Page 57 of Dropping Like Flies

“Griffin?”

I stilled with my hand on the door, turning back to face him. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re better.”

“Better?”

He smiled that genuine smile of his, the one that always used to engender rage in me when I had nothing to smile about. Now, it was nice. Like sitting in the park when it was just that bit too cold, and the sun coming out to bathe you in its glow and warm you through. How did someone who dealt in death make you feel so alive?

And although I might have done my best to ignore it, happy to wallow in misery, he’d always had that effect on me. It was one of the reasons I’d avoided him. Was that what was happening with Asher? I couldn’t think of any other explanation for Cade’s PA always being mysteriously absent whenever Calisto was in the vicinity. Perhaps Asher was worried that one glimpse of Calisto’s smile would have him melting.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had,” Calisto said in answer to my enquiry. “You’ve been… elsewhere.”

Elsewhere. It was an apt way of describing it, conjuring up my, here in body, not in mind state, perfectly. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Calisto smiled again, that same warmth hitting me. Someone should bottle him and prescribe him on the NHS. I had a feeling he’d do to the waiting list what no government legislation could manage. “You’re forgiven. I’m glad you’re back. You are back?”

“I am,” I agreed, waiting until he’d left before taking my much-needed piss.

I avoided the office when I left the restroom, Calisto hard at work with his head bent over his desk, and made for the lift. One of the PPB’s psychics occupied the lift when it arrived, making it extremely tempting to pretend I didn’t need it after all. Forcing myself to step in, I greeted the man coolly. “Kendrick.”

“Griffin.” There was far more warmth in his voice than there was in mine, but then I couldn’t delve into his mind and read him like a book. The lift jerked into motion and I started thinking of the most mundane things I could: the layout in the supermarket where I usually shopped; the organization of my wardrobe; recalling as many digits of pi as I could.

The journey to the ground floor seemed to take forever, Kendrick not getting out on the floor where the psychics were based. When the lift finally ground to a halt, he barred my way, refusing to move aside when I would have stepped past. “It’s unnecessary, you know.”

“What’s unnecessary?”

He smirked. “Filling your head with all that stuff. Although, I appreciated the maths lesson, and I really must check out where you shop. They clearly have the best grapefruits.”

I held his gaze. “Right. It sounds like it’s necessary. You clearly had a good dig around in there.”

“Actually, I didn’t. When people try too hard to think of something else, they may as well grab a loudhailer and shout it. Had you not bothered, I wouldn’t have thought you were harboring anything interesting enough to tune in. Now, though…” His smirk grew wider. “Now, I’m wondering what you’re trying to hide. I heard CID had called on your services for the Satanic Romeo case. Is it something to do with that?”

I pushed past him, Kendrick letting out a laugh. “We should have a drink sometime and I’ll explain how it really works instead of everyone treating us like we’ve got nothing better to do than read every single thought that comes into their mind.”

I kept walking without bothering to look back. “No thanks.”

“Your loss.”

I seriously doubted that. I’d just stepped out on the street when my phone lit up with Ben’s name, the sight making me smile. What a difference a couple of weeks made.

“Hey!” I infused the single syllable with a promise I hadn’t intended it to have.

“Hey yourself.” There was no seduction in Ben’s voice, but he was probably at work, so I didn’t take it personally. “I thought you might want an update.”

“I do.” Using my ID, I headed back into the foyer of the PPB for privacy, Kendrick thankfully no longer anywhere to be seen. Had the fucker only traveled down to the ground floor to mess with me? I wouldn’t put it past him. That was the problem with the psychics. They weren’t at all apologetic about what they could do. Maybe if they were, people wouldn’t treat them like a bunch of freaks.

“Dougie didn’t wear a jacket to Eclipse,” Ben said. “The CCTV from the club clearly shows him arriving at nine without one.”

“Right.” I knew Ben had been hoping to gain some insight from the contents of his pockets.

“Which begs the question, where the knife came from when there was nowhere he could have concealed it beneath his clothes.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve studied him from every angle, and there’s not a single lump or bump in his clothing. And you saw the knife. It wasn’t a small one.”

“So you’re saying he got it from the club?”

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