

    ¡°She wore the same perfume.¡± After pausing, I added, ¡°It makes little sense. But helping her¡­¡± I shook my head, flustered. ¡°Since I can¡¯t find the monster that¡­¡±

    ¡°Killed Mia.¡± Junette finished for me.

    Approaching room 115, I said, ¡°Can we concentrate on the case for twenty minutes?¡±

    I slid the card in the slot, waited for the green light to blink, and pushed the door open. The room appeared outdated but clean, far from being a honeymoon suite, but not a dive. A plastic bucket with a protruding champagne bottle sat on a dresser. Water pooled around it and dripped down the wooden drawers.

    I found the cell phone after a quick glance under the bed.

    ¡°That¡¯s odd,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°We found it exactly where she suggested we look.¡±

    ¡°If my husband disappeared, I¡¯d bring his phone in case someone called.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have a husband.¡±

    ¡°Because men are a pain.¡±

    ¡°She wanted to preserve the evidence. The police might find fingerprints or DNA.¡± The words felt wrong leaving my mouth. A buzzing deep inside the recesses of my mind warned me of something. What set off my subconscious? A man goes missing, and the wife becomes suspect number one for any detective worth the title. But, Nina didn¡¯t seem the type to plot against anyone. What would be her motive?

    ¡°That¡¯s thinking like the po-po, not a scared spouse,¡± Junette said.

    When I found Mia, I sprinted to her body without consideration for preserving the crime scene. Of course, I didn¡¯t play detective back then, but lived as a prospective wizard studying absorption magic. If I arrived a few minutes sooner, Mia would exist inside my head. Unfortunately, her pulse disappeared, and her body radiated heat like a furnace.

    I jammed my hands into latex gloves and carefully scooped the phone into a plastic sandwich bag. After tucking it into my pocket, I continued the search. The couple never unpacked their bags, and the contents of the luggage offered no clues. Just as I considered accepting defeat, I discovered a wallet behind the dresser. Besides Claude¡¯s driver¡¯s license, it was empty. I pulled the ID from his bag. He looked close to how I pictured him, a tall thin man with parted brown hair and a clean shave.

    ¡°Robbery?¡± Junette suggested.

    I scanned the room. ¡°No signs of a struggle. Nothing broken. No blood.¡± I raised my eyebrows. ¡°If abducted, he left without a fight. But why not take the entire wallet?¡± I dropped it into the bag with the phone.

    ¡°At least we know what Frenchie looks like.¡±

    I continued searching, first rifling through the dressers and closet, then combing through the usual hiding spots. Nothing under the mattress, taped to a drawer bottom, or tucked away in the mini fridge. ¡°I hoped to find a little more.¡±

    ¡°Check the garbage.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bad hiding spot. The maids might dump it.¡±

    ¡°My niece went missing a few years ago. I found a flyer in the trash for a local concert. Led me right to her. People forget about the things they throw away.¡±<u> </u>

    I fished out the single piece of balled up paper from the small metal can and flattened it on the dresser. Three names were scrawled in blue ink. Lines from the same pen crossed off two of them, but the center name, Ushakov Viktorovich, remained.

    ¡°That name looks Russian.¡± Junette said. ¡°Didn¡¯t Cinderella talk about a Russian patient?¡±

    ¡°She did.¡± I plucked her check from my pocket and held it up to the paper. ¡°The handwriting isn¡¯t even close. Perhaps her husband wrote this.¡±

    After folding the note, I stuffed it and the check into my back pocket. ¡°But how do we find him? According to his license, Claude lived in Pennsylvania. His patients likely lived there, not in Florida. Finding their address online wouldn¡¯t lead us to them until they returned home.¡± Pulling aside the curtain, I glanced across the parking lot and spotted a small office.

    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s sloppy enough to stay at his shrink¡¯s hotel.¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Before taking Nina¡¯s luggage to my car, I scanned the room one last time, not wanting to disturb it more than necessary. After exhausting my search, I grabbed the bag handle and drug it outside. Its tiny wheels ground against the asphalt as I lugged it to the car and tossed it into the back seat. The lobby was close enough to the vehicle that I trusted leaving the top down. Once I reached the door, I glanced back before entering.

    A kid in his early twenties slouched behind a wood counter and typed into his phone. Not looking up, he said, ¡°How many nights?¡±

    The powerful aroma of marijuana almost made me step back. ¡°I¡¯m not here for a room.¡± I paused and glared at him.

    He again tapped away at the screen, then shook his head before eyeing me. ¡°Do you have a complaint or something?¡±

    ¡°Only questions.¡±

    ¡°Information about our accommodations and prices is in the pamphlet.¡± He pointed to a stack of glossy folded papers. His gaze darted to his phone.

    ¡°Do you remember your guests in room 115?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°A couple with a French accent.¡±

    ¡°Them I remember.¡± Shifting in his chair, he said, ¡°His wife kept asking about a non-existent continental breakfast.¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    The kid cleared his throat. ¡°Two days ago, during check-in.¡± He nudged a backpack under the table with his foot before peering at me. ¡°Are you a cop or something?¡± His voice wavered when he muttered the word cop.

    ¡°He might be a drug dealer.¡± Junette said.

    I glanced at the backpack. ¡°Have you seen them after that?¡±

    ¡°Guests come and go constantly. The day is a blur of faces.¡±

    ¡°Come on.¡± I raised my eyebrows. ¡°You don¡¯t notice a gorgeous woman?¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°She¡¯s not my type, man.¡±

    Before I voiced my disbelief, Junette blurted out, ¡°Maybe he prefers the boys.¡±

    ¡°Did you have a guest by the name of¡­¡± I pulled the note from my pocket. ¡°¡­Ushakov Viktorovich.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t give out information about other guests.¡±

    Slapping the counter to get his full attention, I said. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for his credit card number. Tell me if he¡¯s staying here.¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± He glared at me.

    ¡°I could be the guy telling his cop buddies all about weed sales at a local hotel, or the guy minding his business. That¡¯s up to you.¡±

    His eyes widened as he snatched a water bottle from the table with a shaky hand, spilling some down the front of his shirt as he sipped. ¡°No need for that.¡± He pointed at his computer. ¡°I don¡¯t need to look. He wasn¡¯t here. I¡¯d remember a guest with a name like that. Another guy stopped in here.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Never mind.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about him.¡±

    He leaned forward and whispered. ¡°This Crazy guy called himself Vlad. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting SWAT to storm into the room.¡± The kid raised his eyebrows. ¡°He paid with cash, and slipped me an extra hundred if I didn¡¯t ask for ID.¡±

    ¡°What did he look like?¡±

    ¡°Big guy. Could have been in MMA. Reminded me of that dude that fought Rocky in that old movie.¡± He tapped his chin. ¡°I can¡¯t remember the name. But the actor had blond hair and high cheekbones. Anyway, Vlad checked out a few hours ago. Seemed to be in a real hurry.¡±

    ¡°Did he mention his destination?¡±

    He shook his head but stopped abruptly and put his finger to his mouth. ¡°But he asked me for a bar¡¯s phone number. The Maniacal Pelican. It¡¯s a few miles down the road. I was like dude, just look it up on your phone, but he insisted.¡±

    ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°He kept demanding a room closer to the pool, even after I told him it¡¯s closed.¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°Who wants to swim in December, Florida or not.¡±

    I glanced out the window and realized Claude¡¯s room was next to the pool. Pointing at his door I said, ¡°Ensure the maids don¡¯t clean until me or Mrs. Beauvais say otherwise.¡±

    He recoiled. ¡°Checkout¡¯s at 8 am, unless they extend their visit.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying to extend it until further notice!¡±

    ¡°Alright dude. Don¡¯t get all scary with me. I¡¯ll put a note on his file.¡± He raised his eyebrows and whispered, ¡°The maids smoke constantly. They often forget.¡±

    ¡°Monitor that door until this time tomorrow. Keep the staff out. Call me if anyone else enters.¡± I slid my card across the table. ¡°Then I¡¯ll mind my business.¡±

    He nodded.

    As I left, Junette said, ¡®Cheech ain¡¯t gonna stay off his phone to play lookout.¡¯

    I closed the door behind me. ¡°He may be paranoid enough to watch tonight.¡±

    The door to the Maniacal Pelican squeaked as it swung open. The stench of cigarette smoke and stale beer wafted out as I entered. A chubby man, sitting on a stool, examined the ID of a young girl with bright green hair. He returned her license, then glanced at me. I reached for my wallet, but he waved me in without requiring proof.

    ¡°That means you look old,¡± Junette said.

    I grinned. Any concerns about appearing elderly faded away decades ago, when I learned to heal myself. Thirty seemed the ideal age to stay.

    One glance around the room confirmed how much I really stuck out. The crowd didn¡¯t seem mature enough to drink. They walked around with their brightly colored cocktails and piercings in every place imaginable. One man at the bar stood out more than me. He appeared to be a foot taller than everyone around him, with a build like a pro wrestler.

    ¡°Did you spot the guy sitting alone?¡± Junette asked.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be much of a detective if I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Despite your utter lack of investigation skills, I figured even you¡¯d have seen him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to strangle you.¡±

    A thin brunette with more tattoos than clothing smirked. ¡°Take it slow Big Daddy.¡± She winked. ¡°You don¡¯t even know my safe word.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. I wasn¡¯t talking to you.¡±

    ¡°Too bad.¡± She shrugged, swiveled, and strolled toward a table full of similarly inked friends.

    ¡°Where¡¯s that girl¡¯s mother?¡± Junette said, ¡°I¡¯d whoop her till she couldn¡¯t sit.¡±

    ¡°She might be into that.¡±

    ¡°Well then, I¡¯d.¡± She paused. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do.¡±

    ¡°Can we concentrate on the task at hand?¡± I approached the bar, sitting opposite Vlad. The open concept allowed me to watch him while appearing to casually peer forward.

    A short brunette with her hair pulled into a ponytail dashed behind the bar and stopped in front of me. ¡°I¡¯m Yessica. What¡¯s your poison?¡±

    ¡°Scotch on the rocks.¡±

    She smirked. ¡°My grandpa loves that drink.¡± She pointed to Vlad. ¡°Are you here with vodka neat?¡±

    He glanced at her, then turned his attention to me. After holding eye contact for a moment, he shifted in his chair and scanned the room.

    ¡°Smooth,¡± Junette said, ¡°not bad enough you look old, but you order a grandpa drink?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t look a day over thirty.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ancient in here.¡±

    ¡°Which makes me wonder why our friend over there asked for this bar.¡±

    Vlad slammed back his drink and signaled for Yessica. She scurried to him and listened as he talked much longer than a normal order should take. After a few minutes, she glanced at me, then back at him, and shrugged.

    ¡°No reason to be shy now. Go question him.¡±

    Yessica snatched a bottle of vodka from the bar and poured it into his glass. He handed her a twenty and waved his hand, as if signaling he didn¡¯t want any change.

    ¡°Paying for drinks as he goes and being very generous with the tips.¡±

    ¡°What does that tell ya?¡±

    ¡°He maintains the ability to leave quickly without arousing suspicion, and he must make enough money that he doesn¡¯t mind throwing it around.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s burning through Claude¡¯s cash.¡±

    Yessica stopped in front of me again. I swirled my drink to show her it was almost full.

    ¡°That guy over there asked me if you¡¯re a cop,¡± she said.

    ¡°Do I look like a police officer?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± both Yessica and Junette said simultaneously.

    ¡°And an old one at that,¡± Junette added.

    Yesica leaned forward. ¡°Vodka Neat has been creeping out my regulars.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have¡¯ta be a whole new level of gross to bother this crowd.¡±

    ¡°Have you seen him before?¡± I asked.

    As Yesica shook her head, Vlad stood from his stool. He glanced around before heading for the rear of the building.

    ¡°Is there a back door?¡±

    The tattooed girl from earlier slid onto the bar stool next to me. ¡°There might be. If you play your cards right.¡±

    ¡°Oh, na-uh.¡± Junette said.

