Page 20 of Booked for Murder

They already had a sensor in the form of Bradley Hampton, and the last thing I needed was him poking his nose into my business. I found Bradley’s participation in the investigation to be a breach of protocol at the very minimum, as invested investigators were biased investigators. On the motivation front, however, he scored full points. “It’s not even eight yet. How early have people been calling in?”

“I got here at four. I already told you someone had called me at three about this.”

“You haven’t had coffee since three?” I blurted, wondering how she could function at all.

“Why do you think I haven’t had coffee, Janette?”

Right. Assumptions, of which I’d made many in the past ten minutes. I sighed. “Because I haven’t had coffee yet, mostly.”

“That’s fair. I can’t blame you. I haven’t had nearly enough coffee, but I’ve had some coffee. You still living a few blocks down the street from the Met?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I still do not know how you worked a miracle to get an affordable apartment right there.”

“My rating really helped,” I confessed. “It’s the one time I don’t mind being pretty low on the totem pole, that’s for sure. I think I got a discount because of my foot, too.”

“You check off so many residency boxes. And employment boxes. You’re just one walking miracle, Janette.”

“Who are you, what have you done with Beatrice, and if you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Beatrice laughed. “Nothing. I’ve just decided I like you more than I hate you this week. I’ll be over as soon as I can. Unlock your door, stay off your feet, and I’ll bring you something for breakfast, too. Just convince your cat not to kill me.”

“When has my cat ever killed anyone?”

“She hasn’t yet, but she might start with me.”

“Unless you’re a mouse, squirrel, or bird, I think you’ll be fine. She partakes of the rare bat, too. Really, the library should pay my cat.”

“We really should. She’s an excellent defender of the books, and she’s only scratched the furniture how many times?”

“Don’t blame me for that. I wasn’t the one who sprayed it with catnip. It’s lucky it was ancient and in dire need of replacement anyway.”

Beatrice laughed. “I’ll be over as soon as I escape this hellhole. Try not to get into any trouble until I get there.”

“I think we’ve had enough trouble for one week.”

Beatrice brought coffee and company, and if Bradley Hampton could quit finding reasons to pay me a visit, I’d appreciate it. As I’d left the door unlocked, the pair came in, and while Beatrice took over the other half of my couch and offered a large coffee to me, my uninvited guest lingered at the door.

“Was there something you forgot to ask earlier this morning?” I asked before taking a sip of my coffee and sighing at its warmth and bitter bite. “I don’t know where you got this, Beatrice, but I need to know. This is my new favorite coffee.”

“Three blocks beyond the Met,” she replied. “It’s a dingy hole in the wall, but the brew is worth far more than they charge for it. Just trust me when I say it’s far better than their building implies.”

I couldn’t imagine many coffee shops capable of having a better building than the coffee I sipped. “I’m going to regret this, but I now have a new morning stop on the way to work, and it’s in the opposite direction.”

“They even sell their beans, so you can get something close albeit not quite as good.”

With more patience than I expected from the adept, Bradley waited for Beatrice to fall quiet before saying, “As a matter of fact, there are a few questions I have for you. What were you smoking to get through that rating examination, did you seriously paint your nails during it, and why haven’t you called?”

Crap. Only an idiot would hold real hope in long hair and a pair of glasses functioning as a viable disguise. I widened my eyes and replied, “I wasn’t smoking anything, of course I painted my nails, and why would I have called you?”

There. That would confuse him for a while, as before I’d gotten the sense knocked back into me through the crash, I wouldn’t have painted my nails during anything important. Or at all.

Times had changed, and I had changed with them.

“You signed a contract.”

Beatrice sucked in a breath. “Janette? What contract? What contract with an adept? Why would you of all people have a contract with an adept?”