She could tell that without even opening the box? Impressive. Then it sank in. “It’s missing a piece?” Oh, crap. I couldn’t know for sure, but I was betting the sirens hadn’t given me a defective gift. Which meant that there was probably a thumb-sized piece of ceramic somewhere on the floor at Birchwoods. Unless it had already been gotten rid of by Housekeeping. Which would be bad. Very bad. Nobody likes to think you are careless with their gifts. Of course, they might not ever find out. But, knowing my luck—
“Which one is the death scarab?”
“It’s the red one.”
That brought me up short. “There’s only one red piece?”
She nodded. Well, now, wasn’t that interesting? I distinctly remembered handing Ren the red piece. Of course she’d hustled off right after that. It might just have been an accident. Or not.
“You’re sure? I mean, not too many people seem to know about these Wadjeti things.”
Dottie smiled sweetly, but her voice had that same scolding tone you get when you put your elbows on the table at Grandma’s house. “I am a clairvoyant, dear. It’s a tool for divination. Karl was planning on giving me a set for my next birthday. He was hoping it’d be easier for me to use than my bowl. I found it and the card, when I was cleaning out his house after his funeral. It came with an instruction book. I read most of it in one sitting. It isn’t hard to learn. I can bring the instructions in tomorrow if you’d like.” She looked at me slyly. “Should I presume I’ll be here tomorrow? Or was what you said to Dawna just to make her feel better?”
“You’d actually be willing?”
“Of course. And it will give me a chance to see Minnie regularly.” She smiled sweetly.
“Cool.” I was relieved. The temp situation was solved and, I hoped, the cat issues as well. “I won’t be here tomorrow, so just leave a copy for me here at the front desk.” I gave her my best smile and grabbed the Wadjeti box. “Now I have got to get upstairs, or I’m not going to get anything done. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” She winked at me. “We can talk about my salary later.”
I just bet we would.
It was a relief to finally get out of the lobby and up the stairs. My office takes up a large portion of the third floor. There is no elevator, only a steep staircase. But if Dottie was going to work here . . . was there somewhere to put an elevator? Or maybe one of those electric stair lift things? It was a historic building. We technically didn’t need to be ADA compliant. But still—
As I rounded the second-floor landing, passing the stained-glass window, I heard Creede chatting amiably with Bubba about boats and deep-sea fishing. Creede was admiring one of the photos of Bubba’s boat displayed on the office wall. Technically, it’s a good-sized yacht, and he bought it at a government auction. But he calls it a boat, because “I ain’t that fancy.”
As I came closer, the subject switched back to Creede’s situation and what he was doing here. “I woulda thought you’d have had a binding oath set up to keep him from backstabbing you,” Bubba chided.
Creede’s small chuckle showed his dark side. There was evil under that laugh, mixed with the anger. “Oh, we did. He just decided that there’d be enough money left after the medical bills to make it worth it.”
I shook my head. To my mind, Miller was stupid. That’s all there was to it. Yeah, he’d get the money, but he’d made a bad enemy. Still, greed can make most people stupid.
“So, you gonna rent this place?” Bubba asked.
“I think so. Do you know if Celia had to get the floor reinforced to hold her safe? I’m going to want to put one in, too. Hers is just on the other side of this wall, right?”
“Yep. But you’ll have to ask her, or the safe guy. He’s due in a half hour. Comes in same time every week to reinforce the spells. If Celia’s not here, Dawna lets him in.”
A raw, jagged edge of paranoia rushed through me and I suddenly knew why Creede’s being here had me on edge. Bubba was being too friendly. Creede now knew the layout of the office, knew how often my wards were reinforced and all the tenant names. Future tenant, or future burglar? I tried to think of some way to limit the damage in case this was all a very simple and therefore very elaborate trap. So obvious it was overlooked. I decided to make a blunt, direct accusation and see how he responded.
I hurried to the doorway into Bubba’s office, just as he was saying, “We’re a pretty boring bunch here. Same schedule every week.”
“But, of course, that schedule will be changing . . . the moment you’re out of earshot.” They both turned and simultaneously gave me an odd look. My answering expression showed a lot of fang and as much distrust as was clawing at the pit of my stomach. “Tell me something, John.”
I paused long enough that he frowned. It was a better look on him. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Maybe.”
My nod was automatic. “Perfect. That’s just the mind-set I’d like you in for this. Let’s reverse our positions for a moment. You’re a sole proprietor, in business for a handful of years, comfortable but not wildly successful. Clients are attracted to you because you have a slew of magical gadgets and the skill to use them. With me so far?”
He nodded but didn’t comment.
“In walks me,” I went on. “I’m a partner in a multinational company that is so far above your level I can’t be considered competition. I only personally guard the most exclusive people, the richest of the rich.”
His brow was furrowing even further, if that was possible. At this point, Bubba had also started to frown and his eyes kept flicking to Creede to watch his reaction.
“I made a deliberate point of coming to your office in the company of a client—a client who has a personal grudge against you. Yet now . . .” I held up my hands as though a revival preacher in front of the faithful. “I appear before you with the—you have to admit—slightly outlandish claim that I’ve broken up with my partner of more than a decade and want to partner with you. I inspect a vacant office which just happens to be right next door to where you keep your gadgets. I learn the schedule from the other tenants.” I looked at him and smiled, showing as much fang as I could. “Tell me, John. What would you do, right this minute?”
His voice came out in a rumble that vibrated his arms on his chest while Bubba started muttering self-berations at himself. “Are you accusing me of spying?”
I shrugged, unwilling to react to his growl. “Spying, infiltrating . . . hell, maybe hexing. Or, you’re completely innocent and I’m just paranoid. I ask again, what would you, a professional security consultant, do in my place?”
He glared. I just raised my brows. I could feel magic now, and while he wasn’t casting anything, his emotional turmoil was causing energy to whip through the room like errant mosquitoes. You wanted to slap at them, but they were too quick and too small to be seen. Then the wheels started clicking. I watched as his eyes lowered to a place somewhere near but not quite on the floor. After a long moment, he let out a sound like a snort; his chest rose with the force of it. When he met my eyes again, he was actually blushing. “I’d put you in a full-body binding until I could call around to check out your story.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Either that, or I’d kick your butt to the curb and then”—now a smile appeared—“call my safe company and have all the combinations changed and add a few special hexes for anyone cutting through the adjoining wall or ceiling.”