None of them moved.
“I’ll go find him myself if you want a stranger poking around,” I said. One of the imps drew a knife. He and three of his friends took a step toward me. I did a quick count of the cars in the parking lot and decided that if fifty imps came pouring out of the old school, I’d probably be in for a rough time. I tried to act bored with their posturing and held up one hand. “Tell your boss that Alek Fitz from Valkyrie Collections is here to see him. I’m a reaper, so put your goddamn knife away.”
Two of the imps broke off from the group and ran into the bowels of the old school while their aggressive friend put his knife away without an apology. He gestured dismissively toward me. “Go in that door there. Wait just inside.”
The door led to an old furnace room, which was recessed into the ground about two stories below me. There was a small, ground-level space just inside the door, and then a handful of catwalks that led above the boilers to the halls of the old school. I did a cursory look around, checking to see what had changed in the five years since I was last here – and if Kappie’s imps had rigged any improvised traps. Imps love making things that can hurt people accidentally.
What do you think they’re loading in that truck out there? Maggie asked me.
Drugs, probably. Can’t you sense them?
Nah. There are low-level wards all over this place to protect against scrying. I’d have to be there in person to see through them. Why doesn’t the city shut Kappie down? This whole setup is beyond obvious.
I’d guess that Kappie makes sizable donations to the mayor’s office and local police force. Ambition isn’t a common trait among imps. Ninety-nine point nine percent of them are vicious little creatures driven by greed and hunger, and they seldom have the ability to plan beyond the next fix, robbery, or minimum-wage paycheck. Imp kings are the remaining few who do have the ability to plan beyond those things.
The door at the other end of the catwalk suddenly opened, and a wizened old imp appeared. He was taller than most of his kind – probably five foot two – and wore a bright red zoot suit, matching hat, and wingtip shoes. The clothes, together with an imp’s stereotypically squat, ugly face, made him look like a Dick Tracy villain. I would have laughed at his appearance if I didn’t know that he liked to trick out that suit with a straight razor in one sleeve and a switchblade in the other.
“Alek Fitz!” he proclaimed in a gravelly voice, a salesman’s smile on his face. “My old friend! How long has it been?”
“We’re not friends, Kappie. The last time we saw each other, you took a swing at me with a straight razor and I broke your nose. How is that, by the way?”
“My face hurts every time it’s cold.”
I grinned at him. “It gets cold a lot in Cleveland.”
Kappie’s smile faltered. He took a step onto the catwalk, his head nodding slowly. “How is your lovely boss, Ada? She still working you to the bone?”
Keep cool, Maggie warned me.
“You know, I really wouldn’t mind breaking your nose again.”
“And I wouldn’t mind burying your body on the premises, but I don’t think you came here for either of those activities. How may I help you, Reaper Fitz?”
I rolled my eyes. “Got some questions for you, Kappie.”
Kappie licked his lips like a fat man eyeing a succulent desert. “Questions? Questions? Have you joined OtherOps now, Alek? If that’s the case, you should identify yourself immediately. Unless they’ve changed their handbook.”
“I’m not with OtherOps.” I resisted the urge to look around for a sink. Talking with imps always made me want to wash my hands, and Kappie was worse than most.
“Reapers aren’t in the business of asking questions,” Kappie rasped thoughtfully. “Unless you’re here to ask my help in finding a debtor. In which case, we need to talk about a fee first.”
“I’m curious if you know anything about a group of imps that wound up dead downtown yesterday.”
Where are you taking this, Alek? Maggie asked. Do you really want to tell him you killed five of his kind? He won’t let you walk out of here alive.
He’s not going to find out who did it, I assured her.
Kappie raised thick eyebrows. “Dead imps? I haven’t heard a word. Should I be expecting a visit from OtherOps?”
He’s telling the truth, Maggie interjected.
“I doubt it,” I said. “OtherOps doesn’t know they’re dead.”
“Did you kill them?”
The question shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I kept my expression neutral. “What business would I have killing imps?”
Kappie lifted his chin, eyeballing me down the bridge of his nose. “Because you hate us. Or you think imps are stealing from one of your clients.”
“Are they?” I asked.
Kappie cocked an eyebrow, then leaned against the railing of the catwalk. “From your demeanor, I can assume that someone is. It’s the only reason you would come out here. Beyond breaking my nose, that is. If you told me the name of the client who was robbed, I might be able to help…”
“Just answer the question: Have you or your kin been stealing from a Valkyrie client?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
He’s telling the truth, Maggie broke in again.
You’re sure? There was definitely a part of me that had hoped Kappie would be involved in this mess so I had an excuse to bring Ferryman’s wrath down on his head.
Sure as I can spot a liar.
“If you’re lying to me,” I told Kappie, “I’ll rip your ears off.”
Kappie seemed unaffected by the threat. “Now, now, Alek, no need for that kind of language. I’m not stupid. If you’re out here asking questions, that means that OtherOps hasn’t been involved yet. But if you fail, they will get involved, and dead imps will mean that they’ll question me first. I’m the last person who wants that. I’m being entirely honest. Let me see here…” he tapped his chin. “Have you checked with my competitors?”
“You don’t have competitors,” I said cautiously.
“On the contrary – two of my former colleagues from Paronskaft have been pressing in on my territory lately. This region has proven very profitable for some of my side businesses, and I won’t let them have a cut.”
“Do you have names?” I asked.
“Leave me a card, and I’ll have one of my people send them over,” Kappie said. I gave him my card, and he pocketed it. He paused, then added, “Call any of your contacts over at OtherOps. There’s an imp turf war brewing in the Midwest. I’ve been trying to stay out of it, but my territory is at the heart of it. If some dead imps turned up, you can likely look toward one of the names I’ll send you later.”
I tapped my foot. I hadn’t entirely convinced myself that Kappie was involved, but I definitely hadn’t expected him to be so cooperative. “All right, send me those names. If you hear anything at all about stolen Other goods, let me know immediately.” I turned and left before I had to look at his stupid face for any longer. I headed back to my truck, where I spent a few minutes watching imps load their semi while I meditated on his answer.
So everything he said is true? I asked Maggie again.
Or at least he believes it’s true, she answered. He’s not responsible for Ferryman’s missing souls. Could it be one of his competitors?