Deadly Spells

Book 3: Prospero's War

by Jaye Wells

Genres: Contemporary Fantasy; Coming of Age; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The Wire with wizards – in a world where illegal magic is as dangerous and addictive as hard drugs, Police Detective Kate Prospero is cleaning up the streets. Deadly Spells is the third thrilling novel in the Prospero's War series.The last thing patrol cop Kate Prospero expected to find on her nightly rounds was a werewolf covered in the blood of his latest victim. But then, she also didn't expect that shooting him would land her a job with the Magic Enforcement Agency task force, who wants to know why she killed their lead snitch.

Release date: February 10, 2015

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 400

Sample

There was a body in the church.

Even if Duffy’s phone call hadn’t alerted us to that fact, the line of news vans along the street would have tipped me off. Murders always made the media swarm like flesh flies on a corpse.

Outside the yellow police tape, reporters wielded microphones and cameras like weapons, and they shot questions like bullets at anyone wearing a badge. Special Agent Drew Morales and I were bundled up in coats and street clothes instead of cop uniforms, so they let us pass without too much trouble. If they’d known my partner and I were members of the Magic Enforcement Agency task force, they wouldn’t have been so dismissive.

In addition to the journalists’ vehicles, two CSI vans were parked at the curb. I cursed silently. Any scene that required that many forensics wizards had to be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

The call had come from Detective Patrick Duffy an hour earlier. Given the tense track record between Babylon PD and our MEA task force, they’d only have called us in to consult if the murder had ties to the dirty magic trade. The most likely scenario in this case was that the victim was a known player in one of the three major covens. Still, why the church? Dirty magic covens rarely set foot in houses of Christian worship—not even to commit crimes.

Adrenaline and dread made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Adrenaline because I loved my job, and working coven cases was my specialty. Dread because coven-related murders were always messy and never easy to solve.

“Any guesses?” Morales said.

“The vic?” I shook my head. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

He shot me his trademark smirk. “You’re no fun.”

“It’s Sunday night and I’m working a murder. Sorry for not being the life of the party.”

He put an arm around my shoulder. “Beats the paperwork you were working on before Duffy called.”

I expelled my breath on a laugh. “No shit.”

I grabbed the handle to the door and noticed streaks of white corrective fluid across my knuckles. Before Duffy’s call, I’d been pecking away at case reports and cursing the MEA’s refusal to automate the extensive forms we had to fill out after we’d wrapped a case.

Through the gaping wound that used to be the church’s ceiling, a helicopter’s spotlight created a strobe-like pattern in the sanctuary’s shadowed corners. I ducked under a large wooden beam blocking our path. The structural damage had allowed a late-season snowstorm to have its way with the interior. Splintered wood and glass shards stuck out of the snow like skeletal hands. Broken windowpanes gaped like missing teeth in a battered face.

If you squinted hard, you could imagine this run-down temple in its heyday. Barrel-vaulted ceilings, gleaming woodwork, high stone arches, and stained glass that would have glowed like jewels in the late-afternoon sun. But now there was no sun—only the helicopter’s lights. And instead of a temple, it looked like a tomb.

The old church was just one of many sad relics of Babylon’s steel empire. Some might see the empty shell of a church as a symbol that God had turned His back on the city. The truth was, even if God existed, He wasn’t the reason the economy had collapsed. Ask any of the old-timers—the ones who were too worn down to bother with lying—and they’d tell you the real culprit in Babylon’s slow death: magic.

Several of the other abandoned buildings on the street had been torn down years earlier, leaving behind lots choked with weeds and trash. Yet for some reason, this old church had been allowed to remain. Maybe some people believed God would come back to Babylon, after all.

As I walked up what used to be the aisle, a familiar uniformed officer turned to call out, “Hey, Prospero, you don’t call, you don’t write…”

“I came to collect that twenty you owe me, Santini.” He’d been one of the few patrolmen who hadn’t treated me like a pariah back when I was still a beat cop.

He motioned toward his crotch. “I got your money right here.”

“You’d have to pay me a lot more than twenty bucks, Jimmy.”

Raucous laughter echoed through the old sanctuary. Murder scenes are usually tense, for obvious reasons, and any chance to add a little levity to the grim task of cataloging some poor bastard’s final moments was leaped on with forced enthusiasm.

