CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Gabriel’s price was reasonable. He knew I could get most of the information from the court documents, and I would, if necessary, but I was willing to pay for expediency and the opportunity to discuss it with him . . . which gave him another chance to woo me as a reluctant prospective client. He would return at ten the next morning, despite the fact it was a Saturday.
I needed to work at the diner that night. The regular shifts were seven to three and three to eleven, starting thirty minutes before the seven-thirty opening, then cleaning up for an hour after the diner closed at ten. The other weekday server, Susie, had a second job, so Margie and Susie had arranged their schedules to accommodate it, meaning I could expect to be on an ever-changing mix of days and evenings and even split shifts, opening and closing. Today, because Susie had been called in early, I was due back at seven.
When I stepped out of the apartment building, I found Grace in her spot, glowering at the black cat, now perched on the gate pillar. The feline wasn’t lowering itself to glaring back but simply sat there, yellow eyes fixed on her. I walked over to pet it.
“Don’t encourage him,” Grace snapped.
“But he’s good luck.”
I expected her to say no, a black cat was bad luck, but she only snorted. “Only good luck is his, if he cons you into letting him stay.”
As I walked away, the cat followed, running along the top of the wrought-iron fence. It didn’t meow or try to get my attention, just kept pace with me.
I took the shortcut through the park. When I was close enough to see the fountain, a long shadow slid over the cobblestones. I glanced up. It looked like a crow, but the shadow it cast was huge. A trick of the mind, I supposed. We don’t have ravens in Illinois. But seeing it made me think of the dream with the flayed corpses and huge black birds.
I picked up my pace and the crow’s shadow crossed me twice more. I squinted up, hand shielding my eyes against the sun. The bird was circling erratically. It seemed to be dodging something. Another bird, I presumed, until I realized it was darting away every time it flew too close to the bank’s gargoyles.
I smiled. Nothing terribly sinister about a bird so stupid it couldn’t tell real predators from stone ones.
“Kitty!”
I glanced over at the park. An elderly woman was putting fresh paint on the fence as a mother tried to convince her toddler that it was time to leave. The little girl had found a new excuse to linger—the cat. She was straining in her mother’s grip, both arms reaching for the cat, which had zoomed onto a low branch and crouched there, watching the girl as if considering the potential mauling-to-affection ratio.
I was reaching to give the cat a reassuring pat when the girl screamed. The old woman gasped, and I turned as the raven swooped straight at me. My hands shot up. I saw two black blurs—the bird dropping and the cat leaping for it. The cat managed to claw the raven, but as it fell back to the ground, the bird swooped down and grabbed the cat in its talons. The cat’s scream joined the child’s. I ran and kicked the bird as hard as I could.
It dropped the cat, which started to run, but the bird flew after it. I went after the bird. It was huge, twice the size of the cat. When it dropped low enough, I kicked it again. The old woman shouted, and a rain of stones hit the bird.
It croaked and turned on me. I stood my ground. When it spread its black wings, I got ready to kick it yet again, but the old woman was at my side now. She pitched another handful of pebbles at the bird, shouting, “Go away!”
The bird stopped and eyed us both. Then with a croak, it spread its wings. As it launched into flight, it listed to one side.
“I think I hurt it,” I said.
“Good.” The old woman scowled after the bird. “Nasty things.”
“That was a raven, wasn’t it? It sure looked like it.”
“They aren’t supposed to be here,” she said.
I hesitated. For a moment, I didn’t see a tiny white-haired lady. I saw the girl from my raven dream. Heard her saying to the birds, “Shoo! You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“They used to come around when I was little. Nasty things.” She shook her fist at the raven, still climbing. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
A soft sob interrupted her words, and I noticed the little girl, crying and shaking in her mother’s arms. I glanced around for the cat and spotted its tail peeking from under the bench. I opened the gate, went inside, and bent down. It stared out at me from the darkness. When I reached in, it rubbed against my hand but would come no farther.
“Can’t say I blame you,” I murmured.
I turned to the little girl. “He’s okay. Just scared. Come see.”
She did, and the cat craned its neck out far enough to be petted.
“I need to run,” I said. “I’m late for work, but he seems fine.”
They agreed, and I took off.