On the radio, Stella ummed and ahhed to herself while the sound of her tip-tapping on the keyboard went on in the background.
“I got it,” she said and added accusingly, “It went to junk mail.”
Ledger didn’t know if that was true or not, but it didn’t matter enough to make him care. She had found his email in the end.
“Did the attached file open?” he checked.
There was a pause, and he listened to the clicking of a mouse in the background of the call. Finally, Stella said, “There,” smugly.
“It opened?” Ledger checked.
“Yeah,” Stella said. She somehow managed to audibly roll her eyes. “Clearly, you’re the master of modern technology. It’s a scan of an old bit of paper?”
“I need to find out about the property named on that bit of paper,” Ledger said as he turned the engine off. He hung one hand over the steering wheel and tapped his fingers on the plastic as he talked. “In the… decade… before it changed hands.”
“Whoa,” Stella said. “Back up. Do you want to ‘find out’ about the property like you’re a mortgage broker or like you’re a New Orleans tour guide on Halloween?”
“Both.”
Stella made an unenthusiastic noise. “Eurgh. That sounds like a lot of work.”
“I’m not asking you to do it,” Ledger said. “Get Lachlan to do it.”
“Why would he?”
“Because we’ll pay him. Flat rateora cut. Whichever is more.”
Stella made a popping sound with her lips. “What have you gotten yourself into, Ledger?”
If Ledger knew the answer to that, he’d be a lot closer to a solution to his current problems. At least 50 percent of the way there. Since he didn’t…
“Tell him the deed itself is a forgery. The name is a fake, but the address has been confirmed as being of interest to an invasive unnatural transplanted to this area from New York,” Ledger said as he got out of the car. “Odds are it’s a European native, and that address, probably under someone else’s name, was the quarantine tank. That should be enough to convince him to take my money.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
The duffle bag of books that Ledger had scavenged from Bell’s bedroom was stuffed in the trunk of the car. Ledger popped the lock and lifted it out to sling over his shoulder. A couple had fallen out, crumpled and grubby, but he didn’t bother to grab them. The duffle bag smelled like gasoline—sickly sweetness picked up from the odor left in the car—but he could still distinctly smell the books under that. Spam—and nine times out of ten that meant sin for profit, not passion.
“Does he still want to know how a dropout with a GED beat himandthe nuns to the Fallen Saint’s reliquary?”
“He probably dreams about it.”
“I’ll tell him,” Ledger said. It felt weird. There werereasonshe kept his talent a secret, but none of them were particularlyconcrete.He just didn’t know anyone else who could do what he did, so either he was a freak, or everyone else with his talent had a reason to keep it under wraps. Ledger supposed he’d find out if Lachlan didn’t bite on an easy payday. “But it’s that or the money. Not both.”
“That should work,” Stella said. “I’ll get in touch with him.”
“Tell him I need the information before the equinox.”
“He hates deadlines.”
“Trust me, I get that,” Ledger said dryly. “But if he wants paying, I need the information as soon as possible.”
“I’ll tell him,” Stella said. “But he’s a big boy. I can’t tell him what to do.”
“If he turns you down, offer the same deal to Poe,” Ledger said. “Lachlan’s not the only historian in New York.”
“I’llnottell him you said that,” Stella said primly.
Ledger hung up on her and tucked the phone into the back pocket of his chinos. He headed down the street.
