After turning over the engine, she pulled into traffic and headed for witness number one’s location – a bakery at the corner of 5th and Main. Although, with a name like Candy, Devlin wasn’t sure how credible the woman was. She was bound to be an airhead. Devlin was picturing some vapid blonde with the vocabulary of a fifteen-year-old. God, she hoped she was wrong. The sooner she solved this case, the sooner she could move on to something else, something non-Were-related. There wasn’t anything she hated more than werewolves.
It didn’t take her long to reach her destination. After parking the car curbside, she dropped two quarters in the meter, hoping it wouldn’t take longer than that to get the woman’s statement and get the hell out of there. Just the sugary sweet smell wafting from the open doors of the bakery was enough to make her gag. As she walked through the doors, she thought of Needles. The wizard would love this shit, having the biggest sweet tooth of anyone she knew. Why couldn’t he have questioned the witness?
Approaching the counter, she made a beeline for the perky blonde. Imagine her surprise when she read the nametag and it said Jaclyn and not Candy. She cleared her throat to draw the girl’s attention.
“May I help you?” Miss Perky asked.
“I’m looking for Candy.”
The girl frowned. “I’m sorry, we only sell cakes and muffins here.”
Devlin nearly snorted. “No, Candy the person. I was told she works here.”
“Oh. Oh! Yes, of course. I’ll go get her for you.”
Devlin rolled her eyes as the lively girl trotted off on her errand. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. She’d been on the case for only fifteen minutes and already she was getting a headache. Her teeth were beginning to ache just from being around so much sugar. She didn’t even take cream or sugar in her coffee.
The bouncy blonde came back to the front of the store with a tall black-haired girl on her heels. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, so what the hell had she been doing at O’Leary’s? Not that it was Devlin’s concern. She worked for the Paranormal Investigations and Tactics Squad, or P.I.T.S., as she liked to call it. Busting girls for underage drinking wasn’t her thing.
The Amazon walked around the counter and approached Devlin. Holding out her hand, she gave a hesitant smile.
“You must be the investigator, for the murder last night.”
Devlin nodded. “I’m St. Claire. Why don’t you take me through what you saw? Just start at the beginning. Any details you remember, no matter how small, could be important to the case.”
Candy nodded. “It was late, maybe ten-ish. I remember this guy arguing with the dead guy. He was tall, even compared to me. Shaggy hair, an earring. I’m afraid I don’t remember what his face looked like. I just know he manhandled the smaller guy into the alley.
“I was curious, so I followed and peeked around the corner. The big guy slammed the smaller one against the brick wall and got in his face. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the smaller one paled and started pleading with the bigger one.
“I don’t know what happened after that. My friends called to me, so I left.”
Oh shit. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hunky could be her number one suspect. Didn’t that just figure? A murderer and quite possibly a Were. Well, she did have the worst taste in men, so it just figured she’d be attracted to someone like him. But a Were? That was a first for her.
“I appreciate your time, Candy.” Devlin handed her a card. “If you think of anything else, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call, night or day.”
The girl nodded. “I hope you catch him.”
“We will.”
Devlin strolled back out to her car. The next witness was just a few blocks away at a law office, Bender, Keller, and Williams. She hoped Marcus Bender would be more informative than Candy had been. She needed someone who’d actually witnessed the murder itself, not just the argument that happened, the same argument she herself had witnessed. Just because the men had been arguing didn’t mean the big one had done the deed. Of course, odds weren’t looking in his favor at the moment, but she was trying to keep an open mind. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’d lusted after him last night. None at all.
It only took a few minutes to arrive at the small office building. Whipping into a parking space, Devlin killed the engine. The law office was on the second floor, so she walked inside and hit the stairs, taking them two at a time. The sooner she got this out of the way, the sooner she could get on with her job. She strode down the hallway and pushed open the door to Bender, Keller, and Williams and stopped at the front desk. Flashing her ID, and what she hoped passed for a smile, she asked for Marcus Bender.
“Is Mr. Bender expecting you?” the receptionist asked, her glasses sitting pertly on her nose, hair swept up into some sort of bun that looked as though it would give her a headache.
“Whether he’s expecting me or not, I’m here, and he’s going to speak with me. Now get his ass out here.”
The woman’s lips pursed, but she picked up the phone and pushed a button.
“Mr. Bender,” sourpuss said, “there’s a woman here to see you. She’s from that paranormal unit.”
The woman’s eyes scanned Devlin, and she caught herself before following the woman’s gaze. So she didn’t dress like a detective. Today it was red leather pants and a black midriff tank. It was still a little chilly out for something without sleeves, but her leather jacket was in the car if she needed it.
The receptionist hung up the phone and gave Devlin a baleful glare. “You may have a seat, detective. Mr. Bender will be up in a moment.”
