Page 59 of Fresh Old Bounties

“To pay for the mailbox,” I explained.

Instead of rolling his eyes or laughing, he simply pocketed the phone and said, “Let’s check out his hotel room.”

And this was why he was the best.

“Did you find anything on his phone?” I asked as we began walking toward Old Olmeda’s center.

“It’s a disposable phone. He only has a few text conversations. I’ll take a better look later at home.”

I trusted him to have more experience than me digging around someone’s phone, so I didn’t ask to give it a try. Between one thing and another, the morning had turned into the evening, and the usual crowds were filling the most popular streets. I rubbed my stomach, feeling suddenly ravenous.

Without breaking his stride, Ian took me by the elbow and nudged me toward a hole in the wall with a burrito counter.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“I heard your stomach. What do you want?”

I ordered the first thing I read. “We need to hurry,” I whispered worriedly. “We don’t know when whoever hired that guy will try to check in.”

Ian paid for the burritos and passed me one. He’d ordered the same thing. “Surely, a smart, resourceful witch like you can walk and eat at the same time?”

The dare in his tone made me laugh. “You’re on.”

I unwrapped my burrito and took a good bite. Delicious, if a bit too spicy.

I know, I know—shameful. But we don’t all get to choose the taste buds we’re born with.

To my surprise, our robber was staying at a nice chain hotel not far from John B. Fieldman Park in one of the better parts of Old Olmeda.

“Not what you expected?” Ian asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Not really. I thought it would be more…motel with flickering neon signs and creepy old man as the manager.”

Robbing paranormals must pay well for him to afford this. No wonder Ian’s ex-partner had gone rogue.

“We’re not in the fifties anymore,” Ian said.

I waited until we crossed the elegant lobby and taken the elevator to ask, “Did you get to stay in places like this when you bounty hunted?”

“The accommodations were mostly acceptable.”

“Who paid for them, you or the clients?”

The elevators opened, and we walked down the blue-carpeted hallway.

“Depends on the job.”

“That’s convenient.”

“And tax deductible.”

Ian found the room and inserted the key. The door opened without a glitch, and we stepped inside. It was a nice modern room with just enough space to walk between the wall, the bed, and the desk situated under the window.

“Check the bathroom,” Ian said. He paused for a moment, then added, “Maybe you can revive a ghost to tell us something.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious, but I doubt I’m lucky enough to come across two murder bathtubs in my lifetime.”

Right?

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