She shook her head. “But half the catches in this dump don’t work, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the same applies upstairs.” She contemplated me for a minute, then added, “The windows are too heavy for your bird form, and the sill would be a hell of a balancing act for your human one.”
“That’s never stopped me before.”
“Heard that about you lot.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m expected downstairs in ten minutes for my next customer. Unless you’ve got any more questions, I need to get cleaned up.”
I rose. “What time do those men usually come to check the upstairs room?”
“They’re due this afternoon. They usually get here about two.” She smiled. “For another fifty bucks, I’ll leave the window and the door open in case you need it.”
“You’re a shark in disguise,” I said, nevertheless getting my wallet back out.
“A girl has to live,” she drawled.
I guess she did. And while the conditions here weren’t top notch, at least there was security, and she wasn’t on the street. That had to be a good thing.
“I’ll try not to disturb you when I come back in.”
She snorted. “Did I look as if I’d mind being disturbed?”
I grinned. “Thanks for your help.”
“Cass,” she said. “My name is Cass.”
“Thanks, Cass.”
She nodded, then opened the dresser drawer, grabbing a little tin and tucking the cash inside. I shifted shape and in seagull form flew out the window, circling the building and checking out the different top-floor windows before heading for the side street. I changed shape, adjusted my clothes, then walked back to my car. But I didn’t get in, grabbing my cell phone out of my pocket instead. I pressed Quinn’s number and waited impatiently for him to answer.
“Well, hello,” he drawled, the gentle Irish lilt in his voice sounding oh-so sexy. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
“I’ve been visiting a brothel,” I said, imagining his expression and smiling at the image.
“And I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for it,” he said, “even though I can’t really think of one.”
“It had a phone.”
“Most of them do.”
I laughed. “This phone is the contact number for a bunch of hit men for hire.”
“Interesting.” His voice was dry. “So why are you calling me?”
“Because I need food and sex, and not necessarily in that order. I figured you might be interested in sating one or both of those desires.”
“You figured right. Where would you like said sating to occur?”
“Somewhere not too fancy. I need to be back at the brothel by one-thirty, so I haven’t got time to go home and change. And several shape-shifts has shredded the last spare T-shirt I have in the car.”
“Which is a look I quite enjoy,” he said. “I take it you’re close to the city?”
“St. Kilda.”
“Excellent. There’s a small spa in Acland Street that does a great lunch and spa treatment regimen. I’ll send you the address and meet you there in twenty minutes.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Riley, trust me.”
“Okay,” I grumbled. “But you know how bitchy I can get when my hungers aren’t satisfied.”
He laughed. The warm sound flowed through me like a caress. “Trust me, love, I aim to satisfy us both.”
“Well, good.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll see you in twenty.”
“You will.”
He hung up, and I rang Jack. “Boss,” I said, the minute he answered, “that land line is located on the top floor of a brothel, and the whole floor is bristling with electronic security.”
“Meaning they’re hiding something,” he said. “Can you break in, or do you want some professional help?”
“Well, I’m thinking that electronic security usually needs electricity to work, so would it be possible to arrange a little blackout in the area around two?”
“It’ll take out the entire block, but yeah, it can be done.” He paused. “We ran a trace on the number. The phone is listed as belonging to the brothel. The owner of said brothel is one T. J. Hart. We’re trying to track down an address for him.”
That raised my eyebrows. “It isn’t on the business registration?”
“It’s a post office box.”
I frowned. “I didn’t think it was legal to do that. I thought it had to be a street address.”
“Normally, it does.”
Meaning T.J. either knew someone or had paid someone. Which meant he had money or connections that weren’t obvious from the condition of his business.
“He has no license or police record,” Jack continued. “The tax office has his address listed as Fitzroy, but the house was razed for apartments earlier this year.”
Meaning he could be missing or simply didn’t want to be found. I made a mental note to check with Cass this afternoon, then said, “Is it possible to put a tap on the phone?”
“It’s in the pipeline, so make sure you leave no trace of your presence.”
Which meant scent, if we were dealing with another were. I frowned and glanced at my watch, wondering if I could get to Liander’s workshop and back to St. Kilda in twenty minutes. I knew he kept scent-erasing soap there, simply because he often redid my look for undercover operations, and scent erasure was a vital part of that. I might be pushing it time-wise, but it had to be done.
“There are two men who regularly collect the messages,” I said. “I’ll try to get pics of them today, and send them through.”
“Good. And we don’t think this is a one-off. There’s a report coming out of Sydney about a brutal murder that bears striking similarities to our case.”
“Meaning the victim was a recently released, long-term prisoner?”
“Yeah. We’re trying to get full details at the moment.”
“It might also be worth working up a list of recently released or about-to-be-released long-term inmates.” If this was the beginning of a murder spree, such a list might help us save some lives.
“We’re onto that, too,” Jack commented. “We’ve already located two possibilities—two men were released from Perth penitentiary three weeks ago. One has since relocated to his hometown in Dunedan—which is in the middle of Western Australia—and the other went to Brisbane.”
“I gather you’ve contacted the Directorate divisions in Brisbane and Perth, and warned them there might be trouble?”
“Yes. And I’ve also sent requests to all Directorate divisions to provide us with information on any crimes of a similar nature. We expect to get some hits. An organization this well protected probably won’t be targeting just criminals.”
Not if they were advertising in local newspapers. “This must be a new operation, though. Otherwise, we’d surely have heard of them before now.”
“Not necessarily. If they’ve kept their operations interstate until now, there would have been no reason for us to be notified. Each division is basically autonomous.”
Yet they’d all come from the one source—Melbourne—and I was betting Director Hunter kept a close eye on the other divisions. The Directorate was her baby, after all.
“I’m going to lunch now, boss, but I’ll be back at the brothel by one-thirty.”
“Okay, but I want you to return to the Directorate after that. You need to write up the report for the murder and the shooting incident.”
I wrinkled my nose. I hated paperwork at the best of times. And, I thought, with a wash of sadness, there was now no Kade to sweet-talk into helping me.
“Will do,” I said, and hung up. My phone beeped notification of an incoming message. It was the address Quinn had promised. I opened the car door and fired up the onboard computer, switching it to navigation and typing in the address. It turned out I could probably walk there in less than five minutes.
I turned off the computer and locked the car, then once again shifted shape. With all this flying, my arms were starting to get a little tired, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. There was no way on this Earth I was going to drive to Liander’s workshop and then back to St. Kilda in the twenty minutes I had. Not with traffic the way it was.