Greywalker - Kat Richardson [72]
He gave me a Cheshire-cat smile. “Don’t hesitate to call.”
I bought him a cup of coffee—more because I needed one than because he wanted one—and he gave me his bill and explained the system to me. We disarmed and armed it twice, just to make sure.
“Thanks, Quinton. Could you drive the car up to Queen Anne with me?”
“Sure, if you’ll answer a question for me. What’s with the dirt?”
“Dirt?”
“Yeah. The trunk has an inch-thick layer of dirt in it under a blanket. I had to move it to run some of the wires. So I ask you—who keeps dirt in their trunk?”
“Someone who’s very eccentric.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me, but didn’t argue.
We drove up to the Danzigers’ house and I asked Quinton to wait in the Rover. Ben answered my knock.
“I brought Cam’s car,” I explained, pointing it out and offering him the keys. “How’s he doing?”
“Uh, fine, I guess. No problems last night and he seems to be . . . asleep. You just missed Mara. She had a faculty meeting this morning.”
“That’s all right. Did you stay up all night? I don’t see those jackass ears you swore Mara would curse on you if you did.”
“No, no, she was fine with it, but . . . Look, Harper, there are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Anything drastic?”
“No, but there’s something really weird going on. Mara said something about ripples. She’s afraid things worse than the guardian may be attracted to you.”
“Make my morning, Ben. Am I in danger this second?”
“She didn’t think so.”
“Then it’ll have to wait.”
“It can wait a little,” Ben conceded.
I handed him Cameron’s keys. “OK. The little doodad on the key ring will disarm the alarm. Make sure you tell Cameron about it when you give him the keys or he’ll set off the alarm and your neighbors will be all over you. I’ll call you when I’m free,” I added.
Ben looked bemused, but I couldn’t take time to chat with him while Quinton was giving me the hairy eyeball from my own front seat.
On the way back, Quinton frowned at me for the first five blocks.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“About what?”
“Just got a bad feeling about this situation.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Call it a prejudice of mine. I just don’t like your boy, I guess. Bugs me a bit to see someone as nice as you get involved in things that are . . . creepy.”
“I can manage creepy just fine, Quinton. I work in Pioneer Square. I’ve seen plenty of creepy.”
He shrugged and went silent, but kept glowering all the way back.
I was glad when I was in my own office and Quinton had wandered off. Skulking about on business for the undead made me feel like a character in film noir, and Quinton’s comments about the creepiness of it all hadn’t made me feel any better. I was also wondering how I was going to write this up in my case notes.
Though I had found Cameron, I still had questions itching at my brain and an irresistible desire to scratch them, especially if I was going to take on Cameron’s proposal. I called the TPM corporate office and started digging to discover who had been using the condo during the dates Sarah stayed there. I finally found a real estate lawyer named Sweto with a chip on her shoulder that could have supported a couple of single-family residences with room for large backyards. We talked misconduct, lawsuits, and criminal charges, and it was no fault of mine if she got the impression we shared a profession.
“TPM has interests in many real estate ventures in the Seattle area,” she informed me. “In point of fact, we own the building and lease several suites in it back from the management firm for tax reasons. We also have investments in nonresidential commercial property and many other business ventures not related to real estate.”
“And who was using this particular suite at the time in question?”
As fast as she’d opened up, she clammed shut. “That information is privileged.”
“Oh, come on, Sweto. It’s not like I can’t find out.”
“I’m sorry. You won’t find out from me. Not unless you have a subpoena.”
“A what?”
“What sort of case was this again?”
“Misconduct.”
“Sorry. I can’t talk any