Read Online PsyCop 3: Body and Soul by Jordan Castillo Price - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jordan Castillo Price
Tags: mm
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jealousy was aroused.
Instead, I put the photo on the counter and laid the charm across Miranda Lopez's stretchy, purple sweater, and abruptly changed the subject. "Say, do you know what this is?"
"A Mexican chick with big boobs?"
I glared at him.
He smiled back, wide. "Oh. You mean the milagro?"
I looked at the little charm, hardly more detailed than a stick figure, standing with her feet planted far apart, wearing a wide triangular skirt. I concentrated on the word "milagro," but knowing the word for it clarified nothing.
Lisa could probably explain it to me. Damn it.
"I sell a few, though I don't bother keeping a big stock like the Botanica. It's a Hispanic thing, a form of sympathetic magic, though the more Catholic ones don't really acknowledge the paranormal connection. There are just a few different types: arms, legs, hearts, heads, and whole people.
Someone might tie a heart milagro to a saint candle, and it could mean anything from 'help me lower my cholesterol' to 'gimme a boyfriend, now.'" He raked his tongue stud over his lower teeth as he toyed with the tiny figure. "So where'd you get this one?"
"A case I'm working on." I wondered if the charm of the woman's head on Miranda's dresser was a piece of jewelry or a milagro. Given the items it was hanging with, I was guessing it wasn't just decorative.
"The girl," said Crash. "Someone's daughter?"
I poked the milagro Mrs. Lopez gave me and spun it around so that it faced me again. "Yeah. She's missing."
Crash slid the charm toward me. "Keep it on you. You never know, it might help you. Belief's a powerful thing."
Chapter Seven
I pulled up half a block away from my crappy courtyard building a little after nine. I'd fended off Crash's attempt to drag me out for drinks, but ended up agreeing to keep a handful of pendulums somewhere on my person so they could soak up my vibe. I wasn't supposed to put them under my pillow, since I was sleeping with a Stiff in my bed. I figured that meant the glove compartment was out, too, since that would put them in Zigler's range for a good part of the day, at least as long as we took my car. I ended up putting them in my blazer pocket. Seemed safe enough.
My body dragged at me as I headed toward the courtyard gate. A Valium would feel amazing. Too bad I didn't have any.
Or maybe that was for the best. It was easy to stay clean when everything was going smoothly. Not so easy when I was putting in fourteen hour days with nothing to show for it.
"Hey."
A woman's voice—a familiar one. My insides sank as if someone had cranked up the gravity. All I had to do was get inside. She wouldn't follow me inside.
"Hey, white boy. Where you been at?"
One good thing about buying a new place with Jacob: I'd get away from the prostitute who turned tricks in the afterlife right outside my courtyard. "Not tonight, Jackie. I'm beat."
"I ain't see you in a long time. What's wrong wit you?"
"Your concern is touching." I picked up the pace. Just a few dozen more steps to the courtyard gate. From there, twenty yards to the vestibule door.
"C'mon, baby, don't be that way. You the only one who talk to me."
"Really?" I couldn't see her—which I was glad for. She had this ugly shank sticking out of her breastbone when she was visible.
"Whatsa matter? You don't look right."
I stopped and stared up into a streetlight. Snow whirled around in the yellow beam, and I realized I was shivering. I'd need to break out my winter coat. If I'd remembered to pick it up from the cleaner's. I slipped my hand into my jacket pocket and fingered the milagro. "Jackie, can you tell me if someone's dead or not?"
"Who it be? Maybe I heard something."
"Miranda Lopez." I pulled out the charm and balanced it on my fingertips, and then I realized that the photo was probably a better likeness. I pocketed the milagro and held up the Polaroid.
"I find out for you if you get me a dime."
I sighed and put the photo away. "You can't smoke crack.
You're dead.
Instead, I put the photo on the counter and laid the charm across Miranda Lopez's stretchy, purple sweater, and abruptly changed the subject. "Say, do you know what this is?"
"A Mexican chick with big boobs?"
I glared at him.
He smiled back, wide. "Oh. You mean the milagro?"
I looked at the little charm, hardly more detailed than a stick figure, standing with her feet planted far apart, wearing a wide triangular skirt. I concentrated on the word "milagro," but knowing the word for it clarified nothing.
Lisa could probably explain it to me. Damn it.
"I sell a few, though I don't bother keeping a big stock like the Botanica. It's a Hispanic thing, a form of sympathetic magic, though the more Catholic ones don't really acknowledge the paranormal connection. There are just a few different types: arms, legs, hearts, heads, and whole people.
Someone might tie a heart milagro to a saint candle, and it could mean anything from 'help me lower my cholesterol' to 'gimme a boyfriend, now.'" He raked his tongue stud over his lower teeth as he toyed with the tiny figure. "So where'd you get this one?"
"A case I'm working on." I wondered if the charm of the woman's head on Miranda's dresser was a piece of jewelry or a milagro. Given the items it was hanging with, I was guessing it wasn't just decorative.
"The girl," said Crash. "Someone's daughter?"
I poked the milagro Mrs. Lopez gave me and spun it around so that it faced me again. "Yeah. She's missing."
Crash slid the charm toward me. "Keep it on you. You never know, it might help you. Belief's a powerful thing."
Chapter Seven
I pulled up half a block away from my crappy courtyard building a little after nine. I'd fended off Crash's attempt to drag me out for drinks, but ended up agreeing to keep a handful of pendulums somewhere on my person so they could soak up my vibe. I wasn't supposed to put them under my pillow, since I was sleeping with a Stiff in my bed. I figured that meant the glove compartment was out, too, since that would put them in Zigler's range for a good part of the day, at least as long as we took my car. I ended up putting them in my blazer pocket. Seemed safe enough.
My body dragged at me as I headed toward the courtyard gate. A Valium would feel amazing. Too bad I didn't have any.
Or maybe that was for the best. It was easy to stay clean when everything was going smoothly. Not so easy when I was putting in fourteen hour days with nothing to show for it.
"Hey."
A woman's voice—a familiar one. My insides sank as if someone had cranked up the gravity. All I had to do was get inside. She wouldn't follow me inside.
"Hey, white boy. Where you been at?"
One good thing about buying a new place with Jacob: I'd get away from the prostitute who turned tricks in the afterlife right outside my courtyard. "Not tonight, Jackie. I'm beat."
"I ain't see you in a long time. What's wrong wit you?"
"Your concern is touching." I picked up the pace. Just a few dozen more steps to the courtyard gate. From there, twenty yards to the vestibule door.
"C'mon, baby, don't be that way. You the only one who talk to me."
"Really?" I couldn't see her—which I was glad for. She had this ugly shank sticking out of her breastbone when she was visible.
"Whatsa matter? You don't look right."
I stopped and stared up into a streetlight. Snow whirled around in the yellow beam, and I realized I was shivering. I'd need to break out my winter coat. If I'd remembered to pick it up from the cleaner's. I slipped my hand into my jacket pocket and fingered the milagro. "Jackie, can you tell me if someone's dead or not?"
"Who it be? Maybe I heard something."
"Miranda Lopez." I pulled out the charm and balanced it on my fingertips, and then I realized that the photo was probably a better likeness. I pocketed the milagro and held up the Polaroid.
"I find out for you if you get me a dime."
I sighed and put the photo away. "You can't smoke crack.
You're dead.
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