Hallow Point (8 page)

Hell, maybe I’d just been all on my lonesome for too long.

“Not married, you said.” It wasn’t a question.

One last smile, the tiny one again, and then she got all serious.

“Mr. Oberon, I was given your name by… a source I trust very highly.” She inhaled deep, then turned away from me before blowing out a lungful. “I need your help, as much as I don’t care to admit it.”

Yeah, I imagined she
wouldn’t
, at that.

“Gimme the skinny,” I said. “Whole thing.”

For a confident, classy dame, her story was a pretty mundane one. Disappointingly, even.

Lemme just give you the gist, ’cause the conversation itself—while keen in the moment, given who I was yapping with—really ain’t much to hear about.

Ramona’s punk of a cousin needed a place to flop, and even though she knows he’s trouble, she’s too softhearted to give him the brush-off, so he’s bunking at her place. He’s already loitered a lot longer’n she’d agreed to, but, again, can’t bring herself to give him the bounce.

Midst of all this, Ramona’s ex-flame shows up. (Yeah, it bugged me to hear that, and the “ex” part only simmered me down a little.) This gink’s more of a lowlife than the cousin. Him, she’s all set to give the bum’s rush, with her cousin’s help, but he’s begging her, damn near on his knees. He’s got some thugs gunning for him over a “bad investment,” and he just needs a place to hole up for a few hours, maybe one night.

So, all right. Her place is getting crowded, but Ramona decides he can have
one
night. He gives her any grief about making tracks tomorrow, though, and it’s just a matter of whether the coppers or the guys he owes find him first.

Yeah, you’ve already tumbled to a few dozen ways this could turn sour real fast, ain’t ya?

Buncha thumps and crashes and other sounds that just never bode anything positive wake her up a little before dawn. Her cousin’s tearing the place up like he’s misplaced the lien on his soul and Satan’s due for breakfast. The ex-beau is long gone, of course. Took with him a whole sack-full of Ramona’s jewelry, some silver, other dribs and drabs, and every bit of cash in the place.

Unfortunately, “every bit” includes a thick wad of rhino that her cousin was holding onto for some of the less savory Joes that
he’s
in deep with. Kid throws a complete ing-bing, panics, and takes the run-out, leaving Ramona holding the bag.

“I don’t know precisely who my cousin was indebted to,” she told me, finishing up her account. “Whoever they are, they don’t seem to have any better idea of where he’s gone to than I have—but they certainly know where
I
am.

“Mr. Oberon, my car’s been broken into multiple times, my home at least once while I was out. I can’t prove it, but I’m
quite
sure I’ve seen the same fellow following me on multiple occasions. I don’t think I have enough to go to the police, and, even if I did, I hate the thought of preferring charges on family.

“I can raise the money to pay these people off. I just need some time to do it. I need someone—I need you—to make sure I have that time. Find either Jeremy or Cliff if you can—feel free to send Cliff right up-river, the louse, but please don’t do anything with Jeremy without talking to me first. See if you can figure out who Jeremy owed, who’s stalking me. But most of all, I need you to keep me safe long enough to get these hoodlums off my back!”

Judging by how slack her jaw went, my first question caught her completely unawares. “You sure the guys keeping tabs on you are the same ones Jeremy got in deep with? No chance it’s something unrelated, something personal to you?”

“I…”

It took her a spell, and a long drag off a newly lit cigarette. (The third, if it matters to you. And yeah, I was counting.)

“I don’t see how. I can’t think of anyone who’d have it in for me. I have no other recent breakups, and while I have some money, I’m hardly loaded. Besides, don’t you suppose the timing suggests…?”

“Sure it does, doll. Coincidences happen, though.”

So, what now? Did I wanna take this gig? Felt bad leaving off the search for Caro, but maybe what I needed was a little time away to let that one stew a bit. Sleep on it for a while, so to speak. And it wouldn’t hurt my case with Raighallan or Herne any if they saw me all wrapped up in something unrelated to their own shindig. And…

And who did I think I was freakin’ kidding? I’d have probably talked myself into working as a live-in maid and trash hauler if she’d asked nice enough. It shoulda bugged me that I was reacting to her that strong, but it didn’t. And I liked it well enough that it didn’t bug me that it didn’t bug me.

