Page 45 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

I don’t intend to smack around an older woman—but my training has taught me to be ready in case she strikes first. You never know who will jump you, like that sweet old grandmother in the Columbian drug villa who figured out I was there to assassinate her grandson.

Instead, I pull out my wallet. “Twenty bucks for a few questions, ma’am?” Being polite often works to put people at ease. Money helps, too.

The homeless woman stops her cart and eyes the bill before grabbing it and tucking it into one of her many coat pockets. I assess her for possible weapons. Two pockets are large enough to hold knives, but the slight hunch in her back would make her slow—and my training makes me fast. Being a raccoon shifter doesn’t hurt either.

She scowls at me. “What do you want?”

“Where is that water taxi going?”

She doesn’t even glance back at the lake. “I ain’t know about no water taxi.” She starts pushing her cart again. “I got somewhere to be.”

I follow alongside her. “You gave an espresso machine to the boat driver. Why?”

“Do I look like I have an espresso machine to give?”

“Not anymore.” I open my wallet and pull out another five. “Who hired you and why?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you a cop?”

I scoff. “I’m not sitting around in a Tim Horton’s parking lot, so no.”

“You ask questions like a cop.”

I clench my hand into a first. “A cop wouldn’t bother to track an espresso machine. That’s why you’re talking to me instead.”

She doesn’t answer and keeps walking.

“Look…” I grab her cart and force her to stop.

“This is mine. Let go!” she snaps at me.

She seems like she’s willing to throw down after all. I turn my side to her so she’ll only hit my arm if she decides to jump me. “Someone hired you to carry an espresso machine to that boat, and I need to know who it was, why they did it, and where they’re going.”

“That there is a lot of questions.”

I sigh and hand her another twenty, which she quickly stuffs into her coat.

“Last thing I remember was eyeing a sandwich on a patio. Then I was by the water and you came after me jabbering like a crazy person.” She glances back toward the dock. “Stranger things have happened, but not by much.”

She’s lying, though she shows none of the telltale signs. Maybe she has training, because no one forgets carting around a talking espresso machine.

I get the feeling she isn’t going to tell me anything—not easily anyway. If I waste time questioning her, I might miss a chance to follow the boat.

Retrieving my mate is a clear priority, but I have to do something about the homeless woman first. She might also alert the people she’s working for that I questioned her. A quick, hard hit to the base of her skull would knock her out cold and solve that problem—I’ve done it dozens of times before.

Only time it backfired on me was the time a Mexican wrestler beat my ass at a bar. He took a pool cue to the back of the head and just kept fighting.

I shake my head at the memory and regard the homeless woman. I have no doubt I can handle her, but someone on the busy lakeshore is bound to notice. I don’t want to have to deal with beat cops, so I let her go.

The water sparkles in the sun like it costs a fortune to look at. I head for the dock and squint in the general direction the water taxi was headed in, but I can’t pinpoint it among the ferries, motorboats and sailboats on the inner harbor.

I let my gaze roam along the quay as I try to determine what my next step should be. A bike zooms past—I could take the rider down with a kick to his back wheel and a blow to the head. Lucky for him, he means me no harm.

A streetcar rattles in the distance as it heads down Queens Quay as I continue to look around.

A tall ship is moored a bit farther down the quay, its sails furled on its yards. My little brother, Odin, had a pirate obsession, so I took him and his friends on a harbor cruise on one of those things. I had to sing on the streets until 2am for a week to pay for it, but it made for one hell of a birthday.

My lip quirks up in a small smile as I jog down the quay. The ship’s gangplank is roped off because it’s not giving rides right now, but I jump the rope and race up onto the deck.