“Yes. Hold on.” She pulled out a handful of pink tickets and recited from memory, without checking the paper.
“Seven forty-two a.m., Mr. Gasparian: I curse you. I curse your arms so they will wither and die and fall off your body. I curse your eyeballs to explode. I curse your feet to swell until blue. I curse your spine to crack. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you. ”
I licked cookie crumbs off my lips. “Mr. Gasparian is under the impression that he has magic powers. He is fifty-six years old, terribly unhappy because his wife left him, and he keeps cursing his neighbors. Magically, he’s a dud, but his ranting scares the neighborhood kids. I kicked his case to Atlanta’s finest. I’m guessing they paid him a visit and he’s a bit upset that I didn’t take his magic mojo seriously.”
“People do the strangest things. Seven fifty-six a.m., Patrice Lane, Biohazard: Joshua was a shapeshifter. Call me now. ”
I choked on my cookie. Shapeshifters didn’t get sick, at least not in the traditional sense. The only time I’d seen one of them sneeze was when they got a bit of dust in their nose or when they became inexplicably allergic to giant tortoises. Their bones knitted together in a couple of weeks. What the hell?
Maxine kept going.
“Eight oh one a.m., Derek Gaunt: Can you ring me when you get in?
“Eight oh five a.m., Jim, no last name given: Call me.
“Eight twelve a.m., Ghastek Stefanoff: Please call me at your earliest convenience.
“Eight thirty-seven a.m., Patrice Lane, Biohazard: The dog’s clean. The Good Samaritan was a woman with an accent of some sort. Why haven’t you called me?
“Eight forty-four a.m., Detective Williams, Atlanta PAD: Agent Daniels, contact me about your statement in regard to the incident at Steel Horse ASAP. And that’s all of them.” Maxine gave me a bright smile and handed me a stack of pink message slips.
Andrea emerged from the armory, carrying a manila envelope, and headed my way. Short and blond, she was armed with a pretty face, a charming smile, and a pair of 9mm SIG-Sauers. Which she used to shoot things with preternatural accuracy many times and very fast. She was also my best friend.
Andrea braked a couple of feet from me. I shook my giant stack of pink slips at her.
“I see—you have messages. That’s nice.” Andrea nodded at me and snagged a cookie from the box.
The canine companion growled under his breath. Just in case she was trouble.
“What is that?” Andrea’s eyes widened.
“What is what?”
“The beast.” She waved the cookie at the dog.
The beast trotted over to her side, sniffed her, and wagged his tail, indicating he had decided she was good people and she should give him a piece of her cookie.
“He’s evidence.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I think a dog is a great idea. I just never pictured you with a mutant poodle.”
“He isn’t a poodle. He’s a Doberman mix.”
“Aha. Keep telling yourself that.”
“Where have you seen a poodle colored like that?”
“Why don’t we ask Mauro? His wife’s a vet and he breeds Dobermans.”
I growled. “Fine. Let’s go ask him.”
We padded down the hall to Mauro’s office, canine enigma in tow. If I had to partner up for a job and Andrea wasn’t available, I usually conned Mauro into joining forces. A huge, hulking Samoan, he was steady as the Rock of Gibraltar. Bringing him to a job was like having your own portable howitzer—people took one look at him and decided making trouble wasn’t in their best interest.
Mauro’s office was only marginally bigger than mine, and his body was substantially larger, so the examination of the faithful canine companion had to be taken to the hallway. Mauro knelt by the dog, felt his sides, stared at his mouth, and rose, shaking his hands.
“Standard poodle. Probably purebred, even. Aside from being freakishly large, he’s actually a very nice-looking dog under all that fur. You won’t get any breeders lining up at your door, because you can’t show him. He’s too huge. But otherwise, a very fine specimen.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “What about the color?”
“That’s a recognized bicolor for the breed. They’re called phantom poodles.”
Andrea snickered.
The phantom poodle sat by me, looking at my face like it was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“They’re very smart dogs,” Mauro said. “Canine Einsteins. They’re protective and they make good guards.” He cleared his throat and slid into an atrocious Southern tinged with Samoan accent. “You know, a young wallflower such as yourself, Ms. Scarlett, shouldn’t be on these vicious streets without a male escort. It’s just not proper.”
Andrea doubled over, croaking with laughter.
“Screw you guys.”
Mauro shook his head, gazing mournfully at Andrea. “See? The streets have affected her: she’s become coarse.”
There were times in life when nothing short of spitting fire would do.
“Have you thought of what to name him?” Mauro asked. “How about Erik? After the Phantom of the Opera.”
“No.”
“You should name him Fezzik,” Andrea said.
“Inconceivable,” I told her and took the canine traitor back to my office.
“You might want to shave him,” Mauro called after me. “His fur’s all matted and it’s uncomfortable for him.”
In the office I pulled out my brown bag. I’d stopped by a food stall on the way to the office. It was a dingy stall marked with a big sign that said HUNGRY MAN and operated by a thin blond guy. You’d have to be a very, very hungry man to stop by that stall. On the brink of starvation. And even then, I think I would go for a raw rat instead. The smell alone was known to send people running for their lives. However, the dog had found the aroma emanating from Hungry Man curiously enticing, and so I bought a bag of small round fried things that were supposedly hush puppies.
I reached into the bag, pulled a round object out, and tossed it at the poodle. Big jaws opened for a blink, caught a hush puppy, and snapped shut. He must’ve spent some time being a stray, because he’d learned the two things all strays know: food is rare so eat it quick, and stick to the sap who feeds you.
I folded the bag over. Kate Daniels and her deadly attack poodle. Kill me, somebody. Julie, my adopted niece, would have a field day with this. It was a good thing she was away at a boarding school until Thanksgiving.