Page 58 of Fresh Old Bounties

“What am I,” Dru muttered, “the soggy veggies side dish?”

“You’re the backup,” Ian answered, not missing a beat.

Dru seemed content with this. She blew on her sharp demon nails and smiled smugly at the other two men. “Problem?”

Mark grinned appreciatively. “No, ma’am.”

Shane crossed his arms. “Sure thing, boss.”

“Let’s go,” Ian said, walking out of the kitchen.

I followed him into the backyard, Fluffy trotting along.

“I’m sorry, Fluffy,” I told her, full of regret. “I think this is a bipedal-only operation.”

Fluffy whined softly and put both front paws on my knee, as if to demonstrate she could pass as one if she wanted to.

I scratched between her ears. She probably wanted another grand adventure like the one we’d had over a week ago around Guiles and Romary’s clubs. “Next time, I promise. Now, be a good girl and stay to cleanse the house, okay?”

She sat down on her butt and gave me a woeful look.

Feeling like the worst person in the world, I fortified myself and closed the gate behind me.

“Don’t laugh,” I warned Ian when I noticed the amusement in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t dare.” He tilted his head toward the exit of the back alleyway. “Would you like to lead?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. I know you’ve all lived here forever and I haven’t. But since you insist, yes. Yes, I will.”

Chin up, I strode by the Corner Rose’s backyard and toward the street beyond. Ian followed, his movements a lot more relaxed than they’d been since he’d seen Grandma’s name on the spellbook’s pages.

The house our unfriendly robber had used to stash his phone wasn’t far, tucked inside a quiet side street, and it took about a five-minute walk to get there. The single-family house was small and lovely, right out of a doll magazine, and likely abandoned. A “For Sale” sign had been hung on the front fence since before I’d moved to Olmeda, and it made one wonder how much the owners were asking since it hadn’t sold yet. Old Olmeda was prime real estate.

Ian yanked the rusted mailbox open, and a bit of metal went flying onto the street. Grandma wouldn’t approve of this wanton property destruction.

“Should’ve used a hairpin,” I murmured, peeking inside. A phone in a thick plastic case rested on top of a thick mountain of ancient leaflets.

“Do you have a hairpin?” Ian asked.

Since I didn’t want to be told then shut up, I chose not to answer and grabbed the phone, taking care to avoid the arachnid squatters.

“It’s a phone,” I confirmed.

“Astute.”

“Yup.” Turning the phone to inspect the back, I saw it was one of those cases that came with a cardholder. A hotel card key and a folded ten-dollar bill had been stored inside.

I took out the bill and handed the phone to Ian. “Here, hold this.”

Ian immediately took possession of the phone, slipped the card key into his jeans’ back pocket, and inputted the password our captive had graciously provided.

I felt around the back of the gate for the lock.

“Hope?”

“One second.” I pushed the gate open and hastened across the short flagstone path and up the two steps onto the porch. After pushing the bill under the screen door, I returned outside and locked the gate back up.

Ian blinked, baffled.

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