“The Whisper will know about the contract.” He stood, placing the parlor guitar in a beat-up case. “I gotta go.”
“Thanks, Angel. Be safe.”
“You too.”
He turned around and headed into the building.
I looked at Paul and nearly squealed with excitement.
We had our first lead!
Chapter 9
Cheribelle
Bizarre Blitz!
“How doesnobody know about this contract despite some green-behind-the-ears assassin finding out about it right when it went out? And now nobody knows who this Whisper character is?”
I understood Paul’s frustration. So far, our investigation wasn’t really going how I had hoped it would, and honestly, I was beginning to feel like I was failing on my end. It had taken me hours just to get a name, and now that name was proving to be useless.
Not for the first time, guilt swarmed me, and I worried that my ego had me cosplaying as a psychic detective for a family that needed very real help, but I reminded myself that the actual detectives had access to all the same information I did—minus the psychic energy bit—so it wasn’t like I was depriving the VanMarches of anything.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, leaning into the corner we’d sequestered ourselves in after another hour of trying to find conversations to slip into with people who wouldn’t try to kill us. Even going back to the cross-stitching honeypot hadn’t yielded any results, as she really wasn’t involved in that line of work.
She did, however, offer to introduce Paul to her biggest client.
He politely declined.
“I think, try as we might, people can just tell that we’re outsiders.”
“You mean people can tellI’man outsider. You’re making connections right and left and got the only relevant data to this case. I’m the one who’s throwing a spanner into the works.”
I hadn’t expected Paul to take the blame like that, but I suppose I should have anticipated it. It was clear to me that he was the mediator in his family and cleaned up a lot of the messes, so of course he would instinctively attach the burden to just himself.
“Hey, none of that,” I said, marveling at how much he sounded like me when the mean voices in my head got a little too loud and convincing. “You’re doing great. You haven’t growled at anyone since the guard, and your mean mug is quite convincing for someone who is interested in finding an assassination contract.”
“Really?” he asked with such genuine surprise that I got a little sidetracked with how adorable he was. Something about such a smart, professional man being bashful about a compliment made me weak in the knees.
It also made me want to lavish him with more praise just to see if he would melt or further get flustered—there was a time and a place for everything, and even my impetuous self knew that.
“Really. I promise. You keep on glowering at everyone, and I’m sure we’ll find this Whisper dude lickety-split.”
“You’re looking for the Whisper?”
Both of us nearly jumped out of our skins at the quiet voice behind us. A tall, beautiful woman dressed in all white approached us. I got no threatening vibes from her.
“You’ll have to excuse me for eavesdropping, but watching you flit around piqued my curiosity.”
“Wait, you know the Whisper?”
“I do, and I can take you to them. If you want, that is.”
I narrowed my gaze at her, focusing my vision. I couldn’t see anything. At least not immediately.
No emotional signature?! Could she be connected to the case? Or even the assassin herself?
It was hard to maintain my own calm, but I managed, sending her a smile as I reached behind me to grip Paul’s wrist, my nails biting into his skin. I was sure he would understand that what was happening was significant, even if he couldn’t get the subtext from that small movement.