“What’s your name?”
He started, as if no one had ever asked him before. Given his profession was acting as a medium for a psychic pigeon, I couldn’t say I was surprised. “Sweet Ray. What’s yours?”
“I’m Kate.” I held out my left hand to shake his.
He hesitated a moment before offering his right hand. “Pleased to meet you, Detective Kate.”
I shook his green fingers. “How’d you know I’m a cop?”
He withdrew his hand and pointed at my waist. I looked down and saw the badge on my waistband was peeking out of my jacket.
“Ah,” I said, “I thought maybe Peewee told you that, too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Sweet Ray was as mad as a loon, but I found him charming. “What potion you use?”
He held up his hands. “I ain’t looking for no beef with you, cop lady.”
“I bust the dealers and suppliers, not the users.”
“Regardless, Peewee isn’t comfortable sharing that kind of information.”
I looked to the pigeon, who was busy pecking at the concrete. “I didn’t ask Peewee—I asked you.”
Sweet Ray crossed his arms. “I ain’t comfortable either.”
“Naturally. Listen, you here every day?”
“Every damned day. Peewee doesn’t like to move anyplace new.”
“You ever see the mayor coming and going?”
He nodded. “Peewee doesn’t like him.”
I was beginning to like Peewee. “Why not?”
“Says the mayor man keeps some shady company.”
“Listen, I have a favor to ask Peewee. Do you think you could ask him for me?”
Sweet Ray huffed. “Hello? He don’t like it when you talk about him like he can’t hear you.”
“Of course.” I looked at the fidgety pigeon and said, “Sorry, Peewee. Would you mind keeping an eye on the mayor for me? Like maybe if I came by in a few days, you can tell me who all has been by to see him.”
Sweet Ray leaned down near the pigeon, who shied away from him. I noticed then that Sweet Ray wore flip-flops, and that his feet were swollen and covered in lesions. I was no doctor, but they looked a lot like the sort of sores diabetics got on their feet. Which might explain why he was called Sweet Ray.
“Peewee says we’ll do it for one million dollars a week.”
I raised a brow. “How about twenty bucks?”
He leaned down to the bird again. A moment later, he nodded. The turban made it all feel very formal. “All right, we’ll accept those terms.”
“Good,” I said. “Just write down anyone who seems out of the ordinary.” I handed him my card. “If anything especially weird happens, call me. Otherwise, I’ll come by to check in with you.”
He looked at the card for a moment before offering it for Peewee’s inspection. The bird pecked at the card halfheartedly before wobbling off in the other direction. “It’s a deal, Detective Kate.”
I reached in to my pocket and removed a twenty. “Here’s a down payment.”
Sweet Ray snatched it out of my hand and had it stashed inside his turban before I could blink. “Much obliged.”
“Tell me again what you’re looking for?”
He looked put out, like he expected that after our brief acquaintance, I should already trust him. “Write down any unusual visitors. Call if something weird happens.”
“Something weird concerning Mayor Volos directly,” I corrected. The last thing I needed was for a man who had talked to flying rats calling me about every little thing he might deem odd. “All right, I’ll be talking to you soon.”
“Bye,” he said, looking away as if he’d already dismissed me from his mind.
I was five steps down when he called out, “Wait! You forgot to say goodbye to Peewee!”
A woman in a business suit was walking up the steps and heard what he’d said. She shot me an odd look. I ignored her. “Bye, Peewee,” I called.
I jogged down the rest of the steps to the parking spot where I’d left my Jeep. I didn’t have a lot of faith that my new off-the-books CI and his feathered friend would actually net me much intel, but the worst I had to lose was twenty bucks. However, if Sweet Ray was actually saner than he let on, which I had a feeling he was, he could potentially see something that might be useful down the road when Volos finally went too far.
I left City Hall, feeling like I’d gotten a couple of new ticks in the win column that day. That feeling lasted only as long as it took me to reach County.
Chapter Nine
County Jail sat in the Mundane side of downtown, back across the Bessemer Bridge from the Cauldron. Most of our cases required us to go to Crowley Penitentiary for Arcane Criminals on an island in the middle of Lake Erie. But in this case, the felon we came to see had been brought up on a Mundane homicide rap, so he was at County awaiting trial.
Puck had been arrested a few weeks earlier for murdering Pantera Souza, a henchman for the Brazilian coven. Souza’s associate had also died that night in a fight with the MEA team that no one else knew about, so Puck had gotten pinned for that one, too. In addition, he was also charged with being an accessory to murder in the death of Alexander Parsons aka Charm, whose body had been found decapitated in an abandoned church.
Problem was, the evidence the BPD had on Puck was mostly circumstantial because the murder weapon was sitting under the floorboards in a closet at my house. Obviously, the reasons Puck had been charged were complicated and highly illegal, which was one of the reasons I hadn’t been in favor of Assistant U.S. Attorney Grey joining us.
The meeting rooms at County were smaller than the average broom closet. The guard turned out to be a friend of Dixon’s, so we used the connection to convince him to let us meet with Puck in the area where inmates met with family during visitation hours every Saturday. Since it was Wednesday, the room was cleared. There were about twenty tables and Puck sat alone at one in the very center.
Before we went inside, we watched Puck through the windows. “Been a few hard weeks for our boy,” Morales said in a grave tone.
When we’d last seen Puck, he was full of piss and vinegar. He’d had a mohawk that stood straight up from his scalp like some sort of metaphor for his erection. Now it lay limp and to the side, like he’d been swimming in cold water. Yellowing bruises decorated the right side of his face, and the left held some newer, purple souvenirs. He looked up and saw us standing at the windows watching him and smiled. The move made the split in his lip start bleeding down his chin.
I held up my middle finger. I felt bad he’d been framed, but that didn’t mean I liked him.
“Kate, we want him in a good mood.”
I lowered my hand but didn’t apologize. “If we’re too nice, he’ll shut down even more.”
Morales said something under his breath that sounded a lot like “I hate it when you’re right.” Then he pushed open the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
As we approached, Puck crossed his arms. “I ain’t got nothing to say to you.”
“Play nice and we’ll put a good word in for you with Grey,” Morales said.
“I don’t need you doing me any favors. I’m innocent.”
I snorted. “Sure, you are.”
“Bitch, you know I didn’t cap Panther.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “We’re not here about that.”
He pursed his lips and looked at me, daring me with his eyes to beg him to talk. I met his stare and held it. Morales stood quietly, waiting for the test of wills to play out.
After about a full minute, Puck finally looked away. “You’re a real bitch, you know that? Damn!”
“You listen to me,” I began in my lowest, meanest tone, “my partner might want to help you with Grey, but I got different priorities. If I get to him first, he’s gonna send you to maximum security in whatever cell block is the heart of A Morte territory. Whoever put those marks on your face? They’re nothing compared to the Brazilians.”
Some of the wind leaked out of his sails. “Why you gotta play me, Prospero?”