The Last Dragon Lord

IX-1

IX

Lucan plopped on his bed as the detective entered the hospital room.

“Mr. Grimoire, I’m Demetrius Shalewood,” the detective said. He was human. He wore a black suit and had black eyes and dark skin like cocoa. If Lucan wouldn’t have known, he could have passed for a soldier off-duty. He was rather short, with a round face, mustache, nappy hair, and a quiet but stern disposition.

“Shalewood?” Lucan asked, shaking the detective’s hand, “Are you Amal Shalewood’s husband?”

“Yes, but this has nothing to do with the election,” Demetrius said. “You’ll get no political opposition from me.”

“Tell your wife to drop out and I’ll believe you.”

Demetrius frowned. He pointed to a chair by the window.

“May I?”

Lucan nodded.

The man pulled out a notepad and pencil and he sat in the chair, crossing his legs. He scratched the date and Lucan’s name on the top of the page in neat handwriting.

“You do your detective work in pencil, eh?” Lucan asked. “Never seen that before. Do you ever just say f**k it and start doing chiaroscuro in the middle of an interrogation?”

“All humor aside, we’re on the same team, Mr. Grimoire,” Demetrius said.

“Riiiight.”

Demetrius continued, ignoring the comment. “You’re lucky to be alive. I’ve seen victims who took bullets after casting deflection spells. They didn’t live to tell about it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

There was awkward silence and Lucan whistled.

“Who tried to kill you, Lucan?” Demetrius asked.

Lucan checked his watch. “A nut ball, that’s who. But that’s all I can say until my attorney is present.”

Demetrius raised his eyebrows and shifted uncomfortably in the chair, letting out a frustrated grunt.

“And you have an attorney because...?”

“Because I’m running for governor, that’s why,” Lucan said. “Look, I’ll cooperate and tell you what you want to know. But I’m not saying anymore until my attorney gets here.”

Technically, the conversation was over and Demetrius couldn’t push him further. Not legally. Lucan wasn’t a target; he was a sympathy witness so the detective wouldn’t have any leverage. But he knew better than to start talking to an MCU detective unfiltered. They had a way of nosing into everything.

Demetrius closed his notebook and gave Lucan a resolute look.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said.

Well, this was going to be weird if they had to sit here longer than two minutes.

Demetrius stared at Lucan unflinchingly, as if he were studying him. He had that detective gaze, and eyes that observed everything.

“You’re killing me, Shalewood,” Lucan said. “I know I’m sexy, but goddamn.” He pointed to a food tray in the corner of the room. “You hungry? This hospital food is shit.”

He’d had a bowl of cantaloupe and it tasted like wet rubber. He’d spit it on the floor and told his guard to get him a hamburger.

“If it’s so bad, why do you think I would eat it?” Demetrius asked.

Lucan shrugged. “Just being courteous, man. Want some coffee, then?”

“No thanks. I stopped drinking coffee years ago.”

“A detective that doesn’t drink coffee,” Lucan said. “You’re a man of mystery, Shalewood.”

They sat in silence for a while. Outside, sirens wailed on the highway toward Skyscraper Park. An airplane’s engine droned as it passed overhead. The blue sky was speckled with clouds, the kind of bright day that made Lucan wonder what everyone in the city was doing. This was a day for campaigning outside, drinking on the beach, making love—anything but being stuck in a hospital.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Lucan asked. He lie back on the bed and propped his head on the pillow. He pulled a sandwich bag of cashews out of his shirt pocket and tossed a nut in his mouth. “It’s not like we have anything else to talk about in the meantime, you know?”

Demetrius looked at him blankly.

“What was it like working in the same department as your wife?” Lucan asked.

“Like any other job.”

“Even though she was your boss as the MCU Chief?”

“We didn’t let that come between us,” Demetrius said.

“What do you talk about at home?”

“Magic.”

“God. Those must be some interesting conversations,” Lucan said. “How did it feel when she ordered the pay cuts?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’s public record. It’s everyone’s business.”

“If you’re trying to find out if I’m disgruntled, or if I support the governor, Mr. Grimoire,” Demetrius said, “I’m sorry to say that you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Not at all,” Lucan said. “I respect Magical Crimes. Just a little concerning that you folks can’t get anything done anymore.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Demetrius said.

Lucan smirked. But at that moment, a woman in a gray suit entered the room. She had short hair and carried a portfolio with the Grimoire family crest inscribed on it.

Lucan sighed with relief to see his attorney. Rosemary Sage had gotten him out of a lot of legal troubles. He had called her the night he found Old Dark and asked her about some hypotheticals. She was good-looking too, with an athletic frame. She could be a real fury in the courtroom.

“Glad to see you’re all right,” Rosemary said. She nodded to Demetrius. “A moment, please.”

Demetrius gathered his things and shut the door behind him.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“I got shot.”

“Obviously. What else?”

“I was bleeding a lot. I’m okay now. End of story.”

“You’re surprisingly talkative today.”

Lucan chuckled. “Well, let me ask you something. If the man who tried to kill me was angry at me because of a payroll dispute, what would the consequences be?”

Rosemary rubbed her temples. “Lucan, what does this have to do with your payroll?”

“The guy who shot me, his kid worked for me.”

“Doing what?”

“I hired him as an assistant. He was an errand-boy.”

“When did you hire him?”

“Four days ago.”

