Page 25 of Cursed By Fate

“You’ll let me know about seeing my family?”

“As soon as I have an answer.”

Although I left Glenn’s condo with a new lead, I felt empty. His family situation was going to weigh on me until I addressed it. I stopped at the cottage to lock up the shotgun, then drove straight to Justine’s office. There was every chance she’d gotten wind of the machete story by now anyway. Might as well walk out on the parapet.

Justine’s door was closed and her assistant was nowhere to be seen. I picked up Lionel’s phone and buzzed her office.

“I thought you had an appointment,” Justine said.

“It’s Maya, not Lionel. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

I breezed into the office and shut the door behind me. The wereskunk’s black and white hair was frameable—a modern art piece entitled Spilled Ink on White. Her disposition had all the gentleness of a cheese grater. I’d never been accused of warmth myself, but five minutes with Justine left you checking for rug burn. I figured whoever hired her had done it mostly as a containment strategy—somewhere to keep her that wasn’t the general public. A plate with a half-eaten croissandwich sat on the desk in front of her.

“I’m working on next year’s budget,” she said, waving me forward. “I welcome any and all distractions.”

“I would’ve thought a budget was your catnip.”

“Definitely not. I’m good at math, but I don’t enjoy it.”

I sat in the chair opposite her. “We have a situation.”

“Is this about Ezra Kline and the machete?”

Of course she knew. “Afraid so.”

“I was hoping it was only a rumor. You have the machete, I take it?”

“Locked away safe and sound.”

“And the source?”

“I have a lead. Does the name Clement LaRue ring any alarm bells?”

“No.” Her fingers danced over the computer keyboard. “His record is squeaky clean.”

“Too clean?”

“No such thing as too clean in my book. Let me know what you find out.”

“I will.” I continued to sit. “While I have your ear, there’s an idea I wanted to float past you, which is good timing, given that you’re working on the budget.”

“If this is about a raise⁠—”

“It isn’t. I’d like to propose a grant to the council,” I said. “One that helps Neighbors maintain contact with their families on the mainland.”

Justine bit into her croissandwich. “I didn’t realize that was a problem.”

“I didn’t either but consider me educated.”

“What happened?”

“The details don’t matter, but I was reminded that not every long-lived supernatural has managed to amass a fortune to leave to their families. Many of them aren’t magical either, so there’s no summoning.”

Justine considered the request. “I’ll see what I can do. The council is fiscally conservative, you know that.”

“Well, if you manage to squeeze blood from a stone, put Glenn Musgrove’s family at the top of the list. He’d very much like to see them. Great-grandkids too.”