Farther up the aisle, I spotted Duffy standing next to the altar. Even on a good day he wore a perma-frown, but this night, among the snow and the wreckage, and the blood, his expression was downright grim. He was speaking to Valerie Frederickson, one of my friends from the CSI squad. Val was a fellow Adept and one of my few allies at the BPD.

Behind the pair, a sheet covered the body, which was splayed out on the stone altar like a sacrifice to old pagan gods. In the snow in front of the altar, someone had painted a symbol using a liquid that was too darkly red to be anything but blood.

“Prospero,” Val called. “Hey, Morales.”

I waved and picked up my speed to get the shit circus under way. Circumventing the bloody symbol, I joined them by the altar. “Who we got?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell us.” His tone hinted that asking us for help was costing him a lot of pride.

Detective Pat Duffy used to be on the homicide beat for a precinct in an upscale Mundane area of Babylon. But last year, after his work on a case involving the murder of Babylon’s former mayor, he’d been made head of homicide for the Cauldron precinct, which handled crimes in Babylon’s magical slums.

Before his promotion, Duffy had rejected Gardner’s invitation to join the MEA task force—twice. None of us could figure out why he’d been so opposed to the move, especially since as an Adept, he shouldn’t have problems working under and beside other Lefties. But apparently he did. Now every time any of us had to work with him, it was twice as difficult and five times as frustrating as it should be. But since he was Captain Robert Eldritch’s new favorite, we were forced to deal with the guy.

“Who called it in?” I asked.

Standing beside me with his arms crossed, Morales loomed like a large shadow. Even though he outranked me, I was the one who knew the covens best, so he was letting me take the lead.

“Homeless freakhead across the street called it in,” Duffy said, using the term for a potion addict. “Unis found him in an abandoned gas station across from the church. He gave an initial statement, but it didn’t make much sense. He was spouting nonsense and half-frozen, so I called an ambulance to take him to Babylon General. Once he’s lucid, I’ll head over to get an official statement.”

“All right.” I blew out a breath. “Let’s see who’s behind curtain number one.”

Val flicked back the covering.

The limbs had been severed from the trunk and arranged around the body. “Where’s the head?” Morales asked.

Val nodded toward a covered statue next to the altar. Wearing a grim expression, she slowly pulled the sheet away. On top of a marble pedestal, a kneeling angel cradled a severed head.

“Shit!” The outburst escaped my lips like a bullet from a gun muzzle. The sound echoed off the crumbling walls and the banks of snow. I felt rather than saw everyone in the ruins freeze. Tension rose like a plasma dome over the crime scene.

The empty eye sockets and the blackened potion burn in the center of the forehead were important clues, but they hadn’t unsettled me. Instead, it was the bull ring hanging from the nose and the close-cropped gray hair that made my stomach flood with acid.

“One of your old friends?” Duffy was asking if I knew the victim from my days as the scion of a dirty magic coven.

I swallowed hard and dragged my gaze from the face of the man I’d known since I was born. “H-his name is Charles Parsons. On the streets they called him Charm.”

“Figured he was Votary from the tattoo on his wrist.” Duffy’s tone was filled with contempt, and he flicked a glance at my left arm.

Without thinking, my right hand moved to cover the matching Ouroboros on my own wrist, which permanently marked me as a made member of the Votary Coven. I’d left the coven ten years earlier and started a new life, but not everyone was willing to let that old life stay in the past. “He was Abe’s left hand—his enforcer.”

A parade of black memories goose-stepped through my head.

The last time I’d talked to Charm was on the worst day of my life. As both the next of kin and the leader of the Sanguinarian Coven, Uncle Abe had been the one to tell me that my mother had died, but Charm had stood nearby with his arms crossed. That’s how I’d always remember him: standing with his head bowed like a bull ready to charge. Lots of people had been afraid of Charm, but I’d always found comfort in his steady presence.

After my uncle had told me the news, I’d cried myself out and screamed until I was hoarse. Abe hadn’t known how to comfort me, but Charm had offered me a cigarette and patted me on the arm. “It’s not your fault, Katie,” he’d lied. Abe had told me my mom overdosed on a potion I’d cooked, and Charm had listened patiently as I broke down with guilt. Charm hadn’t been a man of many words, but he always listened. That’s why he’d been such an asset to Abe—he heard everything.

