Page 94 of Booked for Murder

“But if this Lauley Rivers is probably dead, who is copying his method?” Beatrice asked. “Is this something all bone menders could do, just like all exsanguinators can make us bleed if we annoy them too much?”

I snorted at that. “If only. You wouldn’t have lasted from the day we met if that were the case.”

“Good point. Thank you for not exsanguinating me, bitch.”

“You’re welcome, asshole.”

“You two,” Meridian complained.

Beatrice snagged the papers regarding Lauley Rivers from my boss, flipping through the pages. “It’s a good question, though. Is this something all bone menders can do? It says here Rivers barely qualified to be an adept.”

Mr. Tawnlen shrugged. “Nobody really knows. Bone menders are trained to become doctors, and their training requires them to work at a rate that is survivable. I’m not sure it’s been experimented with much, because doctors undergo a lot of training to make sure they don’t accidentally kill patients.”

“It took them several hours to work on Janette’s lungs. They sedated her for the procedure, but it wasn’t an actual operation,” Bradley’s mother mentioned, and she furrowed her brows. “I was told they were repairing some of the damage to her lungs. There was also a discussion about a medical malpractice case, as the damage was fairly old.”

“Organ renewal is touchy, and while technically not an invasive operation, it has to be done cautiously. A mistake on the surgeon’s part can lead to death. Judging from Janette’s lively state, the surgeon didn’t make a mistake.”

“I guess that means I really did have two operations this round rather than just one,” I grumbled.

“That’s a safe assumption.” Bradley’s mother drummed her fingers on the table. “Let’s say someone wanted to treat Janette’s lungs and did so at a barely survivable rate. How long would it take for a mender to work their magic?”

“That depends on a lot of factors, including the state of her lungs at the start of their work.”

“According to the doctor, I was down to five percent lung capacity, and the only reason I’m still alive is because I’m that good of an exsanguinator. Do not tell Mickey I said that. He’ll agree with me, and then we’ll have to have another awkward conversation about me, where I’m discussed in a positive fashion. He might even get me to say something nice about myself again, and that would be a tragedy.”

Beatrice’s grin promised she’d be having a long discussion with Mickey about my abilities as an exsanguinator.

“I’m not a mender, but from what I understand, I would say a minimum of two hours,” my boss replied. “Most people with that much lung impairment are typically in the emergency room undergoing a lung transplant or dead. Mickey would be the better person to ask.”

“Beatrice? Want to go find out some of those specifics? Ask him about restoring a skull and manipulating someone’s brain while you’re at it. And if he doesn’t know, can you ask him to see if he can find out?” I asked.

Beatrice hopped to her feet, snapped a salute my way, and headed into the kitchen.

Bradley rose to his feet, stretched out across the table, and snagged the papers involving the bone mender, flipping through them before taking a page and placing it in front of me. “This seems like our best starting place, then. We need to make a list of who could pull off all elements of the murder. So far, we’re up to possibly two people.”

“Four,” Mr. Hampton stated.

“Four? An illusionist, a bone mender, and a shooter are the requirements, right?”

“Illusionists can’t cover sound. Someone would have masked the gunfire. That requires an acoustics adept. It’s worth noting that the shooter could also be handling another role.”

“Unlikely,” I disagreed. “I can do some impressive work with exsanguination, but I can’t fire a gun reliably and work my magic at the same time. Shooting accurately requires a lot of concentration, and if you’re wanting to make certain of your shot, you can’t afford to be worrying about working magic at the same time. My shooting accuracy is shit if I even think about something other than what I’m doing with my firearm. Training can help overcome some of that, but it’s important to realize how difficult it is for someone to maintain their accuracy during a stressful situation. It just doesn’t seem probable to me.”

I could understand why the licensing for the shooter was so strict; it accounted for the shooter having to handle stressful situations.

It only took one stray shot to kill an innocent.

“Let’s assume the shooter isn’t skilled. What talents would be needed?” Bradley’s father asked.

I frowned, staring at the sheet Bradley had given me. “This is just a guess, but if I were trying to put together a plan like that, I would need the shooter, an adept telekinetic to redirect the bullet to hit the mark because our shooter has shit aim, an illusionist to mask the gunshot while the bone mender worked, an exsanguinator to mask the spray of blood or remove blood from the entry wound, and the acoustics adept to hide the sound of gunfire. And the illusionist would have to be able to prevent his abilities from working on those people, so he is probably an adept.”

“That’s a lot of adepts,” Meridian said, shaking her head. “But why would so many adepts come together to kill these politicians?”

I held up a finger. “They aren’t strong enough adepts to be exempt from the new rules.” I held up a second finger. “Their children wouldn’t be exempt from the new rules.” Shaking my head, I raised a third finger. “They don’t agree with the for life contracting system, viewing it as a form of civilized slavery.” The more I thought about it, the less I liked the entire situation, and I lifted my fourth finger. “They belong to one of those anti-adept societies wanting the whole system to be rewritten and are using reverse psychology to draw attention to the bill. Or they belong to one of those anti-adept societies and view the bill as a method of putting even more power into the hands of a few. That one is a little shady to me. There could be other reasons they might want to do that, but I’m really not sure. I could come up with more if you give me some time to think it through.”

Bradley took the sheet back, read it over, and scowled at the sheet, likely fighting the urge to crumple it up. He set it down, smoothed it, and grunted.

Intrigued by his fraying temper, I reached for the page. His glare promised retribution in some form, and I smiled while looking him in the eyes before claiming my prize and reading it over, seeking out the tiny details that might offer some insight into Lauley Rivers. I found little, although a list of his known political affiliations intrigued me. “Rivers was heavily involved in politics?”