Page 32 of Booked for Murder

“Top five percentile? Who is included in the scoring?”

“Cops, FBI agents, and all forms of law enforcement, and you’re also competing against the military.”

Shit. They’d make me earn it. “Do they test familiarity with a range of weaponry?”

“Yes.”

Double shit. “And the other members of the cell?”

“We need one adept with a rating of over 70.0%.”

“You fit that criteria.”

“I do. I also have the required abilities. I have two of them, so we’re fine on that. Mickey qualifies as our researcher; his seniority at the library qualifies him. That we’re all librarians will actually help our application.”

“Are you serious? Being librarians helps us qualify as private investigators?”

“According to the government page, public servants typically have the training to understand the proper handling of sensitive documentation. There’s a lot of red tape we’ll have to deal with. One of us will have to qualify as a low-level accountant.”

“Meridian plays at being our branch’s accountant, and we haven’t gotten nailed on our paperwork yet.”

“Yes, she qualifies. Despite appearances, she has an accounting degree and stays up-to-date on her certifications.”

“Okay. We have four. Number five?” I asked.

“That’s where things start getting sketchy.”

“Define sketchy.”

“We need an adept sponsor.”

I pointed at myself. “There’s no reason I can’t play that role.”

Beatrice frowned. “No, there isn’t a rule about the sponsor being in the cell. But you’ll have to pay the bills. Neither one of us makes enough to pay for the license. The testing alone would bankrupt us.”

I pointed in the direction of my bathroom. “He will pay me if he knows what’s good for him, and I’ll play the sponsor. Ren, make it happen.”

“He will sponsor your cell. You do not have to sponsor the cell,” Bradley’s bodyguard replied.

“No. It’s better he does not openly sponsor the cell. People are going to discover I’m alive eventually. I’ll maintain my pseudonym and I will sponsor the cell under my birth name. That’ll add a few layers of complexity. I can route the paychecks for the license through a different state to cover my tracks. Since Bradley seems to like adding miles to his cars, he can swing over to Pennsylvania and drop my letters in some random mailbox as often as needed.”

“Licensing is done every six months, and in the government’s effort to curtail private investigator cells, the shooter’s qualifications must be confirmed with the licensing fee. After a group is licensed, if the shooter fails, the cell is disbanded until the shooter qualifies again. The shooter may only try to qualify once per month,” Beatrice announced.

“That’s stupid. Private investigators often help the defense keep innocent people out of jail.”

My fellow librarian looked me in the eyes and replied, “Exactly. Now you understand the situation. I hope you’re a good shot, Janette, or this shindig dies before we even get started.”

“I’m going to need a gun and a lot of ammunition, Ren.”

“And a new foot,” he muttered. “You can’t just stand still and shoot up a target. They mean business on those tests.”

“That’s what the painkillers are for. Chop, chop, Ren. I need some guns, and I need them yesterday. And I’ll need an all-expenses paid trip to the range. I have a lot of practicing to get in.” I returned to preparing something for Bradley to eat so he wouldn’t starve to death by the time he could go home. “Also, tell his mother that some hussy is corrupting him but neglect to tell her who. I’ve always wanted to bring chaos to the Hampton household.”

A little chaos interrupting their structured days seemed like a fun time to me.

“There is no evidence you’re a hussy,” Ren replied. “As for the rest, I’m sure Mr. Hampton can decide for himself how he presents his culinary adventures to his family.”

Beatrice cackled. “I cannot pay for better entertainment than this. Crabby Janette is in her kitchen, hobbling around on one foot making lunch for an idiot adept who guzzled milk while lactose intolerant, the bodyguard is totally going to win this one, and I get to enjoy the show. Do you have popcorn, bitch?”