“Come.” He waved me over to the garden beside the house and held out a chair for me at a delicate bistro table painted metallic gold to complement the gilded veins in the marble monstrosity behind us. “Sit.”
There was no point in being rude since he was cooperating, so I let him get his jollies playing host. Just like I let Ford get his playing muscle as he fell into parade rest behind me.
Leaning back, all ease and comfort, I crossed my legs. “Does the name Shonda Randall ring any bells for you?”
“No.” He tapped scarred fingers against his chin. “Should it?”
“That’s what I’m here to determine.” I linked my fingers at my navel. “Shonda was a member in good standing of the Atlanta gwyllgi pack. She was murdered, brutally, two days ago.”
“I have no beef, as the youngsters say, with Tisdale or her people.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I rubbed my thumbs against each other. “Unless you’re paid to have one?”
“I thought you were asking a strictly personal question.” A twinkle brightened his clever eyes. “Business is a different matter.”
“Can you tell me if anyone put a hit out on Shonda?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. There’s no cause for such language.” He brought out his phone and hit a button. “Let me summon my aid. She will know if we had any dealings with this Randall woman.”
A tall woman dressed in a flowy black silk gown exited a side door and padded over to join us.
“Leanna,” he said cordially, “do you recall if we had any business with a Shonda Randall?”
“A Miles Randall in 1978, a George in 1999, and a Huron in 2000,” she answered less than a minute later. “No Shonda. No Randalls at all since our business with Huron concluded on May 21, 2000 near the intersection of Oakview Road and Hosea L. Williams Drive.”
Impressed despite myself, I wished I possessed half her recall. “Eidetic memory?”
“One of her many talents.” He patted her on the butt. “Now, Ms. Whitaker, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not at this time.” I stood to leave but hesitated. “I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”
“You are the future of Atlanta. Never let it be said I do not embrace the future.”
Without another word, I left Garou to continue embracing other things, namely Leanna’s backside.
While the alpha had been busy entertaining us, his pack had gathered, cutting us off from our ride.
So much for cooperation. Guess Garou wanted to make an example out of me after all.
“Skim them,” I whispered to Ambrose. “Skim, not drain.”
Ford, who must think I had a muttering problem, eyed the gauntlet. “How do you want to handle this?”
Given free rein, the shadow punched in and out of bodies with manic glee, sipping on their magic to replace what he had lost when Bonnie attacked him. “Give them a minute to reconsider their life choices.”
Cocking his eyebrows at me, he made his doubt clear. “You really think that will work?”
“I really do.”
Bonnie watched Ambrose, her interest keen on her cute doggy face, but it appeared Ford was blind to his shenanigans. Thank the goddess.
After about a minute, the dozen or so Loups gathered started swaying on their feet, groaning, clutching their stomachs, and otherwise glaring at me like I was a plague fairy come to dust them.
To be fair, I kind of was.
“I think they’re repentant enough now.” I led the way, Bonnie on my heels, and shoved over anyone who got in my path. Most curled in a ball on the ground, but a few crawled after me. “Ford, now would be a great time to unlock your truck if you haven’t yet.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He mashed a button on the fob he took from his pocket, his myriad other keys jingling, but his eyes were locked on me. “Hop on in.”
“I’d have to be half grasshopper to make that jump,” I said, hoping to deflect his sudden interest.
At the truck, I opened the door and dared Snowball with a look to expect me to play elevator for her.
She stuck her nose in the air then leapt like a frakking gazelle onto the seat.
“Normal corgis can’t do that,” Ford remarked after we had resumed our usual seats.
Their short legs did make it seem unlikely. “Normal corgis also don’t weigh fifty pounds.”
Bonnie yelped with affront, which made Ford laugh and me grin.
“There’s just more of you to love, Bon-Bon.” I ruffled her fur. “You’re a badass, and you know it.”
Just slightly more ass than bad in this form. Corgis had serious swagger and the butts to go with it.
Mollified, she curled up on the seat and dozed. For real this time.
Eyes on the road, Ford still managed to award me his full attention. “What did you do back there?”
“I didn’t do a thing.” Ambrose did it for me. “Don’t get too excited, though. It’s a rare occurrence.”
Letting Ambrose off his leash was only slightly less dangerous than handfeeding a starving lion a prime rib fresh off the hoof. Too little, and he was no use to me, and I became physically ill. Too much, and he regained his former power, and he could exert his will over me. A precarious line to walk if I wanted to keep the body count to a minimum, but I was getting better at balancing.
Shaking his head, he let it go. “Did you get what you came for?”
“I buy that Garou and the Loups didn’t have an official stake in Shonda Randall. That doesn’t mean an individual didn’t harbor a grudge.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.” I only had a gut feeling to go on, but the evidence would come. “I don’t.”
“Nine bodies.” He gritted his jaw. “That’s a whole lot of grudge.”
“The cleaners haven’t conclusively linked the victims,” I reminded him. “The Perkerson report will verify if we’re looking for one killer or a pair.”
“Why a pair?”
I debated how much to share with him, but he had a stake in the outcome where Shonda was concerned, so I came clean. I told him what Reece discovered, that a warg and/or human was involved, and that eased the frown lines that had bracketed his mouth since hearing I wanted to meet with Garou.
“That explains a few things.” He flipped on his blinker. “I’m guessing you want to meet with Clairmont and Mendelsohn too?”
“That was my plan.”
“Do me a favor and let me in on the plan next time?”
“Oh, I will.” I got comfy. “I don’t want to lose my chauffeur privileges.”
He huffed out a laugh, and I did too, but I don’t think he was laughing at the same thing as me, considering I was imagining a gwyllgi behind the wheel, wearing a little black cap, steering with his paws.
Yeah.
Best I keep that under my proverbial hat.
Six
The Mendelsohn pack resided in tents pitched in the woods off the interstate, and that suited them just fine. I couldn’t remember if this is how they had chosen to live within the city, congregating under overpasses, or if they were embracing nature in their new locale.