“Marketing feels that a monster bartender will better fit the needs of the customers,” Missy said. I doubted she knew that Ilgar the original goblin owner had already tried that with a succession of unnaturals, but Francine was the only bartender who had lasted more than a week.
But I’d had enough fun for today. I had accomplished my intent: I’d met Missy Goodfellow, sized her up, seen the place. I doubted the company would make any sloppy legal mistakes, but sooner or later I was sure one of my cases would point back to them.
As I left Smile HQ, Angela called after me in a chilly voice, “I hope your day is a sunny one.”
Chapter 14
Sheyenne’s brother graced us with another visit. My excitement was immeasurable because devices had not yet been invented to detect such minute amounts.
Travis had found lodgings, or at least found somebody to let him use a shower; he was freshly washed, his hair still wet and slicked back, his cheeks smooth from a close shave. Even I could smell the liberal amount of cologne he had applied. Robin, who did not have a deadened sense of smell like mine, wrinkled her nose, but tried to be pleasant.
Travis had brought doughnuts as a gesture of goodwill, but Sheyenne wasn’t impressed. “I’d rather you paid back the money you stole from me. What am I going to do with doughnuts? I’m a ghost.”
He turned to Robin and me, grinning. “I thought maybe your office mates would enjoy them.”
“I can’t taste much anymore,” I said.
“Too much fat and processed sugar,” Robin said.
Travis took a jelly doughnut for himself and enjoyed the treat, making a powdery mess everywhere.
Sheyenne busied herself brewing a fresh pot of coffee, using a new urn that Robin had picked up from a normal thrift store, since my negotiations with the gremlin pawnbroker had been unsuccessful.
“Remember when we used to go out for Halloween, sis?” Travis was good at that charming-and-disarming thing, but Sheyenne had obviously had a lifetime of seeing it all before. “How about when you were in eighth grade, the last year we went trick-or-treating together? I dressed up as a hobo, rubbed coffee grounds all over my face, took some old clothes, and you . . . you were an Arabian princess, right?”
“That year I was a witch,” she said. The coffee started brewing. Her voice was wistful. “Pointy hat and all, and a magic wand with a star on the end.” She caught herself and her voice grew hard again. “We were just kids, of course. So innocent. In fact, the whole world was innocent.” As if against her better judgment, Sheyenne gave a wan smile and offered a memory of her own. “Remember when you were about to get beaten up in the fifth grade?”
Travis frowned. “I was always getting beaten up in fifth grade.”
“Not when I was around. I took care of it, and I took care of you. I remember two bullies said you had stolen someone’s lunch money, and they threatened to beat it out of you, said they would shake you upside down until the money fell out of your underwear.”
“Yeah,” Travis said, “then you came in like hell on wheels and saved my ass.”
“I was so mad at them for accusing my brother of stealing!” Now she stopped, and a contemplative expression crossed her face. “Did you take that kid’s lunch money?”
He seemed embarrassed. “What does it matter now? Look how much has changed. The last time we were together and really close was at Mom and Dad’s funeral. I was younger than you, didn’t understand the seriousness of what was going on—I knew they were dead, but didn’t realize all the other things that were going to change. You did, though—you knew how important it was, and you promised me that we had to stick together, that we would take care of each other. You said it was going to be all right!”
“Then I guess I lied,” Sheyenne said. “That makes us even . . . oh, wait, you lied more than once.”
“I’m still your brother, and families should stick together. It’s just you and me with Mom and Dad gone.”
Sheyenne hovered before him, beautiful and translucent. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m gone, too.”
Travis’s eyes had that puppy-dog look. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
Sheyenne laughed, a bitter glissando. “You were never there for me.”
“I’m here now,” he said, avoiding the money question. “I’d make amends if I could, you know that.”
“Do I?”
“I was wondering if . . . all those family keepsakes, the photos and whatever else . . .”
I saw all the anger go out of her, replaced by chuckling disappointment. “Now it all makes sense. You tracked me down to see if there’s any inheritance.”
“No, no! But I really don’t have any photos of Mom or Dad, or you. No keepsakes, mementos. I’ve lost everything over the years. You know what a scatterbrain I am.”
“I know what a con man you are.”
“I thought you said you were going to bury the hatchet, sis.”
“Yes, but I didn’t say where.”
As I awkwardly eavesdropped, I thought of the sour resentment Missy Goodfellow had shown toward her philanthropist brother, and I hoped that Sheyenne’s relationship with Travis hadn’t degenerated so far. Sheyenne flitted back and forth, a restless ghost; the two of them had a far too complicated relationship to fit into simple pigeonholes. Finally, she grumbled, “Well, I don’t have much, just a few boxes in storage. I’ve got a few student loans I could leave to you, though.”
Travis let out a lame but hopeful chuckle. Sheyenne turned to me. “Beaux, would you come along with us to the storage unit? I’m not sure I want to do this alone.”
“I’ll be there for you, Spooky.” I pointedly repeated what her brother had said. The difference was, Sheyenne believed me.
Chambeaux & Deyer kept a small unit in the Final Repose Storage Complex. We stored old case files there, banker’s boxes filled with client records, solved crimes, incriminating photographs, interview transcriptions, expired coupons.
After Sheyenne’s death, I’d gone to her apartment to retrieve her remaining possessions. At the time, I stored everything even though she had no close relatives. (An understatement, I now realized.) I had been able to put everything she owned into three boxes—a depressingly small encapsulation of an entire life.
But Travis was her brother, and I supposed the family mementos would mean something to him. If Sheyenne was willing to give them to her brother, it was none of my business. Their relationship was more twisted and complex than most of my cases.