“Kate?” Morales prompted.

I shook myself and tried to ignore the grief smudging my vision. There’d be time for mourning later. Now I had a job to do. “After my uncle got pinched and thrown into Crowley, Charm took over as the day-to-day leader of the crews still loyal to the coven.”

I scanned the crime scene again to avoid looking at Charm’s sightless eyes. Now that I knew who the victim was, it put a whole new light on the visible evidence. As I did, I scrolled through a mental Rolodex of possible enemies.

“What are you seeing, Prospero?” Morales asked.

“The blood in the snow,” I said. “It’s an ankh, I think.”

His knees popped as he knelt closer to the symbol. “Sangs?”

I nodded. The Sanguinarian Coven specialized in blood magic, and a lot of their Arcane symbolic language revolved around Egyptian hieroglyphs. But the ankh was especially damning because the new leader of the Sangs, Harry Bane, had one tattooed on his forehead.

Morales rubbed his lower lip and looked up at me. “Think it’s retaliation for Ramses?” Ramses had been Harry Bane’s father, who had been murdered the previous November.

“The old leader of the Sangs?” Duffy asked. “What about him?”

“I was just wondering if this is some sort of grudge hit,” Morales said, not looking in my direction. “After Ramses died, chatter on the street speculated that the Votaries were responsible.”

Duffy crossed his arms. “His death was ruled a suicide.”

Morales and I exchanged a quick look. Ramses had been murdered while in protective custody. The cops charged with his care claimed he’d hanged himself rather than face standing trial for his crimes, which included distribution of an Arcane substance and murder. But Morales and I both knew that was bullshit. We also knew the rumors were sort of true. Uncle Abe had put out the hit on Ramses from prison, but no one could prove it.

“Well?” Duffy prompted.

“Street thugs don’t tend to put too much stock in police reports, Detective,” I said. “All it takes for this to happen is one Sang corner boy looking to prove himself.”

“Still, that was months ago,” Morales said in a thoughtful tone. “Why get revenge now?”

“I have a feeling once we have that answer we’ll have our guy,” I said.

“Murder weapon been found yet?” Morales asked.

Val shook her head. “Doubt we will. The body was obviously moved here after they dismembered him. ME should be able to tell us whether they cut him up before or after they hit him with whatever potion caused that forehead burn.”

I shuddered at the possibility Charm might have been alive during the ordeal. Morales touched my arm and shot me a concerned look that seemed to ask if I needed to leave. I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Are there any other wounds? Gunshots?”

Val shook her head. “Nothing visible, but we’ll know more once Franklin gets him back to the morgue.” Thomas Franklin was the medical examiner, who should be arriving any minute to collect the body—or the pieces of it, anyway.

“Question is—why move the body here?” Duffy rubbed his lower lip and narrowed his eyes.

I looked at the ankh on the ground. “I know Harry Bane isn’t exactly a candidate for Mensa, but does it bother anyone else that there’s so many obvious clues that he’s behind this?”

“Explain,” Duffy said.

“This church is just inside Sang territory. If someone wanted us to think this was their handiwork, this is the perfect place to leave the body. It’s on their turf but not so far that some other coven member getting caught here couldn’t make a quick escape.”

“Hold on,” Duffy said. “You said you thought this was a revenge hit by the Sangs?”

I shook my head. “I said it appears that way. It’s possible someone just wanted us to think that.”

Morales blew out a long breath. “Jesus. We need to keep these details out of the news. If the Votaries believe this is a Sang hit, they’ll come out with guns blazing to avenge Charm.”

Duffy opened his mouth, but a voice called out for Val. We turned to see a tall black man entering the sanctuary. “There’s Franklin now.” She gathered her evidence kit. “I’ll go fill him in so he can get started.”

“Let us know what he finds,” I said.

“Sure thing.” She turned to go.

“Excuse me?” Duffy said, sounding exasperated.

“What?” She froze and shot him a confused look.

“Why would you call the MEA with details about my case?”

Val glanced from Duffy’s boorish expression to my annoyed one and back again. “I’ll let you two figure that out. Bye.” She marched away, lugging her evidence case.

I raised a brow at Duffy. Next to me, Morales crossed his arms and looked down at the older man.

