Page 17 of Fortune's Ashes
He suddenly looked a little embarrassed. ‘It’s my birthday.’
I brightened. ‘Happy birthday!’
‘Thanks.’ He smiled at me. ‘It looks like you’re having a busy day too. Are you on a case?’
‘A cold case,’ I told him. ‘It’s good to get the time to look into historic crimes. The passage of time doesn’t mean that the bad guys should get away.’
‘With you after them, they should already be running,’ Max said warmly. ‘Is it a bad one?’
‘The case? So far it’s a missing person, but there may be more to it.’
‘Sounds intriguing.’
‘We shall see, Max. We shall see.’ I glanced across the street as somebody hurried past with their head down. ‘Well, well, well,’ I murmured to myself. ‘That’s handy.’
Max lifted a curious eyebrow. I nodded to indicate that I had to go, then crossed over to intercept the hurrying gremlin. Speaking to Phileas Carmichael had been low on my list of priorities but this was too fortuitous an opportunity to pass up and it probably wouldn’t take long.
‘Mr Carmichael!’
The solicitor ignored me; in fact, he seemed to pick up speed and do his best to move away from me at a faster pace. Huh. That was weird.
‘Phileas!’ I ran after him. I wasn’t in the mood to let him get away, even if I only wanted to ask him if he was related to Quincy. ‘Wait!’
He moved faster. Determined to catch up to him, and curious as to why he didn’t want to speak to me, I put on an extra spurt of speed. Realising that I wasn’t going to allow him to get away, he finally slowed and turned around. ‘DC Bellamy,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I’m not ready to speak to you yet.’
What did that mean? I frowned at him.
‘I am still preparing the relevant documents and I’ll be in touch shortly.’
‘Documents?’
He squinted at me. ‘Pertaining to my client.’
‘Mr Carmichael,’ I said, ‘what client are you talking about?’
His eyes took on a touch of impatience. ‘Mr Cobain, of course.’
My mouth dropped open. Barnes had told me that Alan Cobain had sought legal representation but it hadn’t occurred to me that he might be using a supe lawyer. ‘You’re working with Cobain? Why?’
He answered stiffly, ‘Identity theft is a serious matter, detective.’
My astonishment only grew. ‘You’re suggesting that I’ve stolen Alan Cobain’s identity? Seriously?’
Phileas Carmichael raised his finger and wagged it at me as if I were a naughty child. ‘You know as well as I do that there is only one phoenix at any time.’
‘Yes! It’s me!’ For fuck’s sake.
‘Hmm. According to you.’
I couldn’t stop myself. ‘There’s more than enough evidence to prove I’m the phoenix, as I’m sure you know.’
The gremlin solicitor didn’t so much as blink. ‘There’s no legal precedent for someone who has stolen the powers of another supernatural being.’ He intoned the words as if he’d been practising them. ‘But that doesn’t mean such an action is acceptable.’
I threw my hands up. ‘Bloody hell, Phileas!’
He looked me owlishly. ‘If you wish to communicate further with me or my client, please do so through your own solicitor.’ He moved away again.
I hissed under my breath. This was ridiculous – more than ridiculous. I went after him. ‘I didn’t approach you because of Alan Cobain. I didn’t even know you were his solicitor.’
