The Law (The Dresden Files #17.4)(2)

Once the skillet was warm, butter, eggs and bacon went on. I wasn’t particular about the grease at the moment. Extreme grief and stress eat away at your body. Mine needed every calorie I could force down it. “I’m still not up to speed, Will. Morning is for rebuilding and people.”

“Yeah,” Will said. “That’s why I said something.”

I took up my coffee, checked the oatmeal, and glanced at him.

“Woman is in trouble, and came here,” he said. “She’s in a bad spot. Maybe you can help.”

Help.

Murphy’s lips, turning blue.

“Harry,” he said, patience and compassion thick in his voice. “Come back.”

I hadn’t realized the time had passed while I dissociated from the memory, but the eggs had started to smoke a little. Scrambled, then. I nodded thanks to Will and made adjustments.

“This woman. She in trouble with the Fae? Got some vampire in her life?”

“No, actually,” Will said.

I frowned and looked up. “What does she need?”

“I think she needs a savvy PI.”

“Huh. What does she need with me?” I asked whimsically. But something deep down inside me stirred, like an old warhorse who hears the sound of trumpets.

Mister looked up from his food, purred, and rubbed between my knees again. I stared down at the battle-scarred old boy for a moment.

“Maybe it’s time,” I said.





Chapter Two





Her name was Maya, and she looked like someone who had skipped a lot of meals in her life. Late thirties, features starker than they were pretty, a lot of freckles on light caramel skin. She wore comfortable shoes and inexpensive, serviceable clothes; slacks, a white shirt and a beige cardigan. She wouldn’t have money—probably explained why she’d come to me.

Susan, I thought. She looks something like Susan might have if she’d lived a normal life.

I felt myself starting to go somewhere else and held it off. I gave Maya a brief, forced smile, and settled down behind my desk in the room I used for an office. It had been a supply closet a few weeks before, but it was close to my personal chambers in the castle’s basement, where they damned well should be.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mister Dresden,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. She sounded like someone who was close to the edge of tears.

I knew how she felt.

“Will says you need a little help,” I said. “Can you tell me more about that?”

“I’m being sued,” she said.

“I’m not a lawyer,” I said. “Those are usually more helpful with lawsuits.”

She smiled faintly, her eyes tired. “I’m a professional tutor.” I studied her. “Not the expensive kind.”

“No.”

I nodded. “Tell me more about this suit.”

She took a slow breath. “Eight years ago, I opened my business. I’d…had a difficult life before that. I was a sex worker.” She watched my face closely. “Do you have an issue with that?”

“Wasn’t my life,” I said. “Wasn’t there. Not my place to judge.

Did you have an issue with it?”

Evidently, she didn’t mind what she saw in my face. She watched me for a moment longer before she nodded slowly. “I wanted something different. I had a bachelor’s in education from a misspent youth.” She gave me a flicker of a smile. “And I saved up enough money to start Sunflower.”

“Your tutoring business,” I said.

She nodded. “It went better than I thought. There are a lot of people in West Side communities who want something better for their children, and who are willing to put their money behind a better education.”

“Seems smart,” I said.

“My business didn’t make much,” she said. “My customers are contractors, construction workers, truck drivers. But they want more for their kids.”

“Me too,” I said.

She smiled a little. “I made money by volume. There was too much work for me, in fact. So, I found another woman after the first year, and helped her open her own Sunflower.”

“A franchise.”

“If you can call it something that grandiose,” she said, her eyes wrinkling at the corners. “She found a similar excess of business, and we recruited others, and so on. Mostly single women, most of them with a child or two. We helped kids, and we made enough to get by.”

“How many Sunflowers are there now?” I asked.

“Thirty-nine,” she said. “Each of us puts fifty dollars a month into a pot. And from that money, we pay the tutoring fees of a few children who want to learn, but whose parents can’t afford to pay. It’s not an enormous venture, Mister Dresden. It never will be. But it created a place for women to provide for themselves while helping children.” Her chin lifted. “I’m proud of that. Proud of the people I work with. Proud of the good we’ve done.”

I nodded. “Sounds nice,” I said. “Tell me about the lawsuit.”

She grimaced. “His name is Tripp. Tripp Gregory.”

“The human lawsuit?”

She gave me a brief smile. “He owns the building I work from.”