De la Cruz turned around. In his hand, he had a small ivy plant, one that was no bigger than his palm. "Got a present for you."
"I told you, I'm not good with living things."
He put it on the desk. "Maybe we'll just start you off slow, though."
As she sat on her chair, she stared at the fragile living thing and felt a flare of panic. "I don't think-"
"Before you say I can't give you anything because I work for the city"-he took a receipt out of his pocket-"it cost less than three dollars. Which is cheaper than a coffee from Starbucks."
He put the little white slip next to the dark green plastic pot.
Xhex cleared her throat. "Well, as much as I appreciate your concern for my interior decorating-"
"Got nothing to do with your furniture choice." He smiled and sat down. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"You found the man who murdered Chrissy Andrews?"
"Yeah, I did. And if you'll excuse my French, he was in front of her headstone with his c**k cut off and stuffed in his mouth."
"Wow. Ouch."
"You mind telling me where you were last night? Or do you want to get an attorney first?"
"Why would I need one of those? I've got nothing to hide. And I was here all evening. Ask any of the bouncers."
"All evening."
"Yup."
"I found footprints around the crime scene. Smallish, combat boot-style ones." He looked down to the floor. "Kind of like what you wear."
"I've been to the grave. Of course I have. I'm mourning a friend." She put her soles up so he could see them, knowing they were a different make and manufacturer than the ones she'd worn the night before. Different size, too, with padding all along the interior making them a ten wide, not a nine medium.
"Hmm." After his inspection, de la Cruz leaned back and put his fingertips together, elbows resting on the stainless-steel arms of the chair. "Can I be honest with you?"
"Yup."
"I think you killed him."
"Do you."
"Yeah. It was a violent crime, the ins and outs of which suggest it was committed for the purpose of payback. See, the coroner believes, as I do, that Grady was alive when he was...shall we say, worked on. And this was no hatchet job. He was disabled in a professional way, like the murderer had been trained to kill."
"This is a tough neighborhood, and Chrissy had a lot of tough friends. Any one of them could have done it."
"There were mostly women at that funeral."
"And you don't think females are capable of something like that? Rather sexist, Detective."
"Oh, I know women can kill. Trust me. And...you look like the kind of female who could."
"You profiling me? Just because I wear black leather and work security in a club?"
"No. I was with you when you IDed Chrissy's body. I saw the way you looked at her, and that's what makes me think you did it. You have a revenge motive, and you had the opportunity, because anyone could slip out of this place for an hour, do the business, and get back here." He stood up and went to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "I would advise you to get a good lawyer. You're going to need one."
"You're barking up the wrong tree, Detective."
He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. See, most people I go and talk to when there's a body involved, the first thing they tell me, whether it's true or not, is that they didn't do it. You haven't said anything even close to that."
"Maybe I don't feel the need to defend myself."
"Maybe you have no remorse because Grady was a shithead who beat a young woman to death, and that crime sits no better with you than it does any of us." De la Cruz 's eyes looked sad and exhausted as he turned the knob. "Why didn't you let us pick him up? We'd have nailed him. Put him away. You should have let us take care of it."
"Thanks for the plant, Detective."
The guy nodded, like the rules of the game had just been laid out and the playing field agreed upon. "Get that lawyer. Fast."
As the door shut, Xhex eased back in her chair and looked at the ivy. Nice green color, she thought. And she liked the shape of the leaves, the pointed symmetry pleasing to the eye, the little veins forming a pretty pattern.
She was so going to end up killing this poor, innocent thing.
A knock on the door brought her eyes up. "Come in."
Marie-Terese entered, smelling of Calvin Klein's Euphoria and wearing loose blue jeans and a white shirt. Obviously her shift hadn't started yet. "I just interviewed two girls."
"You like either of them?"
"One is hiding something. I'm not sure what. The other's okay, although she's had a botched boob job."
"Should we send her to Dr. Malik?"
"Think so. She's pretty enough to pull the Benjamins. You want to meet her?"
"Not right now, but yeah. How about tomorrow night?"
"I'll have her here, you just name the time-"
"Can I ask you something?"
Marie-Terese nodded without hesitation. "Anything."
In the silence that followed, it was on the tip of Xhex's tongue to bring up John and Gina's little bang sesh in the bathroom. But what was there to know? It had just been a business transaction that was common in the club.
"I was the one who sent him to Gina," Marie-Terese said quietly.
Xhex's stare flipped up to the woman. "Who?"
"John Matthew. I sent him to her. I figured it would be easier."
Xhex fiddled with the Caldwell Courier Journal on her desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Marie-Terese's expression was all about the yeah-whatever, but to her credit she didn't take it any farther. "What time tomorrow night?"
"For what?"
"Meeting the new girl."
Oh, right. "Let's say ten o'clock."
"Sounds good." Marie-Terese turned away.
"Hey, do me a favor?" When the woman pivoted back around, Xhex held out the little ivy plant. "Take this home for me? And, like, I don't know...make it live."
Marie-Terese glanced at the thing, shrugged, and came over to get it. "I like plants."
"Which means that damn thing just won the lottery. Because I don't."
Chapter FIFTY-SIX
Rehvenge hit CTRL-P on his laptop and leaned back to pick up the papers spitting out of his printer one by one. When the machine let out a final whir and sigh, he brought the stack forward, separated the pages accordingly, initialed the top right of each, then signed his name three times. Same signature, same letters, same cursive scrawl.
He didn't call Xhex in to witness. Didn't ask Trez to do it.
iAm was the one who came, the Moor John Hancocking the name he'd assumed for human purposes on the appropriate lines to verify the will and the transfer of real property assets and the trust. After that was done, he went on to sign his true name on a letter that was written in the Old Language as well as a declaration of bloodline.
When it was all done, Rehv put everything in a black LV Epi briefcase and gave the lot to iAm. "I want you to take her out of here in thirty minutes. Take her even if you have to knock her ass cold. And make sure your brother is with you and all the staff is gone."
iAm didn't say anything. Instead, he took out the knife he kept at the small of his back, sliced open his palm, and reached out, his blood dropping thick and blue onto the laptop's keyboard. He was as steady as Rehv needed him to be, totally unblinking, and solid.
Which was why long ago he had been the one chosen for the rough shit.
Rehv had to swallow hard as he stood up and took the hand that was presented. They shook on the blood vow, and then their bodies met in a hard, tight embrace.
iAm said softly in the Old Language, "I knew you well. I loved you as mine own flesh and bone. I will honor you e'er more."
"Take care of her, okay? She's going to be wild for a while."
"Trez and I will do whatever we have to."
"None of this was her fault. Neither the beginning nor the end. Xhex is going to have to believe that."
"I know."
They parted and Rehv had a hard time letting go of his old friend's shoulder, mostly because this was the only good-bye he was going to make: Xhex and Trez would have fought what he was going to do, would have tried to negotiate other solutions as they clawed and grabbed for some other outcome. iAm was more fatalistic than that. More realistic, as well, because there was no other way.