The garden party was the event of the year as Rainbow City’s elite celebrated the christening of Henry and Cinderella Charming’s newborn daughter. Princess Ashlyn slept peacefully in a gilded bassinet as guests dined on delicacies and spoke of meaningless things.
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Tony took a long drag from the cigarette as he glared at the tattered sign on his office door. “Private ye.” He exhaled, and a cloud of gray smoke blocked the letters from his vision. He stared at the smoldering cigarette butt before rubbing it onto blank space
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I pulled the handcuffs from my belt and turned to the drug dealer, whom my partner held at gun point. The guy had somewhere in the area of twenty-seven arms and depending on what family he was from might have another—usually with a gun—hiding up one of his noses. I groaned.
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This, this so not my job. This what Sam do, and I maybe help a little. I drive the car.
Still, there’s no one else. I need my Samara. And if I don’t find her, no one will.
I back up. Explain. We were supposed to meet at airport for our honeymoon. Sam said she had some last-minute details to fix.
Intoxicating notes floated through the air as I quietly opened the door. I took a deep breath and entered.
My former detective partner had her back to me and clearly hadn’t heard me enter. I hesitated before clearing my throat to announce my presence.
She stopped and set the violin down. “Isaiah Glisent.”
“You have to admit, Ramses, this round of The Demigods of Demolition was awesome. Watching Hercules pin Nessus the Centaur in three rounds was amazing,” Bernie said.
We were waiting for a taxi and hiding from the varied rush of people and creatures leaving Asterian Arena, home to the Alliance of Legends Wrestling Federation. I’d never seen my partner so animated.
Aba was gone.
I massaged my temples to clear my thoughts. He’d be back in a week from the old country after clearing up some marriage paperwork. I had to keep busy.
I picked up my purse to leave when a man stumbled in.
He was as unkempt and golden as my Aba was groomed and dark. His long, greasy tresses draped across his shoulders. His clothes, ripped and dirty, barely hung on his gaunt frame
The call from steel magnate Charles Weldon interrupted my plans to spend a pea-souper of a morning with two fingers of Jack Daniels and a newspaper. But I knew I wouldn’t regret it when I stepped into the tycoon’s home office. Whatever made one of the richest men in California this jumpy was bound to pay well.
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“You want to marry me?”
Aba gave me a sad little smile. “Aye, my beauty detective. Want, but cannot.”
The first set of words I’d longed to hear since I’d laid eyes on him nearly six months ago. The second set made me want to strangle him.
Wisps of charcoal gray wafted on the wind. The smog gave the illusion of ghosts preceding me to the alley. Perhaps it was ghosts, the three murdered souls beckoning me to their killer. I suspected the victims, each desperate for a miracle, were lured here for their money.
A steam-powered carriage careened around the corner,
It was 7:00 p.m. on a muggy summer Sunday—a time when any sane man would’ve been at home with a cold one, but there’d been word that the gangster known as Jitters was bringing in a shipment that night—and I was at the station, trying to find somebody who knew something.
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Holding my dress up so I wouldn’t trip, I dashed toward the door. I could already hear the bridal anthem. Of course, Samara Spade would be late for her own wedding. But the church kept slipping farther and farther away.
I woke up and groaned.
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