Page 79 of The Elf Beside Himself

Smith’s blue eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”

“And then some other asshole shot at me.”

He didn’t say anything in response to that, but his facial expression more than showed his shock and horror. At least that meant he probably didn’t agree with the dicksacks who’d repeatedly vandalized my car and tried to kill me, twice.

I took another sip from my latte. “Let’s just say that making a career change to PI seemed like a good way to keep breathing.”

“Sheesh. Yeah, I can see that.” He cleared his throat, and I took the opportunity to pull a bit off my danish. The pastry was light, flaky, and buttery. “So tell me what you know.”

I told him everything Ward had passed to me from Gregory. How he’d been hit from behind and knocked unconscious, then reawakened just long enough to glimpse his killers before the air was stolen from him forever. I told him about calling Ward. And then I told him about the dirt, the button, the scuff mark, and the smudge on the glass.

His cheeks had pink blotches by the time I finished.

“Do you have them with you?” he asked me, presumably referring to the button and the dirt.

“I don’t. But I’m happy to give them to you. I can also send you pictures of all of them.” I pulled out my phone, opened up the album I’d started of case-related photos, and handed it to him. “Fully documented and dated.” I’d also taken pictures of the baggies, dated and sealed with tape, that he could cross against the date and time on the photo files.

As he scrolled through the photos, the pink spots on his face darkened. With a sigh, he handed my phone back to me.

“Please send me all of those.”

“Phone number or email?” I asked him.

He gave me his number, and I proceeded to text him access to a folder with the photos.

“I appreciate you being willing to consider this,” I said as I selected them. Ward has been workingreallyhard on the whole polite thing with me. I’m trying. It was a bit easier because I was pretty sure Smith was on my side and I wanted him to stay that way.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” Smith asked in that tone of voice that said he didn’t want there to be anything else, but he was nevertheless afraid that there was going to be.

“You know that he’d have to have been hit pretty hard to knock him out, right?” I said. “Shifters don’t go down easy.”

He nodded. “Believe me, the ME is on the top of my list of people to talk to.”

I thought for a minute about just how much I wanted to tell him—and whether or not I wanted to tip my hand by bringing up Raj.

“How long has he worked there?” I asked, trying to play it casual.

“Please tell me you aren’t about to ask about some other shifter.”

Apparently I did not successfully play it casual. “Tara Redsky,” I replied. “Her sister went to school with Elliot and I.”

Smith’s eyebrows went up again. “You went to school with Elliot Crane?”

“I did.” I was surprised he hadn’t dug that part up.

“You’relocal?”

“Yes?” I didn’t know why that was such a surprise, but Smith’s eyes went wide.

“Wait… you’re Marsh and Judy’s kid?”

I suppose I should have expected that. Shawanoisa small fucking town. “Yep.”

He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I was wondering why some PI from Virginia was working a suicide all the way the heck up here.”

‘Heck.’ Cute. I might have to watch my language if I wanted to keep him happy.

“I take it you didn’t find my Milwaukee service record, then.”

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