Magic Tricks 🔮 Book 2 || gxg

Just Like Old Times

Ada's wallet felt heavy, ominous in her pocket as she let herself into the busy deli. She had done work on the owner's car about six months prior, and learned something very interesting about him. Shawn enjoyed bartering and trading to a fault. He tried to offer her free meals up to the cost of replacing his muffler rather than pay her. She said no, but it did lead to her questioning the sorts of trades he took. So when she winked at Shawn—his bushy moustache now covering most of his mouth—and saw him incline his head toward the back, a thrill of optimism took her for a moment.

He had only been in the back for a moment before a round-cheeked lad emerged, smoothing his stained apron on his way to the counter. Ada nodded to him and squeezed past. Shawn was just outside the back door, a cigarette already half-done between his cracked lip and moustache.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked in a thick French she struggled to comprehend at times. True curiosity arched his left brow.

"I know how much you enjoy gossip; what would it take to get you to share some of it?" Ada leaned back on the rough brick between the doorway and the dumpster. Chilly air nipped her nose.

The arch deepened. "Well that depends on what sort of gossip you're looking for. Keep it quick, I have to get back in there. That boy can't slice bread worth shit."

"I'm looking to get my hands on something of value."

"Something specific?"

"Not exactly. I have parameters, but I have a feeling you'll be able to think of something."

He took a long drag, finishing off what was left of his cigarette before withdrawing and lighting another with the dying ember of the first. "It's going to cost you."

"How much?"—He told her, and she withdrew three pink bills from her wallet, but did not hand them over; they rolled easily into a tube in her palm—"Something high value, low risk. Jewellery, cash, grow-op; I don't really care. Where do I look?"

Shawn dragged his eyes from the money in her hand, face pensive. Eventually, he said, "Blackmail up your alley?"

Ada shrugged. "Depends on the risk involved. It's not for me, and if we're looking at blackmail against someone particularly violent, my buyer won't go for it."

"Hey, there are plenty of people willing to buy the materials from you and do the work themself; but if your buyer is willing to play the waiting game, they can likely get a lot out of the target. If not, they can make decent coin finding someone who will." He blew a cloud of smoke right into her face. "Sorry. Anyway, you know the old iron mine out of town? I play poker with the accountant every week. Guy's been tense these past few weeks, says he's been asked to do something shady. I don't know what, exactly, but this guy's no wiener."

Ada hummed softly, thumbing her lip. "So you think he's cooking the books? You think they'll pay to get that information back?"

"Look, this guy is no stranger to a little number-fudging, so to get him this rattled, it must be something pretty substantial. He's got an office on the second floor. It's a pretty big place, used to be an enormous operation fifteen years ago. All I know is his office faces the main mine shaft. He bitches about the noise every week."

Shawn's eyes drifted to the cash in her fist, and she passed it over. She could work with this. An old mining office building some digging through a Windows '95 yellowed with smoke. She had done far more difficult jobs before for far less payout. She also couldn't deny her curiosity at what they could possibly be doing. She probably wouldn't figure it out from some spreadsheets, but with any luck it would be obvious.