    The bartender pointed to the side. ¡°That exit leads to an alley. You can cut him off if you hurry.¡±

    I slapped down a twenty and hustled to the front entrance. Behind me, the tattooed girl asked the bartender for a pair of scissors, or something to that effect.

    The cool air blew my jacket open as I stepped outside. I bolted around the corner and toward the back, only slowing to draw my taser as I reached the alley. A bare lightbulb above the rear exit flickered. The stench of rotten fish and sitting sewage assaulted my nostrils as I advanced. I cautiously peeked around a green dumpster, expecting the large man to leap out. But nothing was there.

    ¡°We must have missed him.¡±

    I spun to leave. Instead of peering into the darkness, I stared at a gigantic man¡¯s chest. I glared up at Vlad¡¯s angry face.

    ¡°You have backup pig?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not-¡°

    He gripped my arms with his oversized hands and lifted me off the ground as I kicked at him. My taser pointed at his legs. I fought to aim at his chest, but he spun and tossed me like a beanbag. I slammed into the brick wall and crumpled to the asphalt. He stomped toward me. Rolling, I avoided his kick. He snatched my shoulder and pulled me up as his enormous fist flew toward my face.

 Chapter 3: Investigating Vlad

    Vlad¡¯s gigantic fist crashed into my nose. He drew his arm back, preparing for a second strike. I squirmed and reached for my taser. Grazing it with my fingertips pushed it further away. As his fist descended, I blocked with my right hand. His punch pushed through my weak defense and smashed into my forehead.

    My head crashed against the brick wall. My stomach turned. As vomit erupted from my mouth and splashed onto Vlad¡¯s face and torso, his expression of anger turned into shock.

    He recoiled, pulled his shirt over his head, wiped his face, then threw the soiled shirt at me. For a moment, he peered down with a face frozen in shock. ¡°You puke on me pig?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a cop.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell him that. The po-po radio their locations and who they¡¯re meeting. Harder to get away with killing one.¡±

    Vlad snatched my hand with one meaty mitt and bent my finger sideways until the bone snapped.

    I screamed, reaching with my other hand for the taser. ¡°I work with them. They know I¡¯m here with you.¡±

    ¡°Why you search for Vlad?¡± He bent a second finger.

    Junette spoke, but my screams drowned out her voice.

    ¡°Stop¡­¡± I sucked in a harbored breath. ¡°I¡¯ll explain.¡±

    He relaxed his weight, allowing me to reach the taser.

    ¡°Talk quick, snitch.¡±

    I darted my head to the right and widened my eyes as if someone approached.

    Vlad shifted his attention in that direction long enough for me to aim. As he returned his gaze, I pulled the trigger. Two leads shot from the device. One stuck in his neck, the other in his cheek. They sent a jolt through his face. His jaw clenched as he swiped at the wires, ripping them from his flesh. I pushed and twisted, breaking free of his grip. Vlad ignored me while he patted his cheek and neck, likely gauging the damage done. I sprung to my feet and darted through the alley.

    ¡°You die now, pig helper,¡± Vlad yelled. The loud stomping of his heavy feet echoed off the brick walls. I hopped to the right. His large hand swished past me.

    ¡°Run faster.¡±

    Vlad paused between words. ¡°I¡­catch¡­you¡­soon.¡± His clomping sounded further away.

    Turning the corner, I sprinted faster, jolting across the street between two cars. The second laid on his horn and screeched his brakes. The sound of flesh smacking fiberglass sounded off behind me. I peeked over my shoulder to see Vlad slapping the top of the car.

    ¡°Move.¡± He half shouted as he sucked in air.

    ¡°The Russian lacks stamina.¡±

    I ran for another half mile before taking a right and heading down a perpendicular street. Shadows seemed to leap at me from everywhere, but Vlad was nowhere to be seen. Stealing a moment to catch my breath, I squatted. As much as I wanted to sit, this position allowed for quicker movement if a shadow materialized into Vlad. My breathing slowed to a normal pace. The adrenaline faded, forcing me to experience the throbbing in my head and hand.

    The road lit up.

    Headlights.

    I scurried to a nearby tree and leaned, keeping it between me and the vehicle while peeking around the side. Part of me expected to see Vlad driving down the road. I wasn¡¯t sure what his car looked like, but somehow, I believed I¡¯d recognize it. I pictured an enormous, lifted truck with dual exhaust and oversized tires.

    Instead, a yellow cab crept through the street. The light on top wasn¡¯t lit. ¡°Shit, off duty.¡±

    ¡°Or they already have a fare.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s moving slow. Maybe Vlad is inside.¡± I thought for a moment. ¡°Then again, I can¡¯t imagine a taxi helping him stalk someone.¡±

    ¡°He might be the driver.¡±

    ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± I moved from the cover and stepped into the street, putting one arm in the air.

    The vehicle slowed, and the window jerked down a few inches. ¡°I¡¯m off duty,¡± a feminine voice said.

    ¡°I¡¯m lost.¡±

    ¡°Not an ideal neighborhood for that.¡±

    ¡°Can you please give me a ride to somewhere a little less¡­¡±

    ¡°Dangerous?¡± The window rolled down further. A woman in her mid-forties poked her head out and glanced around. ¡°This isn¡¯t some type of trap, is it?¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Of course not.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t admit it either way.¡± She sighed. ¡°You don¡¯t dress like a banger. Hop in.¡± She grabbed and keyed her radio. ¡°I¡¯m picking up one last fare. Gentleman in his late thirties. Caucasian. Black hair.¡±

    The back door clicked as it unlocked. I pulled it open and hopped in, taking one more glance out the rear window to ensure Vlad wasn¡¯t creeping behind us.

    The driver tapped a cigarette out of a red pack and held it between two fingers. ¡°I don¡¯t normally smoke with passengers. Hell, I¡¯m not even allowed to light up inside here without them.¡± She raised her eyebrows. ¡°But since I¡¯m technically off shift, do you mind?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°Mighty generous of you,¡± she said with a twang of sarcasm. ¡°Where to?¡±

    ¡°You agreed to drop me somewhere on your way.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already inside. I¡¯ll bring you home.¡± She paused. ¡°As long as it isn¡¯t too far.¡±

    I pulled a wallet from my front pocket and slid out an ID.

    ¡°Vlad¡¯s wallet?¡± Junette paused. ¡°In all that mess, you snatched it?¡±

    ¡°I have some skills.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± The driver asked.

    I read the address from Vlad¡¯s license. ¡°But drop me a block away.¡±

    After pulling forward, she frowned at me in the rearview, then raised her eyebrows. ¡°Who kicked your ass?¡±

    ¡°You should see the other guy.¡± I forced a chuckle. ¡°His knuckles took a beating too.¡±

    ¡°You gonna heal yourself or sit there and bleed?¡±

    I concentrated on my wounds and imagined tiny white blood cell soldiers rushing to the affected areas. My nose stopped bleeding. The bruises on my face faded away. I straightened my finger as the bone fused back together.

    ¡°Do you have any tissues?¡±

    She handed me a box. I wiped the blood from my cheeks, then spit into a second tissue and scrubbed away the dried bits.

    The driver stared at me from the rearview, a confounded expression on her face.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t as bad as it looked,¡± I said.

    ¡°Sure.¡± She muttered, almost too low to hear, ¡°Bloody man that needs to check his ID for his address and can¡¯t be dropped off directly at his house. Stan was right, time to stop working the red eye shift.¡±

    Turning my attention back to the wallet, I pulled out all the cards. One from a hardware store had an indentation in the bottom right-hand corner. I held it up to get a better view. The damage was the size of a micro-SD card. I fished around inside the wallet¡¯s slot until I felt the plastic. Pinching it between two fingers, I extracted the memory card.

    ¡°256 gigabytes. Why would he hide that in his wallet?¡± Junette asked.

    After driving for ten minutes, she stopped a block from the address on Vlad¡¯s license. ¡°Thirty-five fifty.¡±

    ¡°I pulled three twenties from Vlad¡¯s wallet. ¡°For the trouble.¡±

    ¡°No trouble.¡± She grinned. ¡°But¡­¡± She glanced around. ¡°Something tells me there¡¯s more to this story. Not good stuff. I¡¯ll bet you want me to forget what you look like.¡±

    ¡°That type of service must require an additional fee.¡± I chuckled and yanked out three more twenties. Luckily, he carried a lot of cash. I extended the bills.

    She glared at them and raised her eyebrows.

    I snatched the remaining cash from his wallet. Two twenties and a few ones. ¡°That¡¯s all I have.¡±

    ¡°All you have just happens to be the correct price.¡±

    As I stepped from the cab, Junette said, ¡°Why are you paying her off? He attacked you.¡±

    ¡°I need time to search his apartment. If she calls the police and tells them the address, that will severely limit my chance. Plus, they show up and see me looking uninjured, and find him with puncture wounds in his cheek and neck, and I have his wallet. Might be hard to explain.¡±

    I glanced at the corner house¡¯s address before turning down the alley, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Many homeowners installed video doorbells out front. They were inexpensive and easy to operate. Residents in this area weren¡¯t likely to have full security systems, which meant less chance of being recorded at the back of their houses.

    ¡°What you gonna do when that man returns to find you inside?¡±

    I counted down the addresses as I slinked through the alley, each would decrease by two. His would be the fifth house. ¡°He worries the police are after him because he attacked someone working with them. The last place he¡¯d go is his official address. He¡¯ll lie low for the night.¡±

    ¡°That thug doesn¡¯t plan ahead.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, my taser jolted some sense into him.¡± I stopped at the fifth house. No fence or gate like the others. Chasing down criminals for the wizards taught me that most rule-breakers value their privacy. Then again, Vlad might not be a career criminal. Perhaps his was a crime of passion. Had he noticed an opportunity to make some quick Cash. But why target Claude? He stayed at an inexpensive hotel, which didn¡¯t scream high roller.

    The need for repairs on the two-story green-sided house was evident, even in dim lighting. Paint peeled from the door frames and windows. I pointed at one of them. ¡°Old style. Made of wood.¡±

    ¡°Is that important?¡±

    ¡°Unlike the plastic and fiberglass windows, they warp over time if not properly cared for. Peeling paint means moisture reached the wood. The old metal clasp locks often have trouble engaging once the frame warps.¡±

    ¡°The wizards taught you that?¡±

    ¡°No, but I renovated the house I bought with¡­¡± A ping of regret made me not want to speak her name. Even after a year, her loss felt fresh. ¡°I needed to replace the windows to lock them.¡± An effort that failed to protect her.

    I dragged a lawn chair to a back window and climbed onto it. A rusty screen with multiple small holes covered the exterior. I poked my finger into one hole and pulled. Puffs of dust exploded as the screen tore. After throwing it to the ground, I pushed against the wooden frame. It budged a half an inch before sticking.

    ¡°Is it locked?¡±

    ¡°Just jammed. Likely, the swollen wood is tighter than designed.¡± I pushed harder, careful not to put any weight on the glass. Finally, it sprung up. It stopped again, about halfway open. ¡°I can squeeze through there.¡±

    I locked my arms on each side of the interior frame and pulled myself inside, where I hovered over a dual sink full of dirty dishes. The pungent scent of sitting water and mildew caused me to hold my breath. As careful as I tried to be, my knee brushed against a bowl as I lowered it to the counter, causing the dishes to clatter.

    ¡®What if someone lives with him?¡¯

    I hovered over the sink for a moment, then spun my body so my feet dangled over the edge of the counter. Then I lowered myself to the ground. ¡°He¡¯s likely single, seeing that he¡¯s out at such a late hour trolling for girls in that type of bar.¡±

    ¡®Or he¡¯s cheating on whatever woman tolerated his nasty ass.¡¯

    I moved through the kitchen and into the living room. The cracking walls had several pictures hanging from them. Most were of a couple with multiple young kids, none having a family resemblance to each other or the couple. One looked like a teenage version of Vlad.

