Entombed Page 2
Elliot nodded and moved into the living room, pointing to the corner of the room. “May I?” When Marin nodded, he opened up a small liquor cabinet. “What can I get you?”
“Whiskey,” Marin said.
Since Marin didn’t get drunk—not that Jack had ever seen—he could hardly give her grief about drinking on the job.
Elliot poured three whiskeys, and after he’d distributed them, he said, “I’m sure you have questions.”
“Why are we here? Just to begin with,” Jack said as he eyed his whiskey. He skipped over the fact that their meeting wasn’t for another few hours, and tried to forget how much he’d like to shower. The man was paying them a lot of money to have the conversation that was about to take place. He set the drink on a side table. Enough money that he owed the guy a clear head.
“A lot of weird things have been happening.” Elliot looked uncomfortable. “You read about the rats and the birds?”
“You didn’t bring us out here to figure out some weird bird migration problem. We’re hardly ornithologists.”
Elliot took a sip of his whiskey, swallowed, and after a stout pause, said solemnly, “I have a girlfriend.”
And that was when Jack closed his eyes and kissed his fat check goodbye. He’d gotten out of the regular PI business because he hated domestic cases. He swore he’d never do another cheating spouse or divorce prep case again.
A sharp jab to his ribcage made him grunt—and it also made him open his eyes.
Elliot stared at him, looking just as love-struck and miserable as Jack thought he would.
“Lila’s disappeared. And not just dodging my calls. I swear something hinky is going on.”
“Hinky?” Jack asked, his curiosity piqued. He couldn’t help it—if the woman was missing, it might mean this wasn’t a domestic case.
“Hinky. You know, weird. Your kind of weird.” Elliot finished off his whiskey and set the glass down. “I know what you’re thinking: that she dumped me. But it’s more than that. She had a job, and she just stopped showing up. Didn’t give notice, nothing. And her friends, they haven’t seen her. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not some crazy stalker guy. She didn’t skip town to get away from me.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. If ever there was a claim that was hard to believe, it was the overzealous boyfriend jumping up and down, shouting, “Not a stalker.”
“Look, check with her friends.” Elliot poured himself a second drink. “And I’m happy to consider the job complete if you can provide some evidence that she’s safe. You don’t need to tell me where she is to get paid, just that she’s safe. That’s all I care about.”
“Fair enough,” Jack said. “Have you reported your suspicions to the local authorities?”
Elliot nodded. “And the embassy. Lila is an American citizen. They’ve all been completely useless. She’s not my spouse, so I’m not sure how seriously they’re taking my reports.”
Jack glanced at Marin. Being an American citizen put a new spin on the equation, made her more of a target.
“You haven’t received a ransom demand?” Marin asked.
“No. But…”
“What? What’s the problem?” Jack gave him a probing look. “If you want our help, you need to tell us everything.”
“Right, of course.” Elliot squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them and took a breath. “I’m not sure if I’d be on the radar as someone who would pay a ransom. We’ve only been dating for a few months.”
Marin quirked an eyebrow. In dragon time, that was about two seconds. But Jack had to agree: how well did Elliot know this woman? How well could he know her in that amount of time?
Jack swallowed a groan. And he’d been so hopeful about clearing enough for his property taxes. Elliot was an honest guy; that much Marin and he learned when they’d dealt with him before. In this moment—sitting in a nice hotel that didn’t appear to strain the guy’s finances, knowing how much the payout was for even taking the case, not to mention the likely bonus if they were successful—it was pretty damn difficult to remember that Elliot wasn’t the kind of guy Jack could take advantage of.
He liked to sleep at night. Sleeping was good. Dammit.
“Look, Elliot…you don’t really know this girl. Not after a month or two. She’s probably just skipped town. People have pasts that catch up with them, especially people who choose to live abroad. And Marin and I…we’re not that kind of PI. And what you’re offering to pay? Man, you could get someone local for a lot less.” Jack repeated it like a mantra: I like to sleep at night. “We can’t take your money.”
