“Your little attempt at reverse psychology is admirable but misplaced, Ms. Stone.”
Was that what I was doing?
“Even if you don’t believe her,” Phin said, “call the Elders to Assembly. Tell them what we’ve told you, and then let them decide. If nothing else, it will keep the other bi-shifters on alert for potential trouble.”
Jenner lowered his hands. They disappeared beneath the desk. He sat up straighter, some of his earlier disdain falling away. “I’ll alert the Assembly, but I can’t promise anything. Most likely they’ll vote to keep the matter internal. They don’t like to advertise weakness to the other races.”
I snorted. “Given what happened last week, I’d say you’re too late to keep a lid on that one.”
“Even so, I can make no promises as to their decision.”
“We had to come all the way out here for him to not tell me anything?” I asked Phin. “We could have done this over the phone.”
“Telephones can be tapped,” Jenner said. “I know my office is safe. I can’t say the same for other locations.”
Okay, he had a valid point. Dammit. I plucked a pen from the cup near his blotter and scribbled a phone number down next to last week’s date. “Call me if you get good news,” I said. “Otherwise, stay the hell out of my way.”
He stood; I’d forgotten how tall he was until I craned my neck to keep our gazes level. I tensed, unsure of his next action. He held nothing in his hands. They remained by his sides, no offer to shake. “The answers you want may not be as hidden as you think, Ms. Stone,” Jenner said. “We aren’t any more complicated than a simple fairy tale.”
I tried out that sentence several times but couldn’t make good sense of it. A casual “Good luck,” or even “Get the hell out of my office,” would have sufficed. Riddles wore me out.
“Yeah, okay,” I said.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Phin said.
“You really had to thank him?” I asked, after we’d left the public defender’s office behind and were once again on the sunny streets of downtown.
“Blanket rudeness isn’t in my repertoire, Evy,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the side of the car. “So we’re right back where we were, which is nowhere. The Assembly is a bust, and my only other lead isn’t doing anything useful until tomorrow night.”
“You’ve been working the investigative angle pretty well, but how about a more direct approach?”
“Meaning?”
“Who’s on your list of suspects?”
“The list of who’s not is a lot shorter.”
“So let’s whittle it down.”
“What do you suggest? Door-to-door interrogations?”
“If you want an apple, you don’t shake a pear tree.”
I blanched. Phin smiled.
Fifty years ago, the relocated train car had housed a popular diner. Once brilliant silver walls had faded to dusky gunmetal gray. Long lines of windows and a single arched door were boarded over, hiding any hint of the previously colorful glass and lights. Another landmark gone to pot, nestled between a struggling deli and a flower shop.
I hadn’t a clue why Phin had brought me here.
He walked up the cracked cement steps and grabbed the handle of a door held shut by a rusty padlock.
“Um, Phin?” I said.
The handle turned without the grind of old metal I’d expected. Hell, I hadn’t expected it to turn at all. The padlock disappeared as though it had never existed. Light, music, and the mouthwatering scent of fries and burgers drifted out of the open door. My jaw dropped.
Phin took my hand and led me inside. A faint buzz tickled the back of my neck as we passed over the threshold. I stared, slack-jawed, as we entered a bustling, sparkling diner that was right out of the past. The countertop shone. Bright neon lights ran along the ceiling, reflecting back on the shiny leather booths. Two cooks hovered over a crackling flattop, shouting at each other and waving spatulas in the air.
With room for about fifty and nearly full at three in the afternoon, the diner was anything but the decaying front visible from the street. Odder still, the crack-free windows showed perfect, sunlit views of the city street outside.
The door closed with the ding of a bell. A waitress in a blue apron sauntered over, heels clicking on the black-and-white checked linoleum. Her blond hair was speckled with various shades of brown and tan, but it was her bright copper irises that gave her away as a were-cat. Most wore contacts to pass among humans—not this one.
She gave me a brief once-over, then smiled brightly for Phin. “Hey, handsome,” she said, quite literally purring over him. “Why’d you bring the Sape?”
I bristled. I’d heard the insult in passing—a simple play on
“Why not?” Phin asked. “Did Annalee enact a ‘No humans’ policy since the last time I was here?”
“No such luck,” Kitty replied, without a hint of sarcasm. “There’s an empty booth in the back. I’ll bring you menus.”
Phin navigated our path through the crowded diner, weaving among patrons and dozens of conversations. I observed without staring and came to the simple conclusion I was the only person in the place who wasn’t a Dreg. Except for two vampires sitting quietly at the far end of the lunch counter, absorbed in their own chatter, the staff and clientele were exclusively were.
I slid into the back of the booth, facing the diner so I could keep an eye on comings and goings. Phin was grinning as he sat down. Before I could ask, the waitress returned with two menus. I looked at the laminated cover and snickered: “The Green Apple.”
“Drinks to start?” she asked.
“Coffee,” I replied without bothering to check the list. I’d smelled it faintly under the scents of fried foods.
“Wheat grass juice,” Phin said. “Thanks, Belle.”
“Coming up,” Belle said, and walked off.
“What the hell is wheat grass juice?” I asked.
“It’s good for you,” he said.
“So’s apple juice.” I’d be damned if the table didn’t have a mini-jukebox right next to the wall, nestled perfectly between a chrome napkin dispenser and the salt ’n’ pepper shakers. “What’re we doing here? Shaking apples? Meeting someone for information?”
“Lunch, Evy.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re eating lunch,” he said, like a patient schoolteacher. “Neither one of us has eaten since breakfast, and you’ll be much more effective if you’re not working off toaster-pastry fumes.”
“Okay, fair enough.” I was hungrier than I’d realized. “But why here, other than the obvious apple tree joke?”
“I like the food.”
“Bullshit.”
He tilted his head. “Are you judging the food before you’ve tried it? I assure you, it’s excellent.”
“No, I’m sure the food is great, but I call bullshit on that being your reason for bringing me to a diner that, one, obviously has a glamour on it for protection, and two, has a clientele that’s pretty exclusively Dr— nonhuman.”
“I admit, the glamour is to keep humans out,” Phin said. “We like having a few places to be among our own kind, without the threat of Triad interrogations or human interference.”
“Two things of which I’m both, Phin.”
