Viper Moon (27 page)

I’d been in the interrogation rooms uptown at Central numerous times over the years. It wasn’t bad there: windows, modern equipment, cameras, and tape recorders. The Fourteenth Precinct room looked like something straight out of the Barrows. Industrial gray walls, torn linoleum flooring, a rickety table, and two folding chairs, all coated with the faint scent of chlorine bleach. No cameras, no mirror, no tape recorder, only Righteous Robert, Brunner, and little old me—and strictly against police procedure as I understood it.

“Sit.” Robert pointed at a chair.

Brunner grinned.

Let the battle begin. “I gotta go pee.”

“Tough shit.” Robert smirked and hiked his pants up. Polyester didn’t do well with a heavy gun on the belt. He’d have been better off with a shoulder holster.

I shrugged. “No shit. Just pee. But it’s okay, I guess. If I wet the floor, you can send Bummer for a mop.”

Robert bared his clenched teeth. “Take her across the hall,” he ordered Brunner.

I went into the bathroom and Brunner stood outside the door. No windows, so he knew I couldn’t escape. When I came out, Flynn and Insky stood at the end of the hall, and I waved at them. I also nodded cheerfully at Brunner. “Thanks, Bruno.”

He drew a breath through clenched teeth. My potty break killed ten minutes, though I didn’t know why I felt it was important to stall. Rescue wasn’t likely.

I sat across the table from Robert in a chair that tilted to one side. Uncomfortable, because it made me constantly compensate for being off balance. Brunner stood against the wall as Robert sat across from me.

Robert leaned back and his chair creaked. If he landed on his ass, he’d probably blame me for that, too.

“So.” Robert gave me his smug bastard smile. “Tell me about the guns.”

“Whole warehouse full. Pretty cool, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“The gun fairy? It’s too early for Santa Claus.”

“You know, I’m trying to be nice to you.” Robert didn’t look nice. He didn’t even look smug anymore. His mouth was thin and tight, and his eyes narrow with deep wrinkles etched across his face. Such an angry, bitter man.

“What’s the problem, Robert? Other than the fact that I’m an unwashed heathen female. Or is it pagan? I get my prejudices mixed up sometimes.”

“The Lord could turn your heart if you ask him to.” He relaxed, leaned forward, and laid his hands flat on the table as if he was ready to slap them together in prayer if given a sign. Calm, patient, saintly Robert, ready for the sermon.

Nice. We could have a theological discussion instead of a loud conversation on guns.

I laid my hands on my thighs and kept them out of sight under the table. “I’m satisfied with my religion.”

“Worshiping the devil.”

“Oh, for—” Now that pissed me off. “What makes you think I’m into devil worship? You had me followed for weeks. You bugged my apartment, illegally—”

“I was doing the Lord’s work. Witches, sacrifices—I know you.” He lowered his voice. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I’ve seen. The Bible says, ‘Yea, they sacrificed their sons and their daughters unto devils.’ ”

Oops! Righteous Robert must have been snooping in the Barrows and something scared the shit out of him. He neared the line between reality and its opposite. Brunner squirmed as if he wanted to be somewhere—anywhere—else but in the room with Robert and me.

“Describe it,” I said. “What did you see?”

“Evil demons. You consort with them.”

“Which ones? The four-legged ones with rhino skin or the ape boys with the balls that hang down to their knees?”

Robert’s face turned as gray and pasty as overcooked oatmeal. A little drool ran from the corner of his mouth. Brunner inched toward the door.

We all face God eventually, each in our own way. I’d studied his Bible and respected his beliefs. I didn’t respect him. Robert Krause used the police power of the state to force his values on everyone.

Robert slowly stood, jammed his fists on the table, and leaned forward. I slipped my hand into my jeans pocket and found my only reasonable defense: the bottle of potion Abby had given me to make Hammer talk.

“Get out, Brunner,” Robert ordered.

No cameras, no one-way glass, no witnesses. I thumbed the cork off the bottle.

“But I’m supposed to stay.” Brunner, for all his stupidity, knew where the line was drawn.

“Get out!” Robert shouted.

