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.
“What?”
“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.