I finished writing, and looked it over. Kate and her friends had rambled on about the fallen angel’s appearance and abilities, but there was nothing here about its personality, which worried me.
“So, who is it?” The one on the couch—Reilly?—asked.
“Who’s this guy?”
“You’re kidding, right? What do I look like, a supernatural Sherlock Holmes? I don’t have all the answers at my fingertips.”
“Waste of time,” said the Creole woman, getting to unsteady feet.
“Hold on. Now, I would love to just let all of you walk out of here, especially since you’ve been bleeding on my furniture—that’ll be in my fee, too—but this is a fallen angel we’re talking about. Guy like that can’t be allowed to run loose on the planet. I’m a detective. I figure things out.”
“This is bullshit, Kate. Why did you bring us here?” said the guy in the chair in his Vegas Hawaiian shirt.
“Because we haven’t been able to figure out shit! It’s on his fucking business card, and he’s still alive. I’ve worked with this guy. He’s smart.”
“Beats the hell out of getting our asses kicked again,” said the woman on the couch next to Reilly.
“Okay, so, time to get to work. If any of you are good at research, then you can join me at the library, otherwise, I’ll have to call in my assistants and charge you extra.”
“Call ‘em anyway,” the guy in the suit said, tossing me a money clip.
Every bill was a franklin.
“Okay, that’s too much,”
“Rush fee. You don’t sleep until we get an answer.”
Okay, get Jen and Jessie on this, and have Jen bribe the DeGradi librarians. Crap, I need to cancel on Nikki, too. At least Cassie is back in Florida.