Grimoires and Where to Find Them by Raconteur, Honor (ebook reader for laptop .txt) 📕

me, gave me a once-over, and then shrugged. “Your protections should be more than adequate for this. If I’m wrong, I’ll reset you.”

Jules was not nearly as protective of me as the other two, and I trusted his eyes and magical sense. I, too, felt like this place would just roll right over me, like water off a duck’s back. Sherard had made sure of it after the last time I’d gone down, and I trusted his work. And I really needed to check the landlady’s files.

We both went in, but while Jules went up the stairs, I deviated to the office to the left of the front door. Even as I entered, my nose crinkled in distaste. The ozone in here was something else. If you mixed paint fumes with the scent of fresh tar, and added in tropical humidity, you’d get something close to this smell. Yikes, no wonder everyone on the first shift had been done-in after four hours. I couldn’t imagine frantically working in this environment, and it had to be so much worse on the third story.

The office was organized and simple. A desk for the paperwork, three tall filing cabinets arrayed on a wall to the right, two chairs in front of the desk for visitors. I went for the filing cabinets, pulling open the drawer most likely to have Laughlin’s file. Quite a few names under that letter, but I found his mid-way through and pulled it out.

It was thin, which didn’t give me much hope, and when I flipped it open, I sighed. Yup, about what I’d expected. The application was a single sheet, and there were only three receipts for the months he’d paid rent. Nothing else.

But the application was what I’d come in here for. I tucked the folder under my arm and jogged back out, as I had no desire to stay in the building a second longer than I needed to. I got outside, breathing in fresh air with relief. Better.

Foster had been patiently waiting for me outside, and he popped up eagerly, no longer leaning against the side of the car. “You found it.”

“I did. Hopefully it holds the goods. Update me first. Maslin?”

“Found her, got her witness statement and an invoice,” he assured me. “It’s all in the folder in the car.”

“Cool beans. We’ll deal with that later.” I flipped the folder open as I walked to him, reading quickly through to the bottom where a contact name and an address were listed. Then I groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” Foster came in closer, tilting his head to read over my shoulder. “Nye Abbott. Wait, isn’t that the name Niamh and Gerring found at the hospital?”

“He’s listed as his brother. Ha. Okay, no, I guess there’s a chance Nye’s really his brother and just happened to be exposed to that madness while visiting. My gut says this is another alias, but there’s a real possibility he’s got a partner in this business.”

“We have to verify it, one way or another.”

“We do. Bad thing for a detective to do, assume anything.”

I tapped a finger thoughtfully to my mouth. On Earth, it was pretty easy to verify a person’s identity. We had lots of helpful databases for that. But here, nothing easy about it. It’s why Massimo’s use of aliases worked so well—there was no way to readily check someone’s identity. Switch your name, move to a section of town where no one knew you, bam. New person.

But here, at least, he’d listed an address with Nye Abbott’s name. And I needed to speak with Abbott, anyway, since he’d skipped out on a hospital bill.

“Let’s check the address, see if anyone knows him.”

“Might as well,” Foster agreed. “I can drive. I know that area of town.”

“Awesomesauce. Go for it.”

Foster had driven his own vehicle in, so I hopped into the passenger side, willing to be chauffeured. He drove a bit like I did, anyway. That was to say, with a lead foot. I approved.

As he drove, he cleared his throat. “Detective. I heard from Niamh that you chose to bring both her and I into this because the Queen wants some of her kingsmen trained in investigative procedures.”

“Correct.” Where was he going with this?

“I just wondered why us? Is it because we’re junior agents?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. I mean, you’re easier to pull from the roster because you’re not assigned to one place in particular. But I don’t want you to think you’re the only ones I’ll train. I think I’m supposed to do around twenty people, all told.”

At least, Regina had made noises to that effect.

Foster made a low noise in the back of his throat, taking this in. “But not the senior agents.”

“Totally depends. Marshall and Gibson have both told me they’d love to learn how to do what I do. They’re usually super busy so I’d have to find a way to block out their time for a case. Not easy to do.”

“Hmm. I didn’t really know the difference, at first—what a kingsman does verses what a detective does. Now that I’ve experienced it, I realize there’s quite a bit that’s different. You don’t approach a case in the way I was trained to. And we deal with completely different matters most of the time.”

I could see that intelligent mind clicking away. Foster had been brought into the kingsmen for a reason. And his brains were the main reason.

“But you also see the overlap, don’t you?”

“I do,” he admitted readily. “Like with the last case I helped you on, with the stolen gold. And this one, where the integrity of a city is under threat because of this man’s greed and stupidity. You often work with RM Seaton on cases like this.”

“Well, Sherard loves working cases with us. He enjoys the intellectual challenge. And working with two of his best friends. If he hadn’t gone royal mage, he probably would have ended up as a magical examiner. That’s how much he likes the work.”

“I