“Alibi for what?”
He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Tell me you’ve at least heard the sirens in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, all the cars those sirens belong to are currently parked a couple blocks away, in front of your shop. Your employee is dead on the sidewalk.”
The widow and I both gasped. “Which one?” I asked. “I have two now, besides Granuaile.”
“Some boy,” Hal muttered. “I didn’t get his name. A customer called 911.”
“Perry?” I said. “Perry’s dead?”
“Unless your other employee is also male, then it’s Perry.”
“Gods Below,” I breathed, piecing together the recent chain of events. “The brunette must have killed him while the blonde hit me at my house. Simultaneous strike. And then she joined the blonde on Roosevelt here because that was their getaway car.… Manannan Mac Lir take me for a fool.”
“Well, I could probably track them if you’d like; they can’t be far,” Hal offered. “I can’t fight, but I can take you to them.”
“No, no, I’ve got them.” I waved a hand to put him at ease. “I got the blond one’s hair. There’s no escape for her now, and the brunette will be with her, and the rest of them besides.”
“The rest of who?”
“I’ll explain. Just let me go get a towel.”
The widow offered to make us sandwiches, even though it was still midmorning. She offered us whiskey too, but we allowed that tea would be grand, since she clearly wanted so much to fix something for us. She busied herself in the kitchen while Hal and I sat in the living room to catch up. I knew Perry’s death would hit me hard later; right then I had to focus on making sure no one else got hurt because of me.
“I need to wrap this up tonight,” I said, once I’d recounted the events of the morning. “They’ve already killed Perry, and they tried to get Granuaile, and the widow—hell. I can’t let them keep taking shots at me and all my friends. And they’ve done other things to me, Hal; I ran into them decades ago. They need to go down. They deserve it, believe me.”
“I believe you,” he said. “What do you need from me?”
“Three things,” I said, ticking them off on my fingers. “First, I need the widow looked after until this is done. Do you think the Pack could keep an eye on her, since she knows about you all?”
Hal grimaced. “Gunnar won’t like it, but I’ll watch her myself if I have to,” he said.
“That’s going to be tough, because I need you for the second thing. Leif told me that the nonaggression treaty with the Sisters of the Three Auroras is ready to go. Could you do that with me now? Witness the signing?”
“Well, later this afternoon, certainly,” he said. “I’m due in court at one for a hearing with another client. And you should make a statement with the police in the meantime, because you can bet they’re going to want to talk to you about Perry.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Okay, we’ll do that next. Third thing is, arrange a better alibi for me tonight than killing time alone with Granuaile. I’ve been leaning on her too much, I think, and when the shit comes down tonight, I want something ironclad.”
Hal nodded. “All right. I’ll send a couple of reliable sorts over to kill time with her at your house. They’ll have a Lord of the Rings festival or something and testify you made the popcorn if necessary.”
“Oh, damn, that’s a good idea. I’d much rather do that than what I have to do.”
Hal made a couple of calls and arranged for one wolf to entertain the widow for the rest of the day and another three to join Granuaile at my house later that evening.
“Okay, let’s go talk to the cops,” I said, with a degree of insouciance I didn’t feel. I didn’t want to go at all, because the stark fact of Perry’s death was waiting for me there, and once I saw him I wouldn’t be able to compartmentalize his absence.
Hal flicked his eyes downward and raised his eyebrows. “In a towel?”
“I have a set of clothes and my cell phone on top of the shop. Just drive me up the alley and I’ll get them, no sweat.”
Hal rested his face in his hands. “Dare I ask why they’re up there?” he said through his fingers.
“I left them up there because I had to ditch that creepy Russian rabbi. Did you find anything out about him yet, by the way?”
“No.” Hal shook his head. “Still waiting to hear. We have someone good working on it, though.”
We waited until a member of Hal’s pack arrived to keep the widow company—it turned out to be Greta, who’d only just survived the fight in the Superstition Mountains. She looked askance at me standing there in nothing save a towel, but she made no comment.
“Take Mrs. MacDonagh for a nice drive out of town,” Hal suggested, pressing a hundred-dollar bill into Greta’s hand. “Bring her back in the morning, and we’ll have this window fixed up.”
“Oh, can we go to Flagstaff?” The widow clapped her hands in hopeful joy. “There’s a steak house up there what has singin’ waiters, and a fine wee wolf lady like yerself ought to be lovin’ some steak, am I right?”
Greta didn’t speak but looked meaningfully at Hal. He sighed and gave her more money, then beckoned me to come along to the car.
I bid farewell to the widow and assured her I’d have everything straightened out the next day.
“Oh, I know ye will, Atticus,” she said, and then a mischievous glint fired in her eyes. “Christmas isn’t all that far away, ye know. Would ye be likin’ a nice set of boxers this year?”
“Mrs. MacDonagh!” I said, embarrassed.
“What? Yer the sort that wears briefs, then? They make ’em in all sorts of fancy colors these days, y’know. When me Sean was alive ye got white or nothin’, but sure it breaks me heart t’see ye goin’ commando when ye don’t have to.”
“Going commando?” I exclaimed. Hal and Greta had tried at first to mask their amusement at this conversation, but now they were sniggering openly. “Where did you hear that?”
“The telly, o’course.” The widow looked up at me uncertainly, then glanced at the werewolves wiping tears from their eyes as they laughed. She got a little testy then, suspecting they might be laughing at her, and she explained with some heat, “I saw it on a rerun of Friends, when Joey wore Chandler’s clothes and did lunges while goin’ commando. Did I say it wrong?”