“Don’t flash those fed intimidation glares at me,” he said. “Homicides are the BPD’s.”

“Something you seemed to have forgotten when you called us in to explain your crime scene to you,” Morales said.

Duffy’s eyes narrowed. “I appreciate the help, but this was never an invite to team up. I assure you Captain Eldritch will agree.”

I barely managed not to call bullshit or roll my eyes. Duffy was clearly still pissed at us for stealing his thunder on the Babylon Bomber case five months earlier. He’d been called in after Mayor Owens had been killed, but Morales and I were the ones who solved the case and got all the credit in the media.

“Why don’t you call Eldritch and ask if he agrees with your plan to lock federal agents out of a case involving players in our ongoing investigations?” I suggested.

“You damned well know he’s at that Mayor Volos’s inauguration party.”

My lips curled up at the mention. I’d been invited to that party, too, but luckily I had a great excuse for begging off: I hated the new mayor. He knew it, too, but had sent that damned invite anyway to screw with me.

“Gardner’s there, too, right?” Duffy said, triumph clear in his tone. “Guess you’ll have to take it up with her in the morning.”

By then Duffy would have already warned his boss, Eldritch. Unfortunately for us, Captain Eldritch had his eye on a promotion to chief under the new mayor, and would fight tooth and nail to get a big coven bust on his résumé.

“All right,” I said. “Fine. We’ll let the brass decide. But don’t call us next time you need someone to save your ass.”

With that Morales and I turned our backs on the sputtering detective. As we marched back down the aisle, Val and Franklin stopped talking to shoot us apologetic glances. That’s when I realized every uni and CSI wiz in the place was watching us leave, which meant everyone had heard the exchange.

Except Charm, I thought. The man who used to keep his ear to the ground for the Votary Coven would never hear anything again. With one last look toward the altar, I thought, Rest in peace, big guy.



Half an hour later Morales and I walked into task force headquarters carrying bags of burgers.

The front door of the building still bore the sign for Rooster’s Gym, which was the name of the old-time boxing club that used to inhabit the second-floor space. Inside, a set of narrow steps dumped us into the massive room that served as our office. Old wooden planks covered the floor, and large steel windows added to the ambience. In the center of the floor, the old boxing ring still stood, only instead of hosting fights it now served as the place where our team duked out strategies on cases.

To the right of the entrance, a couple of temporary walls had been erected to seal off the lab the team wizard used to break down potions and create Arcane tactical weapons. To the left, a row of old metal desks bore ancient desktop computers—a couple even had typewriters. Only the best for the MEA.

The scent of old sweat and ozone filled the air. The sweat was a relic from the old days, but the ozone was a sign that someone was cooking potions.

“We’re back,” I called. “And we brought dinner.”

“In here,” a muffled voice responded.

Morales walked toward his desk, which butted up against the boxing ring. I set down the food and detoured toward the lab. But before I reached it, a loud popping noise exploded from the area. A plume of purple smoke curled toward the ceiling and was accompanied by the sound of coughing.

I ran the rest of the way. Behind me, the sound of Morales’s boots striking the wooden floor planks echoed as he followed.

I skidded into the doorway in time to see my little brother, Danny, turn. Large goggles covered the top half of his face, but the bottom half was all smiles. “Hey, Kate!”

“What happened?” I demanded.

Kichiri Ren, our team wizard, turned to look at me. The members of the team called him Mez, which was short for Mesmer. He wore a white lab coat over his vintage vest and slacks. He pushed a pair of goggles up off his face and onto his dreadlocks, which were studded with various charms and amulets. He was the only Asian man I’d ever seen with dreads, but somehow he pulled them off. He coughed and waved his hands to dissipate the purple smoke. “Everything’s under control.”

I shot him a skeptical look. “That’s the second explosion today.”

“Third,” Danny corrected.

I raised a brow at Mez, who cringed. “There was a slight mishap while you guys were gone.”

“Cool, right?” Danny grinned. He pushed his own goggles back. Sweat and potion residue formed an outline where the protective eyewear had been. The effect made him look younger than his sixteen years, especially when paired with the excitement making his eyes shine like a little kid’s on Christmas morning.

“Everyone okay?” Morales said at my shoulder.

