“I’ll relax once this is over and I can take off these shoes.”
We reached a door that led to the dressing rooms. Two of Aphrodite’s guards stood in front of it like well-dressed statues. I didn’t recognize either of them, because I usually dealt with Gregor. When we reached them, one raised a hand. “No one goes backstage.”
I pulled my badge from the tiny purse. Morales opened his suit jacket, where his ID was hanging from the inside pocket. “Is Gregor around?” I asked “He knows us.”
He shook his head. “We’re on strict orders not to let anyone back there. Period.”
“Call him—or Aphrodite,” Morales said.
The guy shook his head. “No can do. The Hierophant is meditating.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” a voice called from behind us.
We turned to see Duffy barreling our way.
“Here we go,” Morales said under his breath.
“Hey, Duffy!” I called, all friendly. “You clean up nice.”
He wore a gray suit that looked like it had been in a heap on his floor until about fifteen minutes earlier. The bags under his eyes told me he’d probably been up all night, too. I almost felt bad for the bastard, but his expression told me he was about to ruin that, too.
“I thought you were told to stay away from my case.”
I raised my hands. “This is a wedding, not a crime scene. And last I checked, we were invited.” I nudged Morales, who produced our invitations from his jacket pocket with a flourish of cream paper and green ribbons.
Duffy squinted at them. “Pains in my ass,” he muttered. “You know, when this is all over, we need to have us a little chat about your friend Alexander Hung.”
“You’re mistaken,” Morales said. “He’s the mayor’s friend, not ours.”
Duffy crossed his arms and got that look he wore when he knew something we didn’t. I braced myself out of habit. “Had some real interesting things to say about you,” he said to Morales. “Real interesting.”
“Oh, yeah?” Morales played it cool.
“Mmm hmm. Said you used to be part of the Fangshi. Undercover, like.”
“That’s true, Duffy,” he said. “I was undercover in Los Angeles for many years. I helped put away a lot of the Fangshi, too, so you’d best take anything one of their soldiers says about me with a massive grain of salt.”
Duffy sucked his teeth. “He said you were obsessed with bringing down the Fangshi. Said this whole case was a witch hunt.”
I snorted. “If this is just a witch hunt, why are so many bodies popping up?”
“According to Hung, another coven’s responsible for the murders.”
“You know, Duffy,” I said, “criminals tend to lie. It’s not generally a good idea to take their word for things.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I spent most of last night poring over the evidence—or lack thereof, I should say—that Gardner dropped off. Thanks for nothing, by the way.”
“A lot of that was gathered by your own CSI team, so talk to them,” Morales shot back.
“Anyway,” Duffy continued, “I can’t believe you two were working the Chinese angle so hard.”
“Why’s that?” I demanded.
“Seems to me someone was trying too hard to make it look like the Fangshi did Krystal.”
I glanced at Morales uncertainly. Just last night, we’d discussed that possibility too. “Did Hung make any guesses about who’s responsible when you spoke to him?”
“Said he didn’t know. He had an alibi for both murders. As did his associate, Yü Nü, who came by to make a statement last night as well.” He shuddered. “She’s something else.”
I grinned at him. “If she ever offers you some duck, say no.”
“Huh?” He shook himself. “Anyway, I checked out the image Dixon sent over of the man who delivered the teapot to Krystal. You were wrong on that, too.”
“How so?” Despite Duffy’s obvious enjoyment of pointing out our alleged errors on the case, I was interested to hear his take on it.
“Turns out he’s most likely Korean.”
My brows popped up. “How can you tell?”
“You got the picture on your phone?” he asked.
I nodded and removed the images Dixon texted me. It was a frozen frame from the video capture at the massage parlor. In the first one, the Asian man was bending down to place the gift box by the door with his left hand. In the next frame, he was standing up. He wore a sleeveless black T-shirt, skinny jeans, and a courier bag strapped across his chest.
Duffy tapped on the second one. “Here, enlarge it.” The three of us bent over my phone to look at the zoomed in picture. “See?” Duffy said. “That’s a South Korean flag on his bag.”
I squinted at the picture. “I’ll be damned.” I zoomed out again until we could see the whole image. Sure enough, there was a patch on the bag that looked like a Korean flag. “But it’s hardly conclusive evidence. Who says the Fangshi don’t have a couple of Koreans working for them?”
“Actually, the Korean and Chinese wizards hate each other,” Morales said, almost to himself.
“Wait.” I stared at the image again, holding it up to the light. “Where have we seen him?” I handed it to Morales.
He shrugged. “Could be anyone.”
“Regardless,” Duffy said, “I’m convinced you two were barking up the wrong tree here. And I think I know why.”
“Cut the shit and say your piece,” I snapped.
“I had a feeling in my gut from the beginning that the MEA task force was playing dirty. I knew something shady went down on that ship a couple months back, and now I got wizards telling me things about Morales’s activities in Los Angeles. You ask me, it’s only a matter of time until your entire team goes down.”
“Actually, no one asked you,” I said. “In fact, if you’ll recall, both the Charm Parsons case and this one were originally yours, but you couldn’t handle them. Maybe if you spent more time solving murders and less time lobbing accusations at your fellow law enforcement officers, you wouldn’t be drowning in the Cauldron.”
“And maybe if you spent more time following the law and less time pursuing your personal vendettas, you wouldn’t be on the verge of an IA investigation.”
My stomach dropped. “What the fuck?”
He grinned. “Tomorrow morning, I’m delivering the statements from both Mr. Hung and Yü Nü as well as evidence I gathered about the Parsons case to Internal Affairs. I can’t work this up the chain at MEA, but I can bring you down from inside the BPD. It won’t be long until they bring in the MEA brass, and then it’ll be bye-bye time for the whole team.”
“You son of a bitch,” I seethed. “What is your problem?”
He stepped up, getting in my space.
“Watch yourself,” Morales growled.
I waved him off and stepped closer to Duffy. “You best not come at me unless you’re prepared to follow through.”
“That’s your problem, Prospero,” Duffy said. “You think you’re still on the street corner, jockeying for little slices of real estate with other two-bit wizes. But you’re in law enforcement now, sweetheart. There’s rules and they’re the only thing that separates us from the junkies and hustlers.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, “because if I was still on the street?” I placed my hands on the lapels of his jacket, enjoying it when he flinched. “And you told me you were about to snitch on me?” I looked him in the eye and shook my head sadly. “You’d be praying for a saline enema by the time I was done.”
He knocked my hands away and stepped back. “You’ll never be anything more than a criminal just like your uncle.” He rounded on Morales. “And what’s your excuse? Fucking murderer.”
The word hung in the air like a curse.
“Duffy?” a voice called from down the hall. We turned to see Gardner striding toward us. Her high heels clicked purposefully against the concrete floor. She wore a black dress that flowed around her body, making her look like some sort of avenging spirit. Behind her, Mez, dressed in a black suit with a green silk waistcoat, rushed to keep up with her.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded when they reached us.