Thaisday, Juin 15
Following Ilya Sanguinati’s orders, Aggie gathered her Crowgard kin and flew to the woodland side of Silence Lodge, where they wouldn’t be seen by any humans fishing on the lake. Many of the Crows chose to perch on the branches of nearby trees, but most settled on the ground since it was easier to shift to a human form when you didn’t have to balance on a branch that might not hold that shape.
A dozen Sanguinati followed Miss Vicki’s attorney out of the lodge. Several Crows fluffed and fluttered. Other Crows preened their feathers to show they weren’t concerned by the number of vampires who were also attending this meeting. Normally the Crowgard had no reason to fear the Sanguinati. Being another form of terra indigene, they were not prey. But powerful predators should never be taken lightly.
“We would like your assistance in solving a puzzle,” Ilya Sanguinati said.
Aggie stopped preening. Puzzles were fun, especially the ones that required figuring out how to claim a shiny.
Ilya Sanguinati held out a photograph of the shiny clip thing she had traded for the pretty bracelet. “We need to find out how many humans have a tie clip exactly like this one. Once we know who they are, we’ll be able to find out why they are interested in The Jumble.”
<Miss Vicki is taking care of The Jumble now,> Eddie Crowgard said. <She is the Reader. We don’t need another human there.>
“We think the humans who wear this clip are trying to force Miss Vicki to leave.”
<Peck them!>
<Tell Cougar to claw them!>
<Tell the Bear to swat them!>
“Not yet.”
All the Crows settled down. “Not yet” wasn’t quite a promise that soon there would be eyeballs for lunch, but it was close.
“You cannot take these shinies,” Ilya Sanguinati said. “They have to stay with the humans who own them.”
Aggie stared at Ilya. No shinies? What kind of puzzle game was that?
“Find something else to bring back that will tell me who the humans are and where they live,” Ilya said. “Something they won’t miss, like mail humans toss in the recycle box as soon as it arrives or an envelope that has been thrown out. We need something with the human’s name and address.”
<What happens then?> Aggie asked. She wasn’t sure how many of the Crows would play this puzzle game if they couldn’t bring back any shinies.
Ilya smiled, showing his fangs. “Then we’ll be able to identify the human enemies hiding among the rest.”
CHAPTER 24
Grimshaw
Thaisday, Juin 15
Ineke Xavier walked into the boardinghouse’s parlor wearing a one-piece bathing suit and an open robe. “You wanted to see me?”
When Grimshaw didn’t answer, she looked amused. He understood her amusement—and felt grateful that she was amused because he couldn’t stop looking at her thighs. Or more precisely, the two tattoos on her thighs.
On her left thigh was a revolver. The smoke coming out of the barrel rose toward her nether region. On her right thigh was a big-eyed caricature of Ineke with her multicolored hair piled on top of her head and a miniature of the boardinghouse tucked in the hair like an ornament. Around the caricature’s neck was a necklace made of tombstones, and beneath them were the words “I Bury Trouble.”
Gods, Grimshaw thought. I’m renting a room from this woman.
Ineke closed the robe, releasing Grimshaw from his involuntary fixation with the tattoos.
“Will this take long?” Ineke asked. “I’m going to The Jumble to talk to Vicki about our arrangements to offer guests a guided trail ride to the lake. I think she needs some girl time, and I could use a swim while we review the details.”
Grimshaw wanted to shake his head to clear it, or at least splash some cold water on his face, but that would tell her too much about his reaction. Was there something mesmerizing about those tattoos, something hypnotic? Or was it just that he’d been caught unprepared?
He needed to close this case and get out of Sproing.
He held out the photo of the tie clip. “Have you seen this?”
“Have I seen a tie clip? I imagine every man has one, so I’ve seen plenty of them over the years. I think I even have a couple of them in the secondary jewelry box.”
He hoped she had bought them for herself and he didn’t have to look for bodies in the compost bin. “I’m looking for tie clips exactly like this one.”
“I’ve covered this ground before.” But she took the photo and studied the image. “Unless someone’s behavior gives me a reason to look, I don’t rummage through my guests’ possessions. That doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention to anything that’s left out in plain sight. Being tidy men, I can’t say if you or Officer Osgood have a tie clip like this. Franklin Cartwright had rented one of the en suite rooms, but he didn’t leave out so much as a tube of toothpaste, and despite planning to be here for a few days, he didn’t remove anything from his luggage but a couple of shirts and a second pair of trousers that he hung in the closet. And his luggage was always locked when he left his room.”
“How could you tell?”
“The luggage was secured with leather straps and padlocks.” Ineke handed back the photo. “I don’t mind guests having secrets or wearing the perfume of mystery. We all have secrets, and everyone should have a little mystery in their lives. But those padlocks and his talk about Vicki squatting at The Jumble when we’d all watched her pump money and sweat into the place didn’t sit right. If Cartwright hadn’t been killed, I was going to tell him to find another place to stay.”
“There isn’t another place to stay in Sproing.”
She gave him a predatory smile. “Exactly.” She waved a hand at the photo. “Detectives Reynolds and Baker had a tie clip like that. So did Detective Swinn.”
“What about the bank manager?”
Ineke narrowed her eyes. “I never had a reason to pay attention, so I can’t say for sure.”
“Thanks for your help.” Grimshaw started to turn away, then stopped.
Ineke picked up a large straw basket that held a rolled beach towel, a bottle of water, and a small purse. “Something else?”
He hesitated, then decided to ask the question. “What do you think will happen if Vicki DeVine leaves The Jumble?”
“I think that will depend on why she leaves.”
* * *
? ? ?
“Do I look like I wear a tie?”
Grimshaw looked up at Gershwin Jones, the owner of Grace Notes, Sproing’s store for all things musical. Looking up at someone was a novel experience he didn’t enjoy.
“No, you don’t,” Grimshaw replied. “But I’m asking business owners if they’ve seen a tie clip like this.”
Gershwin Jones was a large, well-proportioned man. A first-generation Thaisian whose parents had emigrated from the Eastern Storm Islands, he had brown skin and dark eyes. He wore his dark hair in dreadlocks that fell below his shoulder blades, and the knee-length caftan he wore over sand-colored trousers looked like a rainbow that had overdosed on caffeine.