Brunner raced to the door, opened it, and rushed out. I had only a few seconds before someone realized something bad was going to happen and maybe they should intervene. I nudged Nirah. I wouldn’t let her bite him, of course. He was a scummy excuse for a human being, but he stood five stories above Pogo or Snag.

“Here’s one for you, Robert. Psalm 140, Verse 3: ‘They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders’ poison is under their lips.”’ I flipped the bottle’s contents at him with a quick snap of my wrist—a direct hit in the face.

Robert’s eyes popped open. He jerked back, gasped, and sucked the liquid in. Nirah surged up from the pouch in my shirt, so I stood and leaned forward as she swayed inches from his face. She hissed and bared her fangs. Little snake made a lot of noise.

Robert froze. His body trembled as if she’d actually bitten him.

Nirah slid back into her pocket and I stuffed the potion bottle back into mine. I scooted back from the table and jammed myself into the corner. I tried for a horrified but innocent expression as the door burst open and Flynn rushed in, followed by Insky. Brunner hovered in the hallway.

Robert straightened. He gazed around him like a sinner surprised to find himself in heaven. Abby brewed the potion to persuade Hammer to talk, but as with any medicine, each individual could have a different reaction.

Robert hiccupped twice. The corners of his mouth twisted up in a sappy grin. He cocked his head and stared at me. “Your hair’s red.”

“Yep.” Great Mother, what a show.

Robert frowned. “She had red hair, too. I didn’t mean to, but it was so nice. She wanted . . .”

Whoa! This was great. I grinned at him. “What did she want, Robert?”

Robert’s face clouded with a dreamy expression. “She wanted me to kiss her down there. It was red there, too.”

Oh, boy. The bastard had made Abby’s life hell for almost two months, hauling her downtown for “questioning” once a week. I had had the honor of a ride downtown for what seemed like every other day. Vengeance stood before me.

“Who’s ‘she’?” I asked.

“Cass!” Flynn threw his hands up in dismay.

Insky laughed—loud.

“What?” I laughed, too. “I want to know the brave female who had the guts to want his mouth on her,” I said to Flynn.

“She kissed me down there, too,” Robert offered. He sighed while the silly grin remained pasted on his face.

Flynn grabbed my arm. He lowered his voice. “How long will he be like this?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Couple of days. He’ll be fine.”

Flynn sighed. “Insky. Lieutenant Krause seems to have become incapacitated. Will you take him somewhere to recover?”

“Where? Down to Central? They’d get a kick out of this.”

“No. Get him out of here before he says too much. Maybe the emergency room.”

Flynn dragged me out the door and down the sickly fluorescent-lighted hall.

“Can I see the serpent again?” Robert called after me. We passed a frowning Brunner, but he didn’t try to stop us.

“What about my statement?” I asked.

“Later. He’s the only one who wanted it anyway.” Flynn urged me on down the hall and out the door into the blast furnace.

“What serpent?” Flynn asked as we left the building. I pulled my shirt out and peeked inside. “You did good, baby.”

Nirah stuck her head out of the pocket and flicked her tongue at Flynn.

“Oh, shit, Cass. What am I going to do with you?”

I didn’t want to know the answer to that question. “Where’s your junker?” Flynn asked. He kept a good three feet of distance between us.

“Probably at Abby’s by now. I left it at the Archangel and Michael said he’d have it moved. Michael was going to take me to the Lace Curtain for supper, only I didn’t get to eat because you called. Did you know he owns the Princess Lily, too?”

“No, I didn’t know that. If he owns so much real estate, what’s he doing in the Barrows?”

“Good question. A short answer would be that the Barrows is his home. I expect the real answer is a bit more complicated.” I stepped closer to him and he moved back, a pained expression on his face.

“It’s okay, Flynn. I understand. You don’t owe me anything. I’ll find Selene. What cop needs a girlfriend who consorts with serpents and gangsters, carries an illegal weapon—”

“This cop does.” He snarled the words between his teeth. “He just can’t show it right here and now. Robert’s followers make up half the cops at the Fourteenth. We can’t find Selene if we’re both under surveillance.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Damn, damn! Misjudged him again. I had to be careful with my assumptions about the man. He was not predictable. Nice. I would probably never be bored with his company. “Are you coming to Abby’s tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because if you do, I’ll kiss you ‘down there.’ ”

Flynn laughed. “You hold that thought, sweetheart.”

