1 Grim Tidings (7 page)

“What do you think?”

We had left Tarot and Tea and were now sitting in Redmond’s car in the store’s small parking lot.

“I think that this could be serious,” Redmond replied after a beat.

“I’ll get the ark, you get the animals.”

Redmond wrinkled his nose and reached over and pinched me. “Don’t be smart.”

“Do you think Dad already knows?”

Redmond rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think he has an idea.”

“That there are multiple wraiths in the area? You think he knows and he’s not telling us? That doesn’t sound safe.”

“I don’t think that he knows there are multiple wraiths,” Redmond clarified. “I think he knew last night that a wraith was responsible for the body you found but he wanted to be sure before he said anything.”

“You knew that, too.” I crossed my arms over my chest and fixed him with a petulant stare.

“I had a suspicion; I didn’t know.”

“Semantics,” I grumbled.

“Let’s not get all female here,” Redmond said. “We need to think strategically and not go off on a mission before we even know what that mission is.”

“Get all female? That’s a little insulting.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Redmond said. “You’ve always been a little dramatic – and this would is a prime example.”

“I am not dramatic,” I sniffed.

“Yeah, you’re really easygoing.”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“Then don’t dish it out.”

Since this debate was going nowhere, I decided to end it with a little bit of class. I stuck my tongue out and blessed Redmond with a loud raspberry. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Redmond couldn’t help but laugh.

“And you wonder why you’re single.”

We lapsed into silence for a few minutes, the only noise the steady drum of Redmond’s fingers on the steering wheel. I don’t have a lot of patience on a good day, so on a bad day I’m practically apoplectic.

Finally, Redmond put his key in the ignition and turned the car engine over. “Call Braden.”

“And tell him what?”

“Tell him to get the information he gathered on that guy … what was his name?”

“Brian Harper.”

“Yeah, Brian Harper. Tell him to get the information and meet us at his place.”

I was surprised, but at least it was forward momentum. “Where is his place?”

“Right upstairs from where you found him.”

“We’re going back to the alley?” That didn’t sound like fun.

Redmond shook his head, his attention focused on pulling into the heavy traffic clogging Woodward. “No. We’re going to the apartment above the alley.”

That was better?

Almost forty-five minutes later, Braden, Redmond and I were standing in the apartment complex’s parking lot and flipping through Brian Harper’s file looking for clues.

“This guy was slime.”

Braden tugged on a strand of my hair absentmindedly and nodded his head in agreement. “I can see why he was going to Hell.”

“Yeah, this scam where he put contractor liens on people’s homes after doing substandard work so he could take ownership of them and sell them at a profit is pretty disgusting,” Redmond agreed.

“I’m more offended with the racism when selling the houses,” I said. “Only whites need apply.”

“That’s low,” Braden said. “That’s not as bad as the adoption scam he was running, though.”

“I didn’t see anything about an adoption scam.”

Braden ran his finger down the page – which was in Redmond’s hand – stopping when he got to the line he was looking for. “It says he was taking $50,000 from each interested family but he only had one kid for every three families – even though he was taking money from every family.”

“Where was he getting these kids?”

“That’s a pretty good question. It doesn’t say.
”

“With as many fingers in as many pies as this guy had, his operation had to be bigger than just him,” Redmond said.

“Our files don’t go that deep, though,” Braden mused. “We only get the highlights for our specific charge. We don’t get a list of his associates, even though that would be really helpful right now. That’s just not how it works.”

“I’m lost.”

Redmond tousled my hair. “We know.”

I jerked my head away and smoothed down the mess. “I mean that I don’t understand what Brian Harper being an ass has to do with anything. Maybe it was just a crime of opportunity.”

“I think that would be too much of a coincidence,” Redmond said, shrugging his broad shoulders until we heard an audible crack. “I think there’s something here – something specific about Brian Harper – that we need to know.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s just a feeling,” Redmond admitted. “I think there’s more going on here.”

“Well, with multiple wraiths in the area, I think that’s a
gimme,” I said. “I still don’t understand how Brian Harper’s illegal activities during his life figure into the scary happenings surrounding his death.”

Braden’s face broke out into a wide grin. “You have a way with words.”

“I’m an intellectual.”

Braden pointed down at my DC
Skate Shoes. “Yeah, because most intellectuals wear shoes that could be found in a teenage boy’s closet.”

I screwed up my face in a pointed scowl. “Don’t hate the shoes. They don’t like it.”

