Book 07 - Deadly Quicksilver Lies Read Free

totally distracted me. And she
knew it.
    Businesslike, Garrett. Businesslike.
    “Ma’am, Mr. Garrett? Am I that far past
it?”
    I sputtered. I stumbled around and tripped over my tongue till
it was black with footprints. She finally had mercy and smiled.
“Can we get in out of the weather?”
    “Sure.” I stepped aside, held the door. What was
wrong with the weather? It couldn’t have been nicer. There
were barely enough clouds to keep you from falling into a sky as
blue as you will ever hope to see.
    She brushed past without tricks, just close because she had to.
I shut my eyes. I ground my teeth. I babbled, “My office is
the second door on the left. I can’t offer much but beer or
brandy. My man Dean is away.” The woman had to be a witch. Or
I was out of practice. Bad.
    “Brandy would be perfect, Mr. Garrett.”
    Of course. Pure class. “Coming right up. Make yourself at
home.” I dove into the kitchen. Dig dig dig till I found some
brandy. A bit of a tippler, Dean hides the stuff all over so I
won’t know how much he has bought. I poured from a bottle
that I hoped contained good stuff. What did I know about
brandy?
Beer is
my
favorite food. I zipped to the
office. The seasoned redhead had set up camp in the client’s
chair. She frowned as she studied Eleanor. “Here you
go.”
    “Thank you. An interesting painting. There’s a lot
there if you look long enough.”
    I glanced at my honey as I settled. She was a lovely blonde,
terrified, fleeing something only hinted at in the painting’s
background. If you looked at that painting right, though, you could
read the whole evil story. There was magic in it, though much of
that had gone once I got the man who murdered Eleanor.
    I told the story. My visitor was a good listener. I managed to
avoid getting totally lost in my own chemistry. I observed
carefully. I suggested, “You might introduce yourself before
we go any further. I’m never comfortable calling a woman
‘Hey You’.”
    Her smile softened the enamel on my teeth. “My name is
Maggie Jenn. Margat Jenn, actually, but I’ve never been
called anything but Maggie.”
    Ah, the monster of the prophecy. Winger’s old crone. Must
have lost her walker. I blurted, “Maggie doesn’t sound
like a redhead.”
    Her smile warmed up. Incredible! “Surely you’re not
that naive, Mr. Garrett.”
    “Garrett is fine. Mr. Garrett was my grandpop. No. It
hasn’t escaped me that some women miraculously transform
overnight.”
    “This is just a tint, really. A little more red than my
natural shade. Just vanity. One more rearguard skirmish in my war
against time.”
    Yeah. The poor toothless hag. “Looks to me like
you’ve got it on the run.”
    “You’re sweet.” She smiled again, turning up
the heat. She leaned forward . . . 
     
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3
    Maggie Jenn caught my left hand, squeezed. “Some women
enjoy being looked at that way, Garrett. Sometimes they want to
look back.” She tickled my palm. I stifled an urge to pant.
She was working me and I didn’t care. “But I’m
here on business and it’s important, so we’d better get
to it.” She took her hand back.
    I was supposed to melt, going through withdrawal.
    I went through withdrawal.
    “I like this room, Garrett. Tells me a lot. Confirms what
I’ve heard about you.”
    I waited. Clients go through this. They’re desperate when
they arrive. They wouldn’t come to me if they weren’t.
But they stall around before admitting that their lives have gone
out of control. Most end up telling me how they chose me. Maggie
Jenn did that.
    Some change their minds before they get to the point. Maggie
Jenn did not.
    “I didn’t realize I was so well known. That’s
scary.” Apparently my name was common coin among the ruling
class, to which Maggie Jenn clearly belonged, though she had not
revealed where she fit. I should avoid the flashy cases. I
don’t like being noticed.
    “You’re on everyone’s list of specialists,
Garrett. If you want a