“Is Jean okay?” he asked, his smile dimming.
“She’s good,” I assured him quickly. “We’re here to talk to Xtelle. I didn’t see her in the side yard.”
“Sure,” he said. “Come on in. Hey, Crow. You still up for a game this weekend?” He held the door open while we walked past him.
“Hell, yes,” he said. “But Rossi might be hosting. I’ll let you know.”
“Sure. Yeah. All good, man.”
The living room furniture was mismatched and homey. A pair of Jean’s favorite Cthulhu slippers were on the floor, and her Venture Bros. lap blanket swagged the couch. A few other items that belonged to her: the eye of Sauron mug, a pair of wadded General Servius socks were scattered here and there.
I knew if I went to her little apartment, I’d find Hogan’s stuff mixed in with hers too.
“She’s in the back. Can I get you anything? Coffee? I have a couple experimental rolls if you’re up for it.”
“Experimental as in...” Crow mimed smoking a joint.
Hogan laughed. “No, man. I’m trying some new flavors of bread.”
“What are you going for?” Crow followed him into the kitchen.
“Dill, bacon, but also peanut butter, and maple. Think breakfast, but with pickles on the plate…”
I left them to it and walked down the hallway, past a half bath, a spare room that had been turned into a computer and gaming room, a linen closet and then, to the guest room.
The door was decorated with sparkly red tulle, creating a stage framing a photo of Xtelle in pony form. She was standing on the beach in a very regal pose, one hoof raised, her head tipped down, her short pony neck curved as her ridiculously long, silvery mane blew in the wind behind her.
Just below the picture was a little shelf and a tip jar.
There were two dollars in it. I figured she’d put them in there herself.
I knocked on the door.
“I told you I hate maple syrup,” Xtelle said.
“It’s Delaney. Can I come in?”
There was a thump and then a lot of scrabbling behind the door. I thought I heard a window open and then more scrabbling—moving books? Furniture? Finally hooves clacked across hardwood to the door.
She opened it, and there was a chain on her side. She stuck her eye in the crack and blinked at me. “What do you want?”
I smelled chocolate on her breath and a faint hint of cigarette smoke.
“I heard about the delivery you got today,” I said. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
The eye narrowed, then she shut the door. The chain slid and clicked against the wall.
I waited for the door to open. Nothing.
“Xtelle?”
“Come in,” she sang out.
I opened the door.
Hogan was a nice guy who obviously wanted Xtelle to make herself comfortable in the guest room. The demon queen had done exactly that.
The queen-size bed was shoved to one side of the room, mirrors covered three of the four walls. Everything in the room was red, pink, or sparkling silver. It was positively funhouse chic.