“You know,” Redmond said, finishing with the file and flipping it shut. “When you pretend your shoes have feelings it makes me uncomfortable.”

“It makes Dad crazy,” Braden added.

“They do have feelings,” I countered. “They’re just like people. They like to be put on display, taken out to a nice dinner and they don’t like to go out in the rain.”

“Good to know.”

Redmond turned to Braden. “So, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we need to get into that apartment and find out what other shady dealings Brian Harper was up to?”

“Pretty much.”

Wait. What? “You’re going to break into his apartment?”

“Keep your voice down,” Braden ordered, shoving his hand over my mouth instinctively. “There might be a few homeless people on the corner who didn’t hear you announce the fact that we’re about to break the law.”

I clawed Braden’s hand away from my mouth. “You can’t just break into his apartment.”

“Why?” Redmond was nonplussed.

“Because it’s illegal.”

“Technically we’re breaking into someone’s house or apartment when we go to collect a soul,” Braden pointed out. “So that is illegal, too. I don’t hear you screeching like a banshee about that.”

I hate it when he has a point.

“What if the cops have it sealed off?”

Braden and Redmond exchanged a look. They obviously hadn’t thought of that. Point for me.

“I guess we’ll find out when we get there,” Braden said. “It’s unit 405, so let’s get it over with.”

“I don’t want to break in.”

“You’re not going to,” Redmond said.

I wasn’t? Wait, why not? “Why is that?
Because I’m a girl?” I narrowed my eyes in warning, just in case they didn’t think I was serious.

“Yes,” Braden nodded.

Redmond punched his shoulder. “No. It’s because we need someone to act as a lookout and you’re going to be less suspicious hanging around in front of the apartment complex than we are.”

Nice story. “I think it’s because you don’t think I can do it.”

Braden sighed. “Are you going to turn this into a thing?’

“What? The fact that you guys don’t think I can do certain things because I’m a girl?” My hands were on my hips and my voice was stern. Sometimes I get it when they call me dramatic. It works for me, though, so I’m sticking with it.

“Why does everything come down to this women’s lib crap with you?” Braden asked.

“Women’s lib?
Get out of the sixties, Braden.”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Reverse sexism.”

“Is that like reverse racism?’

“Are you trying to confuse me?”

“No, I think you’re doing that to yourself,” Redmond said, opening his car door and dropping the file on the front seat. “Can’t you just act as lookout and yell at us about how sexist we are later? Like over dinner when we have enough drinks that your voice doesn’t sound like nails on a chalkboard.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Redmond and Braden rolled their eyes, sending a silent message to each other that twenty-five years had taught me how to interpret: She’s crazy.

“So, what do I do if I see a cop entering the building? Caw like a crow?”

Redmond snickered. “Or you could just text us so we can get out of the apartment.”

T
hat was a better idea.

I followed Redmond and Braden to the main entrance of the building. It was an older hotel that had been converted to apartments by Detroit’s Downtown Development Authority about ten years
earlier as part of the city’s ongoing revitalization project. I’m not going to lie; the project isn’t going well. There’s too much blight to keep up with. Still, the cement steps leading up to the building and the big lion sculptures on either side of the front door were kind of cool. If you had to live downtown, this wasn’t a bad place to live.

“How long do you think you guys will be up there?”

Redmond shrugged. “I have no idea. Just hang out down here and watch the front door. We’ll be done when we’re done.”

Once Redmond and Braden disappeared inside of the building, I busied myself by pacing the length of the front sidewalk. When I got to the end of the block, I turned around and paced back. Since boredom was creeping in, I started playing the sidewalk crack game – trying to make the trek without stepping on a crack. That entertained me for about five minutes. Then I moved to the bottom step of the stairs and did some calf-lengthening exercises. If I was stuck here, I might as well get part of my workout in.

I was so caught up in what I was doing, I didn’t notice the figure move in behind me until the distinctive sound of a man clearing his throat broke my reverie.

“What are you doing here?”

I froze when I heard the voice. Crap. Caw. Caw.

“Detective Taylor.”

“I told you to call me Griffin.”

“Griffin. What are you doing here?” My voice was unnaturally shrill, but I was having trouble reining in the panic.

“I was just about to ask you the same question.”

Of course he was.

Griffin’s face was hard to read.
Amusement was flitting through his dark eyes – even if it wasn’t fully expressed, but a frown was playing with the corner of his mouth, which I didn’t take as a good sign.

