Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara by Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale, Astrid Amara, Nicole Kimberling Page B

neither he nor Gunther spoke too much. Keith was sunk in his own thoughts. Interviewing the vampires, which had seemed to him to be borderline harassment at first, had yielded a piece of information after all. Goblins had been there looking for meat. The arrows were all lining up and all confirming Keith’s original suspicions.
    He supposed Gunther’s silence could also be attributed to this information.
    They made good time and got into the city and to the Bauer & Bullock Steakhouse right in the thick of the dinner service.
    Stepping into the dining room, Keith was struck by both the smell—searing flesh—and the décor—the predictable, yet still imposing combination of dark wooden paneling, leather, and massive proportions. The whole place looked like a supersized fantasy of an old-time gentlemen’s club. Even the silverware was slightly too large.
    Keith made his way to the host station, where he very discretely flashed his badge at a fragile-looking young host and asked to see the manager. It would do no good to antagonize the staff, especially if this turned out to be a dead end.
    The busboy disappeared upstairs, only to return a few seconds later, Cindy Bullock in tow.
    Bullock was a skinny, stylish woman with kinky blond hair and long, bony arms on which she wore a multitude of designer bangles. She took one look at Keith, crossed her arms, and said, “Agent Curry,” by way of greeting.
    “Hello, Ms. Bullock,” Keith went on, undeterred. “This is my associate, Gunther Heartman. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
    “About?”
    “About your meat supplier,” Keith said. “Who might that be?”
    Cindy’s expression darkened. “We serve grass-fed organic beef sourced from USDA certified local ranchers. You can read all about them on our menu. Additional information can be found on the website.”
    Keith jotted down the address of the website in his black book, though he already had it. He wrote slowly and precisely. He wanted Cindy to squirm a little. She clenched her hands. The large rings on her fingers glittered.
    “You have a really impressive selection of whiskies,” Gunther commented.
    Cindy’s initial bright response at being complimented dimmed with suspicion. “Yes, we have a discerning clientele.”
    “Do you do much catering?” Keith swept in with another question.
    “A fair amount,” Cindy replied.
    “So you’ve got, what? Three jobs a week?” Keith asked.
    “I’d have to look at my calendar. It’s upstairs in the office if you’d like to follow me.”
    “Actually, what I’d really like to take a look at is your kitchen.” Keith started for the kitchen door. Cindy rushed ahead of him.
    “I’d really rather you didn’t go back right now, Agent Curry. You know we’re right in the middle of dinner service. If you could just wait—”
    “Oh, I won’t be in the way,” Keith said. “I’ve been a chef. I know how to keep out of the way.”
    Cindy placed herself between him and the kitchen door. She flung her arms out, bracelets jangling, ringed fingers flashing. “I must insist, Agent Curry. You have no right to go back there. This is my place. You have no right!”
    A dishwasher who had been rounding the corner carrying a rack of clean plates stopped, reflexively backtracking at the sight of Cindy in what looked like full rage.
    Keith’s lip curled in disgust. Why was it that the completely insane gravitated so heavily into the hospitality industry? “Listen, ma’am, I can go get a warrant if you want, but I assure you that you don’t want me coming in here during dinner service with a bunch of uniformed officers, right?”
    “Are you threatening me?” Cindy lunged forward, skinny body flexing like a viper preparing to strike. “I know why you are harassing me.”
    “Neither Agent Heartman nor myself is attempting to harass you. All we’d like to do is have a look at where you do your butchering. That’s all.” Keith kept his tone calm, businesslike.