“See, I knew you’d be this way. Maybe we weren’t that serious, but we were dating. I knew her well enough to know that she loved Belize, and adored Corozal. She loved it here. She worked at a local expat bar part-time, and the rest of the time she wrote. She couldn’t do that in the states. It was a big deal to her to have time to write, but she wasn’t big enough to support herself on that income in the U.S.”
Jack kept waiting for Marin to weigh in, but she was showing surprising restraint. Jack eyed her soft features and gentle expression. And she was showing a lot of compassion.
Maybe she was possessed.
He turned his attention to Elliot. But the guy wasn’t coughing anything up, just cradling his refilled whiskey glass and looking like a lost puppy.
“Elliot, you had to have some reason to call us in,” Jack said. “Some reason you thought we’d be able to help. And given the amount of money you’re offering us, some really good reason. Spit it out, man.” When Elliot still looked reluctant, Jack asked, “What’s the weird part? And forget the rodents.”
“A fortune-teller warned me.” Elliot winced. “I know: it sounds nuts. And I’m not even into them. It’s just, Lila was a big believer, so as soon as I reported her missing, I went by her shop. Not for advice. Just, you know, to see if Lila had said anything about leaving town. But this woman, she got all upset and started chanting and saying that a curse had fallen on Lila. She told me Lila was lost.”
“A fortune-teller,” Marin said without betraying any emotion. Jack knew exactly what she thought about fortune-tellers.
“Right. She’s an herbalist, florist, and a fortune-teller. Lila saw her regularly and trusted her.”
Elliot had an earnestness that was so genuine, so impossible not to believe, that Jack wanted to kick the guy. “So, this reliable fortune-teller says that your girlfriend has been cursed, and that led you to us?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. There is something else that has been happening—something that’s beyond just weird. There have been several strange deaths.” Elliot ran a hand through his hair. “None of it has hit the papers yet. It’s possible the local police are keeping it quiet for now because of the tourist trade. Tourism is a big part of the local economy.”
“Right.” Jack couldn’t help but feel a little skeptical. One death not making the papers was odd. More than one—especially if there was anything odd about the circumstances—he didn’t think so. “I still don’t see how that brings you to us.”
“Really? Who else would I call? Add all of the circumstances together and you can’t miss the weird.” Elliot raised his eyebrows. “That’s you guys, right? You guys are all about strange. Or are you still sticking to that laser story? Really? Lasers?”
Marin drew a deep breath, then expelled it with a look of annoyance. “He’s one of those.”
“Yeah.” Jack could hardly deny it; the conversation had already hit on dragons and curses, and more than hinted at magic.
“One of what?” Elliot asked.
Marin refilled her drink, glanced at Jack, and said, “There are two kinds of people running around in the world: the ones who deny and the ones who see.”
“She’s talking about magic,” Jack said, just in case there was any confusion.
“Ah. So you’re telling me that magic is a thing?” Elliot gave Jack a hard look. The guy wasn’t all squishy feelings
and earnest expressions.
“If you’re down with lasers that aren’t lasers, think that your crazy neighbor actually saw a dragon, and believe in curses—then do you really need to ask that question? She’s a dragon, and I’m an innocent bystander sucked into a magical world by circumstance and misfortune.”
Marin hacked out a cough that turned into a laugh. “More like by opportunism and brass balls.”
Jack watched Elliot’s gaze flick between the two of them. He didn’t seem to be wigging out over the Big Reveal. Not at all. In fact, he seemed pretty comfortable with the idea. He’d probably been noticing small things that didn’t add up his whole life. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if it was a relief to know that all those odd moments, strange feelings, and unexplainable memories fit into a tidy box marked magic. At least, that was how Jack had felt. At first—then it had gotten complicated.
Marin cleared her throat. “About the murders—why do you say they’re strange?”
