The Marradith Ryder Series, The Art of Shadows: Part 18
Christopher Stuckey stood at the side of the pool.
He was wearing an expensive dark suit with a white shirt and gray tie. His aviator sunglasses covered the expression of his eyes, but Lysette saw the slightest twitch of his jaw as she approached him. His blondish brown hair was cut military short. The suit was tailored just well enough that she could see the outline of his wiry, toned body.
Lysette licked her lips.
Her heels clicked on the cement as she went to join him outside.
“Well,” he drawled in a Southern accent. “What do you think?”
“Your Wolf hasn’t been gone long. I can smell her all over this place. In fact, she was even in the pool, ” she added. “Our girl made herself very comfortable. How long has the victim been dead?”
Stuckey put his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. “We figure a few days. Not like she left anything much of the poor bastard.”
“If he was a tall man, a female alone could have Feasted off him for the better part of a week. So that’s what we’re probably looking at. My guess is she’s moved on to other prey by now.”
His upper lip twisted. “Excuse me for being indelicate, but how often do ya’ll feed?”
“A mature Wolf - one that has been Changed for at least fifty years - can go without Feasting for months, if need be. But newborns are greedy. This Wolf, whoever she is, will have the desire to feed every two days or so. It varies. What one needs to survive and what one wants are seperate things. Some of us love meat. Like some of you humans can’t pass a day without a hamburger.”
He laughed, a sarcastic little growl. “Yes, but hamburger is made of cow meat, last time I checked. No one is gonna care when Flossie the Cow comes up missing. ”
“Well obviously the victim was rich. Who was he?”
“Alan Martinson. The director. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. So this presents a problem for you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes and no,” he replied. “Mr. Martinson is actually a client of ours. He had business with Mr. Ramshead, so when he didn’t show, we sent someone out to check on him - and found out that he’d already been dispatched of, if you could call it that. What was left of him was laying in the bed, picked clean, like fried chicken bones.”
“So you have the press and authorities covered?” Lysette said.
Stuckey nodded. “Oh yes. Martinsion just got a divorce last year, from an actress that hated his guts. No kids, and his folks have been dead for fifteen years. We’ll make a legend of him. Put out a story about alcholism and his need to flee Hollywood and become a recluse. You’ll start hearing it on news outlets soon.”
“So where’s the problem? If he owed money, surely you’ll have a way to access that. Is there anyone with connections in Los Angeles that hasn’t had some kind of dealings with your firm?”
“In this town? All the movers and shakers have made deals with us.” He gave her a little smile then. Lysette often wondered about this man who was human, but not quite normal. No one that dealt with Ramshead’s law firm was. She found Stuckey fine as hell, and to her irritation, she’d never been able to get him into bed.
“Where the real problem comes in,” Stuckey continued, “is that we had this woman in our custody and she escaped. Her name is Jenny Winslow. She was under Sojourner protection, and they are pretty pissed that she’s been on the loose. So we need you to bring her in as soon as possible.”
“”I’ll need at least a couple days to find your Wolf,” Lysette replied.
“That’s good. They’re sending out one of their agents today, so if you can have this Wolf within forty eight hours, we’ll be much obliged.”
“I hope you know that I will require a sizeable bonus along with my regular fee,” she snapped. “I don’t like deadlines.”
“Yes, I have that handled. The Firm may be a lot of things, Lysette, but we’re not cheap.”
“Good.” She smiled at him. “There has to be some benefit to working for Ramshead.”
“It has it’s moments,” he replied.
“Who are the Sojourners sending out?” she asked.
“I don’t think you’ve met him. I’ve had dealings with him before. You know the kind. Friendly up front, but an asshole as soon as things don’t go his way.”
“Really?” she feined interest. She was enjoying the pool, the sunshine, and the the scent of aftershave on Stuckey’s skin.
“Yeah. His name is Justin Granthem.”
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©2010 Lori Titus
Tags: Lori Titus, The Art of Shadows, The Marradith Ryder Series
