“Sure, why not? The more the merrier, right?”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll be right across the street.”
“We’ll be down in five.”
It didn’t even take them that long. Kona was uncharacteristically sheepish as they crossed the street and approached me.
It was Kevin who said, “She’s sorry for how she was on the phone.”
“He your spokesman now?”
“Probably should be,” Kona said. “I am sorry. Billie was hurt, you’ve probably been working on this night and day since it happened. And I should have guessed from the way you were on television that it wasn’t an ordinary bombing. You know better than to talk to the press. But a spell aimed at you and your woman-that would throw anyone off their game.”
“Thanks.” I glanced at Kevin. “Both of you.”
“What you can you tell us?” Kona asked.
“Not much right now. There seems to be dark magic flowing in every direction, and I don’t know what to do with it all. The body at Sweetwater Park, some weird stuff happening with my father, the attack on Solana’s. And those don’t even cover the worst of it.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Kona said. “But what’s the worst of it?”
“One of Namid’s kind was murdered in the last day or so.”
Kona’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t think they were mortal.”
“Namid’s the ghost-thing you told me about the other day, right?” Kevin asked. “The one who helps you train?”
Namid would hate the description, but I didn’t see any point in correcting him.
“That’s right.” To Kona I said, “I didn’t know they were mortal, either. Even Namid is at a loss to explain what happened. But somehow one was killed. I’m wondering if you’ve had any reason to investigate Regina Witcombe since I left the force.”
“Witcombe,” Kevin said. “Don’t tell me she’s into magic, too.”
“Dark magic, from what I hear.”
“Shit, Justis. This keeps getting better and better.” Kona closed her eyes, rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “No, I haven’t had anything to do with the woman. Neither has anyone else on the force as far as I know. I’ve been convinced for years that she had her husband killed, but we were never-” Her hand dropped to her side. “We were never able to prove it. And now you’re telling me that she’s a myste, too.” She shook her head. “Well, at least now I know how she got away with it.”
“Any new leads on the Sweetwater Park murder?” I asked.
She shook her head. “We’ve got nothing. I was going to ask you the same thing. What can you tell me about what happened at Solana’s?”
I gazed across the street at 620. “It was aimed at me. I heard someone speak to me after the explosion. ‘A warning. Do not push too hard.’ That’s what she said.”
“She? You think it was Witcombe?”
“No, I don’t. I think Regina Witcombe is a weremyste. Like me, but richer, and into dark magic. I think Solana’s was attacked by someone who’s more on Namid’s level.”
“So it was aimed at you,” Kevin said, studying me with a critical eye. “And yet your girlfriend’s the one who’s in the hospital.”
“Kevin!” Kona said.
“He’s right. That might be the weirdest part of it. Nothing happened to me. Nothing at all. I didn’t so much as tear a fingernail. No cuts, no bruises, no burns.” Kona glanced at my jaw. “I got the bruise elsewhere,” I told her. “I’m serious: Nothing happened to me at the restaurant. Someone blew up Solana’s to send me a message, and at the same time did everything in her power to keep me safe.”
The words echoed in my head. Kona asked me something, but I didn’t hear her. I was remembering the touch of magic dancing along my skin the instant before the explosion, and also the tickle of magic I’d felt before Mark Darby shot at me. There should have been some residue of power on me after both episodes. That there wasn’t must have meant something.
“There’s no residue on my dad, either,” I whispered.
“What are you talking about? Are you all right?”
My gaze snapped to Kona’s face. “This wasn’t the first time she saved me,” I said. “The night before, I was working on a case and nearly got myself shot. By all rights, I should have died. But someone cast a spell that saved my life. I still don’t know who.”
“So there’s some weremyste out there-”
“I told you: She’s not a weremyste. She’s too powerful for that.”
“All right. Some magical entity. And she’s doing everything she can to keep you alive, while at the same time blowing up your favorite restaurant and the woman you love with it.”
“Sounds a little crazy doesn’t it?”
Kevin exhaled. “I’m glad you said that, and not me.”
“Welcome to life with Justis,” Kona said. “Crazy just follows him around.”
“I need to speak with Witcombe,” I said, “and I’m not sure how best to get close to her.”
Kevin gave a small shake of his head. “She has a security detail. A good one. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t get past them.”
Kona and I exchanged glances. She grinned.
It was like a light bulb went on over Kevin’s head. “Unless you happen to have magic.”
“You don’t know her address in Paradise Valley, do you?”
“No!” Kona said. “Talking about this is one thing. Giving you an address so that you can go harass arguably the most influential woman in the city? That’s something else entirely.”
“She was on the plane.”
For the second time in about five minutes, Kona stared at me as if I’d sprouted wings and flown over 620. “By ‘the plane,’ you mean . . .”
“Flight 595. For all I know, she killed Jimmy Howell. Then she flew to Washington, and within twenty-four hours of her arrival there, one of Namid’s fellow runemystes was murdered in-wait for it-Northern Virginia.”
She pursed her lips.
“Does that change things a little?” I asked.
“Not as much as you’d think. In case you’ve forgotten, the PPD doesn’t investigate murders of runemystes, or, for that matter, murders that take place two thousand miles beyond the state border.”
“And the plane?”
“There were lots of people on the plane. We have no evidence whatsoever-at least none that’s admissible-implicating Regina Witcombe in either murder or sabotage. Add to that the fact that the FBI guys practically claw out our eyes anytime someone from the department gets near their desks, and there’s really not much I can do for you.”
I nodded. I could call back Sally Peters, who had access to the real estate databases, but I was sure her company would frown on her giving out private information, too.
“Of course,” Kona went on a moment later, “a woman like Witcombe is probably at her office more often than she’s at home, even on a Saturday. And corporate addresses are easy to find, even for a private investigator.”
Kevin snorted.
I lifted an eyebrow. “I’d thought of going to her office. But I figure that’s where I’m most likely to encounter that security detail Kevin mentioned. She might relax a bit at home.”
Kona frowned. “I hate it when he’s right.”
“If I find something, you know I’ll bring it to you. Wouldn’t you like to beat the FBI guys at their own game?”
“Go back inside, Kevin.”
Kevin’s face fell. “What’d I do?”
“Nothing,” Kona said, rounding on him. “I’m trying to protect your ass. If I get caught doing something wrong, I want you to be able to swear on a stack of Bibles that you knew nothing about it. Now get back to work.”
His eyes narrowed a bit, and his expression hardened. But after a moment his gaze flicked in my direction. “Jay.”
“See you later, Kevin.”
He said nothing to Kona before walking away, crossing the street and entering 620. Once Kona couldn’t see him anymore, she faced me again.
“I’ll get you Witcombe’s address. I’ll call you with it. But I don’t like this.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t either.”
She dipped her chin. “I believe that. Twice now you’ve mentioned your father. What’s he got to do with this?”