    The lights flipped on. As my eyes adjusted, an older lady came into focus at the bottom of the stairs. She gripped a double-barrel shotgun in her shaking hands. My body stiffened as my heart beat harder in my chest. The gun barrel went past me and pointed at the far corner. Her shot would miss me by a few feet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot,¡± I said.

    She aimed the shotgun in my direction.

 Chapter 4: Blind Luck

    The lady, who I assumed was Vlad¡¯s mom, pointed the shotgun at me. I considered sneaking across the room, but with her concentrating, she would likely hear me. If she thought the movement was a threat, the paramedics might have to scrape part of me off the wall.

    ¡°The lady must be half blind. Why¡¯d you give your position away?¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± The lady demanded.

    ¡°A friend of Vlad¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°A friend. Psst. Vlad doesn¡¯t have friends.¡±

    ¡°He has one.¡± I drew in a deep breath. ¡°Would you shoot his only friend?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to plug anyone.¡± She said, ¡°But start talking, or I¡¯ll give you both barrels.¡±

    ¡°Vlad¡¯s in trouble. The police are looking for him. He asked me to grab some things from his room.¡±

    "That boy¡¯s always wrapped up in a heap of trouble.¡± She sighed. ¡°He hasn¡¯t been here for a few weeks. I can¡¯t imagine he kept anything of interest in his mess of a room.¡±

    ¡°He hid a small stash of money. Which he¡¯ll need until the heat dies down.¡±

    ¡°And he told you to break in to get it?¡±

    I glanced at the front door. A peg board to the right had several names: Lisova, Grebenshchikov, Latasha, Jose, and Vlad. The first two must be the older couple, the others are the children. His dad¡¯s spot was empty, making me think he may have passed, or they separated. The mom¡¯s spot had two keys, and the other children¡¯s spots were empty. The keys under Vlad¡¯s name didn¡¯t have a vehicle key fob, but had two keys. Likely one for the front doorknob and one for the deadbolt. ¡°He said you took his keys, and you might not let me in since he still owes you money.¡±

    ¡°Five hundred bucks.¡± She scoffed. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t the money. He wouldn¡¯t clean up after himself. I don¡¯t get around so well anymore.¡± She lowered the shotgun. ¡°But he¡¯s still my boy. She nodded her head up the stairs. ¡°You have five minutes. No funny business, or I¡¯ll use this thing.¡± She patted the side of the shotgun.

    I trudged to the base of the stairs.

    She turned and walked to the top landing, stepping to the side to allow me to pass by. ¡°Last door on the right.¡± She followed as I approached the room.

    At first, I thought the door was locked. I pushed against it, and it barely budged. A harder push caused the door to creep open. Reaching my arm into the room, I switched on the light. I poked my head inside and surveyed the area. Clothing and garbage were scattered throughout the room. The door stopped because of a crumpled pile of clothing behind it. Shoving with the full weight of my shoulder, I nudged it open enough to step inside.

    Shelves lined two walls. Each had stacks of electronic devices, including laptops, speakers, stereo equipment, and computer monitors. A cardboard box on the ground was filled to the brim with cell phones. The back wall was lined with several large flat screens. They appeared to be heavily water damaged. I looked above them at the open window, which explained how they got wet. Likely they were defective, so he didn¡¯t mind leaving them where they would get soaked.

    ¡°Is he a fence or something?¡±

    ¡°Half this crap looks outdated,¡± I said.

    ¡°Vlad¡¯s a bit of a pack rat.¡± His mother squeezed herself into the room behind me. She held the shotgun, barrel pointed at the ground. ¡°Hurry and get what you came for.¡± She pinched her nose closed. ¡°This room smells like the inside of a rat¡¯s ass.¡±

    ¡°He said he hid it near some electronic devices.¡± I pointed at the shelves. ¡°He should have been more specific.¡± I opened the drawers of a small dresser in the back corner. Few clothes were inside. Instead, battery chargers and electronic cables filled the top drawer. The middle drawer was stuffed with cheap looking jewelry. After tugging on the bottom drawer for a moment, it popped open. Purses and wallets were crammed so tight that I couldn¡¯t re-close the drawers.

    ¡°Do you see anything?¡± I asked Junette.

    ¡°I see little nowadays,¡± Vlad¡¯s mom said.

    ¡°Who can find anything in this mess?¡±

    ¡°The better question is, what doesn¡¯t look like a pile of junk?¡±

    I scanned the room. One laptop had a charger dangling from it. Other than that, only a TV and game console were plugged into the wall. My eye caught a section of the shelves. All four, from the bottom to the top, had a virtually empty one-foot section. As I inspected closer, I noticed a strange imprint on the bottom two. The pattern reminded me of sneaker tread. Most of the shelves had brackets every four feet, but the bottom two had them every foot in these spots. I glanced up at the drop ceiling and smiled. The corner of one tile was chipped out.

    Before climbing the shelf, I stepped on the bottom section and pressed as hard as I could. It didn¡¯t budge. He must have it anchored well. I grabbed the top shelf and pulled myself up until I had one foot on the second and the other on the third. The tile pushed up easy enough but didn¡¯t budge more than a few inches. I fished around in the dark space until my fingers brushed against something smooth. I pulled it out, then jumped down from the shelves.

    ¡°A manila envelope?¡±

    I bent back the metal clasp, flipped back the lip, and peeked inside.

    ¡°What did you find?¡± Vlad¡¯s mom asked.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°The cash.¡± Closing the envelope, I folded it twice and tucked it into my pocket. Instead of cash, it contained a list of names and places. If he was a fence, these could be his buyers and drop locations. Perhaps Vlad noticed some item Claude had on his person, and he broke into the hotel to rob him of it. Things went badly, and he abducted him. Vlad may have reached out to one of these buyers to sell the item. If things went from bad to worse with Claude, he may want to unload the ill-gotten goods quickly and get out of town.

    ¡°Not only did he not pay me back, but he had the money in his room this entire time?¡± His mother asked.

    ¡°There is less than a hundred here.¡±

    ¡°He had you break into my house for a hundred dollars?¡± She shook her head. ¡°There must have been an easier way to get some cash.¡±

    ¡°He wanted me to get his laptop, too.¡± I picked up a worn green backpack from the floor and shoved the charging laptop and the envelope into it, then slung it onto my back. I wore it as intended, with an arm through each strap. The desire to sling a backpack over a single shoulder confounded me. Why distribute the weight to one side?

    A muffled voice emanated from the older woman¡¯s pocket. It was so faint, I thought I was imagining it until I noticed light peeking through her jeans. The voice clamored again. The woman must have heard it too. She took one hand from the shotgun and reached for the phone.

    ¡°I think I left my podcast on.¡± She grinned. Her eyes darted to me, then looked away.

    ¡°Time to go, Lud. Push that old bag outtha¡¯ way and run.¡±

    ¡°I really should get going.¡± I slinked toward her. ¡°My Uber is waiting outside with the meter running.¡±

    She fumbled with the device, then held it near her eyes. ¡°Can never figure how to turn this thing off.¡± After shaking the phone, she held it closer and squinted.

    She blocked the doorway as she tapped her screen. ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t look right either.¡± She pointed the phone toward me.

    The podcast on her screen was paused, but the small red phone icon caught my eye. ¡°Would you like me to help you?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯ll get it.¡±

    I tapped the phone symbol before she could pull away. The call opened. Vlad.

    Vlad¡¯s mom threw the phone at my face. It bounced off my forehead. She reached to steady the shotgun as she lifted it. I kicked the barrel, sending it to the center of the room. Not wanting to hurt the older woman, I spun and darted for the open window.

    ¡°I know you ain¡¯t jumping.¡±

    Ignoring Junette, I poked my head out of the window. The roof of the porch was a foot below. As I hopped out, the shotgun sounded off behind me. Wood splintered from the frame and showered the surrounding area. I shielded my eyes and crawled across the shingles. Tires screeched to a stop in front of the house.

    Car doors opened as I climbed onto the main roof and shimmied across, careful to keep my body low enough that the new arrivals wouldn¡¯t see me from below. As I reached the rear of the house, I peered off the side. Two stories down.

    ¡°What¡¯re you thinking, Lud?¡± Junette asked. ¡°You gonna to leap to your death?¡±

    ¡°The fall won¡¯t be fatal.¡± I scanned the ground around the perimeter of the house, then focused on the flattest area. ¡°Not if you know how to land.¡± My knees scraped against the asphalt as I crawled to the edge. After sitting back, I pushed against the rain spout with my foot. It shifted slightly as I applied force. It wasn¡¯t one of the cheap gutters picked up at the local box store. Fasteners affixed the durable aluminum frame every six inches. While unlikely to carry my weight indefinitely, it should hold me for a few minutes.

    Men¡¯s voices emerged from the front of the house, an unfamiliar male and Vlad¡¯s unmistakable accent. The words were loud but not understandable.

    I flipped onto my stomach and shimmied to the edge feet first. My legs dropped over the side as I lowered myself, gripping the gutter tightly as I dangled below. The aluminum bent from my weight, and a few of the fasteners popped free, but it held.

    Bending my knees slightly before dropping would ensure I didn¡¯t break them during the impact. While releasing, I strained my abs to straighten my body. Immediately following the collision, I extended my legs briefly before squatting and rolling forward, tucking my head.

    ¡°Where did you learn that?¡±

    ¡°You hear that noise?¡± Vlad asked from the side of the house. ¡°This way.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let him get away,¡± Vlad¡¯s mom shouted. ¡°I don¡¯t want the police crawling around here tonight.¡±

    My first step caused a jolt of paint to pinball through my body. I lifted my pant leg and glanced down at my softball-size ankle. Ignoring the footsteps, I focused on my injury. The swelling subsided. I trudged forward, confirming the pain had diminished.

    ¡°There he is,¡± a man yelled from behind me.

    A young woman¡¯s voice followed. ¡°Catch his ass.¡±

    I broke into a sprint, fluttering toward the alley. Once there, I cut right and amplified my speed, concentrating on my lungs and legs to heal them, allowing me to continue running. Despite my efforts, my lungs ached as I reached a crossroad. I turned left.

    Engines rumbled to life far behind me, interrupting the silence of the surrounding night. Ahead of me, a man exited his house and mounted a motorcycle. I scrambled toward him. As he burned out, I climbed the four-foot chain-link fence and stumbled into his yard. A small shed with peeling blue paint sat in the back corner. A padlock clasped the door shut. I pulled a pick set from my pocket and went to work. Soon, the satisfying click of the tumblers announced my victory. I jerked the door open, stepped inside, and shut it.

    ¡°Will they find you here?¡± Junette asked.

    ¡°With any luck, they thought I escaped on the motorcycle. The driver had a lead foot. Might be awhile before they catch up to him and realize their mistake.¡±

    ¡°You bumbled through the last two investigations. Suddenly you turn into James Bond?¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Breaking into houses, leaping from roofs, and now picking a lock.¡± She paused. ¡°Honestly, you¡¯re better at burglary than detective work.¡±

    ¡°You know the wizards hunt down those using magic they prohibited.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°How do you presume we confirmed our suspicions?¡±

    ¡°You broke into houses?¡±

    ¡°Among other methods.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t they teach you how to interrogate instead?¡±

    ¡°They would have if I didn¡¯t quit. That training includes an enormous time commitment.¡±

    ¡°To ask a suspect questions?¡±

    ¡°Those fully trained with my ability bring suspects into their mind when they interrogate them. I¡¯m not yet able to absorb a soul without killing the host. But if I continued training, I¡¯d eventually be able to keep contact with the target while containing their life force.¡±

    ¡°Why interrogate them inside your head?¡±

    ¡°The best home-field advantage.¡± I cracked open the door and peeked out. No movement. ¡°Tungee could conjure any environment he wanted them to perceive. Hell, he could make them believe they were sitting at their kitchen table with a friend or family member who knew about their abilities. They would confess without realizing who they were talking to.¡±

    ¡°Creepy old Tungee.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s harsh. You never met the man.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve talked about him enough. He once fought beside Kublai Khan. How old does that make him?¡±

    ¡°He fought for the good guys.¡±

    ¡°Yet your wizard friends decided to cut him loose. And we know wizards don¡¯t just let a man retire.¡±

    ¡°He made some mistakes.¡± I slid the door open. ¡°We really don¡¯t have time to talk about this. We need to get back to Nina.¡±

    ¡°You gonna call another cab?¡±

 Chapter 5: The Hacker Witch

    As I moved out of the shed, Junette asked me again. ¡°Are you going to call a cab?¡± I scanned the area, making sure nobody was lurking in the shadows.