That sentence makes sense if you been there. If you haven’t, no words in any language are gonna clear it up any.

“All right, Miss Webb. You got yourself a private shamus.”

A whole pillar of tension snapped inside her and crumbled away. I swear not just her shoulders, but the cigarette also, sagged in relief.

“Thank you.” Not a whisper, quite, but the softest I’d yet heard her.

It made the next bit harder.

“Uhh, Miss Webb…”

“Ramona, please.” That smile again. The room tilted.

That was quick, but I sure wasn’t gonna raise a stink about it.

“Ramona, we do need to discuss—”

“Oh, of course!” She stabbed out the butt in an ashtray that I only now realized she’d produced from her purse halfway through her story—real observant, detective—and reached for a bankbook. “How much?”

“Ten simoleons a day oughta cover basic expenses,” I told her. “After that, we’ll call it…”

Boom. Whim time. Came over me just that sudden. They almost always do.

“Any sorta heirloom. Don’t have to be worth anything, just has to have belonged to one of your parents.”

And whaddaya know, she balked. I mean, I get that it’s a hinky demand, and that mighta accounted for the hesitation, but…

“That’s rather a peculiar request, Mr. Oberon.”

“I’m rather a peculiar detective.”

The nail on one forefinger tapped the bankbook, the other the corner of her lower lip. It was easier not to be mesmerized by the first than the second.

“I’m afraid I’m genuinely uncomfortable with that,” she said finally. “Surely you can accept more traditional payment? As I said, I’m not
wealthy
, but…”

I wanted to say yes, more’n I’d wanted anything in a long while. Almost
did
say yes, caught the word in my throat right before it made a break for it.

But I been living a good while, and Fae who don’t learn to pay attention to their whims and instincts, no matter
what
they’re feelin’… Well, they
don’t
often live a good while. I could only shake my head, much as I came over blue to do it.

“I’m
real
sorry, Ramona. Gimme a mo and I can jot down some references for you.”

Wow
, did her face go cold. As in, “I wasn’t keen on leaning in any closer in case I got frostbitten” kinda cold.

“You cannot possibly be serious.”

So, yeah, not just her expression, then. If she kept talking in
that
tone of voice, I’d hafta thaw out the milk to dip my bill later on.

“They’re good guys. More professional’n me, frankly. You’ll be taken care of.”

She glared, sharp enough to shave with, and I kinda wanted to crawl under the desk and bang my head on the underside ’til I forgot this whole damn day. Upset as I mighta been, though, she wasn’t pulling anything over on me. I could taste her uncertainty and, yeah, worry beneath the ice queen “I am accustomed to obedience!” routine.

’Sides, I’d mastered that routine, and a thousand like it, before I’d ever even thought about ditching the Court.

I’d call it a clash of wills, but there was no clash to speak of. She might have me all tied up, turned around, and off my game, but she still had no real chance at staring
me
down.

“I want
you
,” she said finally, and I pretended I didn’t near trip over my own feet at her choice of phrasing. (Yeah, I
was
sittin’ down at the time. So what?) “It was your name I was given. I don’t trust anyone else.”

“I’m right here, doll. Still for hire and everything.”

“But…”

Ramona looked down at her purse, her fingers, and up again. That little quirk of a smile was back.

“All right, Mr. Oberon. You are
truly
odd, but you have a deal. It may take me a short while to dig something up that I’m prepared to part with, though. My relationship with my parents was, ah, complex.”

Yeah, I coulda guessed
that
based on her relationships with everyone
else
. Figured that wasn’t the most politic point to make, though.

“Mick,” I said instead. “If you wanna be ‘Ramona,’ I gotta be ‘Mick.’”

“All right… Mick.” She scribbled something, stood—a move so effortlessly sinuous that she
had
to have practiced it—and passed me a check. “Five days’ expenses in advance. Is that fair?”

“That’ll do me just fine.” I slipped the paper into a desk drawer. And pretty much forgot all about it, frankly. “When you get home, it’d be real helpful if you could gather anything either of these cats mighta left behind, no matter how unimportant it…” Why was she looking at me that way?

“Why’re you looking at me that way?”

“I thought… Aren’t you coming with me?”

It took putting spurs to my brain a couple times for me figure out what she meant, especially since I had a few preferences of my own.

