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I spent about an hour cleaning before the little bells above the door tinkled and officer Oswald strolled in, looking around like he just stepped in dog shit.
I clapped my hands together unnecessarily, sending up a cloud of dust near him, smirking when he sneezed. "Can I help you, Ossifer?"
He glared at me. "I didn't know gryphons liked to roll in dirt. Maybe you spent too long around that pig you brought in the other day."
I crossed my arms and leaned against a side table, nearly falling on my ass when it refused to hold my weight and collapsed. Fucking seventies junk. Regaining my balance, I ignored Oswald's poorly stifled laughter and gestured grandly toward the back. "Would you like to step into my office, or are you just here to do some sightseeing?"
He rolled his eyes and followed me to the office. I was shocked at the change that had occurred in the last sixty minutes. Oisin had found time somewhere to change his clothes. The rags he wore to clean had been replaced by his usual—cashmere and silk. Today it was a sapphire blue sweater and pinstriped gray trousers, with candy red loafers. He always managed to look amazing in things that would make others look like a clown.
He sat at my desk—my clean desk—leafing through a book about local civic laws. When he glanced up and saw Oswald, he stood and gestured at one of the wingback chairs near the desk. "Officer. What can we help you with?" He sounded so...professional, and shit.
I stood behind Oswald's chair and rolled my eyes. Oisin smiled sweetly and offered Oswald a bottled water from the mini fridge in the corner next to the towering potted tree.
Oswald, clearly flabbergasted by my partner, took the water without speaking.
I met Oisin's eyes, made a gun with my fingers, stuck it in my mouth, and pulled the trigger.
Oisin's lips twitched, but he kept his "business" face in place. "How about I leave you and Gesa to chat, hmm?"
He brushed by me, headed toward the door, leaving me alone with our police liaison, the ass.
I walked to the desk and took a seat. "Did you need something, Oswald?"
The banshee sipped his water and shifted in his seat. "There's no bounty," he said slowly, his deep voice gruff. I hoped that wasn't the tone he used when he sang people to greet their death.
I stared at him. "No bounty for what?"
He cleared his throat. It was clearly killing him to tell me whatever it was he wanted to tell me. So, I let him stew.
After a few minutes of intensely awkward silence he let out his breath in a rush. "There's no one officially looking into this. But I just...well, I thought you might want to know. Since everything around here seems to be your problem."
I leaned on my elbows, making sure to flex my biceps and shoulders casually, not-so-subtlety reminding him I could snap him like a twig, supe or not. "Well," I said softly. "Maybe everything wouldn't be my problem, if the police force could see anything outside their safe little box." Gods, all they would have to do was hire some sighted humans, bring in more supernatural officers. Instead they kept to their safe little human crimes.
"We keep getting calls about dead animals," he said, ignoring my complaint. "We got so sick of it, that the chief called the DNR, but apparently White got to them first. They just brushed us off."
I dropped my arms to the surface of the desk, not even bothering to hide the contempt in my voice. "White?"
He nodded. "Derek White. The higher ups don't take a shit unless he approves it."
I closed my eyes and tried not to hit something. I didn't want to break my shiny new desk. White was an asshole. He owned big casinos and hotels and who knew what the hell else around here—all the shiny new money that was building a thriving city in the middle of a podunk upper Michigan county. And he seemed to have his too-perfect nose in everything. After killing the kappa I was hunting last month, and taking the money the asshat had made selling humans, he disappeared from my life. But I knew better than to think he was gone forever.
And apparently, he not only had access to the police department's criminal files (since he'd caught me hacking them last month) but he had some hold over the whole operation. It figured.
I leaned back and took out a notebook and pen. If a bunch of dead animal reports was enough to get White involved, I was willing to bet something shady—hell, probably terrible—was going on. "Tell me about the dead animals."
He nodded, but then met my eyes again. "I'm serious, gryphon. No one is going to pay you for this. And you're probably going to regret ever talking to me if you go poking around where White is concerned."
I smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "There are things that are far more satisfying than money, Oswald." Like messing up Derek-fucking-White's plans. Whatever they were.
Oswald leaned back in his chair. "We've been getting calls about animal kills. Usually pretty messy. There have been enough of them to cause a bit of concern—you know, like maybe some sicko is working his way up to humans. But so far, that's it. No humans have been harmed."
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I brought it up with the couple other supes on the force, thought maybe there was something else going on here. Like maybe there's a supe going a bit crazy," he spun a finger near his temple. I nodded. It happened more than I wanted to acknowledge. Long life spans and unusual abilities didn't mix well with the ever-changing human population. Some supes just couldn't adapt. Or didn't want to.
"I'll look into it," I said, my mind already pulling at the threads, trying to find a loose one. "Anything else you can tell me? Did anyone get any unusual scents off the animals?"
His nose twitched like I'd just held up something foul under it. "No. None of the supes on the force are shifters or...sniffers."
I sighed at the stupidity. Supes discriminating against other supes was as stupid as humans' hang-up over skin color. But it happened every day. Those of us with an animal side were no more than stupid beasts in the minds of some. "You know that's about the stupidest thing you've ever said, right?"
He shrugged. "The higher-ups only want people who can control themselves in bad situations."
I rubbed my temples to keep from shouting. "I can control myself just fine, you dickless music box."
He put the cap on his water and gave me a look. "Sure you can."
I glared. I wanted to tell him I had never lost control and almost killed someone out of animal instinct. But that would be a big fat lie.