Autumn Bones

The chief shifted in his chair. “It’s a tricky business, Daisy. As long as she hasn’t violated any actual laws, I don’t know how I can help you.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s okay, I’m not asking for help. This one’s my responsibility, sir.”

“You’ve got a plan?” he asked.

I temporized. “I’ve got a start. I’ll ask Casimir and the local coven to work on it. If we can figure out how to protect Sinclair so she can’t cast a spell or set a duppy on him, I think we’ll be okay. She took me by surprise this time. The next time, I’ll be ready.”

He blinked. “What the hell’s a duppy?”

“It’s a kind of ghost.”

Chief Bryant processed that for a moment. “All right. If there’s anything I can do, you let me know.”

“Just back me up if I need to have her escorted out of town,” I said.

“Will do.” He nodded. “We can always write her up for loitering or disturbing the peace. You want me to assign Fairfax to work with you on this? The two of you did a good job together on the Vanderhei case.”

My heart leaped a bit, then subsided. “Cody’s, um, on his time off, isn’t he?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Emmeline Palmer said she’d be back in a month,” I said. “I don’t know if that’s four weeks or by the calendar, but . . .” I didn’t finish the thought out loud. Although I was positive that the chief knew about Cody, it wasn’t something he’d ever overtly acknowledged in no uncertain terms.

“Cutting it close either way,” Chief Bryant said in a neutral tone. “A lunar month is twenty-nine and a half days.”

Okay, those were pretty certain terms. “Right.”

He sighed. “All right, then. Fairfax is out. But if you need backup, let me know.”

“Will do.”

With that, the chief dismissed me. I went back to the front office and finished filing the reports I’d reviewed, then clocked out for the day.

I swung by the Sisters of Selene to talk to Casimir about setting up a meeting with Sinclair. He offered to contact the coven and promised to call me when they agreed on a time and place.

Just to be on the safe side, I stopped in at the Idlewild to make sure that Emmeline Palmer had checked out. The hostess wasn’t too pleased to see me—I guess I didn’t make as good an impression as Emmy—but when I showed her my police ID, she confirmed that Sinclair’s sister had left late yesterday afternoon.

With that done, my time was my own. I went back to my apartment and spent an hour researching database software online before giving up in despair. I needed something more sophisticated than I could afford— like the police reporting software we used at the station but something I could customize for my own purposes. That is, if I had the faintest idea how to do such a thing, which I didn’t.

I knew someone who did, though. Or at least I’d gone to high school with him. I tried the phone book, but there was no listing.

I called Jen. “Hey, do you have any idea how to get in touch with Lee Hastings?”

There was a pause on the other end before she asked in an incredulous voice, “Skeletor?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I heard he moved back to town a while ago.”

“Why do you want to get in touch with Skeletor?” she asked.

“I need a computer geek,” I said. “And he sort of had a crush on me.”

“Good luck,” Jen said. “He skipped college and went straight into the gaming industry. I heard he made a shitload of money out in Seattle before he moved back. Now he gets paid big bucks as a consultant. Basically, he’s Alan Cumming in Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, only without the part where he came back better-looking.”

“So you’re saying I can’t get him to do my homework just by promising to be nice to him anymore?”

“Is that how you got a B in computer science?” she asked. “I always wondered. You know, come to think of it, you were actually pretty decent to him. Let me call my mom. She keeps in touch with Mrs. Hastings.”

“Thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later Jen called me back. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, because it is. He doesn’t give out his info, but you can try contacting him on his Facebook alias page. If he feels like it, he’ll accept your friend request.”

“What’s an alias page?” I asked her.

“It’s this persona he’s created. Dan Stanton. Apparently it’s a minor character in one of his games.”

“Ohh-kay.”

“Told you it was weird,” she said. “Hey, how are you feeling today? How did it go with the evil twin sister?”

I hesitated. “I’m fine. And it went . . . okay for the moment. She left, but she’s coming back. She gave Sinclair an ultimatum. Leave town or else.”

“Damn!”

“Yeah.” I lowered my voice. “We’re working on it. But I broke things off with Sinclair this morning.”

“I’m sorry, Daise.” Jen’s sympathy was genuine. “Because of his sister? Or because he didn’t tell you about her?”

“Not really,” I said. “I mean, yeah, I guess that set it off. But I realized we’re better off being friends right now.”

“Did it have anything to do with the infamous hot ghoul I met yesterday?” she asked shrewdly. “Or lingering feelings for a certain officer of the law?”

“Maybe a little,” I admitted. “I realized I wasn’t being entirely fair to Sinclair. But I think he and I are okay, honestly.”

“Good,” she said. “I like him.”

Inspiration struck me. “You know, Sinclair’s got a spare bedroom. He talked about taking a roommate to help with the rent now that business is slowing down. And you’ve been talking about moving out of your folks’ place for ages.”

“Um. . . . yeah.” Jen didn’t sound thrilled “Let’s table that idea until the evil twin’s out of the picture, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

After we ended our call, I went back online and logged on to Facebook. I didn’t use it often—I never got in the habit because my mom and I couldn’t afford Internet access or expensive phone plans when I was growing up—but I had an account. Also, I had free wireless in my apartment courtesy of Mrs. Browne’s Olde World Bakery downstairs.

A search for Dan Stanton returned two results. One was some shirtless guy in Sydney, Australia. The profile picture for the other was a video game avatar of a soldier in battle fatigues. Betting on the latter, I sent a friend request. I would have added a personal message, but the option was disabled. All I could do was hope that Lee Hastings, aka Dan Stanton, aka Skeletor, remembered me kindly as someone who’d never called him that last one.

Well, at least not to his face. After all, it was high school.

Checking the time, I saw it wasn’t yet three o’clock. Until I heard from Casimir or Lee, there wasn’t much I could do on either Operation Contain Dear Emmy or Operation Database, which meant I had no excuse not to respond to Stefan Ludovic’s request to contact him when I was ready.

So I called him, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in my belly. Partly because it made me feel guilty and partly because the whole thing weirded me out. Hot or not, I still had the image of Stefan impaling himself on his own sword stuck in my memory.

“Daisy.” Stefan picked up on the third ring. “Good afternoon. Are you well?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said. “But then, you’d be the first to know if I wasn’t, wouldn’t you?” I was still a little pissed about the bond between us being established without my knowledge or consent, too. “Anyway, you asked me to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “As I said, I have something I would like to show you. I think it will be of aid in the exercise