Lake Silence (The Others #6)(81)

“Does Paige need to see a doctor?” he asked. He looked at Dominique, who was standing at the counter. “Do you?”

Dominique shook her head, and Ineke said, “If either of them had needed a doctor because of him, he wouldn’t have been curled up on my floor like a cooked shrimp.”

She didn’t say what would have happened, but I didn’t think Grimshaw had forgotten about the “I Bury Trouble” tattoo on her thigh. I sure hadn’t.

Maybe I didn’t want to ask Ineke about the compost she used in her kitchen garden to make the vegetables grow so well.

“Do you want some breakfast, Officer Grimshaw?” Dominique asked.

He shook his head. “Just coffee, if it’s convenient.”

She poured him a cup, then went outside to join Paige and Osgood.

“What happened?” He held up a hand. “Not just now in the dining room. What has happened since the Danes arrived using an alias? And, damn it, Ineke, you have two cops in the house. Why didn’t you say something about Dane’s behavior?”

Ineke shrugged. “We’ve dealt with men like him before.”

I thought about the vacations Yorick and I had taken. I thought about the look on the faces of the young women who had worked in the hotels or resorts. I thought about how I’d believed for so long that there was no connection between the poor service we received and the way those women looked at him—and the blend of pity and resentment aimed at me.

“If I’d known your guest was Yorick, I would have warned you,” I said quietly.

“I know,” Ineke replied. Then she smiled. “I don’t think Mr. Dane was prepared to get head butted by Maxwell—or have him trying to dig through the pants to reach the wiggly.”

“I think it was when Maxwell got his teeth around the zipper—and maybe a bit more—that . . .”

“Stop,” Grimshaw said.

I’d forgotten about him. Which wasn’t easy to do since he was sitting right there. Although he did look a wee bit green.

“If Dane presses charges, you’ll press charges, and if he drops the assault charges, you’ll do the same?”

Ineke studied him. “Are you asking or telling?”

“Asking.”

“I won’t file an official complaint against him as long as he does the same.”

After living in Sproing these past few months, I knew what that meant. Ineke didn’t have to file an official complaint because, by now, all the people who worked in service businesses had already heard about Yorick’s wandering hands and his view that there was nothing wrong with “trying it on” to see if “no” really meant “yes.” Once word spread that Mr. Yates was actually one of the Danes, there wouldn’t be a girl in the village Yorick could even look at without a father or older brother blocking his view.

Ineke might be one of the odd Xaviers who ran a boardinghouse, but she had considerable influence within a certain segment of the village’s population—and as Grimshaw had pointed out, she had the village’s two cops rooming with her right now.

And while I would never, ever, ever say this when there was any possibility of Grimshaw hearing me, it occurred to me that if I quietly pointed out Yorick to the Sproingers as well as the Crows, he wouldn’t be able to sneak off to meet anyone for any reason without someone—or something—paying attention.





CHAPTER 47





Grimshaw


Moonsday, Sumor 3

Grimshaw parked his cruiser in the space next to the black luxury sedan. He got out and nodded to the man standing in front of the sedan, wearing a chauffeur’s hat. He knew Ilya Sanguinati usually had a driver, but this was the first time that individual was making a point of being seen.

Was it a coincidence that the point was being made today, or was it a deliberate message?

The Sanguinati had controlled this village from behind the scenes for who knew how many generations. Now they weren’t being subtle about the businesses and property they owned. Some of that might be due to the upheaval last summer, when someone somewhere had made the decision to show the humans living on the continent of Thaisia that there were fewer human places than they had wanted to believe, and none of those places were safe. Here in Sproing, the trouble at The Jumble and the pressure on Vicki DeVine—and the Others’ interest in her—had been the tipping point when it came to the Sanguinati’s decision to come out of the shadows. When the terra indigene not only controlled all the natural resources but also openly controlled things like banks and commerce, arrogance was an indulgence humans could not afford.

Which made whatever was going on here even more dangerous.

“Is Mr. Sanguinati in his office?” Grimshaw asked the driver.

“He is.” The vampire’s voice was stiffly polite and offered nothing.

“Thanks.” Grimshaw opened the glass door that led to the second floor and went halfway up the stairs before he stopped and pulled out his mobile phone to make a call.

“Lettuce Reed.”

“Julian, it’s Wayne. Can you close up for a few minutes?”

“I’m not officially open yet. You’re at the station?”

“Going up to Ilya Sanguinati’s office. I’d like your input.” He waited for Julian’s usual protest about not being on the police force anymore.