David Coe - Spell Blind

“What about the others?”

“What others?” Robby asked, growing wary.

“The other Blind Angel murder victims. Did you sell to any of them?”

“I thought you were working for the Deegans.”

“I am. I’m trying to figure out why Claudia is dead. And if I can learn something about the other murders, too, all the better.”

His gaze slid away. “Yeah, well, I don’t know anything about that.”

He was shutting down on me, so I turned the conversation back to Claudia, hoping that he’d open up again.

“Do you find it odd that this guy would go for Claudia? I mean, she’s probably the most famous girl in Arizona, right?”

“He probably didn’t recognize her,” Robby said. “I mean, have you seen Claudia recently?”

“I saw her a little while ago,” I said. “I’ve just come from the Medical Examiner’s building.”

He gaped at me, his face going white. “No shit?”

“I swear it.”

Robby swallowed. “Well. . well, then, you know. She changed. A lot. She lost weight-got really thin, you know? Unhealthy. And she dyed her hair black, used lots of eyeliner-went Goth. Actually it was a pretty cool look for her. It was like she was trying to be someone else, leave the blonde princess behind. That’s what she called herself sometimes, when she was feeling especially anti-family, you know? Anyway, that was the weird thing about Claud. On the one hand she acted like none of the rules applied to her, you know? She thought she could get away with stuff because of who she was. And you just know that she got that from her old man, from being a Deegan. But at the same time, she was always trying to be someone else.” He shook his head again. “Poor Claud.”

I didn’t pretend to be an expert on the subject, but I also didn’t doubt that the guy loved her. Robby wasn’t the brightest bulb on Broadway, but he’d given some thought to what made Claudia Deegan tick. It almost made me feel bad for him. Still, he hadn’t answered my question, and I couldn’t leave him alone until he did.

“What about the others, Robby? Did they buy from you, too?”

His gaze wandered away again. “I told you, I’ve got nothing to say about that.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, and I’ll be sure to mention it to my buddies at the PPD.”

“You think I remember everyone who’s ever bought from me? You’re crazy! And I don’t know the names of all the people this guy’s killed.”

“You’d remember if you sold to someone and heard a day or two later that she’d turned up dead. In fact, I think you do remember. And I think it’s happened more than once.”

“You’re wrong.” He kept his eyes down as he said it, and I could tell that he was hiding something, and that he was terrified. For a second I thought he might start crying.

“You’re lying.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to,” I said, taking a step toward him. “Like I said, I’m not a cop anymore.”

He raised the knife again. “Stay away!”

“Which ones, Robby? Which victims bought from you before they died?”

“None of them did! And you can’t prove different! Neither can your cop friends!”

I didn’t believe him for a minute. But he was right; I couldn’t prove anything, at least not yet.

“Fine,” I said, relaxing a bit, checking my knee again. What a mess.

He regarded me, wary again. “Fine what?”

“I believe you didn’t sell drugs to any of the other Blind Angel victims. You can go.”

“That’s it? I can go? Just like that?”

“What’d you expect? I told you I’m not a cop anymore. If I could throw you in the pen for a while let you stew on all of this, I would. For Claudia and for Jessie. But I’m just a PI. Even if you are lying to me, I can’t do anything about it.”

The smirk that curved his lips was way too smug for my taste. He let his blade hand fall to his side again. “Yeah, that’s right. You can’t do shit.”

“Stay out of trouble. Watch your back. I might be done with you, but the cops aren’t.”

“Right,” he said. “Whatever.”

I frowned down at my leg once more, making like I was done with him. He started to saunter past me and as he did, I straightened and threw a punch, catching him full in the side of the face, right below his eye. He bounced off the wall of the house next to us and went down hard.

“God, dude!” he whined, sprawled on the ground, both hands on his face. “What the hell was that for?”

“My leg, those fire spells, pulling that knife on me, lying about the drugs. Take your pick.” I started to walk away, shaking my hand and rubbing the knuckles-they never show it in the movies, but it hurts to hit someone like that. A lot.

“You are messed up, dude!” he called after me. “No wonder they booted you off the freakin’ force.”

I turned to face him, walking backwards out of the alley. My hands were shaking. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I’d hit him; I hadn’t intended to. The best I can say in my own defense is that weremystes start to do strange things-stupid things-around the time of the full moon.

I suppose that could have been why Robby was throwing magic around like he was determined to set the city on fire. No myste was immune from the phasing. But I wasn’t going to let him think I had any sympathy for him. “If I find out you’ve been lying to me, this’ll seem like a picnic.” I glared at him for a moment more, then left the alley.

“Hey, Fearsson!” I heard Robby call. “Fuck you!”

A few people stared as I walked by, but I ignored them. My hand and leg were throbbing and I didn’t have much to show for my effort. I knew a bit more about Claudia, and I knew for certain that her drugs had come from Robby. I’d been hoping, though, that I would be able to connect Robby to the East Side Parks Killer. I should have known better. After all this time, leads in this case wouldn’t come so easily.

As I approached the Z-ster, I was racking my brain, trying to think of other ways to tie Robby to past victims.

I was in the middle of the street when I felt it. Instinct. Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. I spun around, pulling my weapon free as I did. Nothing. Sure, there were a few people milling around in their yards, looking at me as if I were crazy. But I had been certain that someone was about to take a shot at me, and there was no one.

I took a breath, started to holster my Glock. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. There might not be a gunman, but someone was watching me, and it sure as hell wasn’t my guardian angel. I held on to my weapon until I was in the Z-ster with the engine running. Even then, I eased the car away from the curb, scanning the yards and houses as I drove. Only when I was out of Robby’s neighborhood did I begin to relax. Still, I took special care to see that I wasn’t followed as I headed back to my office.

I had calmed down by the time I got back to Chandler, though I remained watchful as I made my way up to my office. Emerging from the brick stairway, I saw a woman standing by my door, and before I knew it, I was reaching for my Glock again.

“Mister Fearsson,” she said.

I let my hand fall to my side and walked toward her, my steps deliberate. I even went so far as to take off my sunglasses. Still, it took me several seconds to recognize her.

“You’re the blogger,” I said, stopping in front of her

She smiled. “That’s right. Billie Castle.”

“Miss Castle, of course. Forgive me for not recognizing you right away.”

“It’s all right. I hope I didn’t alarm you.”

“No, I. .” I held up my hands. “Never mind.” I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing here?”