Devlin pushed away from the desk and paced the small room, the heels of her boots clicking on the tiled floor. She wasn’t about to sit on command, not for anyone, especially not a lemon-faced bitch like this one.
A man in a three-piece suit stepped in from the back, hand outstretched.
“You must be Miss St. Claire. Chief Littlefinger told me you’d be stopping by today. I apologize for the wait.”
Devlin took his hand, noting his beady eyes, slightly bucked, and rather sharp, teeth. Great. Another shifter. A rodent of some sort if she had to guess. Needles knew she preferred the cases involving elves. Who didn’t like looking at elves? Long, lean bodies with just the right amount of muscle. So what if they were mischief-makers? She’d taken more than one to her bed over the years and had yet to be disappointed by one.
“Please,” Bender said, “come back to my office, and we can talk there.”
Devlin followed him into the back and to a rather nice sized office with a great view of the park behind the building. As Bender settled in his chair, she leaned a hip against his desk. She supposed the polite thing to do would be to have a seat, but she was too restless to sit down.
“So, Mr. Bender—“
“Marcus.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Marcus. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night, in your own words?”
“Well, I’d gone to O’Leary’s for a few drinks last night. It was around ten o’clock when I’d decided I’d had enough. I made it as far as the parking lot when I suddenly felt like I was going to…” His face flushed.
“Hurl?” she supplied.
He nodded. “I rounded the corner of the building and emptied the contents of my stomach, but it was afterward that I heard the low growls and menacing voice. I looked up, and there was this large man, easily over six feet tall, long dark hair, lots of muscles. He’d pinned a smaller man to the wall and was in his face.”
Bender straightened his tie. “I’m afraid I didn’t stick around. But I’m sure that’s your man.”
Similar accounting to Candy’s, except this one put my mystery guy in the alley in a menacing position with the victim. Still not a smoking gun, metaphorically of course, but she felt she was on the right track.
“Had you ever seen either man before, Marcus?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I wish I could be o
f more help.”
“All right. Well, thank you for your time.”
Devlin pushed away from the desk, but before she’d made it one step, Bender had latched onto her hand, an almost feverish look in his eyes. She had a sick feeling in her stomach. Surely he wouldn’t…
“Would you have dinner with me?”
He would. “I appreciate the offer, Marcus, but I’m going to have to decline.”
He looked a little deflated. “Oh, of course. A woman such as yourself would already have a man.”
“Yeah, well… if you think of anything else, pertaining to the case,” she stressed, “don’t hesitate to call.” She dropped a card on his desk.
Marcus picked it up and caressed the edges, and Devlin suppressed a shiver of revulsion. Just imagining his hands on her flesh was enough to make her gag. She liked her men big and burly, bad asses, and, preferably, not shifters. That isn’t to say she hadn’t gotten completely shitfaced a time or two and ended up in bed with a cat, and then there was that time down in Tijuana with the bear. And, of course, she couldn’t forget Alejandro, the one cat she knew would scratch her itch when she couldn’t find anyone else. She shook her head. No, no more shifters for her, no matter how drunk she got. It was strictly humans, elves, and fairies from this point forward.
There was still one more witness to interview, but Devlin wasn’t sure she was up for it. Could she really handle another story with little to no information of any help whatsoever? What were the odds that Wills Cantrell, employee of O’Leary’s, had actually seen anything? Wouldn’t the man have been working during the time of the altercation and resulting murder and, therefore, have been inside the building and not out in the alley?
Devlin sighed. She wondered what Parker was doing. It had to be something more fun than working on this case. She pulled out her phone and checked the screen, no missed calls or texts. Whatever it was, it was keeping her friend busy. Getting her head back in the game, she decided to get the third and final interview out of the way. Then the real fun could begin – bringing in her suspect for questioning. Just as soon as she figured out who he was.
Sliding into her car, she cranked it and turned up the volume on the radio. Backing out into traffic, she headed for O’Leary’s and, hopefully, some answers. She hated flying blind, and right now she was flying off sonar because God knew she couldn’t see a thing when it came to this case. All signs were pointing to her mystery man, but something told her it wouldn’t be quite so cut and dried before she was able to close it. Hell, she’d really like to File 13 the damn thing, right into the trash where it belonged. She had no business working a Were case.
O’Leary’s was mildly busy considering it was barely noon. They’d opened an hour or two ago and already six cars were in the lot. If she didn’t think Needles would have a conniption, she’d throw back a drink or two before leaving. She needed something to settle her down, and since sex wasn’t on the menu, that left alcohol. Of course, if she weren’t here on official business, she could’ve always taken one of the boys into the back and had a quickie, but that would be highly unprofessional. She was pushing her luck already.
Removing her sunglasses and shoving them on top of her head, she scanned the interior of the bar. She’d come in often enough to know who Wills was on sight. The cambion was flirting with a blonde bombshell who was going to spill out of her clothes at any moment. Wills was practically nose down in her cleavage. But what did you expect from the son of an incubus?
