Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
On the way back from the encampment, I texted Dante. “Do you think your Aunt Tilly might want to take on a community project for homeless soldiers?”
He called me, so I put the phone on hands-free mode. I told him about the encampment. “They need health care, given some of the old soldiers are too frightened or paranoid to go to the VA hospital. Or any hospital, really. I was thinking Tilly might point some of her charity work their way?”
“I’ll call her right now. I’m pretty sure she’ll go for the idea.”
“There’s a woman there name Patricia. Tragic story, but she’d be a good liaison between the camp and the doctors.”
“I’ll put in a call right away.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling that—at the least—I’d tried to do something.”
Next, I stopped at the police station and asked for Destiny. She was our main contact with the police and she worked near the office.
Destiny was a tall black woman, sturdy—with pretty features and a gentle demeanor. We were always cautious about how much we asked of her. The last thing we wanted was to get her in hot water. Most PI agencies had a connection with a cop or two, and they acted as unofficial liaisons.
Destiny was no longer a first responder. She had been promoted to detective with the investigation bureau, and now she did more thorough investigative work into all sorts of crimes.
She was at her desk when the receptionist buzzed me through, after an officer patted me down.
I was on the approved list of visitors, but they still wanted to make certain I wasn’t bringing a weapon into the office.
They couldn’t do anything about my powers, but then again—they didn’t really know about them, and I aimed to keep it that way.
After handing over my dagger and getting a receipt for it, they let me go back.
I wove my way through the desks, finally coming to one near the back. Destiny was sitting there, staring at a pile of photos and a thick file folder. She looked up as I appeared.
“Kyann—hello, it’s been awhile,” she said, waving me over to her desk. “Sit down.”
I caught sight of a photo that looked pretty grim—blood and brain splatters all over the concrete. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever seen, by far, but neither was it picture-pretty.
I grimaced. “Oh, lovely.”
She didn’t bother covering the photo. She knew I’d seen worse. “Hit and run, but I think it was actually murder. Anyway,” she said, pushing the files aside, “what can I do for you? Are you here about Dante’s stalker? I just got off the phone with him.”
“No, but what do you think? Can he get a restraining order?”
“Yes, and he should. I’ve given him the rundown on how to apply for one. I’ve also told him to send me a list of all the documented problems she’s caused. I’ll take an unofficial look into her background. So, if you’re not here about that, what do you need?”
“Have you ever heard of Give A Hand Up ?” I might as well start with checking on their background to see if they were suspected of anything.
Destiny narrowed her brow. “ Give A Hand Up ? That name sounds familiar. Let me see what I can find out.” She turned to her computer.
A moment later, she snorted. “Right. They’re one of those do-gooder organizations who are nonprofits in name only.
I don’t have anything specific I can tell you, except that there have been five calls on them for nuisance complaints.
They go door to door, soliciting money for their group and they use intimidation and guilt to pressure people to give them donations.
And it looks…I don’t have time to look in-depth, but I think they’ve been around for awhile, though under different names. ”
“Intimidation? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Oh, this isn’t anything as clearcut as a threat.
The reports from complainants can’t specify exactly why they felt intimidated.
They say that they felt that if they didn’t donate, they’d be in trouble.
The group also uses guilt trips as a weapon— you have such a nice house , don’t you feel bad about being so well off while so many of our population are hurting , if you ate dinner you’re lucky so think about those who don’t have food.
” Destiny leaned back in her chair. “We’ve given them a number of warnings, and they backed off.
At least, we haven’t had any more complaints since then.
It’s been a while since they’ve been in our radar.
Why? Have they been canvassing your neighborhood? ”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Before I answer that, can you run a background check on a Greg Swift? He’s a veteran, on the spectrum.”
Destiny glanced around, but nobody was listening. She quickly typed his name into her computer. A moment later, she shrugged. “A couple vagrancy warnings. Nothing major—no red flags. It looks like he’s homeless.”
“Yeah, he lives in the Soldiers of Misfortune encampment.” I sighed, then rested my elbows on her desk. “My goblin buddy Benny—you know him, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, unfortunately I do.”