Mez shrugged. “I’m teaching him how to actively charge a Spagyric tincture. He just charged it a little too much.” He clasped Danny on the shoulder as if he was proud of him. “I’m telling you, Kate, the kid’s got some mojo.”

Danny’s smile was so proud, I felt the corner of my own mouth turn up in response. “ ’Course he does,” I said. “He’s a Prospero.”

For the last five months, Mez had been teaching my little brother the ins and outs of cooking clean magic. After months of Danny needling me about wanting to learn magic, I’d only relented when Mez agreed to be the one to teach him. Even though I was also an Adept, my specialty was dirty magic, but I didn’t want Danny anywhere near that kind of knowledge. I was hoping that learning the clean side of the Arcane arts would distract the kid from wanting to learn the old family business.

“Just be sure not to blow up the building, okay, Danny?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“How’d it go with Duffy?” Mez busied himself putting on thick rubber gloves and cleaning up the mess while we spoke.

I leaned against the doorway and looked at Morales. He blew out a breath and answered. “The good news is someone killed a major player in the Votary Coven.”

Mez paused from cleaning to look up. “How is that the good news?”

“Because the bad news is Duffy is fighting to keep the case all to himself,” I said.

“Why’d he ask you to come, then?” Danny demanded.

I shot my little brother a warning look. He’d been hanging around enough that he clearly considered himself a member of the team, which he absolutely was not. I pulled a dollar out of my pocket. “Why don’t you go buy a soda in the locker room?”

A flare of rebellion flashed on his face, but I hardened my look enough to let him know any arguments would have consequences he wouldn’t like. “Fine,” he muttered. As he passed, he snatched the bill from my hand but refused to look at me.

I glanced back at Mez, who deadpanned, “Why’d he ask you to come, then?”

“I heard that!” a pouty voice called from the other side of the gym.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Some days I wondered which one of us was more likely to survive Danny’s teenage years. Every day it looked more and more like I’d be the big loser, which was curious seeing how I was the one legally permitted to carry weaponry. “He said it was professional courtesy,” I said, ignoring the moody teen, “but really he needed me to identify his vic for him.”

Mez made a disgusted sound. “I’ll never understand why Eldritch made Duffy head of the Cauldron murder squad. The guy doesn’t know dick about coven politics.”

“Exactly,” Morales said. “Which is also why he refused to listen when we warned him that the covens might use Charm’s death as an excuse to start a war.”

“Who’s Charm?”

I crossed my arms in an effort to corral the emotions swirling in my chest. “He’s been running what’s left of the Votary Coven since Abe went to Crowley.”

Mez tilted his head. “You knew him?” I nodded, trying to appear dismissive, but Mez saw through it. “I’m sorry, Prospero.”

I shrugged. “It was a shock but not exactly a surprise. Dirty living usually leads to a dirty death, you know?” Even though I believed the words I’d spoken, it didn’t lessen the emotions I was struggling with. The truth was, Charm’s death had brought up a lot of memories I usually kept under lock and key. Seeing him dead had taken me right back to the night I’d found out my mom had died. Grief was like that sometimes, snagging individual strands of your life and tangling them until you can’t remember what’s immediate and what’s past.

Luckily, both men seemed to accept my comment about Charm’s death being inevitable and moved on.

“You call Gardner?” Mez asked.

“She’s on her way in now,” Morales said. “She sounded relieved to have an excuse to leave the ball.”

“You mind keeping the kid busy for a little longer?” I asked Mez. “I need to call Baba to see if she can come get him.” Baba was an elderly witch who used to be our neighbor. But about a month ago, she’d moved in with us after she’d missed a couple of rent payments and almost been evicted. It had taken some convincing, but I’d eventually talked her into living with us rent-free in exchange for all the help she gave me with Danny.

“I don’t mind dropping him off once we’re done cleaning up,” Mez said.

I checked my watch. It was already close to nine, which meant Baba was already in bed reading one of her romance novels. “If you don’t mind, that would be a huge help.”

“It’s no problem,” he said. “It’s on my way anyway.”

Right then Danny returned with his soda. “What’d I miss?”

Morales ruffled his hair. “Boring cop stuff.”

Danny looked up at my partner and grinned. “Please, nothing you guys do is boring.”

