Wanted: Undead or Alive

Listen To The Gut

I called Moose's cellphone on my way to The Agency.

He answered on the second ring. "What's up?"

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. They said I had a concussion and sent me on my way."

"You feel up to meeting me at The Agency?"

"Be there in ten." He hung up.

I dialed Mx. Landry. "You at work?"

"Yeah. Somebody's got to keep the place running."

I rolled my eyes. "Moose and I are on the way. Do you have a way to get a hold of Hawwa?"

"No. I have no contacts in the supernatural community, especially among Nick's closest family."

Refusing to take the bait, I asked them to get in touch and have her come in if she was available. I didn't want to give too much thought to things that might be keeping her busy.

At The Agency, I requested access to storage and went straight to the stacks of books. It took me a couple of tries to find the one that talked about garden gnomes.

Both male and female garden gnomes have voracious appetites for pleasures of the flesh, including food, sexual pleasures, and more. Left unsatisfied, they may resort to random acts of violence. Their weapon of choice is almost invariably a shovel.

"Gotcha, Mrs. Gampeg." I carried the book back to Mx. Landry's office area and arrived just as Moose stepped through security. Seconds later, the elevator dinged and Hawwa entered the lobby looking fresh and dramatic as a black iris in her sweeping black maxi dress and cashmere sweater. I loved her, and hated her, and envied her, and wanted to be her, all at once. To buy myself a minute to shove all that into a little box meant to be buried in a dark corner of my mind, I took a sharp turn and hustled into the conference room. I set the book in the middle of the table, open to the page about garden gnomes, and chose one of the chairs that almost never squeaked.

In a moment, the others came in.

Hawwa sat in her son's chair at the head of the table and folded her hands. Mx. Landry leaned against the wall, long arms folded over their bony chest. Moose dropped into a seat across from me, looking like an egg that had been cracked onto hot concrete. Now both eyes were nearly swollen shut. The goose egg had not shrunken in the least, and now it had a weird, stretched, purple sheen to it. His lower lip drooped on one side and he whistled when he breathed.

"You sure you're up for this?" I asked.

"I want to see that motherfucker lose."

Okay then. I cleared my throat and pointed at the book. "Fenssa Gampeg killed her husband. She hit him over the head with a shovel hard enough to dent his skull."

"Why would she do that?" Hawwa asked.

"My best guess is sexual frustration, but ultimately I don't know and I don't care why she did it. All I know is that she did."

"Nick could hit someone with a shovel," Mx. Landry croaked.

"Well... yeah, he could, but he wouldn't."

"It's not his style," Moose grumbled. "I don't think they're accepting that defense."

"I know. But do you all believe me?"

They offered up a little chorus of grunts and nods.

"We need to do what I told Price last night."

"You want everybody in a room together?" Moose asked.