“Charley…?” Disbelief dripped from both syllables of my name.
“I had a bad moment, but it’s passed. The best way to get over something is to barge straight through it, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“I want to find the bastard, Titus.”
“Okay.” I could practically hear him nod. “Go do it. I’m transferring some extra funds for you, just in case. This is a priority. I want it solved fast, because I can’t keep it from the council forever, and I don’t want to take them an unsolved human murder.”
“Understood. I’ll be in touch when I have more information.”
I would never have guessed, based on the vibe in the front of the bar, that one of my regular patrons had just been accused of murder. Darts were being thrown, pool being played, food and drinks consumed as if this were just any other Friday night. And for most people, I guess it was.
Fights were not entirely unheard of in country bars, and as far as most of the customers were concerned, that’s all that had happened. Thanks in large part to Davey, Tucker, and Vance.
I lifted the bar flap, headed into the dining area, and Tucker tossed his head toward the back of the building, where stairs led up to my private quarters, and, alternately, down into the basement, silently telling me that Vance had taken Nolan Blake downstairs as requested.
I nodded my acknowledgement.
Davey arched her brows at me as she set a plate of Buffalo wings on a table across the room, but I could only give her a subtle shake of my head. I wasn’t in the position to indulge her with an update at the moment, and thanks to her human hearing, she probably knew less about what was going on than anyone in the building, other than the human women still laughing and drinking at their booth.
On my way across the room, I grabbed an unused chair, which I set at the end of the booth where Austin Graham and Bishop Mattheson were silently sipping from tall, frosty mugs of draft beer. I sat backward on the chair, folding my arms across its spine, and glanced from one man to the other. But before I could speak, Bishop tossed his head in Davey’s direction as she headed back to the bar.
“You got a human waitress in a shifter bar?” He looked distinctly disapproving. And knowing how his wife had died, I could totally understand. “Austin said she’s your sister?”
“Yes. Davey. And this is the safest place for her.” Considering that she’d refused to leave the territory. Her home. “I hope it goes without saying that she’s off limits.”
Bishop scowled. “I’m not interested in your sister. Ijustlost my wife.”
“I know. But everyone gets the warning. No exceptions.”
He seemed to approve of the policy, the only common ground Bishop and I had found so far. “Your names are Charley and Davey?” His head canted at an angle that might have meant he was amused. “So, what, your folks really wanted sons?”
“Never gets old.” I cleared my throat and glanced at Austin to draw him into the conversation. “I just got off the phone with Titus Alexander,” I said as softly as I could, well aware that anyone who could eavesdrop on us would be. “He’s up to date on your case, and Vance is filing a formal report as we speak.” From the computer in the basement. “We’re finding housing for you—”
My phone buzzed, and when I dug it from my pocket, I saw Stuart’s name on the screen. “Speaking of which…” I sent the call to voicemail; I’d call him back when half the bar wasn’t trying to listen in. “So, you two are welcome to hang out here—beer’s on the house—until I have a key for you, and—”
“We’re not staying,” Bishop said. “Though I would take another beer.”
I counted to five before responding. It’s this thing Davey talked me into, to help me keep my temper. Ten is the goal, but I’ve never made it past eight. “We agreed to work together on this investigation,” I whispered. “To share our respective resources. For that to work, you’ll have to be here. You don’t have to stay at Pine Cove, but—”
“We have a house.”
“In Covington,” I pointed out. “That’s a drive. It’d be much easier if you were sort of…on hand.”
“What is Pine Cove?” Austin asked.
“It’s a shifter-friendly apartment complex in town. Five different two-story buildings, four units each.”
Bishop scowled. “And by shifter-friendly, you mean…?”
“All the tenants are shifters. All Pride members. As is the manager, Stuart Jones.” Rejecting human tenants wouldn’t be legal, of course, but since the change in management a couple of years ago, Pine Cove hadn’t had a single application from a human, because those who came to tour decided, universally, that they didn’t like the vibe. Though they couldn’tquiteput their finger on a reason they didn’t feel safe in a neighborhood with no crime to speak of. “We’re arranging for a short-term occupancy. At the Pride’s expense, of course.”
I glanced around, worried that if that part were overheard, people would start to catch on that this was about more than just a bar fight.
“You’re going to put us up? For free?” Bishop looked and sounded beyond suspicious. “Why would you do that?”
“Because they need us,” Austin told him.
