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“The one who paid his rent but kept him on a short leash.”
“That’s the one.”
“And it wasn’t Hennessey or Summers.”
“Definitely not.”
“‘Forever yours, forever mine.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing.”
There’s a tiny Zen garden in a box on her desk. The sand is curved into gentle waves. I pick up the tiny rake, look it over, and toss it back in, ruining the design.
“What did you mean when you said Stein had gone over the edge?”
She shifts her shoulders nervously.
“Chris was always eccentric and a risk taker, but he went a bit mad about it. Breaking and entering. Stealing cars.”
“I heard he could pick locks.”
“Yes. But there were other things too. He’d set fires in abandoned buildings and not run out until the very last minute. He said he belonged to a club. He tried to get some of us to join. No one did, of course.”
Something clicks in my brain. Something bad.
“Did he say ‘club’ or ‘lodge’?”
“I suppose it could have been ‘lodge.’”
“The Zero Lodge?”
“Maybe.”
“Did he ever mention Dan Perkins or Juliette Stray?”
“Ha! Those nuts.” The laugh is genuine this time. “I sold them their house. But no, it couldn’t have been them. They weren’t even in the city back then.”
“And that’s all you know?”
She picks up the rake and begins fixing the sand in her tiny garden.
“That’s everything.”
I crane my head around the expensive-looking office.
“I can see why you didn’t need to make money off Stein. This is a nice setup.”
A thin smile.
“I like it.”
“Who else would know about Stein, hustling, and sex magick and all that?”
“Why should I tell you that?”
“Because a bad word to Abbot about your working as Stein’s pimp is going to cost you money.”
She stops raking and looks at me.
