Free Women of the Otherworld 10.5 - Counterfeit Magic by Kelley Armstrong Page B

insisted he move back in until the divorce was done, to avoid putting him through the hassle of bickering over the condo.”
     
    “Damn. Blows my theory out of the water. What about the wife, then? Could she be sabotaging the business?”
     
    “If she knew her ex was running an illegal fight club and she wanted revenge, it would be a lot easier just to notify the authorities.”
     
    “True. Okay, so if it’s not Ethan and it’s not Tommy, who the hell is it?”
     
    “I think it’s time to ask them that.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The Gallantes weren’t at the club when we arrived, so we parked down the road and waited. They arrived later in the afternoon. We gave them time to get in and settled, then followed, and found them right where they’d been the day before—Ethan on his laptop and Tommy working out, push-ups this time.
     
    Tommy rose as we entered. “I’m hoping you’re here to talk about that bout Ethan suggested. You and me. Make a helluva fight. But I have a feeling that’s not it.”
     
    Ethan stepped out of his office. “Tommy didn’t kill that boy. Neither of us did.”
     
    “We’re not here to talk about Jared’s death,” Savannah said. “We’re here to talk about Davy’s.”
     
    I said, “I’ve seen enough dead bodies to know there’s no way, short of necromancy, that Davy Jones walked out of here last night. If you insist otherwise, then I’d like to speak to him. Refuse and I’ll get in touch with someone else. Dr. Phillips.”
     
    I pulled a chair from the office and sat. “Did you know we have a file on Dr. Phillips? Seems there’s a reason he needs that extra cash. His daughter is up on drug charges in Orlando. I wonder what he’d say if we offered him a deal? He tells the truth about Davy and the fighter who died a few months ago, and Lucas will represent his daughter for free.”
     
    “We didn’t kill anyone,” Ethan said.
     
    “Never said you did. But two fighters are dead.”
     
    A pause so long I was ready to repeat my threat when Ethan finally said, “Yes. Davy died last night.”
     
    “And you dumped the body,” Savannah said.
     
    “No, we moved him to Dr. Phillips’ office where he can conduct an autopsy. As you said, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. In six months, we’ve had two deaths and one near fatality. The first time, we thought it was a fluke. It does happen, as hard as you try to avoid it. The fighter collapsed in the ring. We cleared the place out, as we did last night. Then we took him to his hotel.”
     
    “And made it look like he’d died in his sleep,” I said. “Possibly from injuries sustained at the club. But with the doctor confirming he walked out, no one would blame you. You chalked it up to a freak accident.”
     
    “Until it happened again,” Savannah said. “And then again.”
     
    “The second time, the fighter did walk out okay, and he’s still walking around. But if I hadn’t had an epi pen here, he’d be dead. Everyone knew he was allergic to nuts, so they figured that’s what it was.”
     
    “You disagreed because he was in the ring, fighting, not sitting down to a meal that accidentally had nuts in it.”
     
    When Ethan didn’t answer, I said, “You think someone’s killing your fighters. The obvious reason is cheating. Poison or magic to defeat an opponent, only occasionally the results are lethal.”
     
    Tommy shook his head. “They’ve fought a different guy each time. In two cases, the victor would have taken the match anyway. No reason to cheat.”
     
    “So what do you think the problem is?” I asked.
     
    Silence. Savannah waited five seconds this time, then stood. “Fine. You want us to figure it out for ourselves, we—”
     
    “It’s the Warners ,” Tommy said.
     
    “We suspect it’s the Warners ,” Ethan said. “They run—”
     
    “A chain of fight clubs,” Savannah said. “We’ve done our research.”
     
    The Warners owned the club in San Francisco and a