Volatile Bonds (Prospero's War #4)

“What?”

“I swear I saw that same man in the mayor’s office this morning. Last name’s Hung. Didn’t get the first. Volos said he’s looking to move his company headquarters to Babylon.”

Shadi nudged my arm and I handed over the binoculars. While she looked, I pulled out the book where Morales had left his notes from the night before. I didn’t see any mention of a man matching the description on the list of people seen coming in or out of the place.

“You sure it’s the same guy?” she asked.

“He was wearing that same suit,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s see what he does first.”

Hung went to the front door of the parlor and walked inside. Using the binoculars, I looked through the front window and saw him speaking to the lady behind the front desk. She handed him a package wrapped in brown paper. He bowed to her and left, coming back out the front door.

This time, he looked around for potential threats as he hurried down the street, with the package tucked under his jacket.

“Want to guess what’s in that package?” Shadi said.

“Let’s follow and find out.”

We slowly pulled out of our parking space. Meanwhile, Hung got into a black Mercedes parked on the street about half a block up from the massage parlor. Once he’d made it to the light down the street, Shadi followed half a block behind him.

Something was niggling at me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was more than just the fact I’d seen Hung at the mayor’s office that morning.

“California plates,” Shadi said.

I jotted down the number to call it in later. “Got it.”

“Surely they’re not dumb enough to make an exchange that much in the open.”

“Maybe not of potions, but cash? Absolutely.” I pointed. “He’s turning right on Exposition.”

She smoothly followed, still far enough back not to be obvious. “Do you think this Krystal chick has really taken over the coven?”

I shook my head. “I think Abe’s calling the shots and she’s just his eyes and ears.”

“Why would your uncle make a partnership with the Chinese?”

“Who knows? Maybe they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

“Like what?”

“I’m actually too scared to contemplate the possibilities.”

Half to herself she said. “Is he going to that restaurant?”

Sure enough, the Mercedes pulled up on a side street next to a Chinese restaurant that was designed with a green pagoda roof. The sign out front identified it as Jade Moon.

“Maybe he’s hungry?” I said, tongue in cheek.

“He’s going around the back.”

We watched as he pulled around the building and into the alley behind. Shadi slowly drove by the mouth of the alley, not too slow but slow enough for me to get a look at Hung going in the back door of the place.

“You want to go inside?” Shadi asked.

I shook my head. “Don’t want to tip them off yet. Let’s knock off.”

I pulled out the notebook again and copied down the address. In the morning, I’d call in the plate and track down the owner of the restaurant.

“Well, that’s something,” she said. “You want me to drop you at your car?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded and turned in the direction of the gym, where I’d left Sybil. “You meeting up with Morales after this?”

I stopped writing and looked up. “No, why?”

She shrugged. “Just wondering.”

Her tone was too casual to just be a casual comment. “All right,” I said, and went back to writing. When she was ready to say her piece, she’d do it.

Five minutes later, she stopped the car at a red light and turned to me. “Drew’s one of my best friends,” she said.

I didn’t look up. “Mine, too.”

“For real, though, he’s my people. You understand?”

I sighed and set down my pen. Coming from Volos, the talk had been invasive and inappropriate. But coming from Shadi, it was actually pretty sweet. She wasn’t exactly the emotive type, but she and Morales were pretty tight. “Is this the part where you tell me that if I break his heart, you’ll break my legs?”

She looked me in the eyes. “Something like that.”

“I’ll save you the breath, then. I’m well aware of the stakes here, and I have no intention of not playing fair.”

She nodded. “Just so we understand each other.”

“Loud and clear.”

She turned back to the road just as the light turned green. “Good.” She hit the gas and zoomed through the intersection. I went back to making notes with a smile on my face.





Chapter Eleven





Mona Kostorov lived in a small bungalow on the Mundane side of town. The area had been settled by Russian and Polish immigrants, and, while lots of upwardly mobile young professionals were moving in now, there were still enough old-timers that the streets still smelled like cooked cabbage on Sundays.

An American flag swayed in the breeze from a bracket on the porch. Two hanging baskets overflowing with purple petunias hung from under the eaves, and on the bottom step, a statue of St. Francis stood guard.

“How do you want to play this?” Morales asked as we approached the house. He sounded more nervous about interviewing an old woman than he ever sounded going into an interrogation of a hexed-out criminal.

“Relax. Old ladies love me.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said.

“You seem to forget that I live with a senior citizen.”

“I’m not forgetting anyone. I just don’t think you can judge the entire old lady population’s opinion of you based on Baba. She’s not exactly average.”

“She’s…spirited.”

“Last time I spent the night, I got up to pee and saw her dancing naked in the backyard.”

I snorted. “It was a full moon.”

“Yes, and I got an eyeful of it.”

“Okay so Baba’s not normal, but I still have a way with older ladies. Just let me do the talking.”

He muttered something under his breath that I didn’t catch.

The front door was painted green and had a straw welcome mat in front. I rang the bell and stood back with a friendly smile on my face. The door cracked open a fraction of an inch.

“What do you want?”

“Mrs. Kostorov? Hi, I’m Detective Prospero. My friend Baba—”

A loud snort cut me off. “I told that old bat I didn’t want nothin’ to do with no cops.”

“She said you were expecting us,” I said. “I promise it’ll just a take a moment of your time.”

She didn’t answer, and I chose to believe the lack of angry response was a good sign. So, I forged ahead.

“Ma’am? We’re trying to track down the wizard who sold your husband the potion he took.”

“He bought that potion legally. You can’t arrest me!”

I held up my hands. “No one wants to arrest you, ma’am. It’s the person who sold the potion we’re after. You said your husband bought it legally? Do you know where?”

“Store in the Cauldron.”

“Do you know the name of the store? Or a street?”

“No, now, I told you—I don’t want to talk to you. I’m in mourning.”

“We appreciate that this is a difficult time, but anything you can tell us would be really help—”

The door slammed in my face.

A male snicker sounded behind me. I rounded on my traitorous partner. “You think you can do better? Be my guest.”

His brow rose at my challenge. “All right.” He cleared his throat. “Step aside.”

I held out my hands and stepped out of the way.

He knocked on the door lightly. “Mrs. Kostorov, I just have one more question.”

“What?” The reply was muffled by the door.

“Do you have any more of the potion inside the house?”

No answer.

“As my partner said,” he continued, “we’re not here to arrest anyone, but if you have any of the sample left, it would really help us track down the guy who’s responsible for your husband’s death.”

Silence.

“Or if you can remember what the pills looked like, that could help too. We’ll put the bad guy away for a long time.”

When no response came again, I tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s try later,” I whispered.

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