“Right.” Elliot blinked and then set down his glass. He’d stopped sucking down gulps of whiskey since the magical reveal. “Two dead, and both victims were missing their liver and heart.”
“Yeah, that’s weird.” Marin got that pinched look, the one that meant she was pissed. “But just because there have been two deaths in the area, that doesn’t mean Lila’s disappearance is in any way connected. All we know is that she’s gone.”
She was full of all sorts of sympathy and optimism today. Or maybe she treated everyone but him like this.
“Right, Jack?” She patted Elliot on the shoulder.
“Ah, right.” What was he supposed to say? Because Jack was finally on board with the magical tie-in. Two victims with no heart or liver tipped the scales. “It’s possible Lila’s disappearance has no magical tie-in.” And despite the local deaths, the fortune-teller’s ravings, and the bizarre behavior of the local fauna, it was possible. But Jack was finding it less and less probable.
“But we’re taking the case, aren’t we, Jack?” Marin turned her scary dragon gaze on him. The one with the hint of glow in the depths of her eyes.
How could they not? And Jack could honestly say it wasn’t just about his property taxes. There was a hint of magic in the air, and those were the kind of cases they took. No local PI would be equipped to deal with magic in all its glory and gore.
“Sure, we’re taking the case. Now, tell me about this fortune-teller.”
Chapter Four
It turned out that though Elliot looked like a retired beach bum, he did work. He had several properties that he rented out and managed. He mumbled something about diversifying and multiple revenue streams, but the long and short was that he’d come by the hotel early because he had an appointment with a contractor that afternoon.
Which left Jack and Marin tracking down the fortune-teller on their own. Jack pulled out the scrap of paper with the address from his pants pocket.
“Don’t need that. I think we’ve found it.” Marin pointed to a brightly painted sign hanging above what appeared to be a flower shop.
A cheery, welcoming, very tourist-friendly flower shop.
“Not what I expected.” Jack watched a woman exit the shop with a paper-wrapped bouquet. An expat, if her straight, bright white teeth and American clothes were any indication. He matched his gait to Marin’s, slowing as they closed in on the store. “I’ve never asked, but since we’re about to walk in the door…what exactly is your issue with fortune-tellers?”
“No issue. I just hate scam artists.”
“Right. So you’re telling me that with all the magic floating around, there’s no spell, no magical talent, that lets people predict the future?”
Marin stopped in front of the shop door, a troubled look on her face, and said, “I don’t know. Maybe. I hope not.”
Then the moment passed, and she walked inside as if nothing was amiss.
Jack followed on her heels. If there was magic inside, he’d have to rely on Marin to spot it—or his handy specs. He pulled out his specially warded tortoiseshell glasses and put them on. They were supposed to let him see magic. They’d been reliable in the past, but he’d never scoped out a legit fortune-teller with them before.
The subtle scent of flowers surrounded him. It was pleasant, like walking through a garden in full bloom, not the overblown perfume smell that florist’s shops sometimes had. The store was filled with handmade goods ranging from jewelry to candles to small hand-carved figurines. There was more bric-a-brac and miscellaneous merchandise in the shop than there were flowers, hence the subdued fragrance.
A young woman sat behind the counter, and behind her were shelves of jars containing what appeared to be dried herbs.
“Can I help you?” the young woman asked.
Jack’s gaze moved from the jars to inspect her more closely. Her accent was American. “Yes, we’re looking for the fortune-teller, Iris.”
The woman had a pretty, heart-shaped face and a pointy chin, all framed by a dark, silky cap of curls. And when she tipped her head, it had the effect of doubling her charm. Jack had a strong desire to like this woman—which he found highly suspect. He didn’t like people on sight. Not usually.
And then she said, “How can I help you?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. His glasses hadn’t provided any hint of the glow or sparkle that indicated the presence of magic, and yet… “You’re Iris?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
On the way to the shop, he and Marin had decided to skip a cover story. The plan was to be honest, to a point. They were in town to help an old friend locate his missing girlfriend.
