Siren Song (Blood Singer #2)

Siren Song (Blood Singer #2) Page 11

Of course it was. Asshole. Never mind that every missed phone call was another potential client lost.

“All right.” I took a deep, steadying breath and turned to Creede. “I had a secretary. I will either get her back or find us another one.” Dawna was my friend. If I could save her job for her, I would. And I so did not want Ron in charge of hiring a replacement.

“There is an office available on the third floor.” I pulled open the narrow center drawer of Dawna’s desk and pulled out the master key she kept there. “Look for the doors without signs. Go see what you think.”

Creede took the key. He was keeping a straight face, but his eyes were sparkling. Apparently he found the situation funny but was keeping his mouth shut. Wise man.

I just wish I could figure out why alarm bells were ringing up a storm in my head. I needed to get hold of Bruno right away, see if he’d heard anything about the Miller-Creede split and what it might mean for Creede and for us. Since Creede had been the headhunter for the firm, did that mean Bruno’s new job was out the window?

“I’ll take him up. Show him around,” Bubba offered, his gaze very steady on Creede.

Perfect. “Go with Bubba.” I made it a benediction as I gestured toward the staircase. They went, which left me with Dottie, her cat, and a stack of various-sized boxes.

Our eyes met and she smiled. In looks, Dottie reminds me of Betty White, but she has the disposition of Aunt Bea from Mayberry. Dottie’s a savvy and talented level-seven or -eight clairvoyant. I’d met her when her ex-son-in-law, a detective for the local police force, had needed to get some answers about the night I was attacked. My memories had been blocked and she cleared them. Unfortunately, he had been very sick at the time. He probably would have been dead from his illness by now, but instead he’d managed to become a hero and die in uniform so his kids would get his pension. I think Dottie had seen his eventual death from the disease, because she wound up giving him the information to be at the right place and time to be killed in the line of duty. I liked her. Because I felt really bad about Karl’s death I’d invited her to Vicki’s wake and had agreed to take her cat, whom Dottie couldn’t keep in her senior housing. Probably she’d seen that I was going to be in the office today and timed her visit for that.

She used her walker to carefully make her way up to the desk, schlepping the plastic pet carrier. I came around as quickly as I could and took the load from her. The carrier wasn’t really heavy, but it was awkward, mainly because the occupant wasn’t inclined to sit still. Every time she moved, the weight and balance of the thing shifted. I set the carrier on the countertop to take a look at the feline inside.

The cat was a tiny thing, orange and white, with huge green-gold eyes that seemed far too intelligent to belong to a supposedly dumb animal. I got the impression that she was sizing me up and wasn’t really thrilled with the result.

“So, Dottie, good to see you. What’s up?”

“You remember we talked about Minnie?”

I remembered.

“Well, I was afraid you’d changed your mind and hoping if you actually met her—”

“But Dottie—I’m still in Birchwoods and I’m not even sure I have a home to go to when I’m out.”

She got a look in her eyes. Now, there are cold, hard-hearted, sensible people who can look deep into the watery eyes of little white-haired old ladies and tell them there is no way in hell they’re taking care of a cat. Alas, I am not one of them. Before I could stop myself, I sighed and “Oh, okay,” popped out of my mouth. But I was at least able to mitigate the damage. “On one condition.”

“What?” She looked at me with wide eyes. I suppose she was seeing her last hope for the cat disappearing.

“How good are you at answering phones? I’ve got kind of a crisis here.”

She smiled and made a shooing motion with her hand. “Get out of the way and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

I shifted out of the way. As she passed me, she gave me a beatific, if slightly smug, smile. “Minnie’s litter box is in the backseat of my car. It’s the white Oldsmobile. Do you mind?”

I wondered how many people wound up doing her bidding because of that walker and that smile. Another sigh. “Right.”

I am such a sucker.

I reflected on that as I got the litter box. That and the presence of John Creede. Damn. I don’t like the notion of working for anybody and I would never have fit in with Miller & Creede with their buttoned-down image and “team” attitudes.

But the thought of partnering with John Creede. Again, I say, damn. Of course it would piss off Miller to no end. But did I really care? The reputation would follow both men and Creede might bring along some of the talent. He could also cover for me with my own clients right now, while I was on my enforced leave of absence. Because if somebody didn’t, those clients would go elsewhere. And if they wound up happy elsewhere, I’d lose them for good.