    ¡°We¡¯re less than a mile away. We can walk.¡± Alleys provided the best cover. Vlad and his crew were more likely to search the main roads. They may peer down the alleys as they pass, so keeping tight to one side would allow my silhouette to blend in with the buildings and trash cans.

    I grabbed my cell phone and scrolled through my contacts, pressing Gaby Pinsker¡¯s profile pic when I found her.

    The phone rang twice before she answered. ¡°Kind of late, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°And here I thought you were a proper night owl.¡±

    ¡°I meant late for you.¡± She giggled. ¡°Are you finally ready to hit the clubs?¡±

    ¡°As enticing as that sounds, I have a case and could use your help.¡±

    Headlights reflected off the asphalt half a block ahead as a car crept down an intersecting road. I ducked and flattened my body against the fence to my right.

    ¡°Turning in your chit already. Must be something big.¡±

    ¡°Just a-¡±

    ¡°Not over the phone. I¡¯ll be at your house in ten minutes.¡±

    ¡°My office.¡± I pushed off the wooden slats, staying low but advancing. ¡°And better make it thirty.¡±

    ¡°See you soon.¡± She hung up.

    ¡°You need a witch?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more interested in her hacking abilities. If I needed a spell, I¡¯d reach out to the few Wigons living nearby. They owe me favors.¡± I shook my head. ¡°But unlike Gaby, they don¡¯t know a megabyte from an overbite.¡±

    She didn¡¯t hide the disgust in her voice. ¡°You know how I feel about witches.¡±

    Her dislike of witches extended from her feelings about Hoodoo. They both concentrated more on nature and less on the spirits. She believed the magic from earthly items would only work if the lwa were involved. ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered why you fear Wigon magic, but think witches hold no real power.¡±

    ¡°Wigon potions use ingredients from their realm. I¡¯ve witnessed their effectiveness.¡±

    ¡°Regardless of her spell crafting abilities, she will perform some magic on this.¡± I slapped my hand on the laptop inside the backpack.

    ¡°Will she find something on that old computer?¡±

    ¡°If it contains useful information, no matter how well hidden, Gaby will locate it.¡±

    ¡°You think it will point back to Claude?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s involved in some illicit activity, and his family might also be involved.¡±

    ¡°His ma faked being blind.¡±

    ¡°That much is obvious, but I don¡¯t think she was his mother, not biologically, at least.¡± Shaking my head, I added, ¡°Vlad had a thick accent, but she didn¡¯t. Plus, consider the pictures on the wall.¡±

    ¡°Her other children?¡±

    ¡°No family resemblance.¡±

    ¡°Different fathers?¡±

    ¡°Or foster kids. She ordered the people chasing us. I initially thought Vlad brought associates, but now I wonder if they were his foster siblings.¡±

    ¡°The old lady¡¯s the leader of a gang of orphans?¡±

    ¡°The notion sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, but...¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re finally thinking with some skepticism. Not the same man who became putty every time Cinderella opened her mouth.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve taken that into consideration as well. Nina¡¯s been separated from her husband for two years. Perhaps she met someone and wants to end things with Claude. Maybe something about their finances makes divorce not appealing. She happens upon Vlad, who is staying a few doors down at her hotel, and realizes he¡¯s a criminal. So, she offers him money to make her husband disappear.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of maybe and perhaps.¡±

    ¡°Most theories are until they¡¯re tested. I need to find some excuse to look at their financials without her realizing we suspect her.¡±

    <hr>

    Nina¡¯s posture stiffened as I entered my suite. Instead of moving from the couch, she peered at me with wide eyes. A world of worry hid behind her perfectly applied makeup.

    I plodded to my office and set the laptop on my desk. ¡°The Russian patient you mentioned, was his name Vlad?¡±

    ¡°Claude didn¡¯t say their names around me.¡±

    I walked to the doorway. ¡°Do you remember seeing a large man hanging around the hotel?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°With a thick accent.¡±

    ¡°Was his voice similar to the one on the phone call?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall.¡± She crossed her legs and leaned forward. ¡°Did this Vlad guy take my husband?¡±

    ¡°She can act. I¡¯ll give her that much.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a suspect. Would he have any reason to believe you two had money?¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Did you drive an expensive car, wear pricey jewelry, or discuss finances in earshot?¡±

    ¡°Nothing like that.¡± She shifted on the couch.

    Three quick raps on the door stole my attention. A young smiling face practically pressed against the glass. Gaby.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Come in,¡± I said.

    The bell jingled as she entered. Her overly thick, black eyeshadow matched her clothing. Her leather jacket with metal studs somehow meshed with her black yoga pants, which had designs of white mushrooms, trees, and a pentagram. But the star of David hanging from her neck seemed out of place.

    I had met Gaby when the wizards intercepted rumors about an ex-Mossad agent dabbling in magic. More importantly, they considered her to be a Yaksha in disguise. Isreal special forces seemed like a stretch for someone with such a slim frame.

    ¡°Nina, this is-¡°

    ¡°No names.¡± Gaby smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t be here long.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, Nina is my client.¡±

    Gaby¡¯s curly hair bounced as she fiddled with her ponytail. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you had guests.¡± She glanced at Nina, then focused on me. ¡°What do you have for me?¡±

    ¡°A memory chip and a laptop.¡± I handed them to her.

    Gaby pulled a laptop from her bag, opened the lid, and inserted the card. ¡°Password protected, but that can be bypassed.¡±

    ¡°Do you need time to write code?¡±

    ¡°You watch too much TV.¡± Her wide smile exposed white teeth that contrasted with her black lipstick. ¡°Most programs are written and tested before being used in the field. She opened a file and clicked some buttons. A few moments later, she turned the laptop toward me. ¡°Ready to go.¡±

    The drive only contained three pictures. Gaby flipped through them. The first captured a teenage Vlad, then a youthful version of the woman in the kitchen. The last picture included a girl and two boys of similar ages as high-school Vlad.

    I threw my hands in the air. ¡°Nothing!¡±

    She hovered her mouse over the files. ¡°Something isn¡¯t right.¡± Gaby leaned forward. Her eyes widened. ¡°One of these is much larger than the others.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Nina asked from the living room.

    ¡°Cinderella is worried she¡¯ll turn into a pumpkin.¡±

    Gaby opened her mouth but paused when I shook my head slightly. ¡°We won¡¯t know for sure until I fully analyze the data.¡±

    ¡°How long will that take?¡± I asked.

    Gaby glanced around. ¡°Not here.¡± She shut the computer and stood. As she headed to the door, I scrambled to my desk. Not finding any refills for my taser, I searched for an alternate means of protection. My hand stopped when it rubbed against a plastic bag. A smile snuck onto my face as I pulled the small bag of white powder from the drawer. I¡¯ve been looking for an excuse to test it out.

    I turned to see Nina stepping in Gaby¡¯s path. She towered a foot above the young girl. ¡°Why is one picture bigger than the others?¡±

    Gaby froze in place. Her posture loosened. ¡°He might have hidden files in a PDF.¡±

    In my past interactions with Gaby, I¡¯ve never seen her open up to someone so quickly. Nina seemed to have that effect on people, except for Junette.

    ¡°He¡¯s a hacker too?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Any noob with the right program could bury a file.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, mysterious girl with the cutest boots I ever saw.¡±

    Gaby glanced at her black four-inch heels. Several metal spikes adorned the leather strap running across her exposed foot. She blushed. ¡°You can call me Gaby.¡±

    ¡°Now the witch is falling for this woman.¡± Junette scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡±

    I hurried to Gaby, gently grabbing her arm and escorting her from the room. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been better.¡± She smiled. ¡°Should we bring Nina with us?¡±

    I spun around.

    Nina stood half a foot from me. ¡°I can wait here if you like, sugar.¡±

    Alarm bells rang in my head. Before I processed the insincere look in her eyes, a gust of her perfume wafted to me. Vanilla and cherry. Maya.

    An image of my late wife occupied the real estate in my brain. For a moment, I remembered the way she ran her fingers across my back as we lay naked in bed. ¡°Do you want to come with us?¡±

    ¡°Come on, you ain¡¯t buying this act, are you, Lud?¡±

    ¡°I should find myself a hotel. I¡¯m getting tired.¡± Nina smiled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make her leave.¡± Gaby grabbed my arm. ¡°We¡¯ll be back soon.¡± She bit her lip as she locked eyes with Nina. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you feel safer here?¡±

    ¡°I would.¡± She pointed to the couch. But I won¡¯t sleep well on that thing.¡±

    ¡°It pulls out.¡± I moved into the room and relocated the coffee table and recliner. After throwing the cushions from the couch, I tugged on the handle. ¡°I have new sheets and a pillow in the closet.¡±

    ¡°What is wrong with you?¡±

    Ignoring her, I turned and left. Gaby followed. As we walked through the building and out the door, she asked me questions about Nina.

    ¡°You both need to lose the crush,¡± Junette said.

    Gaby¡¯s black, nondescript van sat in the shadows. We climbed inside, and she set her laptop on a shelf in the back. She plugged it in and pushed the power button. ¡°There¡¯s something about that woman.¡± She paused. Her eyes lit up. ¡°That perfume.¡± She grinned.

    ¡°Are you also fond of the aroma of vanilla and cherry?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She scrunched her forehead. ¡°Cotton candy and caramel apples, with a hint of musky animals.¡± Slapping me on the shoulder, she added, ¡°When I was a little girl, my dad would bring me to the circus.¡±

    ¡°Dammit Lud. I told you to be wary of Cinderella. She¡¯s scrambling your brains with some magic I ain¡¯t heard of.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± I said.

    ¡°I remember the smell well,¡± Gaby replied.

    ¡°Think, Lud.¡±

    Closing my eyes, I attempted to remember Nina¡¯s face as she talked, but memories of Maya popped into my head.

    Gaby ejected the memory card and slid it into another computer. ¡°This will let us view the files without putting your name on a list.¡± She winked. ¡°Big brother¡¯s always watching.¡±

    Thoughts of Maya invaded my brain. They blurred and were replaced with warm feelings.

    ¡°Her magic wears off. It took a while last time, but if you fight it, you should be able to shake it sooner.¡±

    The more I contemplated the woman¡¯s suspicious behavior, the more Maya¡¯s images flooded my mind.

    ¡°This is interesting.¡± Gaby pointed the monitor toward me. ¡°One file contained dark web links. They all seem to be related to selling stolen goods.¡± She tapped the screen. ¡°Your target is a fence.¡±

    A memory of Nina hugging me popped into my head. Junette was accurate in her assessment. The embrace was excessive. With her husband missing, she shouldn¡¯t carry such a flirtatious vibe.