So he was a little surprised when Marin said, “We’re interested in your fortune-telling services.”
Again, Iris tipped her head, but there was a wrinkle of confusion between her fine brown eyes. “No.”
“No, you won’t do a reading?” Marin asked. “We understand that there’s a fee, and we’re happy to pay. Or we can schedule an appointment and come back later.”
“No. I meant that’s not why you’re here.”
Jack took off his glasses and pocketed them. Real deal or just good at reading people, this woman was no simple florist. “You’re correct; that’s not exactly why we’re here, though we’re happy to pay your fee. We’re looking for Lila Stedman. I’m Jack Spirelli.” He gestured to Marin. “And Marin, my partner. We’ve been hired to find Lila, and were told that she’s a client of yours. Her friends are concerned for her safety since she disappeared. Maybe you can help us.”
Iris clasped her hands together and rested them on the counter. “I’ve already spoken with her boyfriend. I assume that’s who hired you?” At Jack’s nod, she continued, “Whatever I told him, I’m sure he passed it along to you.”
Her phrasing was odd, and Jack couldn’t help think it was important. “What did you tell him?”
Her hands remained loosely clasped on the counter, but there was a tenseness in her shoulders and posture that hadn’t been there before. Her gaze darted to Marin and then away. Looking at Jack, she said, “Your girlfriend makes me uncomfortable.”
“She’s my business partner, not my girlfriend, but yes, she does have that effect on some people. What do you think, Marin? Do you want to explain it or should I?” Jack asked.
There was something unique about Iris, but evidence wasn’t pointing to psychic yet. Some completely normal, non-magical people could see the juxtaposition of a dragon’s human and animal forms. Unlike Lycan, dragons weren’t shifters, changing from one creature to the other. Dragons were both human and beast at the same time.
Jack didn’t really get it, despite the fact that he’d been living an ancient dragon’s essence for a while now. Merging with Joshua’s essence, his magical soul for lack of a more accurate word, hadn’t given Jack any more insight into dragons. It hadn’t given him magic. It hadn’t done anything to him or for him, so far as he could tell—except let him sleep at night. The alternative for Joshua had been…unpalatable.
“Right. Some people recognize my partner’s dual nature and find it unnerving. Your eyes tell you she’s a tall, red-headed”—Jack gave Marin an assessing look as she frowned back at him—“well, hottie. But some long-buried instinct tells you she’s a predator. The disconnect between what you see and what you know to be is disconcerting. It goes away after a while.”
Marin flashed him one of her dragon grins that showed too many teeth. “Does it?”
“Quit it. You’ll scare the nice lady.”
But Iris looked more curious than concerned. And where she’d avoided direct eye contact with Marin before, now she was openly inspecting her. “Ah, I see it now. Interesting. Can I ask what you are?”
“No,” Marin replied as Jack said, “Dragon.”
An expression of pure delight crossed Iris’s face, and she leaned across the counter eagerly. “May I shake your hand?”
“If I say yes, will you answer our questions?”
Some of Iris’s enthusiasm died. “I’ll try to answer your questions. I don’t know what I said. That’s been happening during some of my readings recently.”
Marin’s face remained impassive, suspiciously so, and she didn’t offer her hand. She didn’t trust their new source.
“Whatever you can remember,” Jack said.
Iris nodded. She jotted a quick note, and then came out from behind the counter. “Give me a moment to close the shop.” She flipped the sign on the front door to “closed” and placed the sticky note on the door. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. Any longer and my customers might not wait. I usually only do readings at lunch and after the shop closes for the day.”
As she spoke, she returned to the area behind the counter and pulled down a few jars. She scooped out ingredients from the jars into a small ceramic bowl, mixed the ingredients with her finger, and then added oil to the mixture.