As I worked the laces one-handedly, my fingers slowed. You could get just about all the parts you needed to do black magic from any charm shop, but the ingredients were regulated, and oftentimes people just collected their own. “Grave robbing?”

“Actually…” There was a rustling of papers. “I don’t know. You’d have to go to the FIB or the I.S. for that, but there’s been a statistically large increase in the amount of damage to small cemeteries, so you might want to keep a closer eye on yours. Only the active ones have been hit so far. Damage to monuments, broken gates, cut locks, ruts in the landscape. It could just be kids, but someone stole the equipment to dig up the comfortably dead. My guess is someone is setting themselves up for a long-term commitment, either to supply black witchcraft and demon summoners on a commercial basis, or just themselves. You should check with your FIB guy. I won’t hear about grave robbing unless something’s been damaged or stolen, seeing as we don’t insure the truly dead.”

“Thanks, David,” I said. “I’ve been talking to Glenn already.” My gaze slid to the four reports on my dresser, sandwiched between the perfume bottles. “I’ll ask him if any bodies are being moved out. I appreciate you checking.” I hesitated, kicking my second boot off. “You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”

“For working before Halloween?” he said around a guffaw. “Not likely. I do have one thing before I let you go. I’ve got a minor-damage claim that came in from a woman just outside the Hollows. I’m not scheduled to be the field adjuster for it, but if I can trade, do you want to come with me and check it out? An entire basement wall is bowing out from water damage. It could be a typo, seeing as water bows walls in, not out, but even so, we haven’t gotten much rain in months.”

I leaned across the space to my dresser and brought my FIB reports over. “Where is it?”

There was a soft shuffling of paper. “Ah, hold on.” There was another moment of silence. “Nine thirty-one Palladium Drive.”

A quiver started in my belly as I snatched the reports off my dresser and the addresses leapt out at me. Bingo. “David, get that claim. I’m looking at the obituary of the guy who owned that house. And get this. He had a record of grave robbing while in college.”

David’s laugh was low and eager. “Rachel, my boss ought to be paying you for all the money you’re saving him. The damage was demon wrought?”

“Probably.” Damn, this was coming together nicely. I deserved a night off. And if I stayed in my church, I’d live through it. Please, don’t let this be Nick.