    ¡°Earth to Ludwig.¡± Gaby slapped my shoulder. ¡°Are you still with us?¡±

    ¡°A fence. Makes sense. He had a room full of possibly stolen stuff.¡± I focused on the screen. ¡°But why graduate to kidnapping? Can you check his browser¡¯s history on the laptop and see if he searched Claude or Nina?¡±

    She connected Vlad¡¯s computer to her system and booted it up. The keys clicked as she typed. A List of his searches filled the screen. After scanning them, Gaby pulled another drive from her bag and inserted it. She selected a program. ¡°I¡¯m restoring the deleted history.¡± She paused as the screen flashed. ¡°Nothing about Claude and Nina.¡±

    ¡°Anything about France, Psychiatry, or pharmaceutical.¡±

    She typed in a few searches, then shook her head, but hovered over one search. ¡°Pharmaceuticals.¡± She selected the line. ¡°Fair market value.¡±

    ¡°The type of search a fence may make.¡±

    Gaby removed the memory card and inserted another drive into her laptop. ¡°I¡¯m erasing all traces.¡± She fluttered her eyelashes. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to find ingredients for a spell. Do you know anyone that¡¯s selling?¡±

    ¡°Careful.¡± I glared into her eyes. ¡°The wizards believe you¡¯re unaware of the truth about magic.¡± Only a few understood true magic¡¯s existence. Most people witnessed it in action at least once, but their minds filtered what they saw, shrugging it off as their eyes playing tricks on them, a mirage, or an overactive imagination. Gaby¡¯s unique mind consisted of a firm science foundation with an unhealthy obsession with the occult.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come up and say goodbye to Nina.¡±

    I tucked my lower lip. ¡°Things may get dangerous around here quickly.¡± My longing to see Nina persisted, despite part of me acknowledging her appeal wasn¡¯t genuine. Gaby¡¯s attraction to Nina would be powerful, like my initial experience with the scent. Playing off her deep-seated paranoia may counter her urge. ¡°Can you steer clear for a few days? I¡¯ll bring Nina around when this all blows over.¡±

    ¡°But-¡± Gabby crossed her arms.

    ¡°The wizards might be tailing me.¡±

    ¡°And you waited to tell me!¡± She pushed me to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be up all night covering my tracks.¡±

    I hopped out and headed for my vehicle.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡±

    ¡°I need to grab something from my car.¡±

    ¡°What about Cinderella?¡±

    I opened my door and rifled through the glove box, pulling out a small canister. After opening it, I rubbed some of the thick paste under my nose, and pushed some into my nostrils. The vapor caused me to cough. My eyes watered a bit.

    ¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s petroleum jelly mixed with menthol cream. I created this for gory crime scenes.¡±

    ¡°What if the magic isn¡¯t scent related? It could make you think you¡¯re smelling something, like a-¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t realize I¡¯m aware of her ability. I¡¯ll test this balm. If it fails, you¡¯ll need to talk some sense into me, like you did in the van. It seemed to help.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to pretend to be oblivious to her little magic trick? How will you move the investigation forward?¡±

 Chapter 6: Bartering with a Wigon

    I sipped coffee from my mug while glancing at Nina. She snored a little as she slept on my sofa bed. Luckily, she was fast asleep when I came upstairs last night. But now I needed her assistance.

    ¡°You gonna wake sleeping beauty?¡±

    ¡°No more Cinderella?¡± I wiped some more petrol-menthol mixture on my upper lip, then coughed.

    Nina shifted.

    ¡°Are you awake?¡± I shouted.

    Her body jerked. ¡°Where¡­¡± She rubbed her eyes. ¡°What time is it?¡±

    ¡°Early.¡± I stood, but kept my distance. ¡°I found Claude¡¯s wallet at the hotel yesterday.¡±

    She pushed herself up and shifted to the edge of the bed, letting her feet and calves hang off the side. ¡°I didn¡¯t see it there.¡±

    I offered her a cup of coffee. After she declined, I poured one for myself. ¡°Did he have bank cards?¡±

    Her eyebrows raised. ¡°One for our shared account and two credit cards.¡±

    ¡°Do you have online access?¡± I placed my coffee mug on the reception desk.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nina said.

    I retrieved my laptop, pushed the bills across the reception desk, and set the computer in the unoccupied space, then motioned for Nina. She moved to the leather chair behind the desk. As she passed, I stepped back, attempting to keep a safe distance from her. I had mostly smelled menthol, but now a faint vanilla scent mixed with the familiar aroma.

    My muscles tightened as she stood nearby. I wasn¡¯t sure what proximity was needed for the magic to take effect. The first time she dosed me with a hug, and the second we stood inches apart. Thoughts of her suspicious behavior weren¡¯t forced from my mind by memories of Maya. Perhaps the cream worked. My body relaxed and I let out a long breath.

    Nina opened her bank website. She peered at me. I turned my head, allowing her to enter the username and password.

    She slid the computer to me and leaned back in her chair. I navigated to the recent transactions. No big purchases stood out, nor did any large payments. That didn¡¯t exclude a money motive, but also didn¡¯t provide additional clues. ¡°Have you used your card for this account?¡± I sipped from my mug.

    She shook her head. ¡°Claude bought everything.¡±

    Five small purchases occurred after brunch, each with cash withdrawals. A warm sensation emanated from my stomach. Yasmin was wrong about Claude¡¯s disappearance. Whoever drained half of the account avoided bank machines with cameras. They scouted stores unlikely to have working security. But one caught my attention, the Rolling in Layers Pizzeria. A joint that functioned as a convenience store, restaurant, and a venue for off-book gambling. I assisted the owner, Johnny, with a problem a few months back. He owed me.

    I lifted the evidence bag and pointed at the phone. ¡°Do you have the password?¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°Hubby doesn¡¯t trust her with it.¡±

    Part of me wanted to agree with Junette. Maya knew mine. Even after a year, I remembered hers. That vital information had allowed me to investigate her death while the detectives obsessed over unusual circumstances. I didn¡¯t blame them. They were ignorant of magic¡¯s existence.

    I dropped my coffee as thoughts of Maya wiggled into my brain. Nina flinched as the mug shattered on the table. Her face revealed fear, possibly her only genuine emotion.

    ¡°Talk to me, Lud.¡±

    ¡°I need to visit an old friend at Layers Pizzeria. He may point me in the kidnapper¡¯s direction.¡±

    ¡°Is she getting in your head again?¡± Junette asked.

    ¡°Stay here. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    Nina¡¯s shoulders slumped, and she rested her hand on mine. ¡°Please don¡¯t leave me alone.¡± She scanned the room, then her eyes fluttered, fanning me with her long lashes. Her fragrance drowned out the menthol.

    I struggled to push out the words. ¡°Coming with me could be dangerous.¡±

    She pouted her lips. ¡°I¡¯ll stay in the car.¡± Then she raised her eyebrows. ¡°And will try possible passwords.¡± She tapped the phone through the plastic bag.

    ¡°She¡¯s doing it again,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I stood.

    ¡°Fight it!¡±

    Nina¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Thank You.¡±

    ¡°Look at her body language. Not the way a woman holds herself when her husband¡¯s missing.¡± Junette paused, then said, ¡°Light the candle and leave an offering.¡±

    Ignoring her, I moved toward the door.

    ¡°Ludwig James Radcliff. Walk out the door without lighting that candle, and we¡¯ll see how well you drive with me screaming in your head.¡±

    Stopping dead, I turned to Nina. ¡°Give me one moment.¡± I shuffled into my office, closed the door, and whispered, ¡°They have no reason to keep Claude alive after they finish draining his accounts. We can¡¯t waste time.¡±

    ¡°Cinderella¡¯s a well-packaged bag of crazy. I feel it in my bones.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have bones.¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°That¡¯s cold.¡± She paused. ¡°I¡¯m trapped in this meat suit with you. I¡¯d cope better after increasing our luck.¡±

    ¡°This seems more like superstition than magic.¡± I pulled a clay pipe from my drawer and approached the shelf. A candle and lighter sat next to a Vodou doll. A few weeks ago, Junette instructed me to glue a photo of my face to its head, then spear a lock of my hair against it with a yellow pushpin.

    I picked up the lighter.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to envision what you want.¡±

    I nodded and exhaled before imagining a luck force-field surrounding me. The lwas demanded gifts for their favors. This one enjoyed a good smoke. I placed the pipe and lit the candle. ¡°Are you happy?¡±

    <hr>

    Nina lounged quietly in the passenger seat. Her golden hair whipped in the wind.

    ¡°Should I raise the top?¡± I asked.

    ¡°The air feels good.¡± She smiled. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen a car like this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a Thing.¡±

    Her brow wrinkled.

    Shaking my head, I added, ¡°A Volkswagen Thing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡±

    ¡°They stopped making them in ¡®74.¡± I patted the dashboard. ¡°No electronics in the engine.¡±

    ¡°You gonna tell her why that¡¯s important?¡± Junette asked.

    She knew I wouldn¡¯t. People like Nina would live their entire life not knowing that some wizards could hijack electronic devices.

    As we parked, Nina attempted another password. Six by my count. Again, a denial. This time, Claude¡¯s phone locked for sixty seconds.

    I turned to her. ¡°Keep low.¡±

    She reclined her seat as I exited the vehicle. I approached the entrance, but stopped before entering and asked Junette, ¡°Is everything all right? You¡¯ve been unusually quiet.¡±

    ¡°Honey, ain¡¯t nothing right.¡± I imagined her rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. ¡°You¡¯re under that girl¡¯s spell. You must snap outta it.¡±

    ¡°No, she¡­¡± A memory of the moment Gaby told Nina her name flashed into my head. The realization that Nina influenced my thoughts seemed as clear as the glass in the door I pushed open.

    A bell chimed as the door swung shut behind me. The right side of the room resembled a family-owned pizza parlor I frequented years ago. But the other side looked more like a remote convenience store. Junk food lined metal shelves. Rows of cigarettes, chewing tobacco, and vapes ran against the back wall.

    ¡°Ludwig!¡± Johnny sang. ¡°Here for a game?¡±

    A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. Johnny loomed behind the counter, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a beanie. Yaksha thrived in temperatures topping a hundred degrees, making Florida a popular destination. As winter dipped to the low 60s, they became a bit more obvious.

    ¡°Not today.¡± I grinned while approaching him, then whispered, ¡°I need some information.¡±

    He raised his eyebrows. ¡°Come on, man. My clients appreciate privacy.¡±

    ¡°Suddenly he¡¯s an honorable Wigon,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°Nothing regarding your back-room crowd. Someone withdrew a lot of cash earlier today.¡±

    He scanned the area before focusing on me. ¡°After I help, we¡¯re even?¡±

    ¡°I not only helped you escape the wizards, but you have me to thank for your cozy setup. I¡¯ll need two more favors before we balance the books.¡±

    He clenched his jaw. ¡°The hoodlum you¡¯re looking for usually buys rolling papers and an energy drink. I thought withdrawing cash was strange for him.¡±

    ¡°Not enough to verify the card was his,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°He hangs out on the street corner with friends. A squirrely bunch, always walking around with their underwear hanging out.¡± He pointed to the right.

    ¡°Do you know his name?¡±

    ¡°T-Bone.¡± He rolled his eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m also looking for a man named Vlad Mooi.¡± I pulled the picture of their mug shots from my pocket and unfolded it on the counter. ¡°He seems to be part of a crime family of sorts.¡±

    Johnny held the paper closer and studied it before chuckling. ¡°These fools.¡± He shook his head. ¡°One of Mamma Mooi¡¯s wayward kids. Except they¡¯re all grown up now.¡± He squinted. ¡°Are you investigating petty larceny or fencing?¡±

    ¡°Neither.¡± I tapped the document. ¡°Kidnapping.¡±

    He smirked. ¡°Seems above their pay grade. Mamma never leaves her house, and you won¡¯t get anything from her. Vlad¡¯s the muscle. If they turned to violent crime, following him should lead you to the victim. But Fionna, she may be a little more willing to talk. From what I¡¯ve heard, she wants to get hitched to some wealthy man out in Palm Springs and leave behind her criminal ways.¡± He tapped on his phone¡¯s display. ¡°Her hubby to be is some big shot architect. Designed his own little million-dollar home, bragged about it in a news article. You want the address?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Your third wish?¡± He grinned.

