Page 18 of Clubs

“She was a Witch. She was one of us,” I said. “And you and her are in the same line of work. That’s why thought the two of you might know each other.”

“Stripping?”

“Sex work,” I said. “She’s got a few charges for solicitation, possession of narcotics, and a couple for assault.”

“How the hell’d you learn all this?” Ria swatted some snot from her nose with the corner of her sleeve. Or rather, my sleeve. Since it was my sweater and all. Doubted I’d be wearing that again anytime soon. “Did you talk to the cops?”

“Not really, but they talked to Declan. Spent hours questioning him. They know they don’t have a case. But the body got dumped at his bar. She was beaten to death—that’s what one of the cops said—so it couldn’t have happened there. Someone would’ve heard it.” Massaging my eyes, I collapsed my head against the cushions behind me. “You’re sure you don’t know her?”

“I don’t know a Alicia Tanner. If you had a picture or her street name, I might recognize her. But otherwise…” She trailed off with a shrug. Then, despite her sickly appearance, she managed to smile. “Mine’s Bubbles.”

“Bubbles?”

“Bubbles. There’s a story behind it, but I don’t know if you want to hear it.”

I grimaced. “I think I can live without knowing.”

“Suit yourself.” She stood again, this time pacing the room. “Where does she live? I’m assuming that’s how you found out she’s a Witch, right? You went through her shit?”

“Jefferson Heights,” I said. “Can you sit the fuck down? Your pacing is making me nervous.”

“Well, I have restless legs right now, so suck it up.” Flipping me the middle finger, she grabbed an open can of ginger ale off the TV stand. After a sip, she stifled a yawn. “I do know a couple people out there. But you’re not giving me much to go off here with her real name and no picture. Give me a picture and I can ask around.”

It was a bit of a Hail Mary either way. “I’ll print out a picture of her at library tomorrow. Will you be here to pick it up?”

“Probably,” she said. “I get off at five, so I can come here when I’m done. Or I can meet you at the library.”

“Library works better,” I said. “Just, please, don’t forget. These cops already have beef with Declan. They’re trying to find any way they can to pin this on him. I know he didn’t do it. I need to make sure he doesn’t go away for it. If he does, I’m breaking his ass out and we’re running to Mexico.”

“How about Canada?” Ria asked. “I don’t think I’d tolerate that heat well. You are taking me with you, I’m assuming.”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, you little pain in the ass.”

Laughing, she set her ginger ale back onto the TV stand. “You love me.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Again, she flipped me off. And again, I smiled.

In the two years we had known each other, there had been a few times Declan had asked why I put up with Ria’s antics. More than once, I’d given her money, or gotten her clothes, or whatever else it was she needed, even if it meant I went without. I’d complain about how high my phone bill was, or that I had to dip into my savings to pay the electricity, and he’d say, “Why do you keep helping her then?”

I’d always copped an attitude. “Why’s it your business?”

He’d back off, but I had started dissecting that question. Why did I keep helping her?

She was my sister, sure. But she was my best friend. My only friend outside of Declan.

It had been me and Ria against the world my whole life. Yeah, she was high more often than she wasn’t. But she had a kinder heart than I did, and I liked who I was with her. I liked that her kind nature encouraged me to do the same.

Ria’s expression changed, the joy leaving her eyes. “You don’t think they can charge Declan for this, do you? There are witnesses and everything, right? He was with you last night. He didn’t do it.”

Biting my lip, I raised a shoulder. “I hope not. But we both know how cops are. They could plant evidence to make it look like it was Declan. Hard evidence matters a hell of a lot more than eyewitness testimony. Especially if they don’t have anyone but me to vouch for him.”

A hard swallow bobbed her throat. “I’ll ask around.”

Behind me, out the bay window that crested the couch, the rumble of a motorcycle approached. I only knew one guy who would be in my driveway with a motorcycle. “Speak of the devil.”

“I have a meeting with a client in a couple hours,” Ria said. “But you know how you said you loved me?”

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