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“It doesn’t belong to them, Rico. Nothing in this house belongs to them. This house doesn’t belong to them. Ray and Muriel were estranged. That means they didn’t like each other. We have no way of knowing what is in the last will and testament of Ray Marchand until the will gets read. Until that time, we treat this as his house, his things. Jocelyn and Bobby were the only family that lived in this house with Ray, and even they can’t take things out of it except for personal items. Am I being clear?”
Rico glared at him, his lower lip going under a little as if he was literally biting down to keep from saying things he’d regret later. It looked like there was a lot of ego inside the tall man, and he’d already been humiliated once tonight by his boss. His voice was low and careful and the words tight as he said, “Yes, Duke, you’re being clear.”
I didn’t know Vargas, but even I could hear the subtext of Go fuck yourself. I guess it doesn’t count as insubordination unless they say it out loud.
“Rico knows that it’s just a matter of paperwork and everything in here is mine.”
“Maybe, Muriel, but until that paperwork happens, assume the position.”
“What?”
“He means put your hands flat against the wall and lean,” I said.
“What?” she asked again, and sounded suitably outraged. So I helped her lean against the wall, though kicking her feet farther apart in the stilettos almost brought her to her knees. Once she realized we were actually going to search them both, she tried to lure Duke over to do her, but he stayed with the husband and left me to the femme fatale. Newman stayed close by in case I needed backup, or maybe he just wondered if Muriel would offer to let him pat her down, or he thought I’d be too rough with her. She kept telling me how important she was, or her family was, and how I’d regret this someday. She also kept pushing off the wall and trying to turn until I pinned her against the wall with an elbow in a pressure point on her back and threatened again to put on the cuffs. She cried for help about the pressure point, and Newman helped hold her while I got my cuffs off my belt. I could have held her without the help, but I’d have had to take her to the floor, and it would have been a lot rougher ride for Ms. Marchand-Babington. The cuffs made that nice little metallic sliding sound as I found the right size for her wrists. She had slender wrists for such a tall person. She was actually screaming as Newman and I brought her off the wall with a hand on either of her arms. She tried to stomp my foot with the stiletto. I avoided it. Newman didn’t, but no lasting damage. She fought like, well, an untrained girl. Besides, the cuffs were rated for supernatural suspects; she wasn’t getting away.
11
TODD BABINGTON HAD werewolf spray in his pants pocket. Despite what it was called, it was rated for any shapeshifter, which meant it was pepper spray’s tougher, uglier cousin. It was new on the market, because a couple of people had died after trying to use human-defense spray on shapeshifters. It had just pissed them off and made them more violent, so a new product had emerged to fill the void. Edward had experimented with it and declared it too dangerous indoors unless you put on a gas mask first. This from the man who burned a house down around us once because he used a flamethrower inside on a group of vampires.
Duke said, “Why do you have this, Todd?”
He gave a quick eye flick toward
his wife and then said, “I didn’t want to come back here without some protection.”
“You’re a fool, Todd. You didn’t need anything to protect you,” Muriel said.
“Ray was killed by a wereanimal.”
“They have the wereanimal that killed Ray locked up. He can’t hurt anyone anymore,” she said.
“Bobby loved Ray like a father, Muriel. I just don’t think he could do this.”
“You were always overly sentimental about the boy.”
“We should have taken Bobby when your sister and her husband died. He would have had two parents, and he’d have never gone on that safari trip after graduation.”
“So you’re saying it’s our fault that Bobby got attacked in Africa?”
“Not our fault,” he said, but his voice held a note of angry strength, and his eyes were less unsure.
“Good. I thought you were blaming us for Ray endangering the boy on all those adventures.”
“No, not us,” he said, and just for a second, his hatred for her showed in his eyes. I saw it as I stood there with a hand on her arm. Did she see it?
“Me? You’re blaming me?”
“Yes,” he said, very clear and precise.
“Don’t blame me that we couldn’t have children of our own. It’s your sperm that doesn’t work.”
Todd flinched as if she’d hit him, crumpling a little forward as if it had been a gutshot, and maybe it had been in a way. It was a low blow—something that should have been on the list of things never to say in a fight. Every couple has a list of things that should never be said in anger, because once said you can’t take them back, and the damage is done. Some words, even true words, are relationship killers.
Muriel didn’t even look sorry. She looked triumphant, as if she knew she’d gotten the last word, and she had. That little spark of angry defiance evaporated, and Todd was back to being her whipping boy.
But whipped or not, Todd got handcuffed after Duke found the spray. If he’d used it in the hallway, it would have gassed us all. We took Muriel and Todd down the main staircase, which would have been wide enough for four horses to have gone down abreast, if their hooves wouldn’t have slipped on the marble. I was very happy that I was in my heavy-soled boots and not Muriel’s heels on the slick stone, because she struggled periodically. If Newman and I hadn’t had a hand on both her arms, she might have fallen headfirst on the hard stone with her hands cuffed behind her. She wasn’t even technically under arrest yet, so it would have been a shame for her to die in our custody. Though since they weren’t under arrest and hadn’t been read their rights, it wasn’t the legal definition of custody, but it would have been good enough for the Internet if she hurt herself cuffed like this. After she almost fell on the stairs, she stopped struggling for the most part, but she made up for it verbally. By the time Duke led us to the garage connected to the house, I was very tired of listening to Muriel.
“I know my rights! You can’t search our car without a warrant,” she said from between Newman and me.