    ¡°Have you heard of a magic scent?¡± I paused. ¡°A woman¡¯s perfume smells different to other people and seems to make them trust her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not aware of any spells with that ability.¡± His brow wrinkled. ¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t a smell. My mother-in-law used to tell tales of an Elf warrior that crossed before the portal to Alfheim was closed. Back then¡­¡± He put up his finger. ¡°Hold on, she can tell you better than me.¡± He turned his head and shouted, ¡°Tinesi.¡±

    The clicks of deadbolts turning emanated from a shelf behind him. Moments later, the wall of cigarettes swung forward, as if hinged on one side. A slender woman peeked from behind the hidden door. ¡°My Love?¡±

    ¡°Come out here.¡± He motioned for her to hurry. ¡°Before someone comes in.¡±

    She stepped out and slid the display into place. I attempted eye contact, but she peered down and tilted her head to the side. ¡°Johnny, I haven¡¯t put on my makeup.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± He placed his hand on her shoulder. ¡°This is Ludwig.¡±

    ¡°The Ludwig?¡± She glanced up at me with eyes the color of gold, speckled with red. Their beauty was likely enjoyed solely by her husband, as she would wear colored contacts to conceal her identity. ¡°I can never thank you enough for what you did for us.¡± Her skin, while blemish free, possessed a shiny appearance, as if she rubbed oil on it. The makeup she spoke of helped her blend in. Just as her long permed hair hid her pointy ears.

    ¡°Tell him about the Pentacle. The one used to control a tribe.¡±

    Her eyes widened. ¡°My great-grandmother arrived with many fellow Elves from her village. They all followed a man named Ryul Bibella, who they believed to be the wisest leader. The wizards hunted him when they found out he had carried potent magic, a pentacle his ancestors acquired during the War of Ingens Salvos. He fled, leaving his people behind. After time passed, they remembered the horrible things he had done. They realized the forbidden magic caused those close by to trust him, and it blocked any negative thoughts of Ryul.¡±

    ¡°But her magic made me smell Mia¡¯s perfume, and my friend experienced a different distinct scent.¡±

    Her eyes lit up. ¡°My great-grandmother said Ryul smelled like her favorite flower during its initial bloom, but my grandfather swore his fragrance matched freshly cut lumber.¡±

    ¡°Take her necklace to solve the problem,¡± Johnny said.

    ¡°How do I remove it when getting close to the object makes me trust her?¡±

    Johnny shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s a difficult situation.¡±

    Tinesi glared at her husband.

    ¡°We can¡¯t¡­¡± He widened his eyes and said between his teeth, ¡°The man is still a wizard.¡±

    ¡°I have no affiliation with them.¡±

    Tinesi said, ¡°There is a potion-¡±

    Johnny threw up his hands, ¡°But since I don¡¯t do that anymore-¡±

    ¡°Bullshit, Johnny.¡± I locked eyes with the Yaksha. ¡°You¡¯re the only man I seen get delt pocket aces a dozen times in a few hours. You use luck potions. Why do you think I don¡¯t play at your table?¡±

    ¡°I would never.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Telling you about the magic was the third favor. We¡¯re even.¡±

    ¡°Even?¡± Tinesi put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. ¡°You can¡¯t repay a life debt so easy.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Keep this between us.¡± He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. ¡°I can make a potion for temporary immunity to mind-altering magic. But it won¡¯t be cheap.¡±

    ¡°It will be on the house.¡± Tinesi flashed a smile. ¡°Come back in a few hours. I¡¯ll put on my face and watch the store while he mixes.¡±

    As I stepped to the door, Junette said, ¡°What you going to do about Cinderella? Drop that evil woman off somewhere and let¡¯s get going.¡±

    ¡°She may be useful. Just keep reminding me not to trust Nina.¡±

    The bell rang as I exited the store. Nina glanced up at me and smiled. I walked to the car and slid behind the wheel, spitting out my plan before my mind fell under her influence. ¡°We have a lead, Fionna Mooi. She¡¯s marrying some developer in Palm Springs. It may be useful to have you question her. Play up the sympathy card about your missing husband.¡±

    ¡°I can do that.¡±

    I started the car and pulled out, repeating two sentences in my head, she is using magic. Don¡¯t trust her.

 Chapter 7: Lurch, Pudgy, and T-Bone

    By the time we entered Palm Springs, I had forgotten the sentence I was repeating. Something about Nina. But Junette kept shouting in my head about not trusting the woman, which distracted me from remembering. I wanted to tell her to shut up. But Nina would think I was talking to her, despite her being silent for most of the trip.

    ¡°This is the address.¡± I pulled up to the large iron gates and pushed an intercom button. Moments later, a female voice sounded through the speaker. ¡°May I help you?¡±

    ¡°Is this Fionna?¡± I asked.

    After a pause, she replied. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a private detective. I had a couple of quick questions for you.¡±

    ¡°Ask them.¡± She said.

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer a face to face.¡±

    ¡°My fianc¨¦ isn¡¯t home. I wouldn¡¯t feel comfortable bringing guests into his home.¡±

    ¡°I have his firm¡¯s phone number. Would you prefer I call him and ask permission to talk to you about Mamma Mooi?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ No¡­ He doesn¡¯t¡­¡±

    A buzzing sound almost made me flinch. The gate slid open.

    ¡°Drive up to the porch, but please don¡¯t get out of your car.¡±

    We drove up the long driveway. A short, petite woman paced in front of the porch. Two men stood by the front door, both wearing identical black suits and sunglasses.

    After I parked, she approached my car, stopping a few feet away and crossing her arms. ¡°I have nothing to do with Mamma anymore. My fianc¨¦ knows only a little about my past. Can we keep this discrete?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I replied. ¡°Would you like us to join you on the porch?¡±

    She glanced around. ¡°We can talk here, but please keep your voices down.¡±

    Nina opened her door and stepped from the car. Both men took a step forward and reached inside their jackets. The one on the right said, ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Gerold.¡± She fidgeted as Nina approached.

    ¡°My name is Nina. My husband is missing and I¡¯m just hoping to get a little information.¡±

    ¡°And you think I can somehow help?¡±

    ¡°A man you know was hanging around our hotel. Vlad.¡±

    Fionna shook her head. ¡°He¡¯s little more than a petty criminal. If your car radio is missing, then he may be involved. But not with a missing husband.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so sure?¡±

    ¡°Mama keeps Vlad on a short leash. She says keeping to the small stuff allows them to remain under the radar.¡±

    ¡°If he moved onto kidnapping, where would he bring the victim?¡± I asked.

    Fionna rolled her eyes, then focused on Nina.

    ¡°Please answer him,¡± Nina said.

    She closed her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m telling you this.¡± She put her hand on Nina¡¯s arm. ¡°You remind me of Mamma¡¯s freshly baked cherry pie. As horrible as she was when I got older, the woman seemed so sweet when I was a little girl.¡± After leaning closer to Nina she sniffed her. ¡°Anything worth real value is kept on Mamma¡¯s boat. If you have a piece of paper, I¡¯ll write where it¡¯s docked.¡±

    After getting the information, Nina returned to the car. Before backing up, I thanked Fionna and promised her we would not bother her any further. Nina handed me the piece of paper.

    ¡°Something ain¡¯t right Lud,¡± Junette said. ¡°Her shady ass wouldn¡¯t want to ask those questions if she¡¯s involved in her husband¡¯s disappearance. And I know she knows. Vlad is a dead end.¡±

    I drove out the way we came. As I passed through the front gate, I noticed a car parked to the right that wasn¡¯t there before, a black sedan with heavily tinted windows and a thick antenna attached to the roof. My first instinct was to believe it was an extension of her security. But why does the future wife of an architect need such beefed-up security?

    The car pulled out when I made it halfway down the first block. ¡°We might have a tail.¡± I turned right and gunned the gas until I reached the next intersection, then whipped to the left. I parked the car and watched the roads to see if the vehicle drove by.

    ¡°You think it¡¯s the Russian? Or maybe the wizards? They might have found out you¡¯re talking to a Yaksha.¡±

    ¡°Could be nothing.¡± I waited for ten minutes before getting back in the car and taking an alternative route back to Johnny¡¯s place. If the wizards found out about Johnny, both he and his wife would vanish before I could get back there. Mama Mooi didn¡¯t seem to have the resources required to keep a tail on me or watch Fionna around the clock, unless her enterprise grew a lot bigger than Fionna gave her credit for.

    <hr>

    I again had Nina stay in the car while I entered the dusty little store. Tinesi stood behind the counter. Her eyes now appeared brown, and makeup coated her face. She, like her husband, wore long sleeves, but for different reasons. He wanted warmth, but she wanted to hide as much of her shiny skin as possible. The back of her hands didn¡¯t appear oily. She must have added some makeup, but her palms gleamed as if they were sweaty. ¡°Welcome back Mr. Ludwig.¡± She bowed.

    ¡°Has Johnny finished?¡±

    ¡°He has.¡± She smiled. ¡°I figured since I¡¯m all dressed up, I should just mind the store for a while and give him a break.¡± She placed two vials on the counter. ¡°They should last about twenty minutes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d think you¡¯d keep one for yourself. In case she comes in here.¡±

    Tinesi bit her lip. ¡°Wigon recipes created for humans don¡¯t work the same for Yaksha or Elves.¡±

    I thanked her after pocketing the two potions, then glanced at the clock behind her. Three-thirty. Time to chat with T-Bone.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Nina gawked at me as I strolled by the car, trying to stay as far away as possible, so I didn¡¯t have to waste one of the two potions. ¡°Fifteen more minutes. Wait here.¡±

    ¡°Was he helpful?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll know soon.¡±

    I hurried across the sidewalk, toward the place Johnny said I¡¯d find T-Bone¡¯s friends.

    ¡°How will you get them to talk?¡± Junette asked.

    I shrugged.

    ¡°Are you gonna wizard them?¡±

    ¡°My training was in absorption.¡±

    ¡°Will you absorb them?¡±

    ¡°They would die.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯ll come up with something more subtle.¡±

    As we got closer, I spotted two young men with low hanging pants standing on the corner.

    ¡°Modi,¡± Junette said. ¡°I didn¡¯t imagine they¡¯d be white boys.¡±

    The bandana-wearing taller man tapped the pudgy guy to his right. Both scowled at me.

    ¡°Excuse me, gentlemen,¡± I said.

    ¡°Hey, Pops.¡± The taller man said in a slow, low voice, which reminded me of Lurch. ¡°You looking for something?¡±

    ¡°Actually,¡± I said, ¡°I have the five hundred dollars I owe T-Bone.¡± After surveying the area, I added, ¡°Is he around?¡±

    ¡°Now they¡¯re gonna rob you,¡± Junette said.

    The pudgy one put his hand out. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure he gets it.¡±

    ¡°He told me to give it directly to him.¡±

    Pudgy¡¯s chin jiggled as he spoke. ¡°He disappeared with that Barbie-looking chick yesterday. He ain¡¯t gonna want visitors.¡±

    Lurch glared at Pudgy.

    ¡°Is he talking about Cinderella?¡± Junette asked.

    I froze, then blinked a few times. ¡°Did she have a French accent?¡±

    ¡°Man, we didn¡¯t conversate. I just seen them getting all close and shit.¡±

    ¡°Dude,¡± Lurch said, elbowing him.

    Pudgy¡¯s face turned red. ¡°Maybe we take the cash and let T-Bone sort it out.¡±

    Lurch nodded as his fists balled up.

    I yanked the small baggy from my pocket. ¡°This may interest you more.¡±

    ¡°Doubt it,¡± Pudgy said, watching me pour the white powder into my hand.

    ¡°Good idea, Lud,¡± Junette said. One of her friends from Haiti shipped me the expensive powder.

    Lurch¡¯s head tilted up and his eyes widened. He pointed with his overgrown cranium, as if signaling someone. I glanced over my shoulder. On the second floor of an apartment complex, a shorter muscular man slammed a door behind him and threw up his arms. His eyes darted down at me, providing a decent view of his tattooed-covered face. He froze for a moment before fleeing.

    ¡°You look like a snitch,¡± Junette said.

    I turned my head in time to see Pudgy and Lurch lunging at me. Lifting my hand, I blew, sending a white cloud into their faces. While they flinched, I spun and bolted for a nearby alley.

    As I sprinted, Lurch and Pudgy coughed and hacked behind me. A moment later, their heavy footsteps clopped closer than I liked. I darted through the alley and ducked beside a green dumpster.

