He gave a curt nod. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on trying to figure this out.”
“I miss you.”
He smiled. “Miss you, too, my little witch. I’ll be home soon.”
• • •
The bad news was that I couldn’t spring Sailor on bail. And that he was annoyed with me for suggesting he work for Aidan, but I wasn’t going to think about that part now.
Thegoodnews was that, maybe, the prosecutor was considering lesser charges than murder one.
I spied a small bank of pay phones at the jail. I fetched the roll of quarters I kept in my car for parking meters, and started making phone calls. I tried Sailor’s lawyer first, and this time got through.
Henry Petulengro was brief and efficient. His voice didn’t betray a lot of emotion.
“This is the dream, in homicide cases,” he said. “Turns out the victim died of some preexisting condition, something like that. Suddenly murder one turns into simple assault.”
“But Sailor didn’t assault anyone,” I insisted.
“Sure, right. I’m just saying, it’s a whole different ball game.”
“So what happens now? When will I be able to bail Sailor out?”
“We have to wait and see what the new complaint against him looks like. Probably not over the weekend. But this is good news, Lily. Try not to worry. And do me a favor—ask Sailor’s aunt Renna to stop threatening to hex me if I don’t get him off.”
“Renna’s threatening you?”
“It’s not like I’m not getting enough pressure from my wife. I’m doing the best I can.”
I thanked him, told him I’d see what I could doabout Renna, and hung up. I was frustrated. Yes, it was good news. But still it wasn’t the news I wanted. I wished Petulengro had said that Sailor would be coming home for dinner. That my fiancé would be in my arms tonight. That this was all a terrible misunderstanding and, oh, by the way, there was no overarching threat posed by a cupcake lady and your cold is merely a case of allergies and all will be well.
As Graciela used to always say,If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.I had to deal with the way things were. I had to find a way.
Maybe I needed a different angle. I deposited two more quarters and called Patience.
“What do you know about the Russian psychics in the Richmond District?”
“That’s like asking what I think of the witches of Texas,” Patience responded. “I’m going to guess there’s a lot of individual variation.”
“Okay, yes, of course you’re right. It’s just that Jamie—the guy who works for the cupcake lady—mentioned he used to run some sort of scam with some Russian psychics, so I was wondering...”
“I see what you’re getting at. I happen to know one person, named Juna. Short for Eugenia. Her grandmother used to have a Russian bakery out in the Richmond.”
“Do you think she’d talk to us?”
“She’d talk to a goat as long as it paid her hourly rate. I’ll set it up.”
“Thanks. Also, Sailor’s lawyer, Henry Petulengro, wants Renna to stop threatening to hex him.”
Patience let out an exasperated breath. “She always does that when family’s in jail. I don’t know why she thinks it’s helpful. I’ll talk to her.”
“Thank you. You’ll call me when you set up the meeting with the psychic? The sooner, the better.”
“Of course. Anything else I can do for you? A nice little massage, perhaps?”
“That’ll do for now. See you later.”
After several more quarters, and several more calls, I finally got Carlos to call me back. It turned out he was in the building, so he asked me to meet him outside on the sidewalk. He handed me a large canvas shopping bag containing the wooden box that held my Hand of Glory, and my woven Filipino backpack.
