Veiled Magic by Deborah Blake Page A

that might get us some more answers about this case. I’d like to follow it up, if that’s okay with you?”
    The Chief sat back down, more slowly, and gave her an inscrutable look. “What kind of lead, Santori? And where did you get it, exactly?”
    She couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or furious. Or just had indigestion from eating the cafeteria food again. Damn, sheshould have just kept her mouth shut.
    â€œWell, I, uh, got a visit last night. At my apartment. Um, from Clive Farmingham.” She waited.
    His brow wrinkled. “Farmingham?” The other shoe dropped. “Wait, Farmingham the dead guy from the museum? That Farmingham?” He looked alarmed. “You got ghosts dropping in to visit you all the time, do you, Santori?”
    She guessed he wasn’t going to be stopping by her apartment for coffee anytime soon. The thought made her smile and she coughed to cover it up.
    â€œNo, thankfully, not that often,” she said. “But Farmingham had something major on his mind, and he’d tried to tell me at the museum. When I didn’t listen then, he followed me to my place.”
    The Chief rolled his eyes. “You know, Santori, most people have stray dogs follow them home. You might want to try that instead.”
    Donata laughed. “Well, my cat wouldn’t approve of that, for starters. Besides, if he hadn’t followed me home, I wouldn’t have the additional information he gave me. So it turns out to be a good thing—although I’ll confess, I wasn’t any too pleased when he first showed up.”
    â€œI’ll bet,” the Chief muttered. “I hope you’re not expecting me to go to your apartment to interview a ghost. I’m trying to give you a little more scope here, but I gotta draw the line at that one.”
    â€œNot to worry,” Donata reassured him. “Farmingham is long gone now. He said what he had to say and moved on.” She didn’t add that the reason he’d felt free to continue on his journey to the next plane was because he’d laid his problem squarely on her shoulders. She just hoped they were broad enough to carry it.
    â€œSo what was the big news this guy had to tell you? Must have been important if he put off going to the light—or whatever ghosts do—so he could let you know about it.”
    Donata had spent a good chunk of the morning trying to figure out what she could and couldn’t share with her boss. As a Human, he had no idea that Paranormals other than Witches existed or the actual nature of the Inquisition, so she couldn’t mention the painting’s ties to the Inquisition or the threat it posed to the Paranormal races. And she sure as hell couldn’t say anything about the theoretical danger posed by an equally hypothetical missing sixth race. Unfortunately, that didn’t leave her much.
    So all she could do, really, was let him know that they might be able to track down the people who had commissioned the robbery through Franco. Hopefully, that would be enough.
    â€œUm, well, Farmingham said that if I could find another restorer he knew, that guy might be able to lead us to the folks behind the whole robbery. And that’s who you really wanted, right?” She talked fast so she could get it all out before the Chief stopped her. “If we could find the actual purchasers of the stolen painting, they wouldn’t be giving any extra money to Franco either. All the bad guys would be screwed.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’d really like to pursue this, Chief.”
    He studied her carefully for a moment before speaking. “I’ll admit, Santori, I’m impressed. It’s good to see you show a little initiative.” Then he shrugged. “But it’s not your problem anymore. Donaldson is in charge of the case—so pass yourinfo on to him, and he’ll follow up if he thinks it’s pertinent.”
    He