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"So what do we do about this supposed meeting?" I said.
"Let me think about it. For now, go back to Zoe."
We started for the door.
"Oh," Jeremy said. "Anita Barrington hasn't called you, has she?"
I double-checked my cell phone, then shook my head.
"She called me here, at the hotel," he said. "Something about digging up a story we'd probably like to hear. I called her back and left a message asking her to phone your cell or Antonio's, but she hasn't returned my call..."
"We'll swing by there after we talk to Zoe."
We had the lounge to ourselves, so there was no need to take our business to a more private spot.
I explained our suspicions about Shanahan, and why we needed to find him.
"Patrick Shanahan as a zombie-controlling madman?" Zoe said, her finely drawn brows raised.
"Madman...debatable," I said. "But the zombie-controlling part seems a good guess. As for why he's controlling them or why the portal was embedded in that letter or what he hopes to gain by getting it back, we're still working on all that."
"As motivations go, I always liked world domination myself. Or perhaps this is just metropolitan domination. Patrick never was the type to think big. Never struck me as zombie lord material either, but I can't say I know him well. It's a working relationship, and a sporadic one at that. Most of my jobs for the family were with his grandfather, and he wasn't chummy with the hired help either."
"Which means you won't be able to give us much insight into Shanahan."
"Next
to none. But I know someone who can. A client. Randall Tolliver. He grew up with Patrick."
Fake
IN A CITY LIKE TORONTO, WHICH, AS FAR AS I KNEW DIDN'T even have a Cabal satellite office, the supernatural community is small. I'd lived here, on and off, for ten years after I became a werewolf, and never knew it existed. Zoe said there were only a few sorcerer families, so the community was tight--many of them knowing each other from birth, as Patrick Shanahan and Randall Tolliver did.
Although Zoe claimed to know Tolliver much better than she did Shanahan, she'd say little about him--protecting another customer.
We had a heck of a time finding Tolliver. His office either didn't have his exact schedule, or was reluctant to provide it, so we ended up canvassing a list of places he was expected to visit that afternoon. We stopped at a low-income housing complex, then an AIDS hospice, both times being told he'd come and gone.
Those places gave me a pretty good idea what Tolliver did for a living. An investment broker of another kind...the sort who buys bargain-basement housing, turns it into something barely livable and reaps the benefits of government assistance. Typical sorcerer.
"Let's pop by his office," Zoe said. "I'll see if I can sweet-talk the receptionist into paging him for me."
Clay swung a look my way that begged for something more active than trailing Zoe across town.
"How about we catch up with you after you find him?" I said. "We've got another stop we can make in the meantime."
"Erin?" Anita said as we walked into the bookshop.
The girl popped up from behind a display where she'd been unpacking books.
"Can you watch the store, dear? We'll be in the back."
Anita ushered us through the beaded curtain into the back office.
"We'll have to step out back to speak freely if a customer comes, but that's unlikely. We haven't seen anyone since noon. Now they're just phoning about charms and whatnot--afraid to even leave the house. Complete nonsense, of course, like wearing those hospital masks during the SARS outbreak."
"You said you have more information for us?" Clay said.
I resisted the urge to glare at him. I suspect it didn't matter how rude Clay was--Anita would get to the point at her own pace.
