Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society, R.D. Hunter [good english books to read txt] 📗

the others can do?” she asked, referring to the women in their social club coven?

“Just keep your ears open. Whoever did this just come into a lot of power and they probably won’t wait too long to try it out. Spread the word.” She nodded.

“Will do. And if there’s anything else you need, please let us know. We may not be as large or as powerful as the Gilded Moon, but we take care of our own. And, if necessary, we’ll avenge them.”

A change came over her as she said those words. No longer was she the heavily made up, innocent, little blond girl, grieving for her friend. She was a witch, with access to the magical forces that permeated our universe…and she was hurting and pissed. I had no doubt that, if it came to it, she’d find and reap her own kind of justice. Which meant I had to work even faster.

We said our goodbyes at the door and I went back to my car. I’d barely gotten in and closed the door before my phone rang. It was Bill.

“Hey, Partner. Got anything?” I asked hopefully.

“You mean besides and aching back, sour tummy and a winning disposition?”

“Wait a second; what kind of grown man refers to their stomach as a ‘tummy’?”

“The same kind that has some info for you, if you’re interested,” he replied teasingly.

“I stand corrected, Tummy-man. Whatcha got?” There was a rustle of papers in the background as he found his notes.

“The ninth detailing place I spoke to recalled working on a black Lexus a few months back. The technician remembered because the guy paid all in cash, and included a bonus if he didn’t mind working with tint that was way darker than the thirty-two percent allowed by law.”

“What a bad boy,” I mused. “Crime of the century, right there. I don’t suppose he got his contact details, did he?”

“Just a tag number.”

“Is it legit?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he answered, causing my heart to beat a little faster with excitement. “It comes back to a Lexus sedan owned by Darren Hawkins, with a business address right here in Atlanta. And guess what? The guy’s a licensed private investigator; works in the lower East side.”

“Shut the front door!” I said in astonishment.

There were about two dozen private investigation firms inside the city limits. Most were fairly professional. Some even owned and operated by retired cops. But there were more than a few who had watched too many detective shows as a kid, and knew next to nothing about privacy laws or evidence procurement. Judging from the fact that this Darren Hawkins worked on his own out of a little office downtown, I assumed he was the latter.

“Meet you there?” Bill asked, pleased that his research had borne fruit.

“I’ll bring the Rolaids.”

“Make sure they’re berry flavored. I hate mint.”

“Beggars and choosers, Bill. Beggars and choosers.”

Hawkins Investigations was headquartered in a small, two story brick building that, according to the front sign, shared offices with a personal injury attorney who guaranteed at least a five-thousand-dollar payout, a life coach who promised to change the way you’ve been perceiving yourself, and a fortune teller who advertised a direct line to the hereafter. I knew the last one had about as much magic in her as a wooden post, and I was guessing the others were about as reputable and reliable as she was, but I wasn’t here to throw stones.

Bill and I arrived at the same time, and I threw him a pack of Rolaids across the car. They were mint. He looked at me steadily and I shrugged.

“It was all they had,” I said defensively. He popped a couple in his mouth, then came over to me.

“What happened?” he asked, looking at my face. Crap! Thanks to Beth’s working, the swelling under my eye had almost gone away. I should have known that “almost” wouldn’t be enough to fool Bill Perkins.

“It’s nothing,” I said with a shrug. “A woman didn’t like my thread of inquiry and decided to do something about it. It ended badly…for her.” Bill frowned deeply.

“I don’t like this, Mel. You should have let me come along.” I sighed and shifted me weight uncomfortably.

“Bill, will you relax. I handled it. She isn’t going to file a report or make any trouble for us.” He looked at me for several seconds, astonishment playing over his smooth features.

“Is that what you think I’m worried about?” he asked. “Having a complaint filed on me? Christ, Melanie, you went off on your own to gather background intel, refused to tell me where you were going, then turn up looking like a pair of freight trains took turns running over you. What am I supposed to think here?”

“That I was doing my job,” I answered hotly. “That I can take care of myself and use good judgment in the field.”

“Then start showing it! Don’t be running off into a potentially hazardous situation without telling anybody where you are or what you’re doing.”

I stood there in silence. Usually, when someone yells at me, I yell back twice as loud and three times as long. But Bill wasn’t just anybody. He was my partner. And I’d never seen him so much as raise his voice at a suspect during an interrogation. The fact that he was doing it to me now told me I’d really screwed up.

He took several deep breaths before continuing. When he did, his voice was measured and calm again.

“Look, I’m not the Lieutenant. I have every respect in the world for your abilities and accomplishments. But until you solve this case, you’re still on probation. Which means you’re my responsibility. I’m willing to allow you every freedom in the world to tackle this investigation your way, but you have to keep me in the loop. Fair?”

He