I snorted to cover my brief spurt of jealousy. If I’d tried that buddy-buddy stuff with Danny, he would have yelled at me for embarrassing him and then refused to speak to me for days. But Morales and Mez could do no wrong in the kid’s eyes because, unlike me, they were cool. Asses.

“We brought burgers if you’re hungry,” I said.

“Where from?” Danny asked, his tone suspicious.

“Burger Shack.”

The kid’s eyes rolled so hard he probably saw the back of his brain. “Mickey’s is better.”

Morales shot me a smirk. “Told you.”

“It’s also on the other side of town,” I said pointedly. “No one’s gonna force you to eat it.” I turned on my heel and left all three males staring after me. I could practically hear the three of them share silent looks that said “Chicks, man,” as I walked away.

I grabbed a burger from the bag and took it back to my desk. A stack of file folders sat next to the typewriter I’d abandoned when Duffy’s call had come in a few hours earlier. At the time, I’d been eager to leave the reports behind in favor of actual police work.

When I’d joined the Magic Enforcement Agency, I thought life would be a nonstop ass-kicking party. While our most recent bust of a cosmetics ring that sold illegal vanity potions to rich ladies had been successful, it hadn’t exactly gotten my heart racing. The last time we’d really gotten our hands dirty had been last October’s Babylon Bomber case. The perp then had been a real nut job who thought he was the god Dionysus. He’d tried to kill Morales and me before blowing up a dirty magic bomb over the city. I didn’t exactly enjoy people trying to kill me, but I did savor the adrenaline rush of the grittier cases. That’s why I’d been excited when Duffy called. That feeling had only intensified once I’d found out it was Charm who had been killed and realized what was at stake.

Morales strolled up to my desk. He shoved a few of my fries into his mouth. “You okay?”

I looked up at him. “Yeah.”

But even as I spoke the words, my mother’s face appeared in my mind. She was smiling and pulling on her coat. Telling me she had to run an errand, but she’d be back before Danny woke up from his nap. Before she walked out the door, her eyes had been bright. “Thing’s are looking up for us, Katie. I just know it.”

If Morales saw the lie in my eyes, he decided not to comment. That’s one of the things I liked about Morales. He’d let me talk when I was ready, and if I was never ready he’d accept that, too. He grabbed a handful of fries. “How you wanna play this with Gardner?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the sound of a door opening interrupted, followed by the click-clack of shoes on the steps. A cold breeze whooshed through the gym a moment before Special Agent Miranda Gardner appeared at the top of the steps.

Instead of rising to greet her, I froze in my chair with my mouth hanging open. Gardner was usually one for sensible business suits and low-heeled shoes, but that night she wore a long gown in a modest navy hue, which was jazzed up by a sheer overlay dotted with beads and crystals. I wasn’t sure if it was the formfitting silhouette of the dress or the fact she was wearing makeup that surprised me more.

A low whistle carried over from the direction of the lab. “Lookin’ good, sir!”

Gardner’s smoky eyes narrowed as she turned an ice-queen look at Mez. The wizard put his hands up and backed away. Without a word, she kicked off her ridiculously high heels and padded angrily across the worn wooden floors toward Morales and me.

As she approached, her glare dared us to comment on her appearance. My partner cleared his throat and stood straighter. “Evening, sir,” he muttered.

She tipped her chin quickly. “My office.”

I rose from my seat and exchanged a wide-eyed look with my partner. He shook his head. “Here we go,” he said under his breath.

I walked into the office first. Gardner was standing in profile behind her desk. As I watched, she spread open the high slit on her skirt and unbuckled her thigh holster. “Thank Christ. That thing’s been chafing me all night.” She looked up and saw me in the doorway with Morales looming at my back. “Well, come in.”

We spilled through the door and took the two chairs facing the metal desk. A sign on the desk reminded us that our boss would tolerate no bullshit before five p.m. It was well after five, but I was pretty sure she didn’t want any bullshit right then, either.

She finally dropped into her seat. “All right, so,” she said, looking back and forth between us, “after you filled me in on the phone, I’ve been thinking about how to approach this.” She pulled her sparkly earrings from her ears and tossed them on the desk next to her Glock. “Duffy didn’t report what was happening to Eldritch, so we have some time.”

“How do you know Duffy didn’t call him?” I asked.

“I was at his. . .