Titan Song by Dan Stout (best english books to read txt) 📗

but Sheena and Bobby’s link to Vandie Cedrow was tenuous at best. And as for the buzzing incidents across the city? A few had shown some level of connection to the drug trade, but Hells, if you grabbed a dozen people off the street, chances were good that two or three of them had either used an illicit substance or knew someone who did.

I twisted my shoulders until there was a satisfying crack in my lower back. Still stretching, I glanced around. The Bullpen had a scant half-dozen occupants that night. Police worked around the clock, the Bunker was always open, and there were always Homicide detectives on duty, though the night shift was more lightly staffed than day shift. Not that there was less violence, but there was a better chance of locating witnesses or reaching a judge when you needed one during the day.

One of the other detectives on duty was a middle-aged woman with yellow head plates. Crenoline had pulled a television on a rolling AV cart beside her desk, the antenna extended as far as possible and pointed toward the window. She waited through commercial after commercial for the concert coverage to begin. I dropped my hands onto my desktop and snarled over my shoulder. “Do we really need to listen to this garbage?”

Crenoline glared at me. “I’m trying to figure out who killed a pimp in the back bathroom of a bar that’s so filthy I have to shower just from thinking about it. And for that privilege, I gave away my chance to see the performance of a lifetime. And on top of that, I have to sit here with you?” She snorted. “The dial stays where it is, understand?”

Like most Mollenkampi, she put a layer of tonality on her words, but her sarcasm was far less musical than Jax’s eloquent notes of skeptical disdain. Even Ajax was at the show, probably screaming himself hoarse. He was also there with Talena. I knew better than to obsess about the risk they carried being there, so instead I obsessed about what Auberjois had said about Gellica.

How many people knew she and I had gone out for dinner? Did those same rumors cover my awkward departure that night, leaving her on the front stoop of her home? Were there whispers about our connection to each other, and to magic?

Or was she really, as Auberjois had implied, simply another attempt of Paulus’s to infiltrate the Bunker and solidify her control of the city’s power structure? If Gellica had shown interest only on Paulus’s orders, then I was better off staying away from her. But if Gellica had been genuine, then it was possible that our almost-relationship put her in danger. And if she was hurt because I failed to warn her . . .

The Hells with it.

I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

I drove with one hand, the other spinning the radio dial. The airwaves were wall-to-wall with chatter about the concert’s premiere night. Radio stations had been dribbling out a new Dinah McIntire single every day or so in the lead-up to the concert, but the music industry buzz was all about the unreleased track—“Titan’s Song,” embargoed until she performed it live for the first time that night, at the precise moment when the moon topped the Mount. I had to admit, the lady knew how to work her fans into a frenzy.

A feeding frenzy is exactly what I was afraid was going to happen.

I parked the Hasam and studied Gellica’s home. Two stories and nicely maintained, it was high-end without being ostentatious. No lights in the windows, no movement along the curtains. It was early enough that she likely wasn’t asleep, so she probably wasn’t home. I grabbed the keys, but didn’t turn them in the ignition. I should wait for her.

I made it a ten count before turning over the engine. I could always come back. I’d try Paulus’s home, then Gellica’s office to see if I could find her.

Sick of the endless array of McIntire tracks, I killed the radio, leaving the chirp of Dispatch to keep me company. There was an armed robbery in Old Orchard, a drive-by shooting in Guilder’s Glen, and some kind of traffic jam in Eden Prairie, a neighborhood in the Hills, near the Barekusu camp. Overall, a quiet night for Titanshade.

I pulled up to Paulus’s gate. Since we’d been there last, Paulus had provided her security with a lean-to shed. One more sign that she was taking the threats from the roughnecks seriously. There was electric service in the shed, evidenced by the flickering glow of a television dancing on the mandibled face of one guard. The other strolled up to my window, squinted at my badge, and consulted a clipboard. The resulting frown told me I’d be having trouble.

“Can’t do it,” he said.

I hesitated for a heartbeat, to make my indignation clear. “You understand this is official business, right?”

He shook the clipboard. “Sorry, pal. I got two badge numbers on here that are no-gos, and yours is one of them.”

I started to argue more, but paused as a rumble filled the air. A deep purple Longinus Lancer prowled along the street, heading in our direction.

“Ah, Hells.” The guard shifted his feet. “Look, you gotta go. Come back with a warrant. Otherwise, you’re out of luck.”

The Lancer slowed, then moved forward, blocking my retreat and idling angrily. I craned my neck to watch Gellica get out of her vehicle as her radio bleated out a breathless description of the concert.

The guard straightened his back. “Sorry, ma’am. This gentleman is leaving.”

Gellica tilted her head toward the shed. “It’s fine. Watch your show. He’ll be gone in a moment.”

She waited for the guard to retreat into the shed, her fingers tugging at the laced cuffs of her shirtsleeves. She didn’t speak until he was inside.

“What do you want, Carter?”

“To talk.”

I got out of the Hasam and crossed the few steps in her direction. The Lancer’s door stood open, a