Fire Song (City of Dragons) (16 page)

“You have a wife?”

“Not anymore.” He sat forward in his chair. “Who’s your most likely?”

“Uh, Alastair,” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Really?”

“But I don’t like it,” he said. “Because with you involved in the investigation, it just makes it all too… pat, you know? Like, if this were classic literature, then sure, I’d buy it was someone from your past. That kind of weird coincidence would be part of some character arc for you. Allowing you to move on from your deep, dark past.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m beginning to think I’m not the one with a deep, dark past I need to move on from.”

He pointed at himself. “Me?”

I shrugged.

He drank more coffee. “We should look harder into Alastair. If we both have a gut on him, it’s something we need to pursue.”

“Okay,” I said. “That’s a good place to start.”

“I think we should do our most likely and our least likely,” he said. “To start with.”

“Well, let’s go with Brody the gargoyle, then,” I said. “He’s low on my list.”

“All right,” said Flint. “Sounds good.”

*

“You lied to us, Brody,” said Flint.

We were inside the foyer of the Ross family home, and Brody was surrounded by his mother and sisters.

The women all gasped and glared at us.

“He did no such thing,” said the mother.

Brody looked nervous. “Ma, maybe it would be better if I talked to these guys alone.”

“Gina says she never sees you these days,” said Flint.

“What?” said Brody’s mother. “That doesn’t make sense. Whenever I ask where you were, you always say you were with her.”

Brody ran his hands over his face. “Oh, crap.”

“You’ve been lying to me, too?” said his mother. “To your own mother?”

“Just let me talk to them.” Brody tried to move forward.

His sisters blocked him.

“We don’t think so,” said one of his sisters.

“Yeah,” said another. “It wouldn’t be in your best interest to talk to them alone.”

“They’ll trip you up with all kinds of questions,” said a third.

“It’s true,” said Brody’s mother. “You remember that documentary we watched? About all the innocent people on death row?”

“Everyone on death row claims to be innocent,” said Flint.

“Well, some of them are,” said Brody’s mother. “You police, you all want to just find someone to blame as quick as you can. That way you have good numbers and then the officials can say that they are tough on crime. It doesn’t matter if it’s the right person or not—”

“Hey,” said Flint, shaking his head. “Now, I’m not saying that doesn’t happen, but I guarantee you, I am not that kind of cop. I don’t care about any of that crap. I do this for me. If I’m not satisfied I got the right person, I don’t stop. Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

“Look, it’ll be better if I explain,” said Brody.

“You’re not talking to them without us present,” said his mother.

Flint sighed. “I’m trying to eliminate him, ma’am. Now, he clearly doesn’t want to talk in front of you. So, let him talk to me. He can explain to me what’s going on, tell me why he lied, and then—”

“He will explain that to me.” Brody’s mother put her arms over her chest.

Brody shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Why would you say you were with Gina when you weren’t?” said his mother.

“I just did,” said Brody.

“Well, you must have an excuse. What is it?” said his mother.

“Maybe he was off killing dragon girls,” said Flint.

“No,” said Brody.

“No,” said his mother.

“Do you know Keats?” said Flint.

“Who?” said the mother.

“John Keats,” said Flint. “British Romantic poet.”

“I don’t see what romance has to do with anything.” Brody’s voice was high-pitched.

“Not romance as in love,” said Flint. “As in the Romantic movement, which valued emotion and nature?”

Everyone gave him a funny look.

Flint spread his hands. “I was only going to point out that Keats wrote that ‘beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know.’ Truth, Brody. Tell us the truth.”

“Stop badgering him,” said his mother.

Brody shook his head. “Ma, you are going to get me arrested.”

“You get yourself arrested,” said his mother. “Why would you lie to your family?”

All of his sisters were shaking their heads at him.

“If you do get arrested,” said his mother, “you keep your mouth shut. Then will twist everything you say. They will convince you to confess and sign a confession.”

Flint shook his head. “We would never—”

“Maybe,” said Brody’s mother, “it is better if he doesn’t answer anymore questions to you, Mr. Policeman. Maybe it is better if he remains silent now.”

“No, that’s not better,” said Flint. “Because that makes me more suspicious, and that means that I’ve got to do more digging into Brody, and—”

“You do what you have to do,” said Brody’s mother, angry. “But you get out of my house.”

*

Flint yanked open the door to his car.

I got in the passenger side.

He slammed the door. “That’s some shit.”

“What is?”

“That gargoyle family stuff,” said Flint. “Hell, who knows? Maybe that Brody guy snapped because his mother and sisters would not get out of his business.”

“So, you’re thinking maybe it’s more likely that he did it?”

“I’m thinking that I have no freaking clue, because I don’t know why he lied,” said Flint. “And I’m pretty sure he only did lie because he was in front of his mother and sisters.”

“Honestly, I think they might have given us the name,” I said. “They told us about Gina.”

“Maybe you’re right. Whatever the case, he’s doing something he doesn’t want them to know about. But he acted as if he would tell us if we talked to him alone.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“What do you mean? Can’t we find him at his job or something?”

“I doubt it, especially since his mother knows he was lying to her. He won’t be alone again for quite some time. They’re going to want to keep him close. He’s their baby boy, and they will protect him at all costs.”

Flint groaned.

“Sorry,” I said.

