I found myself pressing back into the couch and starting to nod.
Mara cleared her throat as Ben leaned forward. Albert formed in heavy mist by Cameron's elbow, flickering like a wet flame.
Cam jumped. "What?" I relaxed.
Mara had narrowed her eyes. Albert drifted toward her.
"Um…. Cameron," Ben started. "Whatever you just did, I don't think you should do that."
"What? What did I do?"
"That was a geas," Mara said. "Persuasion by psychic force. Bad form to try it on your friends."
"I can do that? I thought that was a myth."
"Apparently not. You have power—or you will have. You mustn't abuse it."
Cameron's eyes grew round. "I didn't mean to. I really didn't."
I stood up and grabbed my cup and plate. "It's all right," I lied. "No big deal. I'm just going to take these to the kitchen."
Mara got up, too. "You lads chat. I'll help Harper with the dishes."
Mara closed the kitchen door behind us.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I assured. "He didn't mean to do whatever he did. I just needed to get away from it. Have I done the wrong thing, bringing him here?"
"Not at all. That lad needs help. Between us, I'm sure we'll get it all settled just fine. Ben and I were busy before you arrived. There'll be nothing to worry about. So long as we make it through the night safely."
I slept poorly with Mara's comment in my head and, having agreed to meet Quinton at nine a.m., I had to rise at seven, but I did not shine.
Quinton was waiting with the Camaro outside my office building.
"Morning!" he greeted as I walked up. "Figured you'd be punctual. She's all ready to go."
"What did you do, get up at five?" I asked.
"Nope. Didn't go to bed."
"You stayed up all night to work on Cameron's car?"
"No. I was going to be up all night anyway, so I just tacked on a couple of hours at the end. It was pretty easy once I had the part. We tested the system out about an hour ago and it works just fine. Your guy should be happy with it."
"Why don't you like him?"
He glowered at me. "I've never been very fond of his kind. They put my hackles up. I didn't mean to be a jerk, it just came out."
"That's OK, but try to be a little smoother about it next time."
"You think there's going to be a next time?"
"Well," I said, "I'm beginning to think there could be."
"Oh? Are your clients getting shady?"
"More than you can know."
"Judging from this one, I can guess. Well, I'm always available. There are some things I won't do, but I can't imagine you asking me to do them."
"Don't be too sure, Quinton. You don't know me and my business as well as you think you do."
He gave me a Cheshire-cat smile. "Don't hesitate to call."
I bought him a cup of coffee—more because I needed one than because he wanted one—and he gave me his bill and explained the system to me. We disarmed and armed it twice, just to make sure.
"Thanks, Quinton. Could you drive the car up to Queen Anne with me?"
"Sure, if you'll answer a question for me. What's with the dirt?"
"Dirt?"
"Yeah. The trunk has an inch-thick layer of dirt in it under a blanket. I had to move it to run some of the wires. So I ask you—who keeps dirt in their trunk?"
"Someone who's very eccentric."
He quirked an eyebrow at me, but didn't argue.
We drove up to the Danzigers' house and I asked Quinton to wait in the Rover. Ben answered my knock.
"I brought Cam's car," I explained, pointing it out and offering him the keys. "How's he doing?"
"Uh, fine, I guess. No problems last night and he seems to be… asleep. You just missed Mara. She had a faculty meeting this morning."
"That's all right. Did you stay up all night? I don't see those jackass ears you swore Mara would curse on you if you did."
"No, no, she was fine with it, but… Look, Harper, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you."
"Anything drastic?"
"No, but there's something really weird going on. Mara said something about ripples. She's afraid things worse than the guardian may be attracted to you."
"Make my morning, Ben. Am I in danger this second?"
"She didn't think so."
"Then it'll have to wait."
"It can wait a little," Ben conceded.
I handed him Cameron's keys. "OK. The little doodad on the key ring will disarm the alarm. Make sure you tell Cameron about it when you give him the keys or he'll set off the alarm and your neighbors will be all over you. I'll call you when I'm free," I added.
Ben looked bemused, but I couldn't take time to chat with him while Quinton was giving me the hairy eyeball from my own front seat.
On the way back, Quinton frowned at me for the first five blocks.
"What is it?" I demanded.
"I'm just worried, that's all."
"About what?"
"Just got a bad feeling about this situation."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. Call it a prejudice of mine. I just don't like your boy, I guess. Bugs me a bit to see someone as nice as you get involved in things that are… creepy."
"I can manage creepy just fine, Quinton. I work in Pioneer Square. I've seen plenty of creepy."
He shrugged and went silent, but kept glowering all the way back.
I was glad when I was in my own office and Quinton had wandered off. Skulking about on business for the undead made me feel like a character in film noir, and Quinton's comments about the creepiness of it all hadn't made me feel any better. I was also wondering how I was going to write this up in my case notes.
Though I had found Cameron, I still had questions itching at my brain and an irresistible desire to scratch them, especially if I was going to take on Cameron's proposal. I called the TPM corporate office and started digging to discover who had been using the condo during the dates Sarah stayed there. I finally found a real estate lawyer named Sweto with a chip on her shoulder that could have supported a couple single-family residences with room for large backyards. We talked misconduct, lawsuits, and criminal charges, and it was no fault of mine if she got the impression we shared a profession.
"TPM has interests in many real estate ventures in the Seattle area," she informed me. "In point of fact, we own the building and lease several suites in it back from the management firm for tax reasons. We also have investments in nonresidential commercial property and many other business ventures not related to real estate."
"And who was using this particular suite at the time in question?"
As fast as she'd opened up, she clammed shut. "That information is privileged."
"Oh, come on, Sweto. It's not like I can't find out."
"I'm sorry. You won't find out from me. Not unless you have a subpoena."
"A what?"
"What sort of case was this again?"
"Misconduct."
"Sorry. I can't talk any further. You'll need a subpoena for me to release that information. Have a nice day." And she hung up on me.
My native curiosity was now leavened with irritation. I went up to the records office and killed several hours looking for deeds and business licenses. They wouldn't give me the names, but they'd give me a start on cracking TPM's shell.
The corporation was privately held, so deep information on TPM was difficult to find, but I made phone calls and one of my contacts offered to fax me everything he had. Another came up with a list or newspaper articles that mentioned TPM. By the end of the day, I expected to be adrift in TPM-related paper.
While those bits of information dribbled in, I tried Philip Stakis's number again.