“No, you said it fine, but—oh, bugger.” It was becoming impossible to make myself heard over the howls of the werewolves. “Enjoy your time with Greta up in Flagstaff. Come on, Hal. And, hey, I’m not paying you to laugh at me.”
“Okay, okay, but you keep that thing on nice and tight,” he gasped, pointing at my towel. “I don’t want your na**d ass sitting on my leather seats.”
Chapter 20
Hal navigated his slick Z4 down the back alleys until he was only a building away from my shop, and he parked it in someone’s private space.
“Hang out in the back and I’ll toss everything down to you,” I said. “The cell phone will be first, so don’t drop it.”
“My reflexes aren’t that bad, Atticus,” Hal reminded me.
“Right. Shield your eyes, then,” I said, stepping out of the car and dropping my towel. “Naked Irish guy.”
“Aggh! I’m snow-blind!” Hal said. I flipped him the bird and then transformed into one, lifting myself with a dozen strokes to the top of my shop, where my clothes and phone lay precisely where I’d left them. Perched on the back edge of my store, I couldn’t see any of the police cars in the front, which meant they couldn’t see me either.
When Hal hissed up at me that he was in position, I carefully dropped my phone, jeans, and shirt down to him, and then one sandal at a time. I saved my underwear for last, just to make a point, and Hal very pointedly did not catch them. Oh well. I’d just have to go commando.
After checking my many missed calls, I punched up Granuaile’s number.
“Hey, sensei. Is the widow okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. But you’ve heard about Perry.”
“Yeah. It’s horrible. You’re going to get them back, though, right?”
“Yes, tonight. But right now I have to talk to the cops.”
“Okay, but before you do, can I just tell you one of the many reasons I love you?”
“Sure,” I said, recognizing her code for an incoming alibi.
“While we were watching Kill Bill: Two so that you could try to learn the Five-Point Palm Exploding-Heart Technique, your fly was open the entire time. It was adorable.”
“That’s right, ninjas don’t hold back, baby,” I said, trying and failing to impart some levity into my tone. I regretted the decision now to masquerade as a wannabe martial artist. It had been amusing at the time, but I didn’t feel like playing a part while trying to deal with Perry’s death.
“Thanks,” I said. “Some guys are coming over tonight for a Lord of the Rings festival.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s going to be great. You’d better get steaks out of the freezer, though. Big meat-eaters, those guys are.” We rang off and then I nodded to Hal. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”
Hal and I emerged from the alley next to my shop in time to see crime-scene photographers taking pictures of Perry’s body, sprawled faceup with one hand on his chest, a small pool of blood underneath his head where he’d cracked it on the cement.
I’ve seen a lot of dead people in my time. Looking at them gets easier when you’ve had as much practice as I’ve had. Kids still get to me, though—the innocent who never get a chance to choose whether they will take up swords or plowshares.
Perry had never been a swords kind of fella. The most violence he’d ever done was to his own earlobes, with those ridiculous silver gauges. But he’d never been a plowshares fella either; he never could remember the difference between chamomile and creosote, no matter how many times I explained that they were completely different plants.
She must have lured him outside somehow; she couldn’t have thrown that killing curse, whatever it was, inside my shop. Probably had no trouble either. Perry would have looked at the black leather and the bonanza of her bosom and stepped right out to ask how he could help.
I didn’t have to pretend to be upset when Detective Geffert spotted me. I should have seen this coming. The divination had even warned me that death approached one of my male friends, but I had interpreted that as Oberon rather than Perry.
“Mr. O’Sullivan,” Detective Geffert said, walking briskly over to where Hal and I were standing. I didn’t make any sign that I’d heard him, because I couldn’t take my eyes off Perry.
“Mr. O’Sullivan,” Geffert tried again, “God knows how you must feel right now, but I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
It was a surprisingly considerate approach. I’d half-expected him to be belligerent and suspicious.
“Go ahead,” I said woodenly.
“Begging your pardon, Detective,” Hal interrupted, “but you’re with homicide, aren’t you? On what basis have you decided that this is a homicide?”
“We won’t be able to make that determination until we get the coroner’s report,” Geffert admitted, “but we’re collecting evidence and taking statements just in case. Due diligence, you know.” Hal nodded curtly and subsided, and the detective turned back to me. “Mr. O’Sullivan, where were you this morning before you arrived here?”
“I was at home,” I said. “With my girlfriend. Watching Kill Bill: Two.”
“Is she still there, at your house?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get your home phone number changed? We’ve been calling there using the number in our files for some time now, and no one’s answered.”
“I never answer. It’s always telemarketers on the other end.” My voice had all the richness of expression of a cement block.
“Don’t you normally work on days like this?”
“Normally, yes. But I was planning on going out to the Superstitions today, so Perry was going to open the store.”
“How’d you hear about what happened here?”
“Hal dropped by.” I jerked my head.
“And how’d you hear about it, Mr. Hauk—did I remember correctly?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Hal replied, then explained, “We have a police radio in the office. When I heard my client’s address mentioned, I naturally came to investigate.”
“I see.” Geffert took a moment to catch up with his notes in a small handheld pad, then returned to questioning me.
“How long did the victim work for you?”
“More than two years. I’d have to look up the exact hire date if you want that.”
“Was he a dependable employee?”
“The very best.”
“Did he have any enemies that you know of, any trouble outside work at all?”
I shook my head. “He was a quiet dude. If he had troubles, he never showed it.”
“How about at work—was there any friction with you, or another employee, maybe a regular customer?”
“He and I got along like peanut butter and jelly. Can’t speak for anyone else.”