Chapter 8
When I got back to my Triplex, Lara had a perfectly tailored Tuxedo. I didn’t have much clothes, but what I did have hardly fit into my small closet, and she clearly didn’t want to tempt fate by squeezing in one more, so it was draped over the back of chair. She, meanwhile, was sitting with arms and legs crossed impatiently on the couch.
“Hi,” I said, walking in, taking off my jacket and crossing to the Tux. “Looks good.”
“How’d things go with James?”
“Okay, I guess. I don’t think he did it.”
“Hmm...”
“His motive is kind of weak. He was only the step child of, err–.” I realized I didn’t remember Daddy Cane’s name. “Daddy Cane. James was never entitled to any the inheritance, and knew it for years. Also, I haven’t checked on this, but James said he spent the night in jail for being drunk and disorderly.”
“Solid alibi, if it checks out,” she said.
“Yeah.” I grabbed the tux and looked it over. “Have any trouble getting this?”
“Got it first try,” she said.
I nodded and went to the bedroom room to change.
The few times I’ve tried at probability magic were about as big of letdowns as they come.
Essentially she took all variables of a given situation into account, determined the chances that she’ll get the result she wants, and casts a spell to change probability. Although this sounds simple, extraneous variables can change everything. To get the tuxedo, she likely asked the shopkeeper how many tuxedos he had, how many sizes there were, and who knows what else. Upon finding out the probability that a guess would turn out correct, such as twenty-three-thousand-seven-hundred to one ratio, she just believes that she’ll guess that lucky number. Presto. I’ve got a well-fitting tux.
If it sounds farfetched, it’s because it is. Plus, it seems to go against the rules of just about every other type of magic out there. Personally, study the hell out of something like fire, and use that knowledge to blow my problems up.
“Have you talked to Cameron lately?” she called from the living room as I looked questionably at my cumber-bun.
“Not since last night. Why?”
“I get a strange feeling about him.”
“Why’s that?”
“It just seems that he’s... I don’t know. I get the impression that he’s luring you around.”
The tux fit me like it was tailored to me. I walked out to find her leaning against the back of the couch in the center of the room and actually looked at her for the first time since I arrived. Her already small stature looked minuscule in the fancy dress.
“Luring me around?”
She shrugged. “I find it odd. Of all the PIs in the city, he hires us, and only minutes before Lance Ruben and the Guardians come to you with the same case. You have to admit the chances of that happening are low.”
“You’re just obsessed with your probability magic. Cameron’s helped me a lot, and he’s worried about his family. He probably went to us because we’re the only investigators out there that advertise our supernatural knowledge.”
“No, Tommy, we’re not. Besides, probability is everything,” she said as I walked past her to the bathroom for some hair gel. “I think he’s hiding something from you.”
“The only one hiding anything is us. By law, I can’t tell him half the things I learned.”
“Fine,” she said, defiantly.
I didn’t encourage her with a retort.
Behind her shell of aggression, I knew Lara was simply a young woman lacking confidence. She’d spent her life succeeding in everything except her goals. Before retirement, her father was Chief Guardian. Before him, her uncle filled the spot. I figure to deal with her shortcomings, she confronts everyone around her, desperate to prove they’re wrong and she’s right.
Wow, I thought as I glanced in the mirror. In this tuxedo, my haircut actually works for me. Slipping a small bit of product into my hand, I adjusted my bangs. “You look great, by the way,” I said.
“Thanks” she said, as I wondered why her tone was so snide. “The shopkeeper gave it to me, courtesy of Cameron.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s very nice.” I said, picking up the comb. “Except, don’t you think it’s a bit showy?”
“Showy?” she groaned as I glanced at her. The navy dress draped over one shoulder, leaving the other one generously bare. It didn’t even come close to her knees, and it hugged her sides far tighter than else anything I’d ever seen her in. If she weren’t my sister, I’d describe it as sexy. “We’ll be trying to keep a low profile,” I reminded.
“That’s why I didn’t get the red one,” she walked away, back into the living room. “What do you want me to look like? Mary Poppins?”
“No, it’s– It’s just really hot for some dinner party.”
“Hot?” she said, like it were a contemptuous insult. “We’re going to see a bunch of rich people, who jump at any chance to show themselves off. It’d stand out more with an ugly dress, Tommy, so just leave it be.”
I’d rarely ever seen her out of blue jeans and a tank top, growing up as teens in the country. Considering that her family adopted me as a teen, and that we’d only ever seen one another a few weeks out of the year, I really hadn’t ever spent all that much time with her outside of the family gatherings. This side of Lara just wasn’t one I’d ever seen before, so I shrugged and left the bathroom.
“Okay. I’m ready when you are.” I threw her the keys to her car as she led the way out. “So what’s the next move?”
I followed in her flowery-scented wake as she said, “This is your case. You tell me.”
“Hmm...” I pondered it as I crossed to the passenger side. “For now, I’m going to assume it wasn’t James. Luckily, he led me to a couple of new suspects.”
“Oh?” she turned on the car.
“Starting with Daniel Cane.”
“The other brother?”
“He’s got a good motive – assuming he gets away with the murder, he’d get the whole of the Cane family fortune and a spot as interim CEO.”
“You think it’s him?”
“Maybe. But he’s not my first suspect.”
“Who is?”
“James’ wife, Kelly Freidman. James told me that his wife eventually caught him casting. He used the ol,’ it’s in my bloodline spiel. Says she bought it, but you never know.”
“You think it’s her,” she reiterated.
“Kelly Freidman – yeah. Emmitt gave James an ultimatum; dump your wife, or get written out of the will. I think that means Emmitt hates Kelly. Then, the day before the murder, Kelly ran off. Obviously, something happened between Kelly and Emmitt. I don’t know what it was, but I can venture a guess.”
“You think she killed him and ran.” she nodded. “Any idea where she is?”
“None. James said no one would ever find her.”
“Got it,” she said. “So we ask around about Kelly, trying to be discrete.”
“That’s my plan.”