Page 23 of The Turning of the Tables

“Afraid that’s what I need you for,” I replied. “Didn’t Detective Maza text you?”

“My phone suffered a fatal accident this morning,” the warlock replied, his tone clipped. “I’m afraid I’m not able to receive anything on it.”

I was curious what sort of accident we were talking about, but with Ward Campion it could be everything fromgot dropped into the toilettoaccidentally got blown up by magictoa ghost ate it.Although honestly, I wasn’t sure ghosts could eat things. If they could, Ward would know.

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s old—DNA confirms human, but it was found at a construction site in the middle of some concrete. Not my case, but Detective Maza asked if I would run it over to you.”

Ward let out a sigh, his mask puffing out a little, and rolled up to me. Then he held out a hand. “Hit me.”

I looked around for somewhere to set the paper bag down to retrieve the evidence baggie. Elliot stepped forward and took the bottom of it with one hand. I felt my neck flush a little.

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

I pulled out the baggie, broke the seal, and poured the bone fragment—probably part of an arm—into Ward’s waiting hand.

His eyes flickered closed for a moment, then opened again. “Eugenia Elizabeth Evers. Died in… 1972.”

“Did she say how?” I asked.

Ward’s grey eyes flicked over to Elliot, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Strangulation,” he answered shortly.

Oh, shit. That’s awkward.I knew the rough details of Elliot’s dad’s murder—strangulation with a belt, made to look like a suicide. A crime that had been repeated with Elliot—although he’d survived the attack, albeit with scars.Scars that I’d had my mouth on—Nope. Stop it right there. This was definitely not the moment forthat.

Beside me, Elliot tensed at Ward’s answer, but his features remained impassive and the hand holding the bag was steady. I couldn’t help being impressed. I don’t know that I would have dealt with things well enough at this point—only like four months later—to keep my hands and face still. Apparently Elliot is more well-adjusted than I am.

“Does she know her killer?” I asked Ward, because I knew Maza would ask.

“A man named Roger Ratface.” The muscles around his eyes compressed over his mask, suggesting a grimace. “I’m assumingRatfaceisn’t actually his real name.”

“That seems like a reasonable assumption,” I agreed. “She doesn’t have a better last name?”

Ward shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

I tried to think like a homicide detective. “Did she have family? Kids?”

“No,” the medium answered. “Her grandmother raised her and died when she was in her twenties.”

“How old was she, when she died?” I asked. I didn’t know if I needed to ask that or not, but I figured I might as well.

“Thirty-four.”

“Anything else she can tell us about Roger… Ratface?” I felt extremely stupid saying it.

The muscles in Ward’s face took on a pinched expression—like it did when he was putting up with someone particularly irritating. Apparently our dead woman wasn’t all that much fun. Or he was annoyed with me, although I’m not sure why he would have been, so I was going to assume Eugenia Evers was the problem.

Then his lips twitched, and the fingers on the handresting on his chair tightened over the armrest. I frowned. Was he in pain? Upset?

“She has… a lot to say about Roger,” he told me, and from his tone I could tell that he was actually trying very hard not to laugh. “Not much of it is polite, but let’s just say that Roger appears to have worked for someone named Pennypinching Ricky—” Beside me, Elliot snorted. I agreed, but tried to emulate Ward’s equanimity. “—who had connections to what I’m assuming was an organized crime ring out of Baltimore.”

“Was she ahit?” I asked, a little incredulous. Mafia hits were not something that I thought of when I thought of Richmond, Virginia. Confederates, yes. Mobsters? Not so much.

“Her best… client was a man named Sam who also worked for Ricky. Sam liked to talk a little too much, apparently, and Roger was hired to get rid of anyone who might know more than they should.”

“What did she know?” I asked, and this time it was out of pure curiosity. I’m sure Maza would want to know, too, but now I was invested.

I watched Ward’s eyes get bigger. “Apparently, Roger was an enforcer for a protection racketeer named Leo Koury.”