Rosemary’s jaw dropped. She began to pace around the room with her arms folded.

“Is this related to the thing you called me about a few days ago?” she asked. “The bog you said you weren’t at but possibly could have been?”

“That was a hypothetical payroll question, remember—but yeah, maybe.”

Rosemary sighed. “And why was he angry, Lucan?”

“His dad wanted more money.”

“His dad? How old is this kid?” Rosemary asked.

“Hell if I know. Nineteen, maybe twenty.”

“You didn’t verify?”

“He’s in college, Rosie. It’s fine.”

“How much did you agree to pay him?”

“I fired him,” Lucan said. “He got a couple hundred bucks. He was on a trial period.”

“How much did you agree on initially?”

“We didn’t really discuss it per se,” Lucan said. “My base pay is sixty these days. Ya know, to be competitive. I told Celesse to tell my secretary to tell human resources to throw him on the payroll. He was...an aggressive hire.”

“Why did you fire him?”

“He was a little shit.”

“Performance, then,” Rosemary said. “Did he want to be terminated?”

“He didn’t contest. He wanted more money, though.”

Rosemary put on glasses and looked at Lucan cautiously.

“Lucan, I’ve been your attorney for five years and all of this is bullshit and you know it. What aren’t you telling me? You know what, nevermind. Don’t tell me. Please.”

“Got it.”

“So, let me understand this,” Rosemary said. “You hired this kid to work for you as an errand boy, fired him for ‘performance’, he wanted more money, and so his father came and shot you?”

“Yep.”

“Why was his father involved?” Rosemary asked.

Lucan made a flying motion with his hand. “Helicopter parent, I guess. How should I know why some random dude wanted to kill me?”

“You don’t pay me enough for this,” she said.

“You think I want to sit around and chat with MCU agents all day?”

“Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Lucan sat up on the bed. Rosemary shook her head and opened the door for Demetrius.

The detective entered, sat down, and looking at his paper, which already had some notes on it, he said “Thank you for your cooperation, Lucan. First, some basics. Why were you at Skyscraper Park?”

“I was spending some quality time with my daughter,” Lucan said.

“You normally have bodyguards,” Demetrius said. “Where were they?”

“I told them to stay back at the entrance to the park by the elevators,” Lucan said. “It’s usually safe.”

Demetrius jotted down some details that Lucan couldn’t read. He didn’t take his eyes off the paper, but his voice was confident, like he knew something.

“We identified the man who attacked you,” Demetrius said. “His name is Bartholomew Dyer. Age fifty-two. He lives in Bogville. Do you know him?”

“We met once before,” Lucan said.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Tell me more.”

“I hired his kid to be my personal assistant,” Lucan said. “He sucked, so I fired him. His dad wanted me to give the kid more money. It’s a money grab, detective.”

Demetrius confirmed the money due and he added up the tallies on the paper.

“What did his son do for you?” he asked.

“Errands,” Lucan said. “Random stuff that would bore you, detective.”

“You’ve had some financial difficulty this past month, is that right?” Demetrius asked.

Shit. The interrogation was turning. Lucan didn’t know where Shalewood was going, but he didn’t like it.

But before he could open his mouth, Rosemary interjected and said “Mr. Shalewood, what are you getting at?”

“My question is relevant,” Demetrius said. “It’s my understanding you had to shut down your new state-of-the-art grimoire production factory.”

“Yeah,” Lucan said.

“Four days ago.”

“Yeah.”

“The same time you hired Mr. Dyer’s son, is that right?”

“Were you an English major in school?” Lucan asked. “All these coincidences and symbols you’re painting here are lovely.”

“My job is to connect dots. Why did your factory shut down?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

Demetrius grinned. “No, you don’t, do you? But you see the problem, don’t you, Lucan? Your factory shuts down. You hire the kid. You get shot. Is there anything you’re leaving out?”

“Yeah. The part where I get up and walk away,” Lucan said. “You’re trying to say it was my fault I got shot? And that somehow this has to do with my business operations?”

“You’re the only one I can talk to. Bartholomew is dead.”

Lucan almost fell off the bed. “What do you mean he’s dead? He was alive when I last saw him!”

If the bastard was dead, how was he going to get his revenge?

“A dragon captured him,” Demetrius said, “but he cast a spell and broke free. Police shot him and he fell off the roof trying to escape.”

“Shit.”

“Sorry,” Demetrius said. “You don’t get a day in court this time. His son might. He’s the one I’m looking for.”

“Give him the kid’s information,” Rosemary whispered.

“His name’s Tony,” Lucan said. “My secretary will give you what you need.”

Demetrius closed his notebook. “I appreciate that. I’m sorry for the questions, but I won’t overstep my bounds. But it’s awfully strange, though, Lucan—those coincidences. Someone might see all of this and start asking you harder questions.”

“Life is strange,” Rosemary said. “Are we done?”

“I’ll be chalking this up as a domestic dispute,” Demetrius said. “You’re innocent, of course, even if you did something to provoke it. But even the least astute journalist is going to ask the same questions. Consider this a practice session, Mr. Grimoire.”

Demetrius nodded, stood, and strode to the door. “Oh, and by the way, my wife’s not dropping out any time soon. She’s looking forward to the debates.”

Lucan frowned. He wanted to curse Demetrius out but thought the better of it.

When the detective left the room, Lucan kicked the bed and threw his pillow against the wall.