“Miss—I mean, Ramona—I’m a gumshoe, not a bodyguard. I can’t watch over you twenty-four seven. I got leads I hafta follow, I got other clients and responsibilities.…”

“Keeping me safe was part of the deal,” she insisted, knuckles whitening on her purse.

“Yeah, but I
do
that by
finding
…” I hadda sigh, there, even though it’s a habit I picked up from you mugs. Like a bad virus. “Tell you what. You got a friend you can visit with for a few hours?”

“I do.”

“All right. Gimme your address. Lemme spend the day digging up what I can—”
and what the police have
“—on your boys. I’ll call on you this evening, with whatever evidence I’ve gathered, give the place a thorough up-’n-down, and set up shop for the night.

“In a different room, of course,” I added—kinda sorrowfully, I gotta confess. “You got no cause to worry over my behavior, but whatever anyone thinks if they spot me there, that’s on you to deal with.”

When she nodded at that, I went on. “Once I got a sense of how things are over there, what your situation is, we’ll talk about what’s necessary to keep you safe and sound. If it looks to me like you
do
need somebody, I’ll stick around as much as I can, and I got pals can keep an eye on you when I can’t.”

Another nod, slower this time. “That… will do for now, I think,” she agreed.

“Swell.” I put a hand just behind her shoulders, guiding her toward the door. “Don’t you fret, doll. I’ll figure this out, and you’ll be fine.”

She’d put one toe through the doorway when she turned, gripping my forearm nice’n tight.

“Mr. Ob—Mick, thank you. I don’t understand you, entirely, and I know I got a bit silly about your fee, but… thank you. I feel better already.”

Gave me a kinda glow-feeling, hearing that from her, but it
did
remind me of something.

“Why
were
you so set on me personally, anyway? Who recommended me?”

“Someone I trust.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Someone who asked me not to involve him, Mick. Please. I’ll tell you afterwards, all right? Not now.”

I coulda
made
her tell me. She already wanted me on her side, was still juggling worry and relief. Woulda taken almost no emotional nudge at all, a quick dip behind her eyes for a few seconds. Wouldn’t need the L&G, and she probably wouldn’t even recollect that it hadn’t been her notion to sing in the first place.

It wasn’t just nosiness tempting me, either. Mystery man sends her my way but don’t want me knowing his name? Yeah, that’s raising some suspicions no matter how dizzy anyone’s got me.

On the other hand, I do know a
lot
of folks on both sides of the law, and both sides of “natural,” who have good reason not to want anyone tumbling to their connection with me. Not everyone’s as open and good-natured about it as Pete. So this
could
be entirely square.

Nuts to it. Wasn’t gonna start this relationship off—Case! Wasn’t gonna start this
case
off by mucking around with the client’s free will. If it turned out important, I’d look into it later.

I know, I’m usually more curious’n that. Whaddaya want from me? Didn’t have enough room left in my noggin for curiosity at that moment.

“Okay,” I said, a million years later. “Tell me after.”

Grip tightened, smile widened, and I really thought she was gonna plant one on me. Just a peck to the cheek, not full on, but still…

Seems she was just as thrown, since she jerked herself up straight just after startin’ to lean in. Her gaze dropped, locked hard on the rug, but her cheeks had gone red as her hair.

I’m a creature outta myth and faery tale. I’m sorta obligated to buy into love at first sight and all that bunk.

This wasn’t that, not exactly. This wasn’t anything I recognized.

Was I
smitten
with the dame? Was that even possible for me? I’d been in love, been in lust, been purely possessive, but never any of this stammering schoolboy crap.

Schoolboy? For the luvva Shakespeare, I’m older’n most school
subjects
!

Time to behave like it.

I snaked a hand back, yanked my coat off the rack, and pasted an idiot grin across my puss.

“I’ll walk you out,” I said.

Maybe
tomorrow
it’d be time to behave like it.

* * *

When we stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the day—a sidewalk stream of brims dipping, coats and skirts dusting the grime off people’s heels, perfumed up the keister by coughing flivvers—we were linked. No, I mean literally. Her right elbow hooked in my left, my other hand on her wrist. All nice and chivalrous and not at all way too personal. Also, I’m really a goblin, and I got an ocean-front property on a bridge to sell you. In Elphame.