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“Exactly.”
“So, you want to see who recommends which ones.”
“You’ve got it.”
Another wave of pain gets me just behind my left eye. I close it and squint at Abbot through the right like I’m doing my best Popeye impression.
“Did you find out anything?” I ask.
“Maybe. I made sure everyone knew there was money to be spent. We batted around the names of a few groups, including two that I know have Wormwood connections. The next meeting we’ll vote and see who pushes for which groups.”
“How diabolical of you.”
“Thanks. I’m flattered.”
The wave of pain passes and I can use both eyes again. I get up and go around the table to where there’s another full glass of water and drink most of it.
“Listen. I know a guy—Manimal Mike—with a lot of power tools. Why don’t you point me at some of the shifty types on the council and I’ll show them Mike’s saws?”
Abbot raises an eyebrow before saying, “I’d need some proof before I’d let someone called Manimal Mike loose on anyone.”
“Point me at the Wormwood creeps and I’ll make them sing La fucking Traviata.”
“I hope it won’t come to that.”
“If it’s Wormwood, it will.”
“You might be right.”
I sit back down again and the light in the room stops strobing.
“Hey. I think your hamster food is starting to do something.”
“See? I told you so.” He pauses. “There’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a white folder. He opens it on the table. There’s a photo of a young boy.
“A friend’s son has gone missing. His name is Nick. He’s run away before. Mostly to his father’s house in San Diego. Everyone was assuming that’s what had happened this time, but my friend hasn’t heard anything and is worried. I remember that your lady friend, Chihiro, works for a detective agency. Do you think she could look into it for me?”
Abbot knows damn well that Chihiro is really Candy living with a new name and a new face courtesy of a powerful glamour. I have to give him points for being discreet enough, even though we’re alone, to use her cover name.
“I was heading to her office after the meeting. I’ll give it to her then.”
Abbot’s face relaxes. I hadn’t registered the worry until it wasn’t there anymore. I also notice that he’s gone far out of his way to not say who his friend is.
“Thank you. That means a lot to us.”
Okay. The friend is someone close, not just one of the council members trying to hide a family scandal. So, who is it? A childhood pal? A lover? Is Abbot married? I can’t see his ring finger, but that’s also a pretty Judeo-Christian tradition—not so much among the Sub Rosa types.
I focus back on the missing child.
“How many times has this kid run off? He looks like he’s maybe twelve.”
Abbot picks up the picture, looks at it, and sets it down again.
“Yes. He’s always been precocious. With luck, this is nothing. But there’s some worry that his father might have abducted him.”
I flip the picture over. There’s information on the back. Eye color. Hair. Height. The only contact number is Abbot’s. I close the folder and put it in my coat pocket.
