Sheyenne appeared before me, distraught. I told her, “Go after him, Spooky. You should be with your brother. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
“Thanks—I really need you right now.” Her translucent expression was an atonal symphony of anger and deep concern. “Travis better have a good explanation for what he was doing there.” She flitted off.
McGoo watched her go, then turned to me. “Does she really need someone to explain things to her?”
“She’ll figure it out. Too soon, I suppose.” My heart was heavy, because she would also figure out where penniless Travis had gotten the money to hire a succubus rather than using it to solve his problems.
Neffi turned to McGoo. “Don’t let this color your opinion of my business, Officer. It’s just one girl. And that young man—he’ll be just fine, if he gets a restorative spell soon enough. I’ll even pay for . . . part of it. Maybe we don’t need to fill out the paperwork? We can just forget about this whole thing.” She stroked McGoo’s arm. “I could give you a special discount. Some of our ladies love men in uniform. I certainly do.”
“As tempting an offer as that may be,” McGoo said, “I am on duty.”
“You told me you were going home for the night,” I said.
“You called me back. How much more trouble are you going to cause in one night, Shamble?”
“That’s what friends are for.”
Neffi had an edge to her voice as she reprimanded the succubus. “Any fines I have to pay are coming out of your cut, Ruth. It’s hard enough to find clients willing to hire you, but I kept you on as a specialty item. Now how are you going to earn your keep?”
Ruth continued sobbing. “I’m sorry!”
My heart went out to her. “Neffi, it’s not her fault. Travis is the one who made the mistake—I have no doubt about that. He makes a lot of mistakes.” I turned to McGoo, reminding him of the harassment the Full Moon had been suffering. “Let’s see how Travis recovers at the hospital before we make a big incident out of this. They don’t need any more trouble.”
McGoo frowned. “If the man wants to press charges, I’ll have no choice but to follow up, but I suppose I can put this on the back burner . . . for now.” He added in a pointed tone, “You’re right—a murder investigation should have higher priority. Now, are you going to tell me what you were doing in the pawnshop with a dead gremlin?”
“I didn’t expect him to be dead. In fact, I was hoping not to see him at all.”
“Beside the point, Shamble.”
“The cases don’t solve themselves. I needed to have a look at the ledger book Snazz kept in the credenza behind his counter—as a favor to Mrs. Saldana.”
McGoo let out a disbelieving sigh. “So you made yourself a prime murder suspect for something that’s not even a paying case?”
I answered sarcastically, “Yes, McGoo, I would feel a lot better about finding a dead body if it weren’t pro bono work.” I sighed. “I risked a lot, but it was for a good cause. Do you think I could have a look at that ledger, just a quick glance, while you’re processing it into evidence?”
He looked at me in disbelief. “You’ve got balls, Shamble! If I hadn’t interceded, you’d be in jail right now.” He shook his head, hardened his expression. “No, you can’t have a look, not until it’s released from evidence, and not until you’re cleared of the murder rap.”
I decided to ask again later. Now wasn’t the time.
Neffi strolled among the crowd with her ladies. Many of the spectators shrank back after having seen the man hauled out on a gurney; others, though, seemed intrigued, like a squirrel showing inappropriate curiosity about a rattlesnake. The mummy madam made light of the incident. “That shows my girls are enthusiastic and vigorous, if nothing else! Don’t let this little disturbance scare you off. Is anybody man enough to have a try for himself? Fifteen percent discount until dawn, certain conditions apply.”
I turned to McGoo. “I’d stay, but I promised Sheyenne I’d meet her at the hospital.”
I had planned on a quiet night breaking and entering at the pawnshop, looking up a name in a ledger, and going home satisfied. Now I was potentially framed for a murder, and Sheyenne’s brother was in the hospital.
I was supposed to be solving cases, but more often than not I spent my time cleaning up messes.
Chapter 24
Travis remained on life support, holding on but not improving. He looked like a human washrag made out of skin and bone that had been wrung vigorously dry, then given an extra twist for good measure. I couldn’t imagine how sweet, emerald-eyed Ruth could have done such a thing. Her despair and guilt were obviously genuine. A succubus was a succubus—what else was she supposed to do, write greeting-card sentiments? No, I laid the blame for the dumb decision on Travis.
If he recovered, he would probably brag about his “wild night.”
I sat vigil with Sheyenne’s ghost as she stayed with Travis, and I felt a poignant sense of déjà vu, reminded of when I had remained at her bedside in the hospital, refusing to leave as the toadstool poison killed her. The memory of that awful time was enough to make even a zombie shudder.
Since it was clear the doctors couldn’t help him, I called Mavis Wannovich. She was happy to help, said she’d be pleased to use her witchery for the benefit of my clients and friends. I didn’t point out that Travis Carey was neither client nor friend, and I knew that in return the Wannoviches and their ghostwriter would want to interview me about the Shamble & Die Penny Dreadfuls. I decided to call this my first month’s compensation. One of those “emergency fixes.”
When the two witch sisters arrived at the hospital, the staff balked at letting them enter. Per hospital policy, large sows were not allowed in the patient rooms, even though Mavis insisted that her sister was a thoroughly hygienic pig and probably carried fewer germs than the other visitors or patients in the facility. Alma squealed, ready to engage in antisocial behavior by defecating on the clean hospital floors, which would not have helped their case.
Fortunately, I arrived before the situation got out of hand. “She’s here for a patient’s treatment. I requested her services for the man in 554W.”
“What sort of services?” asked the charge nurse. “She’s a witch!”
Mavis said with a sniff, “I do have some medical experience.”
“You’re a witch doctor?”
“I prefer ‘Practitioner of Alternative Medicine.’ ” She held a pot filled with a smelly concoction. “And this is just what the doctor ordered.”
“No doctor ordered that!” the charge nurse insisted. “Insurance won’t cover it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve authorized it,” I said.