The bag—not quite small enough to be called a purse, and not quite large enough to be called a shoulder bag, as suited its owner—thumped down on the table and made everything on it rattle, and Karrin Murphy slumped into her seat with a groan. She hid her face in her hands and said something unintelligible.

Domovi Butler did not look up from his cup of tea and his paper. "Long day?" he asked.

"The longest," she replied, taking her hands away from her face. "The precinct captain is riding my back so hard he might as well be wearing spurs, I hit a dead end in the case I'm working and to top it all off Dresden went and dropped himself into a mess of some kind of giant bumblebees and nearly got himself killed. Again." She took a deep breath, got some semblance of her composure back, and looked straight at him. "I hope you aren't going to make it longer."
"I don't intend to, no." He set the cup back on the table and folded up the newspaper. "Master Fowl is coming to town."

She was instantly on alert, though she did not betray it in a way that any lesser man would have noticed. Butler knew, though, that Karrin Murphy never steepled her fingers like that unless she was feeling particularly tense. "Which one? And why?"

"The younger, of course." Her fingers relaxed a hair and bowed into an arch instead of a steeple. "He wishes, I believe, to meet with Mr. Marcone."
Back up into a steeple again. That was fast. "That's not technically my business," she pointed out, quite correctly. "I'm not on Vice, and Johnny Marcone can meet with whoever the hell he wants."

"I believe," Butler said, gently, "that he is bringing Miss Short with him."
A moment of true confusion showed on her face. "Who?"

Ah. Something she did not know. A welcome change and a point for him. "Miss Holly Short," Butler elaborated. "A faery. Not one of the kind you've had troubles with, and I know she does not speak for her people as a whole, but you and yours might want to keep an eye on this meeting."
"I'll tell Vice," she said, at last. "And I'll ask Dresden what he can do. I can't guarantee anything."

His eyes met hers in perfect understanding. "Master Fowl will, I suspect, keep Miss Short well away from Mr. Marcone until he understands just what the situation is. Miss Short is also perfectly capable of taking care of herself."

"Heh." Murphy leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap—whatever she'd been thinking, she'd resolved the situation in her own mind at least. "As long as Marcone doesn't acquire an army of faeries, and I trust you'll warn me if he does."

Butler snorted, thinking of the LEP's probable reaction to that. "Trust me. He won't." He hesitated a moment, then added, "Miss Short is rather like yourself, actually. Down to the occupation. I doubt Mr. Marcone can get the better of her." A little white lie about Holly's occupation, but Murphy did not need to hear that a fellow policewoman had lost her job just now. Another point for him.

She grinned, and relaxed even further, leaning forward onto her knees. "Thanks for the compliment. Anything else?"

He shook his head. "No. Unless there's something about this city I should know about before Master Fowl comes here."

"The usual," she said, and shrugged. "Keep him out of my sight, make sure no one does anything illegal. Oh, and there's a former Mafia bodyguard somewhere around. I think she's a librarian now." She paused, and smirked.

Butler knew her too well to let it go at that. "And?"

"And Marcone has a man working for him who can turn into a bear."
He let loose a startled profanity. "You're serious."

"Very. I won't tell you who it is, because I promised I wouldn't. Suffice to say you should be very, very polite to anyone in his employ who looks ursine."

"A bear." Two points for her, then. He hadn't been thoroughly flabbergasted since he'd realized her pet headcase was an actual wizard.

"Yes. A bear." She sounded seriously amused. "Has it sunk in yet?"

"It's sinking," he said, truthfully. "Didn't you have work to get back to?"

Murphy sat back again and grinned at him. "I'd much rather sit here and watch you digest. Unfortunately you are right and I have to go clean up Harry's mess." She stood, and muttered something that Butler couldn't quite catch, but boded ill for the unfortunate Harry. "Tell your bodyguardee he's not allowed to cause trouble."

"I shall," he said, and nodded graciously. "Have a good day."

She nodded, collected her bag and was off in a flurry of disconcerted people and quick movements. Butler opened his paper again with a rustle of sound, and decided then and there that he would introduce Murphy to Holly Short.

The meeting should be interesting at the very least.