Miranda’s random casual visits occurred so regularly that we could guess when she was going to come in. She disliked being bound by appointments anyway, believing that the rest of the world operated on her schedule, not vice versa.
That afternoon she sashayed into the office in a sparkly amethyst cocktail dress, her bright red lips curved in a smile. A heavy necklace of pearls the size of poodle eyeballs hung at her throat. Not one strand of Miranda’s unnaturally (so to speak) copper hair had moved since the last time we’d seen her.
She threw Sheyenne an air-kiss at her desk. “I don’t mean to be impatient, sweethearts, but . . . well, I’m damned impatient. I simply must be out of this loveless marriage, but I don’t see penniless as preferable to loveless. Please tell me you have news for me.”
“As a matter of fact, we have made some progress, Mrs. Jekyll,” I said. “It’s a good thing you’re here—we need your help filling in some answers so we can plan our next move.”
She flashed a set of dazzling teeth. “I remember when I used to plan my moves with Harvey. Yes, even Harvey.” She looked up, as if expecting us to be shocked that she’d once been attracted to her own husband. “But we haven’t had sex in years. He finds me disgusting now.”
Robin sounded scandalized. “Disgusting? But you . . . you’re”—she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word beautiful, and instead settled on, “a very classy woman.”
“Ever since the Change, Harvey refuses to touch me. I’m a werewolf. I get hot flashes. I think it scares him. Some people have a furry fetish—they like the animalistic energy. Wouldn’t you?” She looked meaningfully at me, and I found the question too awkward for a response. She let it go, getting down to business. “So tell me what you found. Is he fooling around with another woman? I knew it.”
Robin asked, “What makes you so certain your husband is having an affair?”
She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s not getting any from me, and he’s a man.” She gave Robin a pitying smile. “You’re so very innocent, sweetheart. Everyone fools around. It’s not unusual—it’s expected. Harvey knows that I fool around, but he can’t prove it. That’s the important thing.”
“And how does he know that, Mrs. Jekyll?” I asked her.
“Well, I didn’t become a werewolf by accident, and I wasn’t scratched while out doing charity work. I had an affair with a werewolf, a big handsome brute.” She sucked in a long breath, then licked her lips. “Ahh, what a wonderful time! We tried to practice safe sex, but we got carried away. I got infected from one of his little love scratches. No wonder Harvey wants a divorce. He can’t stand unnaturals, and he would never sleep with one.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “His loss.”
“If you are committing indiscretions, Mrs. Jekyll, I advise you to be extremely careful. I’m not the only PI in town, and if your husband gets photos that prove your infidelity, our entire case is sunk.”
“Don’t you two worry about me. I’ve had plenty of practice covering my tracks. Besides, I’ve got better investigators than Harvey does, because you’re the best. Am I right?” She pointed to the manila file Robin carried. “Now, are you going to show me what you’ve learned? I have an appointment with my dental hygienist.”
We described our recent meeting at the JLPN factory, and then I explained how I’d followed a disguised and nervous Harvey Jekyll to a secret nighttime gathering at the abandoned Chaney & Son warehouse. By now, Sheyenne had tracked down the information I needed.
“That warehouse is just a front,” I said. “According to records, it’s owned by a dummy corporation called Ramshackle Solutions, and all the names on the paperwork are fake. Despite the warehouse’s run-down appearance, a lot of interior remodeling has been done in the past year—new wiring, light fixtures, plumbing, a sound system.” I paused for effect. “Every one of the contractors turns out to be an employee of JLPN. The work orders were signed with an illegible signature—and Harvey Jekyll has an illegible signature. It’s proof he’s involved with whatever’s going on inside that place.”
Miranda wasn’t as impressed as I had hoped. “Oh, that’s just boys pretending to be important. I wouldn’t be surprised if they wore furry hats with buffalo horns. They even have a secret handshake, a little sign they make when they think no one is looking.” She licked her forefinger and scribed a line in the air, as if making some kind of invisible tally. “They think nobody can figure it out!”
Robin looked puzzled, turned to me, but I didn’t get it either. Miranda let out an exaggerated sigh. “A line, sweetheart. A straight line. Up and down?” She waited. “The Straight Edgers, of course. Harvey joined them a long time ago, probably to get back at me for becoming a werewolf.”
Now I remembered the vertical line on the red T-shirts the four losers had worn in Straight Edge headquarters. “I served a restraining order against the organization just this morning, but I can’t imagine your husband would be involved with amateurs like that. The secret gathering I saw at the warehouse looked much more sophisticated.”
“Oh, only the novices work in public view,” Miranda said. “It’s like a hazing. New recruits with big dreams, tiny brains, and even smaller cojones. The real Straight Edgers are a better organized bunch. Harvey funds a good portion of their activities with JLPN profits—which is very annoying, since currently half of that money belongs to me. He hopes to get promoted to Grand Poobah or whatever.” She shook her head. “But I need something more salacious than a secret clubhouse if we’re going to make him budge on the prenup.”
The little cogs and gears clicked together in my mind. “Not necessarily. If we could come up with concrete evidence that Harvey Jekyll is involved with an anti-unnatural fringe group, think of all the bad press—and right before the release of his new Fresh Loam promotion. The manufacturer of the most popular line of necroceuticals secretly hates his own customers? That might twist his arm.”
Robin looked scandalized that we would stoop to such tactics, but Miranda chuckled again. “I like the way you think, Mr. Chambeaux. If you need evidence, Harvey keeps all of his special little treasures in a locked desk drawer in his study at the house. I’m sure it’s evidence you could use.”
“Could you get access to those items?” I asked. “Slip inside his study, retrieve anything that connects him to the Straight Edgers?”