“Well, he and Greg are friends. They meet once a week to eat lunch and play checkers. Benny apparently takes him food, so chalk one good deed up to the little runt. Anyway, Greg’s gone missing.
He’s been gone for two weeks. I went out to the encampment today to look around for him and word is that he was getting involved with the Give A Hand Up organization.
I’m trying to find out if he’s all right, to put Benny’s mind to rest.”
“Unless a friend or family member reports someone as missing, there’s not much we can do officially. But I’ll poke around,” Destiny said.
“Thanks. I expect he’s moved on, except the woman I spoke to at the encampment said Greg’s been there a long time.
They’re his people. And when Benny’s worried over something, I tend to pay attention.
So much flies past him, so when he actually notices something amiss, it’s generally a good idea to check it out.
” I stood. “Thanks, Destiny. I appreciate your time.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “I’ll call you if I find out anything—or even if I run into a brick wall.”
As I left the precinct, it occurred to me that being an actual cop would be hard. So many rules and regulations to tie your hands. I preferred my own business, where I made the decisions. I headed back to the office to finish up for the day.
* * *
Dante was waiting for me, along with Sophia. Carson had left for the day—his grandfather needed a ride to the doctor, and his sister Maya’s car had broken down.
“Any word from Orik yet?” I asked the moment I walked through the door.
“Hilda’s still in labor, but she’s dilated nine centimeters, so it shouldn’t be much longer. Orik said he’d text us when the girls get here.” Sophia pushed back her chair. Her computer was still on. “So, what’s the news on Benny’s friend?”
“No good leads. At least, I don’t think so. But I do have one possibility and I’ll set you and Carson to researching it tomorrow. What about our potential client?” I asked.
Dante nodded. “His name is Konstantine Crow, and he’s got a really spooky case. Haunted house, dangerous ghost…I told him we could come out tomorrow and look around. We’re scheduled to be there at ten AM. He lives over in the Eleena District.”
Great. The Eleena District, near the Redmond Watershed Preserve, was one of the oldest and most haunted neighborhoods on the Eastside. When somebody mentioned haunted houses, locals automatically thought of the Eleena District.
“Sounds good. All right, let’s head out for the day. I hope those babies arrive safely.” I slung my purse over my shoulder. “Sophia, did you ever want kids?” I asked as we stood outside the door as she armed the security code.
She shook her head as we headed for the stairwell.
“No, I knew long ago that I wasn’t cut out for children.
When I was in service to the Oracles, I actually caught a glimpse of my future, should I have any.
There would have been far too much loss—I would have had a son and things would not have gone well for him. ”
“You were able to see your own future?” Dante asked, pushing open the stairwell door.
“Yes. I saw clearly that he would have caused pain and heartbreak to so many people. I couldn’t handle the thought of going through that, or of my bloodline causing such harm.
” She gave a little shrug. “So I decided to save myself the pain, and to save other people their lives. I prefer my dogs. Their lives are too short, but they provide so much joy, and Romy and Remy fill that need to nurture. Well, and Coco now.”
Romy and Remy were Poms. And Coco, a shih tzu she had recently adopted, fit right in with them. The three ran around like a yappy group of thugs.
We said goodbye in the parking lot—Dante was having dinner with his Aunt Tilly, Sophia had a date, and I—I just wanted to get home.
* * *
Penn was waiting for me. She had set the table with candlesticks and proper placemats and napkins.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked, smiling. The ambience was lovely, and it made coming home a relief from the day.
“I decided to try my hand at Beef Wellington,” she said. “It came out perfectly. And I’m not going to all that trouble just to eat in front of the television.”
I laughed. “Been watching Hell’s Kitchen again, have you?”
Penn snorted. “Maybe… What of it?” She pointed to the table. “We eat in ten minutes. Go get washed up.”
I washed up, then stopped to greet Murdoch and Jangles, who were snuggled together on the cat tree.
“You two love each other now, don’t you?
I’m so glad.” I kissed them both on the head, and they lazily squeaked at me.
At the other end of the living room, Mr. Crumbles gave out a shriek, then a whistle. “You too, Mr. Crumbles. Hello!”
“Crum-crum-crumbles!” he said back to me. Penn had taught him several new words lately.