He stuck the keys into the ignition. “No, it’s not your fault. I was just imagining taking his picture off the board, erasing everything about him, knocking our suspect pool down to four.”

“Sounds like a nice little daydream.”

“Shut up.” He backed the car up, turned around, and pulled out to drive back the way we’d come.

I laughed a little.

“All right, here’s the thing,” said Flint as we pulled up to a stoplight. It was red. “If he is doing this, there’s no way he’s doing it in the family home. His mother and sisters would see that.”

“I guess that’s true,” I said. “Maybe we can eliminate him.”

“Why? You going to tell me there’s no way he could own property?”

“Oh,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“So, he might have bought a house somewhere.”

“I don’t know…” I furrowed my brow. “That would be really weird.”

“Because he’s supposed to live out the rest of his days with his mama.”

“Yes, basically,” I said. “On rare occasions, a male gargoyle might temporarily live with a mate, I guess, but she’d own the house, not him. I don’t know how he’d get the money to buy a house.”

“He’s got a job, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s probably giving a lot of that money to the matriarch of the family to take care of everyone.”

“With a job, he could get a loan,” said Flint. “He could buy a house.”

“Well, if he bought a house,” I said, “then I would say he would go
way
up in terms of how likely I think he is to be the killer.”

“Hmm,” said Flint.

Ophelia Diaz was a short black woman with her hair wound around her head in tight, tiny braids. She wore about ten necklaces and twice that many bracelets. They were all talismans of some sort. She was one of the most powerful mages I had ever met. She’d known right off that I was a dragon.

Generally speaking, I wouldn’t associate with mages, considering most of them got their dragon artifacts from the black market, and the supplies there came from slayers. All of those artifacts were from murdered dragons, and their magic could never be as strong anyway, since it had been stolen from them.

But Ophelia’s artifacts came to her honestly.

Her ancestors had been slaves on a dragon plantation owner’s farm. He’d had no offspring. Apparently, as he lay dying, he grew guilty over owning slaves, though he’d been cruel and vicious during his life. To make up for what he’d done, he left his and his entire line’s artifacts to his slaves, who he also freed on his death.

Ophelia came from a long line of powerful mages.

Now, she owned the Pink Flamingo Cafe, which provided our continental breakfast and was where Felicity and I ate lunch every day.

Currently, she stood over the two of us with her lips pursed. “Where’d you get that?”

“It belonged to my ancestors,” I said. I had the dragon artifacts we’d retrieved in a bag, and I’d opened it to show her the contents. “I know how to make talismans that I can use, but I don’t have the first idea about how to make a magical object that could be used by Felicity or by Connor. I need your help.”

She reached in and fingered the bones. She shuddered. “That’s quite something you’ve got there.”

“I want protection for them,” I said. “Make it so they can’t be hurt at all. Is that possible?”

Ophelia considered.

“I’ll pay, of course,” I said.

Ophelia drew herself up. “No, you’re not talking any kind of sense, Penny. You think I’d charge you for work like this? As if I was one of those mages out on the corner?”

“Sorry,” I said. When Ophelia scolded me, it was always a little intense.

“I can do it,” she said. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. But I might need to have them both around when I do it.”

“Well, you can do Felicity anytime,” I said. “But Connor’s asleep right now. It’s daytime.”

“Right, of course.” Ophelia shook her head. “Mmm mmm mmm. I don’t want to know what you want these for, do I?”

“Probably not,” I said. “Suffice it so say, you’ll be pleased with the results, though, I think.”

Ophelia wasn’t big on making a fuss, as she called it, so she simply paid off the vampire gang and was done with it. I knew she’d be glad not to have that added expense, however.

She pointed a finger at my nose, complete with a long fake nail covered in purple swirls. “You listen to me, Penny. There is no call for you taking all the risks you take.”

“If we have the talismans, it won’t be a risk,” I said.

She raised her eyebrows. “Sure, it won’t.”

“It won’t,” I insisted.

“And I suppose you didn’t take any risks to get them in the first place?”

I didn’t say anything.

She shook her head again. “All right, well, I’ll see Felicity this afternoon. You tell Connor to come over as soon as he can.” She gestured to her order pad. “Now, what’s it going to be for lunch, hmm?”

I smiled. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Crab cake sandwiches, then.”

“With fries,” said Felicity, grinning.

*

When I got back to the hotel, Flint was parked outside, leaning up against his car. He was wearing his sunglasses.

I had to admit he was an attractive man. But I couldn’t say that I was quite interested in him. He was interesting, but he was also so aloof.

I stopped. “Something I can help you with, Detective?”

He took off his sunglasses and grinned. “He owns a house.”

“Brody?”

Flint nodded.

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

“You want to come look at it with me?”

“Right now?”

He nodded.

I shook my head. “Can’t. Busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Working,” I said.

“What kind of work does one really do as a hotel owner? Owning doesn’t seem entirely active, now does it?”

I glared at him. “I have things to do. Problems to take care of.” Vampire problems.

He shrugged. “Guess I’ll check it out on my own, then. I can’t get in without a warrant or anything, but I’m going to walk around, look in the windows, that sort of thing. If I saw some evidence that Dahlia was inside, I could go in and get her out, of course. You might be missing an epic rescue. Sure you can’t change your plans?”