[alansplace]

I recommend Black Magic Woman highly.

I picked up the 2nd book in the series, Evil Ways, and in chapters 7 and 8 I came upon the following! I'm now 38% into Evil Ways. I guess that I should just go ahead and recommend the series!

Jim Butcher was generous enough to allow Quincey and Libby to hang out at a certain pub frequented by Chicago’s premier wizard-for-hire. (from Acknowledgements)

Morris pointed at the pub across the street where they were supposed to meet Harry the Wizard. “We’ll go there.”
There were concrete steps leading down from the street into the pub. As Morris and Libby made their way inside, carrying their luggage, the few patrons at the tables looked up incuriously then went back to what they had been doing—eating, drinking, talking, or all three.
As they approached the bar, Libby said softly, “My Goddess, Quincey, what is this place?”
“Apart from the obvious, you mean?”
‘Look at the layout—thirteen windows, thirteen pillars,
thirteen tables.”
Morris turned from signaling the bartender and scanned the room. “Hmm. Interesting decorating scheme.”
“And the arrangement of those tables is designed to disrupt any magical energy that might be released in here.”
“Yeah, Harry told me once that this place is sort of neutral territory for the city’s occult crowd. No magic of any kind allowed on the premises. Kind of like Las Vegas used to be for the Mob.”
Behind them, a polite voice said, “Help you folks?”
The bartender was a tall, lean man of indeterminate age; he might have been an old forty or a young sixty. He had a wise look, as if he had seen everything at least twice, and was incapable of being surprised by anything.
“For starters, I think we could use us a drink,” Morris said. “Libby?”
Libby Chastain turned from her examination of the room and said, “Double vodka, straight up, please. Ice cold, if you’ve got it.”
Morris said, “And I’ll have a bourbon and branch water.”
The bartender looked at him. “Sorry? What water?”
“I forgot, that’s what they call it back home. Bourbon and soda, please. Double. And is there someplace we can put our luggage?”
“On any of the empty tables is fine,” the bartender said and went to make their drinks.
A minute later, he set their libations down in front of them. “Looks like you folks had some trouble out there,” he said, with a head gesture toward the street.
“Did you see it?” Morris asked.
“Saw enough.”
“Then you know we were the victims. Or would-be victims, anyway.”
“Yeah, that seemed pretty clear. It was also clear that this lady has one heck of an interesting taste in luggage.”
The bartender extended his hand. “I’m Mac. I own the place.”
Morris and Libby each shook hands, then Morris said, “We came in here for a couple of reasons. One was, we’re expectin’ to meet a fella here. As for the other reason—truth is, we really can’t afford to be dragged into a big police investigation. It might give whoever sent those guys out there another crack at us.”
Mac nodded. They had all heard the sirens draw closer and closer, and then stop. “They’ll have detectives canvassing the area soon, asking if anybody saw anything. You figure anybody noticed you folks coming in here?”
Morris and Libby looked at each other. “I don’t think so,” Libby said. “There weren’t a lot of people around, and I threw together a cloaking spell as we were crossing the street. Um, what I mean is—”
Mac gave her a smile. ‘You don’t need to explain, Miss Chastain. I know what a cloaking spell is. Heck, everybody in here would know, if you asked them.”
Libby glanced back at the half-dozen customers. “Yes, I expect they would.”
“Tell you what,” Mac said. “Why don’t you give me your bags, and I’ll stash them in the back room. You might want to visit the restrooms, clean up a little before the detectives get here. Then you can sit down at a table, have another drink, maybe something to eat, and relax, just like you’ve been here for the past half hour. Which you have.”
Libby glanced at the other patrons again. “But what about—”
“Nobody here saw anything, that happened in the street, Miss Chastain, and nobody noticed exactly when you folks came in. You can take my word on that.”
Morris nodded. “Appreciate that,” he said. “But I have to wonder why you’re willing to lie to the law for a couple of perfect strangers.”
“You’re friends of Harry’s, aren’t you? He described you pretty good, Mister Morris, and said you’d have a lady with you.”
“Where is Harry anyway?” Morris asked.
“He left, about an hour and a half ago. Asked me to give you this.”
Mac produced a plain white envelope with “Quincey Morris” written on the front. Morris tore it open and quickly read the single sheet that was inside. “Damn!”
Libby said softly, “Uh, Quincey, you might want to avoid using words like that in here. You never know who, or what, you might conjure up by accident.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”
“I take it the news isn’t too good.”
“Not so’s you’d notice, no. Harry had to leave—not just leave here, but leave town. He said some urgent business came up for the Council, whatever that is, and he had no choice but to go off and attend to it.”

“Well… darn,” Libby said, catching herself at the last moment.

................................................Minimally edited for brevity.