“She’s human,” O’Sullivan said quietly. “She’s entitled to rationed goods, same as anyone else.”
Monty tensed. Elliot had added Meg’s name to a list that would become a record in the mayor’s office?
“Knowing where she is doesn’t mean being able to reach her,” Burke said so softly his voice barely carried. “Her being included sets a precedent for the other girls. They all face enough challenges without being forced to depend on someone else for food.”
Monty wasn’t sure how Steve Ferryman listed the five young cassandra sangue who lived in the Intuit village, or Jean, who lived with a Simple Life family. Were Intuits and Simple Life folk even included to receive ration books? Did they need them? Something to ask, but not here and not now.
“I’ll speak with all the station chiefs and make sure they’re aware that price gouging should be reported,” Alvarez said. “Since people have to register at shops, the owners shouldn’t be allowed to take advantage of what, hopefully, will be a temporary situation.”
“One last thing, Lieutenant.” Chen picked up a carry bag from the floor beside his chair and set it in front of Monty with a gentle smile. “Rice. It’s a staple food in my neighborhood. I offer it as a small token of goodwill to our neighbors in the Lakeside Courtyard.”
“I’ll make sure they receive it,” Monty said.
He, Burke, and O’Sullivan walked out together. O’Sullivan stopped the other men before they reached their cars.
“Lieutenant, you should know that Elliot Wolfgard included your mother and sister as employees and tenants of the Courtyard. He was precise about saying your brother was neither an employee nor a tenant, that his position in Lakeside was that of a temporary visitor and he couldn’t claim the apartment as a place of residence.”
“Is Cyrus looking for work or another place to live?” Burke asked.
Monty shook his head. “As far as I know, his official residence is still listed as somewhere in Toland.”
“Then you, and he, should be aware that the ration book for him and his family will be issued out of Toland,” O’Sullivan said. “If he wants rationed goods, he’ll have to return to Toland and pick up the ration book in person or provide the proper authorities with his new permanent address.”
Jimmy wasn’t going to do without. Jimmy never did. Not for long, anyway. But Monty couldn’t see his brother going back to Toland just for a ration book.
“You need a lift back to the Courtyard?” Burke asked O’Sullivan.
“No, but thanks. I still have some work to do at the office here. I just wanted a private moment to let you know about Cyrus.”
“I appreciate that,” Monty said.
After asking Kowalski to deliver the rice to the Courtyard and continue patrolling, Monty went back to the station with Burke.
“Do the Others think there are shortages?” Burke asked. “Or do they just enjoy what’s available?”
“They tend to eat what is in season,” Monty replied. “And the supplies that come in from the earth native farms differ from week to week.”
“You let me know what the women want to do about sharing the meat ration. I’ll participate.”
Monty studied his captain. “But you don’t usually eat in the Courtyard.”
Burke said nothing until they pulled into the station’s lot. “I think I should for a while, don’t you?”
? ? ?
“I’ll take one of those lasagnas,” Jimmy said. He wasn’t sure what kind of freak ran the Market Square butcher shop. Wasn’t one of the Wolves, because the freak had brown feathers in its hair.
“Four pieces of lasagna is ten dollars. The dish is an extra five. You bring back the dish, we refund the five.” The freak pulled out a ledger, opened it to a flagged page, and made a notation.
“What’s that?” Jimmy asked.
The freak didn’t answer. He set aside the ledger and sealed the package of lasagna just as Sierra walked into the shop.
Jimmy smiled, pleased that she hesitated when she saw him. Bitch should hesitate. Bitch had a lot to make up for.
“Hey there, Sissy,” he said pleasantly. “Did you have a good day at work?”
“Yes, I did.” She approached the counter, still watching him, trying to assess his mood. As she should. Then she turned to the freak. “Hi, Boone. I’d like a package of lasagna.”
Brown eyes stared at her. “That’s four pieces.”
“My mama is having dinner with me and the girls.”
More marks on the ledger. Shit. The freaks were keeping tabs on what was bought and how much? Well, he’d just have to figure out how to get around that in order to assure his customers that he could deliver a steady supply and quantity of meat.
Jimmy slanted a glance at Sissy. Wouldn’t be that hard, with a little help from someone who owed him.
He waited for her, walked out of the shop with her. Once they were outside, where there was bound to be something watching them, he closed his hand on her carry sack. “Let me carry that for you.”
“It’s all right,” she said hurriedly. “I can . . .”
Cross me on this, and you will pay.
She read the threat in his look and released her hold on the sack. “Thanks, Jimmy.”
Gods, the bitch even thanked him. Could it get any better?
They walked through the Market Square’s open area. They walked through the employee parking lot to the wooden door that opened onto what had been the customer parking lot when some of the stores had been open to the general public. And they dashed across Crowfield Avenue to the apartment building.
The building’s outside door wasn’t locked at this time of day, but the bloodsucker on guard would be nearby. While Sissy opened the door and blocked the view of anyone inside, Jimmy slipped her carry sack into his own. Nothing suspicious about consolidating packages.
He had his apartment door key in his hand and was turning toward the apartment when she started to reach for her carry sack, then stopped, confused—and a little frightened.
“Jimmy . . .”
“That’s all right, Sissy.” His smile and friendly voice were at odds with the look in his eyes. The look was a warning to Sissy. The rest was playing to the unseen audience. Here was the kindly brother bailing out his little sister again—and providing a reason for any sniffling and whining the bitch might do. “You can pay me back whenever you get the money.” Next time he squeezed her for a little cash, the dumb-ass bloodsucker would confirm that she owed him money. How good was that?
Pleased with himself, Jimmy walked into his apartment and shut the door in Sissy’s face.
Sandee met him in the kitchen, looking disheveled and pouty. Gods, what had he ever seen in her?
“Here.” He pulled one of the lasagna dishes out of the carry sack. “Dinner. I get half. You and the brats can have the rest.”
“That’s not enough,” Sandee whined. Her eyes fixed on the second lasagna when he put it in the fridge. “And you got another one.”