    Both men ran past me, rubbing their eyes and flailing their arms to avoid running into things. The powder appeared to blur their vision as advertised. According to Junette, they¡¯d have a hard time thinking straight for a few hours.

    ¡°Very subtle,¡± Junette said, her voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°Can you catch Face-Tattoo?¡±

    Lurch and Pudgy collided and stumbled a bit before they turned the corner.

    I whispered, ¡°No need.¡± Then I slunk from the alley and raced toward the apartment. ¡°That room he left is close to his hangout spot. Most likely, he lives there. He¡¯ll be back.¡±

    Jogging across the street and up the stairs, I hustled to the door T-Bone had exited.

    ¡°Can you pick it?¡± Junette asked.

    I nodded, then twisted the knob. In his haste, T-Bone had failed to lock up. The wooden door creaked as it swung open. I lurched into the dark space. As my eyes adjusted, a moan escaped from the back.

    Charging through the living room, I pushed open a door and entered a bedroom that lacked the expected furniture. Instead, a bound man slumped on a wooden chair in the room¡¯s center. He twitched as his head tilted toward me. I stepped across the plastic-covered floor and over streams of blood, then leaned for a closer look. Even with the deep slashes in his face, I recognized Claude from his ID. Similar wounds peppered his nearly naked body. His once white boxer shorts were stained red.

    I focused my mind on his life force, but felt very little. He lost too much blood and would expire soon. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I study healing instead of absorption?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve healed yourself,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°Healing others is different.¡± I tilted his chin to make eye contact. ¡°Claud, Nina hired me to find you. You won¡¯t make it. Instead of moving on, you can join me and help catch this monster.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wasting time,¡± Junette said. ¡°Do your thing.¡±

    ¡°Will you help me keep Nina safe?¡±

    Claude¡¯s irises bobbed, as if nodding.

    ¡°Good enough.¡± I closed my eyes and cupped my hands over his temples. Instead of seeing the surrounding room, I floated through a thick fog above a large lake. In the distance, a figure stood on a boulder and yelled for help. I soared through the air, not stopping until I swooped down and plucked him from the ground.

    My arms trembled. The sensation of wind blowing between my skin and muscles almost broke my concentration. Ripples rang through my head like bursts of electrical current. His body vibrated until splitting apart into millions of molecules. They swirled around like tiny moons circling a planet, getting closer with each rotation. Finally, they slammed against me, wiggling through my skin like worms into an apple.

    Energy swirled through me. I soared through the sky, heading for my mansion in the fog. Bursting through the door, I didn¡¯t stop to address Junette. She jumped from the couch as I careened through the room and into the hallway.

    A door formed on the wall opposite Junette¡¯s room. I rushed into the dark space and landed in the center. As I concentrated, Claude¡¯s body pulled away from mine, as if I split into two people. His lips moved as he stood in the small room, but no words came out. I held one hand over his mouth and the other over his ear, then concentrated.

    My eyes flipped open. Back in the real world, I almost collapsed onto Claude¡¯s body.

    ¡°What the hell!¡± Claude¡¯s voice rattled in my head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know if you were heading there, Sugar, but you detoured to Ludwigville,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°Who is that? Am I blind?¡±

    I pushed myself up. ¡°You normally see with your eyes.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re gone, Frenchie,¡± Junette added.

    ¡°Please, Junette.¡± I sighed. ¡°Give us a moment.¡±

    Claud screamed. ¡°Et merde!¡±

    ¡°Learn to see with your mind. Try to imagine yourself in your favorite spot. A place to be alone.¡±

    ¡°This is insanity.¡±

    ¡°Nina¡¯s waiting in the car, and a murderer is on the loose.¡±

    ¡°Nina¡¯s in danger,¡± Claude said. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m picturing my study. A place where¡­.¡± He paused. ¡°Sacre Dieu. It¡¯s like I¡¯m there.¡±

    ¡°Picture a large monitor on your wall.¡± I closed my eyes and did as Tungee trained me, imagining myself running through a hallway and opening doors, creating a path to Claude¡¯s room. A practiced wizard connected minds instantly without using so much life force. But I went AWOL before finishing my training. Once the connection was completed, I opened my eyes.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Claude said. ¡°The TV powered up. I see a dark room.¡± His voice quivered. ¡°Is that me in that chair?¡±

    I turned away. ¡°Claude, listen-¡±

    ¡°Oh, no.¡± His voice rose with each word. ¡°No, no, no.¡± He paused. ¡°Am I dead?¡±

    ¡°I remember going through this,¡± Junette said. ¡°My brain didn¡¯t want to register what happened to me either.¡±

    After sliding the phone from my back pocket, I scrolled to Yasmin¡¯s name and hit call.

    After two rings, she answered, ¡°Detective Artigas.¡±

    ¡°Hi Yasmin, this is Ludwig.¡±

    She exhaled louder than necessary, as if she wanted me to know my very existence irritated her. ¡°Call me Detective or Ms. Artigas.¡±

    ¡°The attitude on Detective Uppity. She refers Psycho Cinderella to us, then gets all pissy when ya reach out.¡±

    ¡°I have an issue,¡± I said.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m at 213 West Market.¡± After pausing, I added, ¡°I found a body.¡±

    ¡°My body?¡± Claud asked.

    Yasmin said, ¡°Jesus.¡± Based on the muffled sounds, she must have cupped the phone to talk to someone. ¡°Stay put. I¡¯ll be there in ten minutes. Touch nothing.¡±

    ¡°I checked for vitals.¡±

    She sighed, then spoke even louder this time. ¡°Nothing else.¡±

    <hr>

    I waited outside as two black-and-whites arrived and secured the scene. Yasmin screeched into the parking lot five minutes later. She raised her finger as she strolled by, signaling for me to wait, then disappeared inside for another ten minutes before coming out.

    ¡°Who the hell is that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Claude,¡± I said.

    ¡°Oh god. It is me,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°Claude who?¡±

    ¡°Nina¡¯s Claude.¡±

    The expression on Yasmin¡¯s face screamed confusion. ¡°Nina?¡±

    ¡°The woman who reported her husband missing.¡± I raised my eyebrows. ¡°You referred her to me.¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t refer a lost dog to you, let alone a person.¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°I¡¯ll need some time.¡± She glanced up and scrunched her brow. ¡°Meet me back at the station in two hours.¡±

 Chapter 8: Flickering Light

    When I returned to Rolling in Layers, my Volkswagen Thing was still parked outside, but it was empty. Putting my face against the building¡¯s glass door, I peered inside. Tineshi read a book as she leaned against the counter. Nobody else appeared to be in the store.

    ¡°Where is she?¡± Junette asked.

    After circling the block, I gave up and headed back to my vehicle. The bag with the cell phone was also missing, as was the forty dollars I kept in the cup holder. The scene didn¡¯t suggest a struggle.

    ¡°Looks like Cinderella bolted.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps the police sirens spooked her,¡± I said while sliding into the driver¡¯s seat.

    ¡°Maybe she conspired with Face-Tattoo and knows we¡¯re onto her.¡±

    Claude said, ¡°I remember a short man with facial tattoos. He pointed a firearm at me.¡±

    ¡°That dude offed you,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°We should ease him into this.¡± I started the car, backed out, and drove toward the office.

    Junette¡¯s voice rattled in my head as she lectured me, ¡°Yank the band aid off quick instead of dancing around all scared and shit.¡±

    ¡°The hallucinations must result from a psychotic break,¡± Claude said. ¡°The stress of being alone in the states and struggling through my wife¡¯s immigration procedures finally took their toll.¡±

    ¡°You had to absorb a shrink,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°I¡¯m hearing two voices. Perhaps they symbolize my parents.¡±

    I parked on the shoulder, closed my eyes, and envisioned traveling through a hallway, this time between Claude and Junette¡¯s room. As I opened the last door, my body went limp. I¡¯ve burned through most of my life force. It needed to regenerate before pushing any further.

    ¡°There you are, Frenchie.¡±

    ¡°Saperlipopette!¡± Claude said, ¡°How did you get in here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been in Ludwigville for quite some time.¡±

    Pulling onto the road, I headed toward my office. ¡°Claude, T-Bone robbed, kidnapped, and mortally wounded you. I absorbed your life force before it left your body.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve read about this. Sometimes the mind creates an elaborate ruse to protect itself from a traumatic event,¡± Claud said. ¡°The manifestations are quite realistic, but a ruse nevertheless.¡±

    ¡°Call me a ruse again, and we¡¯ll find out if I can smack ya,¡± Junette said.

    The sun beat down from above us. I raised my hand up to shield my eyes. ¡°Please,¡± I said, ¡°Nina¡¯s missing.¡±

    ¡°Nina.¡± His voice steadied. ¡°Is she in danger?¡±

    ¡°Not-so-slim-shady back there said Cinderella met with Face-Tattoo before snatching Frenchie.¡±

    ¡°Slim who?¡± Claude asked.

    ¡°A woman matching your wife¡¯s description met with the person we believe killed you. Can you think of any reason your wife would want you dead?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s preposterous.¡±

    ¡°That big life insurance policy tempted her,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°I have no policy. We¡¯re madly in love. She called me daily for two years. Being together again meant more than money.¡±

    The light turned green. I stomped on the gas and accelerated. ¡°These things often center on finances or a lover. Long-term relationships take their toll. Loneliness may have steered one of you into the arms of another. If not you, then¡­¡±

    Junette said, ¡°Cinderella. All alone. Shaking that fine ass. Someone must¡¯ve bitten.¡±

    ¡°Her moral compass renounces such behavior. As for money, she¡¯s rich, or at least she will be.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Her father is ill. The doctors suggested he had a year to arrange his affairs. He¡¯s leaving her millions.¡±

    ¡°Aha! Psycho Cinderella ain¡¯t into sharing. Knocking off Frenchie lets her keep everything.¡± Junette scoffed. ¡°Case closed. Tell Detective Uppity to book Cinderella before she cancels the check.¡±

    ¡°She could¡¯ve filed a no-contest divorce.¡± I pulled into the office driveway and stared at the three-story brick building. ¡°Even if her father died before it was final, inheritances are considered separate property. If she divorced, he¡¯d get nothing.¡±

    ¡°And she¡¯s above such materialism,¡± Claude said. ¡°We¡¯ve kept the flame of our love lit for our entire twelve years of marriage.¡±

    ¡°I just threw up a little in my mouth.¡±

    Something stood out from the brick facade. My window hung open. I had shut off the air conditioning when I left. Nina must not know how to turn it on. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll find out soon.¡± After chugging one of Johnny¡¯s potions, I jetted out of the car, dashed into the building, and hustled up the stairs. As I slung my suite door open, the bell rang.

    Nina sprung from the couch. She fluttered her lashes before dabbing a tissue against her cheeks. ¡°I got scared and came back here.¡± She sauntered to me, reached out to touch my hand, and peered into my eyes. ¡°Will you keep me safe?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let Psycho Cinderella get too close. You¡¯re immune to her lucky charm, but she might be armed,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°We need to talk.¡± I motioned toward the couch. ¡°You might want to sit.¡±

    She ran her hand up my arm. ¡°I can¡¯t handle any bad news. Please hold me for a moment first.¡±

    My body tensed. The potion worked. For the first time, her seducing behavior seemed obviously inappropriate, considering the circumstances. Junette read Claude¡¯s wife correctly from the beginning. Nina didn¡¯t run back here because of fear. The police had showed up to T-Bone¡¯s apartment with sirens blazing. Nina must have heard them and fled, coming back in desperation. But what did she gain from killing her husband?

    ¡°Now isn¡¯t the time for flirting,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°Suddenly, your wife¡¯s moral compass is off, isn¡¯t it Frenchie?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not my wife.¡±

    I froze. The room seemed to expand and contrast in tandem with my escalating heart. I stumbled back and yanked my arm from her grasp. ¡°I need a drink¡­¡±

    ¡°Tall, blond, and sexy isn¡¯t Nina?¡±

    ¡°My wife¡¯s a brunette, half a foot shorter than me, and doesn¡¯t wear makeup.¡±

    ¡°See. Even without my bones, Psycho Cinderella didn¡¯t sit right with me,¡± Junette said.

