gets to decide what goes in.”
Murphy went a little pale. She’d been on the receiving end of a couple of different kinds of psychic assault, and it had left some marks. “So do what you do. Put the whammy on them, and let’s track them down.”
I grimaced and shook my head. “I don’t dare,” I told her. “All I’ve got to track with is the beer itself. If I try to use it in a spell, it’ll open me up to the conduit. It’ll be as if I drank the stuff.”
Murphy folded her arms. “And if that happens, you won’t remember anything you learn, anyway.”
“Like I said,” I told her, “it’s high-quality work. But I’ve got a name.”
“A perp?”
“I’m sure he’s guilty of something. His name’s Caine. He’s a con. Big, dumb, violent, and thinks he’s a brewer.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You got a history with this guy?”
“Ran over him during a case maybe a year ago,” I said. “It got ugly. More for him than me. He doesn’t like Mac much.”
“He’s a wizard?”
“Hell’s bells, no,” I said.
“Then how does he figure in?”
“Let’s ask him.”
MURPHY MADE SHORT work of running down an address for Herbert Orson Caine, mugger, rapist, and extortionist—a cheap apartment building on the south end of Bucktown.
Murphy knocked at the door, but we didn’t get an answer.
“It’s a good thing he’s a con,” she said, reaching for her cell phone. “I can probably get a warrant without too much trouble.”
“With what?” I asked her. “Suggestive evidence of the use of black magic?”
“Tampering with drinks at a bar doesn’t require the use of magic,” Murphy said. “He’s a rapist, and he isn’t part of the outfit, so he doesn’t have an expensive lawyer to raise a stink.”
“Howsabout we save the good people of Chicago time and money and just take a look around?”
“Breaking and entering.”
“I won’t break anything,” I promised. “I’ll do all the entering, too.”
“No,” she said.
“But—”
She looked up at me, her jaw set stubbornly. “No, Harry.”
I sighed. “These guys aren’t playing by the rules.”
“We don’t know he’s involved yet. I’m not cutting corners for someone who might not even be connected.”
I was partway into a snarky reply when Caine opened the door from the stairwell and entered the hallway. He spotted us and froze. Then he turned and started walking away.
“Caine!” Murphy called. “Chicago PD!”
He bolted.
Murph and I had both been expecting that, evidently. We both rushed him. He slammed the door open, but I’d been waiting for that, too. I sent out a burst of my will, drawing my right hand in toward my chest as I shouted, “
Invisible force slammed the door shut as Caine began to go through it. It hit him hard enough to bounce him all the way back across the hall, into the wall opposite.
Murphy had better acceleration than I did. She caught up to Caine in time for him to swing one paw at her in a looping punch.
I almost felt sorry for the slob.
Murphy ducked the punch, then came up with all of her weight and the muscle of her legs and body behind her response. She struck the tip of his chin with the heel of her hand, snapping his face straight up.
Caine was brawny, big, and tough. He came back from the blow with a dazed snarl and swatted at Murphy again. Murph caught his arm, tugged him a little one way, a little the other, and using his own arm as a fulcrum, sent him flipping forward and down hard onto the floor. He landed hard enough to make the floorboards shake, and Murphy promptly shifted her grip, twisting one hand into a painful angle, holding his arm out straight, using her leg to pin it into position.
“That would be assault,” Murphy said in a sweet voice. “And on a police officer in the course of an investigation, no less.”
“Bitch,” Caine said. “I’m gonna break your—”
We didn’t get to find out what he was going to break, because Murphy shifted her body weight maybe a couple of inches, and he screamed instead.
“Whaddayou want?” Caine demanded. “Lemme go! I didn’t do nothin’!”
“Sure you did,” I said cheerfully. “You assaulted Sergeant Murphy, here. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You’re a two-time loser, Caine,” Murphy said. “This will make it number three. By the time you get out, the first thing you’ll need to buy will be a new set of teeth.”
Caine said a lot of impolite words.
“Wow,” I said, coming to stand over him. “That sucks. If only there were some way he could be of help to the community. You know, prove how he isn’t a waste of space some other person could be using.”
“Screw you,” Caine said. “I ain’t helping you with nothing.”
Murphy leaned into his arm a little again to shut him up. “What happened to the beer at McAnally’s?” she asked in a polite tone.
Caine said even more impolite words.
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it,” Murphy said. “I’m pretty sure you can do better.”
“Bite me, cop bitch,” Caine muttered.
“Sergeant Bitch,” Murphy said. “Have it your way, bonehead. Bet you’ve got all kinds of fans back at Stateville.” But she was frowning when she said it. Thugs like Caine rolled over when they were facing hard time. They didn’t risk losing the rest of their adult lives out of simple contrariness—unless they were terrified of the alternative.
Someone or, dare I say it, something had Caine scared.
Well, that table could seat more than one player.
The thug had a little blood coming from the corner of his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue when Murphy hit him.
I pulled a white handkerchief out of my pocket and, in a single swooping motion, stooped down and smeared some blood from Caine’s mouth onto it.
“What the hell?” he said, or something close to it. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it, Caine,” I told him. “It isn’t going to be a long-term problem for you.”
I took the cloth and walked a few feet away. Then I hunkered down and used a piece of chalk from another pocket to draw a circle around me on the floor.
Caine struggled feebly against Murphy, but she put him down again. “Sit still,” she snapped. “I’ll pull your shoulder right out of its socket.”
“Feel free,” I told Murphy. “He isn’t going to be around long enough to worry about it.” I squinted up at Caine and said, “Beefy, little bit of a gut. Bet you eat a lot of greasy food, huh, Caine?”
“Wh-what?” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Heart attack should look pretty natural,” I said. “Murph, get ready to back off once he starts thrashing.” I closed the circle and let it sparkle a little as I did. It was a waste of energy—special effects like that almost always are—but it made an impression on Caine.
“Jesus Christ!” Caine said. “Wait!”
“Can’t wait,” I told him. “Gotta make this go before the blood dries out. Quit being such a baby, Caine. She gave you a chance.” I raised my hand over the fresh blood on the cloth. “Let’s see now—”
“I can’t talk!” Caine yelped. “If I talk, she’ll know!”
Murphy gave his arm a little twist. “Who?” she demanded.
“I can’t! Jesus, I swear! Dresden, don’t—it isn’t my fault. They needed bloodstone, and I had the only stuff