“What question?” I was going for cute, wrapping a strand of my black and white hair around my index finger and flashing him a flirtatious smile. I was so nervous I was afraid the smile looked more deranged than sexy.

“What are you doing here?” Griffin wasn’t taking the bait.

“Just hanging out.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, it’s a cool building. I like architecture.”

“You’re just hanging out in front of a random building in downtown Detroit?”

“Yup.”
My hands found my pocket and fingered my cell phone desperately.

“The building where a murder victim – one you discovered – lived?”

“Huh? Did he live here? That’s a coincidence. Creepy.”

Griffin pushed his lips out, clearly not sure where he was going to take the conversation next. Unfortunately, he went someplace I wasn’t expecting. “Weren’t you working at your roommate’s bakery today?”

Crap. This is why you shouldn’t lie – or at least remember what lies you’ve told so you don’t accidentally step all over them. “I helped him for an hour, you know, frosting emergency, and then I was done.”

“Because you had to come here?”

“No, because I had to meet my brother on an assignment.” What? That’s not a lie. It’s an omission. I did meet Redmond on an assignment.

“Where is your brother now?”

Uh-oh. “I lost track.”

“And this would be the same brother you were with yesterday?”

“No, a different one.”

“Which one?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Why don’t you want to tell me?”

What is it with men trying to confuse me today? I took a deep breath to calm myself. I needed to alert Braden and Redmond that Griffin was here, but if I pulled out my phone and started texting he would be suspicious -- even more suspicious than he already was, if that was possible.

“I was with my oldest brother.”

“Doing what?”

“We had a job to do.
An estate sale.”

“Find anything good?”

“No, it was really just a glorified garage sale.”

“And that’s bad?”

Griffin’s rapid-fire questions were starting to grate. He was trying to catch me off guard – I was well aware – but I couldn’t dissuade him without tipping him off. He already knew something was up. He didn’t know what, though. I’m a master at throwing off suspicion. Just ask my father.

“We’re only interested in high-end antiques,” I explained. “You usually don’t find anything like that at a garage sale, although it’s not unheard of.”

“I see.”

Something told me he didn’t.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here.” The sun glinted off Griffin’s brown hair, giving it an ethereal quality that wasn’t lost on my libido. Unfortunately.

“I was just looking at the building.”

“So, you’re saying that you hang out in front of random buildings in the middle of the week in downtown Detroit for fun?”

“Yup.”

“Because you like looking at architecture?”

“Yup.”

Griffin cocked his head to one side. “Do you want to know what I think?”

Not really. “So, they let you dress really casual when you’re a detective, huh?”

I don’t think Griffin was expecting that response. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean jeans, a leather jacket –
it’s spring, aren’t you hot in that? – and then there’s the whole New Balance thing.”

Griffin glanced down at his feet. “I’m wearing Nikes today.”

“That’s a step up,” I acknowledged. “With those jeans, though, you really should try boots.”

“Like cowboy boots?”

I looked him up and down again, shaking my head. “You can’t pull off cowboy boots. Just some nice black boots – brown if they’re not tacky – and it would totally change your vibe.”

Griffin broke into a wide smile – the first I had seen grace his handsome face. He was striking, and I felt my heartbeat increase. Crap. I cannot be crushing on the cop investigating me for murder. That’s not allowed.

“You don’t think like most people, do you?”

“I have no idea what that means,” I sniffed.

“Maybe I’ll explain it to you one day,” Griffin said, his smile turning from jovial to flirtatious.

“Not today?”

“No, today I’m going to just say goodbye and wish you well.”

“Really?”

“No,” Griffin shook his head. “Today I’m going to go up to Brian Harper’s apartment and arrest whichever one of your brothers is up there snooping around.”

Crap. “None of my brothers are in that building.”

“Hey, Aisling, we’re hungry.”

I froze when I heard Braden’s voice. Griffin, who was still standing a step down from me, peered around my shoulder until his gaze fell on Braden. When he turned back to me, his eyes were shiny and intense.

“You want to change that statement?”

Ugh. “I have no idea who that is.”

“Really?” Griffin’s tone was dry and sarcastic. “That guy isn’t related to you? That guy with the same black hair and kind of purplish eyes isn’t related to you?”

Hmmm.
There was no way he could see Braden’s eyes from where he was standing. He was guessing. It was a good guess, but it was still a guess. What to do? What to do?

