Circle of Enemies

“Talbot,” I said, trying to cut in.

“Oh, I’ll bet the chicks just love you, Mr. Inheritance—”

Lino sprang to his feet, and so did Talbot. I found myself between them, right in Talbot’s face.

“You get out of here right now,” I said. My voice was low, but every other part of me was burning adrenaline. Did he have a gun? A spell like my ghost knife? I imagined myself going for his eyes and balls—hell, I had golem flesh now. I could lean in to his throat and start chewing. Anything— anything—to get him to shut up and back off.

“You don’t scare me.” He tried to stare me down. There was something odd in his expression. He seemed angry and confused, as though we were doing something dangerous he didn’t understand.

“You are fucking this job up,” I said, “and you don’t even know why. Get out of here. This part isn’t for you.”

He stepped back and held up his hands. “You know what? You’re right. Sitting around chatting isn’t what I’m on this job for. I’ll leave that to you.”

He walked out of the room. I followed him into the hall and watched him slam the door behind him.

He was gone. I took deep breaths, trying to pull in my anger.

“I do not have an inheritance!” Lino said. “No! I worked very hard for my degrees. Many hours! Many late nights! I still work hard on other work!” He waved at the desk in the corner. “Is it so wrong to have a good job? I’m asking you. Is it wrong to have a good job and to own a game console?”

“No,” I said. My voice sounded strangled. Lino’s raised voice was making my adrenaline pump harder. It took all my concentration to not punch him in the mouth so he would shut the fuck up. But I couldn’t do that, because I needed information from him and because he had a right to be angry.

“Yes, I play games sometimes. It’s a very relaxing thing to shoot zombies in the head.” A note of humor came back into his voice as his anger subsided. I kept my mouth shut. I kept my control. “What I shouldn’t do is jump from my chair when I’m insulted by someone bigger, fitter, and fifteen years younger. Thank you for getting between us. I think you saved me from a thorough beating.”

“I’m sorry for bringing him here. I didn’t know.”

Lino looked at me and his whole expression changed. “Are you all right? Do you want a glass of water?”

I said yes, so he would leave the room for a couple of moments while I got myself together. When he returned with a tall glass of chlorine-scented water, I took a long pull. He gestured for us to return to our seats, and I made a point of using the coaster.

“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you for not throwing me out.”

“You’re welcome. We were talking about the list, weren’t we? Would you like to see it?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t think so. Did the burglar take any money?”

Lino sighed heavily. “I wish I had money to take.”

He had gone right back into the interview, which helped me steady myself again. I was grateful. “Does a woman live here with you?”

“What?”

“You know that some of these … odd break-ins have been attacks on women.”

“Rapes, you mean.” He said it with the air of a man who didn’t like comforting euphemisms. “No. There are no women here. The trust has provisions for spouses and such, but I live alone. I’m an introvert and I find the quiet soothing. I don’t even open the curtains that often. I do have a partner, but he doesn’t like the collection. He finds it unsettling.”

That made things clear enough. “Does the owner ever have people stay here? Friends or relatives visiting from out of town, maybe?”

“Not here. Mr. Francois doesn’t even bring his wife here. He has nicer accommodations across town.”

“Wait. What was that name?”

Lino stood and crossed to the mantel. “Mr. Steven Francois,” he said. He took down a framed photo and handed it to me. “That is him there, with his wife. He keeps personal items here as part of the ruse that this is his home.”

The photo showed Linen—Steve Francois—on a beach somewhere with a towel over his bony shoulder. The woman beside him, his wife, was tall, thin, and blond, with a Doris Day haircut. Her smile had the cool superiority of self-righteous affluence.

“I don’t know where that was taken,” Lino said as he returned it to the mantel. “I don’t like to ask personal questions of my employer. His manner doesn’t encourage it.”

I tried to imagine how Swizzle Stick fit in. “Do they travel together a lot?”

“Sometimes. Not always.” Lino shrugged. “They are both quite rich—her more than him, even. They live unusual lives.”

I gestured toward the picture. “She looks tough. Are they having any problems? Money or marriage?”

He gave me a look. “I don’t pry into his personal life.”

“I have to ask,” I said. “If she wanted to hurt him, could she do something to violate the terms of the trust? Hire someone to steal something and break up the collection?”

“I don’t believe so, but I don’t know all the details of the trust. Also, I don’t see why she’d bother. Her family runs a successful law firm, and she is one of the top litigators in the country. If there was a problem between them, it would be played out in a courtroom, I think. Not here.”