Maybe he was getting used to me. Or maybe he didn’t want to dig too deeply into the fact that I’d admitted spending the last few hours with Michael. My joy that I hadn’t chased him away carried a shadow. What would happen to us once this was all over? He flagged down a cab and paid for my ride to Abby’s house.

“What did you do to Robert?”

I explained, “He’s the way Hammer should have been.” He nodded. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

When I arrived, I found a shiny silver gray Mercedes sedan in the driveway and Carlos Dacardi sitting at Abby’s kitchen table.

Abby didn’t seem upset by the presence of Duivel’s crime boss in her kitchen. She seemed quite pleased with his company. She sat at the table with a smile on her face while the scent of cambria flower tea filled the air. Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise, though, given his affinity for his grandmother and her magic. Not many people understood the nature of such things, and Abby had few peers.

“Where you been?” Dacardi asked.

I sat at the table across from him. “The Barrows, the Princess Lily, Fourteenth Precinct station . . . Hey, Abby, did you know Krause is back in action?”

Abby sighed. “It had to happen eventually. He’s not exactly a criminal, just a poor, misguided man.” She nodded at Dacardi. “Unlike your new friend.”

Dacardi grinned and winked at me. “She must be psychic.”

“He’s not a friend.” I had to object to that one. “He’s a client.”

“Yeah.” Dacardi laughed this time. “Your client wants to show you something. Go for a ride with me.” He made it an order, not a request.

Whatever he wanted to show me was relevant, though, if only because he wasn’t a man who would waste time on the irrelevant.

A funny growling noise drew my attention as I stood. A plastic pet carrier sat in the corner, Horus glared at me from the cage door. He hooked his impossibly long claws in the wire and growled again.

“Now what?” I resigned myself to a recital of feline bad behavior.

Abby made a wry face in Horus’s direction. “He raped Mrs. Cochin’s Siamese. A remarkable feat since she—the Siamese, not Mrs. Cochin—has been spayed. And I don’t think it was actually rape since she—the Siamese again—followed him when he ran away. Joyce Bulworth’s poodle objected to a cat trespassing in his yard and dear Horus chewed off half his ear.”

Dacardi chuckled.

“He’s a lover and a fighter,” I said, not altogether displeased.

“He’s also a glutton,” Abby said. Her voice now held a note of amusement. “He tore a hole in the Baxleys’ screen door, helped himself to a meat loaf, opened the birdcage on Liz Harmon’s back porch, and devoured not one but all three of her blue budgies.”

Poor Horus. An urban survivalist feline, he remained true to his nature. Forbidden to stalk and kill in Abby’s yard, he released his frustration by terrorizing the neighborhood. Abby was an immovable object, though. “I guess you’re grounded, cat. Maybe she’ll let you out for good behavior in a day or two.”

Horus growled again.

I went downstairs and changed. I’d let Nirah loose in the yard, so I didn’t need the pocket shirt. This time I’d take my gun and knife. I didn’t have a jacket to cover the gun here, so I settled for a thin nylon Windbreaker.

The late-afternoon temperature outside hovered above ninety, but Dacardi had the thermostat in the Mercedes on refrigerate, and I had to draw my jacket tight around me before we’d gone a mile.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw a folded piece of paper at me.

I picked it up, but I knew what it was before I opened it. Michael’s reward poster. Michael had seriously screwed up my hunt.

Dacardi probably knew more than he let on, so the truth was in order—at least part of it. “Someone is interfering.”

“That fucker at the exercise place.” He made it a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Why? He got the hots for you? Or you got something on him?”

“Michael likes me. That’s all.” I tried to keep my voice even. I didn’t want to discuss a complex situation I couldn’t understand or control. “I informed him of his error circulating those things.”

Dacardi made a smooth turn onto River Street. “I offered a reward for my boy. Got nothing.”

“You offered a reward in your world. Michael offered in the Barrows. That’s his turf. Big difference.”

“You think it’ll work?” He steered with one hand. His other, clenched into a fist, beat out a steady rhythm on his thigh. Flynn had been able to release some of his worry for Selene by talking to me. For the crime boss, revealing his true feelings could be deadly for him and his family.