Braden was descending the steps, his arms swinging lazily but his gaze worried. “Is that guy bothering you? Dude, get away from my sister or I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life.”

Griffin met Braden’s challenging glare evenly. “That would be an impressive feat.”

“There are some hookers around the corner, I saw them when I pulled up,” Braden continued. “My sister isn’t on the menu so find somewhere else to eat.”

“That is gross.”

Braden ignored me. Once he was on even footing with Griffin, their broad shoulders equal to each other, his expression shifted from annoyance to curiosity. “Why are you still here?”

Griffin reached into his pocket, pulled out his badge, flashed it in Braden’s face, and then waited for my brother to put his foot into his mouth. Again.

I risked a glance at Braden out of the corner of my eye. The badge had obviously shaken him, but he wasn’t going to let Griffin know that. “You’re a cop?”

“This is Detective Taylor,” I said quickly. “Griffin Taylor.”

“The guy
who rousted you and Aidan yesterday?”

Rousted? “He questioned us.”

“And now he’s harassing you on the street?”

Of all my brothers, Braden is the one
who inherited my father’s hair-trigger temper. And hypochondria, but that’s a whole other story. Okay, if I’m telling the truth, we all inherited my father’s hair-trigger temper. It’s a curse.

“We were just talking,” I said, putting my hand on Braden’s forearm to still him. I had no idea
whether he would actually throw down with a cop, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

Griffin was watching us carefully. “And which one of your brothers is this? You said you were with your oldest brother, so that would make you Redmond, right?”

“Have you been studying our family tree or something?” That was kind of creepy.

“I ran you and your brother through the system yesterday,” Griffin replied, his tone clipped. “Your family tree is part of public record.”

It’s still creepy.

“Well,” Braden said, grabbing my wrist and tugging me in the direction of the parking lot. “We should be going. We’re going to be late for dinner.”

Griffin held up his hand to stop us. “Wait a second.”

“We’re going to be late,” Braden repeated.

“I’m sure you have a minute to answer a few questions.”

“Not really.”

“Why don’t you at least try.”

“No thanks.”

This wasn’t going well.

“What were you doing here?” Griffin asked again.

“What were we doing where?” Braden lies as poorly as I do.

“Here.
At Brian Harper’s apartment complex.” Griffin’s tone was cold.

“Who is Brian Harper?”

“He’s the man your sister and brother discovered stabbed to death in an alley yesterday.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Braden replied. “It must just be a coincidence.”

“Then what were you doing here?” Griffin pressed.

I sent Braden a silent message. Reapers aren’t telepathic, but I always fantasized about being able to talk to my brothers without words
, especially when I was pouting in my bedroom as a teenager.

“I heard there was an apartment open in this building and I wanted to see if it was something I was interested in.”

Yeah, that wasn’t the message I had been sending.

“Don’t you live in a castle?”

“A castle?” Braden furrowed his brow.

“With turrets.”

“You’ve been talking to Jerry,” Braden said. “He’s the one obsessed with turrets.”

“Detective Taylor dropped by the condo this morning and Jerry regaled him with stories of our youth,” I explained.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because he’s Jerry.”

“It’s a good thing he can bake,” Braden agreed, his face taut.

“So, you’re thinking of leaving the castle?” Griffin asked.

“I’m twenty-seven,” Braden explained. “I think it’s about time I move out on my own. I’m really looking forward to it.”

I snorted.

“What?”

“You can’t even do your own laundry.”

“So that wasn’t your bag of laundry I saw in the back of your car yesterday? I know Laverne still does your laundry.”

Dammit. He’s not wrong. Laverne, the head maid at
Grimlock Manor, presses my jeans, though, and they always have such a nice crease. I’m not lazy. Okay, I’m a little lazy.

Griffin had just about had it. “Do you two want to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

“We already told you.”

“So, you
r story is he’s looking for an apartment and you like architecture?”

“What? That’s a thing.”

Braden’s eyes rolled so high I thought they were going to get lost in his hairline.

“What are you two still doing here? I told you to have her ride with you and I would meet you back at the house? We’re risking the cops showing up.”

Oh, good, here comes Redmond.

Braden and I stiffly split apart so Redmond, who was jogging down the steps, could see we weren’t alone. He slowed his pace when he caught sight of Griffin.

“Who is this?”

“Detective Taylor.”

“Oh, good. The day wouldn’t be complete without a visit from the cops.”

Griffin’s eerie smile was going to haunt my dreams tonight.