    My legs wobbled as I took a few steps back through my office doorway. I didn¡¯t bother turning on the lights. ¡°Do you want a drink?¡± I asked, buying time to think.

    ¡°Nothing for me.¡±

    I skipped the glass and tilted back a bottle of bourbon while grinning at the me-doll on the shelf. The candle flickered, getting low but giving off the only light in the small room.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t corner yourself in the office, Lud,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Not-Nina asked from the doorway. She clutched her purse with one hand and rifled through it with the other. ¡°I thought I had more tissues in here.¡±

    ¡°What did you do with her?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That question is premature. You must gain trust and weave a web of her lies as a trap,¡± Claude suggested.

    ¡°Lud¡¯s always blunt and direct.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Not-Nina asked.

    ¡°Nina. Claude¡¯s wife.¡±

    She put her hand against her chest. ¡°But I¡¯m her.¡± Her facial expression twisted into shock, very convincing, but not real.

    ¡°She¡¯s a short brunet.¡±

    A smile flashed on her face for a millisecond, but faded quickly, as did her French accent. ¡°You¡¯re a lot savvier than advertised.¡± She drew a Ruger from her purse, then yanked the door shut behind her. ¡°Nina¡¯s long gone. They¡¯ll never find her body.¡± The candlelight illuminated one side of her face as its dim light struggled to fill the room.

    ¡°No!¡± Claude screamed.

    Before I could talk, Nina pulled the trigger. It didn¡¯t fire. She froze, glared at the gun, then at me. As I lunged forward, she launched the Ruger. It glanced off my shoulder.

    I attempted to intercept the pistol as it fell. My fingertips brushed off the butt, sending it bouncing off my desk and into the corner.

    Nina pulled a small canister of pepper spray from her waistline and faced it toward me while tapping the top.

    I threw my hands up in anticipation, but nothing came out. Our eyes locked as she twisted and hit the canister. I lunged forward again and slapped it away with one hand as I grasped her necklace with the other. I yanked on the chain. It snapped. A thud on the carpet confirmed my suspicion. The pentacle bounced past my feet and landed behind me.

    Nina swung her metal studded purse. It swooshed inches from my forehead before colliding with the shelf, knocking the contents to the floor. The candle flickered out as it fell, leaving us in darkness.

    The purse smacked into my face. My left hand flung to my tender cheek as I blocked with the right. ¡°Do you carry bricks in that damn thing?¡± I yelled.

    The bag smashed against my elbow. I snapped my arm forward, grasping the studded leather, then yanked it toward me. She released it. My momentum sent me into the wall, then to the floor.

    I heard her shuffling around as I struggled to regain my feet. Once steady, a liquid hit my face. My eyes burned. She must have found the pepper spray.

    Light shot into the room as the door flung open. Through my blurry vision, a shape resembling Not-Nina fled through the suite and out the entrance.

    I sprinted after her but tripped over something and face planted. Reaching down, I found a high-heeled shoe.

    ¡°Cinderella lost a slipper.¡±

    ¡°The odds of the gun misfiring and pepper spray jamming are astronomical. You¡¯re a lucky man,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t wanna light the candle.¡±

    <hr>

    Yasmin glared at me from across the cold metal table, drumming her fingers. A thick folder sat in front of her. When she requested my presence, I didn¡¯t envision a meeting in the interrogation room.

    ¡°Ms. Uppity gonna put us in a cage,¡± Junette said.

    My hand dropped to the outside of my jeans, and I rubbed the pentacle I had shoved into my pocket before heading here. Sitting back, I crossed my arms.

    Yasmin did the same. ¡°You truly believed I referred that woman to you?¡±

    I nodded.

    She opened the manilla folder and slid a single piece of paper to me. ¡°You don¡¯t check your Yelp reviews?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I had any.¡± After leaning forward, I glanced at the printout from the website, with only one review for my nearly non-existent PI business. ¡®Most incompetent detective. Go to him if you don¡¯t want your case solved.¡¯

    The author didn¡¯t hide her identity. Detective Yasmin Artigas signed it herself.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t professional,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°No wonder business is booming.¡± I shook my head.

    ¡°I¡¯ve reviewed every detail of this case and can¡¯t figure out why his wife hired you,¡± Yasmin said.

    ¡°Psycho Cinderella¡¯s a clever one. That¡¯s why.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°She¡¯s not his wife, as I told dispatch when I called.¡±

    Yasmin leaned forward and pushed the next paper to me. ¡°Her headshots for immigration. Filed by her husband. Sure looks like her, not some¡­¡± She read from a legal pad with her scribbled notes. ¡°¡­short brunette.¡±

    ¡°Those aren¡¯t the headshots I submitted,¡± Claude said. ¡°My attorney can send the real ones.¡±

    ¡°Did you contact his immigration attorney and confirm they match the originals?¡± I asked.

    She shook her head. ¡°His attorney has been missing for a few days.¡±

    ¡°Have you looked into Vlad?¡±

    Normally, I¡¯d expect Yasmin to slam her hands on the table and demand I stop telling her how to do her job, but the Pentacle didn¡¯t have to be around my neck to work. Even in my pocket, it disrupted her natural tendency to distrust me.

    ¡°We picked up Vlad. The tough guy broke down in less than twenty minutes. Confessed to multiple crimes. All petty. He¡¯s a dead end.¡± She leaned forward. ¡°Start from the beginning and tell me everything.¡±

    ¡°She actually might fancy conversing with you,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s simple. Tell me everything.¡± Yasmin arched her eyebrows.

    ¡°Not you.¡±

    She scrunched her face, as if chewing on a lemon.

    ¡°Did you notice her feet?¡± Claude asked.

    ¡°You a freaky one, ain¡¯t you, Frenchie.¡±

    Ignoring Junette, Claude added, ¡°They¡¯re pointing toward you, not the door. People often direct their feet to the exit when they subconsciously want to escape. Not to mention, she¡¯s been mimicking your movements, and it doesn¡¯t appear to be intentional. Those crafty in manipulation will mirror subjects to befriend them, but she does it involuntarily. You leaned back, she leaned back. You crossed your arms, she crossed her arms. You leaned forward¡­¡± He paused. ¡°Well, you get the picture.¡±

    ¡°Frenchie with the skills,¡± Junette said.

    Yasmin put her arms up. ¡°Are you still with me, Ludwig?¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± I said, raising my finger.

    Yasmin recoiled.

    Claude continued talking. ¡°I used to consult with detectives during difficult interrogations. Not in the room, mind you. But watching from a monitor. The details tell a story, even one as minuscule as the detective¡¯s fingernails. Her polish looks professionally done. But they¡¯re chewed. A compulsive nail biter doesn¡¯t waste money at a spa. She¡¯s extra nervous about something. Maybe she has a lot riding on this case. I don¡¯t think she suspects you. Instead, she wants your assistance but is ashamed to ask.¡±

    I locked eyes with Yasmin. ¡°We all know why I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°Do we?¡± She smirked.

    ¡°The details of my investigation are valuable, but you don¡¯t want to admit to needing me.¡±

    The smirk faded from her face as she turned her head away.

    ¡°Sudden avoidance. We hit the nail right on the head, as the kids say.¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody¡¯s kids saying that,¡± Junette said.

    Yasmin blushed. ¡°We¡¯re missing something. Why pretend to be his wife and come to the police station?¡±

    ¡°A moment ago, you claimed she is his wife. Now you admit she isn¡¯t?¡±

    She slid a passport across the table. ¡°We found this under the hotel mattress. The picture doesn¡¯t match the woman calling herself Nina.¡± She peered at me.

    ¡°That¡¯s why she wanted me to bring Nina¡¯s suitcase. She needed to find the passport, because the police would become suspicious when they realized it looked nothing like her.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡± Yasmin asked.

    ¡°Nina just arrived in America. If they changed a couple of electronic files and made Claud and Nina disappear, Not-Nina could assume her identity.¡±

    ¡°Someone killed three people, four if the immigration attorney is dead, just to steal an identity?¡±

    ¡°Three?¡±

    Yasmin pushed another picture to me. ¡°We found the body of Timothy Boneey this morning.¡±

    ¡°T-Bone? ¡± Junette asked.

    Claude said. ¡°Maybe the inheritance is a factor.¡±

    Memories from my childhood rarely popped into my head. So many decades have passed by since I was a lad. But a vivid memory played in my mind like a movie. My grandfather bought a puzzle, and we spent the day working on it. I got stuck when concentrating on a section with a red ball. I started there because it was the only red on the display. But despite shuffling through the remaining pieces, I failed to locate the last section of that ball. My grandfather noticed my frustration and checked the box. The piece I searched for was stuck in a fold on the inside corner. After that, it all fell into place.

    I sprung to my feet. ¡°We¡¯re missing the red piece.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Yasmin threw up her hands.

    ¡°Did Nina¡¯s father die?¡± I asked.

    Yasmin wrinkled her brow.

    Putting out my hand, I said, ¡°Give me your phone.¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°Fine. Search for obituaries in France.¡±

    ¡°Strasbourg,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°In Strasbourg France.¡±

    Yasmin paused for a moment, then sighed before picking up her phone.

    ¡°His name is¡­¡±

    ¡°Silvain Gachet,¡± Claude said.

    ¡°¡­Silvain Gachet.¡±

    She typed into her phone, then froze for a moment. ¡°He passed yesterday.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine the obituary posted online around brunch.¡±

    ¡°You go, Lud,¡± Junette said.

    ¡°Nina would inherit millions when her father died.¡± I moved from my seat and paced the room. ¡°Someone aware of her father¡¯s medical condition wanted to assume her identity. They played the long con, trusting the doctor¡¯s diagnosis. With a year, they could methodically alter records at a comfortable pace. But he passed suddenly. They had to act fast.¡± I stopped and put my hands out. ¡°Changing the electronic data was easy enough, but they lacked the time to alter physical records in two countries.¡±

    Pacing again, I added, ¡°They killed Claude so he couldn¡¯t blow the whistle on the scam, but unlike Nina, he worked in America. His patients would notice him missing. Inheritances take time to process. They couldn¡¯t just make him disappear. They also needed to extract additional information to finish their identity theft, which explains the torture.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer why she came to the police station,¡± Yasmin said.

    ¡°She needed his murder to be solved quickly, as a robbery gone wrong. The spouse is always suspected, but being questioned by detectives makes for the perfect alibi. She realized they wouldn¡¯t fully investigate an adult missing for less than 24 hours, but thought they would take her statement. T-Bone intended to kill Claude while Not-Nina went on record with the police.¡± I rubbed my chin. ¡°This would also establish her as Nina with local law enforcement.¡±

    ¡°But why hire a PI?¡± Yasmin asked.

    ¡°Things don¡¯t always go as planned. First, Claude didn¡¯t cave to the torture quickly. Nina left the station well before he coughed up the passwords. His time of death wouldn¡¯t match her visit with the police. She needed a new alibi. That is why she kept wanting to stay with me.¡±

    ¡°And second?¡±

    ¡°Between beatings, Claude must have mentioned passports. They thought Nina¡¯s was in her luggage. She needed a PI she could manipulate into retrieving items from the hotel, but one that wouldn¡¯t discover their plot. Thanks to your defamatory review of my services, she decided I fit the bill.¡±

    ¡°How did you discover her inheritance?¡± Yasmin asked.

    ¡°Claude told me,¡± I said, then wavered and added, ¡°Right before¡­ he passed.¡± I paused. ¡°They were his dying words.¡±

    She squinted. ¡°You didn¡¯t mention that when you gave your report.¡±

    ¡°Find the lawyers handling the inheritance in France. They will connect us with the imposters¡¯ attorneys.¡±

    I smiled at Yasmin, and for the first time, she smiled back.