When the golem doorman led me into the parlor, the languid negligee-clad ladies called me by name—which, in itself, was not a good sign, a reminder of how frequently I stopped by. I told myself it was all business, only business. Neffi’s office door was partially closed, and the unwrapped mummy madam pored over her ledger books; file drawers were open as she added up her accounts. She had been glum ever since the vandals smashed the sarcophagi that preserved two of her mummified cats.
Cinnamon was doing her nails; I didn’t see either of the zombie girls, but one of the upstairs doors was closed. Heavy shuffling sounds came from the room; Aubrey and Savannah were either rearranging furniture or engaged with a very large client, and I didn’t want to know which.
“I’m here to see Ruth,” I said.
“My, aren’t you the brave man after what happened?” The werewolf kept filing away with an emery board.
“Not like that. Just worried about her.”
“You’re sweet on that succubus, I think,” said the raven-haired vampire princess. “No need to feel embarrassed, especially not here. We’re very discreet.”
If my feelings were that obvious, maybe I was fooling myself after all.
“He sees her as much as Wheeler’s ghost used to,” said Hemlock.
“Wheeler is in jail now,” I said.
“For as long as he wants to be.” Nightshade tittered. “For now, she’s all yours. Ruth!”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, embarrassed. Fortunately, having embalming fluid instead of blood makes the flush hard to see.
The green-eyed succubus came shyly out from a back room and smiled at me. “I was just packing up my things, Dan. Time to be moving on . . . though I don’t have any place to go.”
Hearing our voices, Neffi emerged from the office, crossed her sticklike arms over her chest. “Unless you’ve come to tell me about the case, I’m going to have to start charging you for your time with Ruth.” Her face looked even more pinched than usual, although I doubted anyone else would have noticed. “She’s not earning us any money.”
Ruth looked deeply hurt, and I felt the need to come to her defense. “I can solve the problem if I get more information.” I tried to sound as professional as possible. “I’ll see if Irwyn Goodfellow can help Ruth. He found jobs for all the liberated golems.”
“Yes, he did,” said Mike, the doorman golem.
I smiled at Neffi. “But I don’t know Ruth’s job qualifications. . . other than being a succubus, I mean. And there’s not much of a market for that these days.”
“Not anymore,” Neffi agreed. “And I’ve got nothing personal against her. I just can’t afford the insurance anymore. With a succubus on staff, my premiums hit the stratosphere. Go ahead, see what you can do—but don’t take too long.” She went back into her office and closed the door.
Ruth had taken a seat on one of the red velvet lounges. She pressed her knees together, folded her hands primly on top of them, and gazed at me. “Some people think it’s enjoyable to be a female avatar of sexual desire, libido incarnate.” She sniffled. “But it’s not as much fun as you might think, considering the cost. Vampires suck the energy out of their victims, too.” She gestured to the two voluptuous undead princesses. “But they can restrain themselves.”
Nightshade spread her lips and tapped a forefinger on her long white fangs. “Precision tools, that’s what these are.”
“Maybe I should just go find a nunnery somewhere,” Ruth said.
Cinnamon barked a laugh. “That wouldn’t solve the problem—a place filled with sexually repressed virgins? Libido is libido.”
“You’re probably right.” Ruth sighed. “I really like flowers. I’d like to work in a florist’s shop, but everything withers when I touch it.”
I wondered what I was doing. I felt myself weakening. If I looked at Ruth’s sad face any longer, I might end up inviting her to move into my spare room above the Chambeaux & Deyer offices, and that would not be a good idea, no matter how innocent my intentions. Not a good idea at all.
Suddenly I felt awkward and needed to leave. “I’ll, uh, bring it up with Mr. Goodfellow the next time I speak with him. Keep your chin up. We’ll figure something out.” I hurried out the door without saying goodbye.
The moment I got back to our second-floor offices and planted myself behind the desk to study case files with a great deal of feigned attention, Sheyenne knew exactly where I had been. Maybe she could smell some lingering incense from the brothel lobby or a recognizable perfume used by one of the ladies. More likely, she could read the guilty expression on my face.
She drifted in front of me, beautiful, blond, and translucent—all I had ever wanted, and I wanted her more now that I could never touch her again. What was I doing?
Sheyenne wasn’t angry. She didn’t argue with me. . . . I could have handled that. No, she looked hurt, and that was far worse. “You’re spending a lot of time at the Full Moon—more than you spend on any of our other pending cases.”
“There’s a lot going on, Spooky. I just needed—”
“Beaux, come on. I’m not a kid. I’ve been through a lot, being poisoned to death and all. You and I can’t pretend that we’ve got a normal relationship, or that it will ever be normal again.” I saw her shudder, which, in the ghost, manifested itself as a flicker in her image. “I know that even dead men have needs. Maybe you should go visit one of the girls at the Full Moon, get it out of your system. I’ll always be here.”
“It’s not what you think,” I insisted, then realized that I was insisting too loudly and too quickly.
She continued. “If not that cute little redhead succubus, then one of the zombie girls must be your type? Or a vampire?”
“Honest, I’m not tempted,” I said. “It’s strictly business.”
All men have found themselves faced with choices, knowing that absolutely none of the choices is the right one. It’s the lady or the tiger—except the lady has a submachine gun and the tiger has rabies. This was one of those situations.
Fortunately, Alice the gremlin walked through the office door at that precise moment—and ended up costing us hundreds of dollars. I couldn’t have been more relieved.
Snazz’s sister still wore her frumpy housedress, clutched the small purse in front of her, and was cool and professional. She had applied too much lipstick and wore perfume that smelled a lot like mothballs.
With a silent sigh, Sheyenne drifted back to her desk as I went to meet the gremlin’s sister. A gulf of unfinished business hung in the air between us, but Alice didn’t seem to notice. Under her furry right arm, she had tucked a plain black ledger book.
“You may be interested in a discovery I made, Mr. Chambeaux.” She set her purse on the corner of Sheyenne’s desk, then held out the black ledger. “While cleaning the pawnshop to rent to a new customer, I discovered loose floorboards under the front display case. I should have known to look there ahead of time. Snazz always had a hiding place for his furry porno magazines when he was younger. I found a second ledger, one that appears to record all transactions.” She opened the cover. “I know how much you wanted to have the other one. If you match the final bid, I can sell you this alternate copy.”