The empty litter pan and two bags of litter were right where Dottie had said they’d be, along with a box containing ceramic food and water dishes, hard and soft food, a cat bed, one of those carpet-covered cat condos, and a wider variety of cat toys than you’ll find at your average discount store. Apparently Minnie the Mouser knew how to live.

I needed three trips to bring it all inside. As I brought in the last of it, I saw Dottie making desperate hand signals as she chatted on the phone. I dropped my burdens and walked over.

“No, dear. It’s all right. Really. They haven’t replaced you. I’ve just been hired as your assistant.” Sweet little old lady she might be, but she lied like a trooper. “I really can’t work full-time. If I do, it’ll mess up my benefits. But I can cover for you for a day or so until you get back on your feet. You don’t need to worry.”

Dawna? I mouthed. Dottie nodded. Is she okay? She shook her head no, sadly. I winced.

“Here, why don’t you talk to Celia, dear.” She passed me the phone.

“Hey, Dawna. What’s up?”

I spent the next half hour reassuring Dawna that I hadn’t stabbed her in the back, she wasn’t fired, and her job would be waiting for her when she got out of the hospital. She’d decided to check herself into St. Mary’s for a one-week evaluation. Because if she didn’t, she was going to kill herself. She didn’t say that, but I could hear it in her voice. It broke my heart. It wasn’t her fault. I’d met the vampire that “did” her. Nobody but nobody, could’ve faced Lilith down for long. I’d done it, but I’d had the help of a very holy man armed with the words of banishment and a cross shining with his faith . Dawna hadn’t been so lucky. And she felt guilty because she’d given Lilith the address where I was staying.

As I was talking to Dawna, Dottie began, very slowly, putting things to rights. She opened the cat carrier to let Minnie roam around, gathered up the packages I’d dropped, and generally made herself useful. Bless her.

When I finally got through to Dawna that I wasn’t angry, didn’t blame her, and would visit her in person when I got out of Birchwoods for more than a day pass, she calmed down a bit. When I convinced her that her job was safe she took a shaky breath and said, “You hired me an assistant? And everyone agreed?”

There was an incredulity in her voice that I could fully understand. I interrupted her before she could get wound up again. “Dawna, I am not going to let anyone fire you just because you’re having a reaction to being . . . injured. You need to go easy. So I hired you some help. If the group doesn’t agree, it’s on my dime. Dottie needed a way to pick up a little extra money that wouldn’t be too physically strenuous, so I figured it might be the perfect fit.” Okay, I was lying. But it was what Dawna needed to hear. Besides, it was a good idea. We’d needed a backup for vacations and sick time anyway, and most temps couldn’t deal with Ron for very long. I had a feeling Dottie would be able to handle him. Minnie would be the bait; she could live at the office until I was out of Birchwoods.

It wasn’t a bad plan really. Since many of our businesses run on twenty-four-hour workdays, there’s nearly always at least one person in the building. Minnie could live in my office and Dottie could watch over her until I was released. Then we’d see how people had warmed to her. Maybe she could be a permanent office cat. I knew Bubba liked cats and Ron . . . well, he doesn’t like anything, so who cared what he thought?

“You’re sure you’re not giving away my job?”

“Nope. In fact, since you’re going to be a supervisor now, I thought about giving you a raise.” I winced the moment the words left my mouth. That really was a group decision. I hoped I could convince them it was overdue.

She perked up at that. “How much?”

Better judgment took over and I stalled. “We’ll talk about it when you get back. I’ve gotta go.” I handed Dottie the phone before I could get myself in any more trouble. If I wasn’t very careful how I presented things at our next tenant meeting, I was liable to be stuck paying for Dottie’s salary and Dawna’s raise. And if anybody was allergic to cats— I shook my head. It would work out. It would. I was not going to think about it right now. Because I’d just glanced at the clock and somehow, during the course of things, it had become 10:00! I was already due to eat again and I hadn’t even made it upstairs!

I was about to climb the first step when Dottie stopped me.

“Don’t forget your Wadjeti.” She gestured to where I’d left the box sitting next to the phone. “It feels quite powerful and looks as if it’s very valuable. Such a shame it’s missing the death scarab.”

She could tell that without even opening the box? Impressive. Then it sank in. “It’s missing a piece?” Oh, crap. I couldn’t know for sure, but I was betting the sirens hadn’t given me a defective gift. Which meant that there was probably a thumb-sized piece of ceramic somewhere on the floor at Birchwoods. Unless it had already been gotten rid of by Housekeeping. Which would be bad. Very bad. Nobody likes to think you are careless with their gifts. Of course, they might not ever find out. But, knowing my luck—