Page 48 of Booked for Murder

“The cow may have been mooing several hours before the delivery of the roasts and steaks, yes. I refused cash payments for doing the work, so they gave me steaks and roasts.”

“Are you going to tell me anything else I’m not going to like?” she complained.

“In the next five minutes? Today? Forever? I need some help here. If we’re talking forever, I’m absolutely going to tell you things you’re not going to like. In the next five minutes? That really depends.”

“I’m going to go with the next five minutes.”

I thought about it. “That depends on what the deal is with the final two victims.”

“They were killed in Long Island, at two different rallies. The first rally was in support of an overhaul of the aptitude testing system, as they believe no child should be tested before the age of thirteen. The senator in question doesn’t want testing for aptitude until age eighteen.”

“That would have very lethal consequences depending on the type of magic. My type of magic going untested would have high chance of becoming lethal.” Society liked to claim I had bloomed at a ripe age of eight, my magic triggered by an infection that had gotten into my bloodstream. When the doctor had gone to draw blood, I’d instinctively purged the infection from my blood, leaving him with a murky, yellowish-brown mess in his vial rather than blood. I’d been immediately flagged as a freak and tested, revealing my ridiculously high aptitude rating. “I developed very young.”

Bradley’s mother nodded. “Eight for your first manifestation, probably earlier in application. If you had waited until eighteen to be tested, people would have died. I learned about you several months after your manifestation, and I started looking into you back then, as young exsanguinators are very rare. Most are men, and most women don’t discover their ability until they begin their menstrual cycle.”

Bradley spluttered, and to my delight, his face reddened. “Mother!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Bradley. Women have periods. We bleed once a month. It’s perfectly natural and healthy. Grow up. Should you ever decide to settle down, you will need to deal with your wife’s cycles, as you don’t get to enjoy the perks of being a father without dealing with a little blood first. It’s just blood. It won’t kill you. Now, your future wife? She might kill you if you don’t feed her chocolate, offer to pamper her, and otherwise take care of her when her internal organs are doing their best to kill her for a few days every month. You should know this. I gave you the talk when you were ten.”

Beatrice snickered, and I joined her at the utter discomfort both Bradley and Ren displayed.

“Mother, please.”

“Baby,” she mocked. “Anyway, both were murdered in public at rallies, and the rallies were both supporting those with lower aptitude ratings. It could be a diversion, it could be rival politicians, it could be someone with a grudge. We simply don’t know. The media has been pretty quiet over it, and that’s another problem. Six dead politicians, and the media isn’t jumping all over that? Something is up—and someone has managed to gag the media about it. There was one article that a senator was killed at a library. It was spun as a revenge killing, with the killer on the loose but considered not to be a risk to the general public.”

My mouth dropped open at the absurdity of the media keeping silent over something like the assassination of a public figure. “But why is the media being quiet?”

“That’s what I don’t understand, and I have a feeling if we want to find the killer, we’ll have to learn the truth on our own.”

I doubted we could, but I remained silent.

Twelve

I wanted a nap.

Knowledge would make or break us, but while Beatrice could get away with taking a day off, I still needed to work. Leaving everyone else to hunt for intel on the murders, I retreated to my bedroom, shut myself in with my cat, and began making a strategy for the renovations on the library. My first phone call went to a construction company specialized in working with historic landmarks. They’d cost the library more, but they wouldn’t be the reason my branch dealt with delays due to red tape and permits. I lost an hour discussing the various aspects of the renovation before giving them the address to the building, our budget, and a warning there was an ongoing police investigation.

To my delight, registered heritage sites received an automatic discount, any buildings flagged for public service got a bigger discount, and the company had a sponsorship program that might allow me to work miracles with the help of donations from the overly wealthy seeking to add to their charitable deductions.

Best of all, I’d be able to meet with potential donors, which would give me a rather unique opportunity to explore the world of adepts. Depending on the situation, I might even be able to approach some of the politicians who frequented the library.

That might gain us some important information or insights on who was behind the killings and why.

While I planned to squeeze out every penny I could from the public library system, I’d make the money go as far as possible. Satisfied with the first stage of work, and that I could at least pretend I’d put in a full day, I took some notes on ideas for the renovation itself and made a to-do list so I wouldn’t forget any of the little things I’d need to accomplish to get through the next few weeks of my life.

Ajani kept me company, pawing at my hand when I ignored her longer than she liked. I delayed emerging from my bedroom and dealing with everyone in my living room to stroke her and pet her with her spare brush.

Everyone had a limit, and sometime between most of my past strolling in through my door and dealing with a murder, I’d found mine.

I wanted a nap.

After my nap, I wanted another nap. After several extra naps, I could use something nice for dinner, some quiet time with a book, and another nap.

Instead of a nap, I ground my teeth, braced myself for the worst, and emerged from my bedroom.

Some asshole, probably Bradley’s mother, had summoned my parents, who sat on my couch while sipping coffee from my mugs, which warned me someone had attempted to make sludge with my machine. While Bradley’s mother had gotten some new wrinkles and gray in her hair, my parents must have located the Fountain of Youth and sipped from its waters. They dished out their worst evil eyes in my direction and took another sip of my coffee.

I pitied their taste buds.