“Wills,” she called out.
His gaze jerked toward her, lighting in appreciation when he saw who had called his name. He’d hit on Devlin more than once over the years, which is why she spent a lot of time at The Lucky Seven lately. Of course, Jolee had that no-fighting policy, which took the fun out of Devlin’s night, but it was still a nice place to grab a drink and listen to some music.
The cambion walked down the bar to where she stood. Devlin leaned against the scarred wood and rested her arm on top. When Wills stopped in front of her, he gave her one of his registered sexy smiles that melted just about any woman in a hundred mile radius, every woman but her. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard.
“What’s up, Devlin?”
“I’m here on official business, but then you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He grinned. “I had an idea. Want a drink?”
Tempting. “No, just your statement, then I have to get back to the office.”
“I’ll give you the condensed version. I went out back to take some trash outside and saw Jameson Starke pinning some poor schmuck against the wall. His claws were out, and blood trickled from the man’s throat. Starke was in the guy’s face, all growly and shit. I didn’t want no part of it, so I backed up and got the hell outta there. Figured the trash could wait.”
“But you didn’t actually see him kill the man?” Devlin clarified.
“No, but my money’s on Jameson. The guy’s a badass. No one messes with Starke, not if they want to stay vertical and keep breathing.”
Jameson Starke. At least she had a name now. “Any idea where I can find this Starke?”
“He’s here most afternoons, around four. He stays until it starts getting busy, and then he ducks out.”
Devlin smiled. “Thanks, Wills.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you later, Devlin.”
Slipping her sunglasses back on, she walked back out to her car. A name, a time, and place where she could find him. Her day was looking remarkably brighter. Of course, there was no guarantee he was her guy, but he was looking awfully damn guilty. He even had a reputation that would lead her to believe he could’ve done it, if what Wills said was true. Then, again, she didn’t leave people vertical for very long, either, so they could’ve very well been talking about her.
Devlin decided she’d grab a sandwich on the way back to the office then eat at her desk while she typed up some notes from her interviews this morning. She had to have something to show Needles, or he’d think she’d been off kicking her heels up somewhere. She didn’t think this case was going to require a partner, but one would be nice about now. Working solo wasn’t always fun. She got plenty done, but the lag time was boring as hell. At this point, she’d even take one of the shifters in the department, like Ben Remington. Now that’s one tiger she wouldn’t mind grabbing by the tail, or somewhere. But the man had never shown the slightest bit of interest in her.
Chapter Three
At four o’clock, Devlin pulled into the parking lot at O’Leary’s. There was a decent crowd judging by the half-full lot, and she wondered which vehicle belonged to her suspect. Her gaze slid across the lot and landed on a sweet Harley, chrome glistening in the late afternoon sun. She’d bet money that was it.
Her confident stride ate up the ground as she crossed to the front door. Pushing her way inside, she scanned the interior for her guy. It was hard to miss him, over six and a half feet tall, muscles upon muscles. That long hair of his made him look just as wild and untamed as he was, which made him just her type of guy – minus the Were part. He just had to be a stinkin’ wolf. And a murder suspect. It seemed her taste in men wasn’t improving.
She approached Starke and slid onto the stool next to him. She felt like a mouse sitting next to a lion, except this mouse knew how to use her teeth and claws. Not wanting to draw attention to herself just yet, she ordered a beer, trying to hide her disgust. It was revolting, but she knew if she started throwing back shots, Needles would have a coronary first and chew her ass second. Sipping at the bitter brew, she waited in hopes that Starke would start talking to the guy on his left, maybe even brag a little about the crime. She’d never be so lucky.
Instead, he sat silently, observing her in the mirror over the bar. Her gaze met his, steady. His lips twitched, and one corner kicked up in a half smile. He took a long pull of his beer before turning and giving her his full attention. Chocolate eyes framed by long, thick lashes met her green gaze.
“Not to sound cliché
,” he said, “but do you come here often?”
She tried not to snicker, she really did. “Usually at night, when I’m not at The Lucky Seven. Jolee banned me for the week though.”
“Oh yeah? What’d you do?”
“Broke some of her furniture. Or, rather, the vampire who decided to get a little grabby with me broke her furniture when he landed on it.”
He gave her a full smile, and it had a devastating effect on her libido. Down, girl! Suspect, Were, remember? He’s the enemy!
“Did you hear about the murder here last night? I just can’t believe it,” she said.
The friendly look in his eyes shuttered, and his smile froze in place. “Yeah, it’s something, huh?”
“That poor man. And they’re saying a Were did it!”
She watched as his hand tightened on the beer in front of him.
“You don’t say.” His voice was flat and told her he clearly did not want to discuss the matter any further. But did that prove he was guilty?
She pinned him with her stare. “Thing is, I’ve heard talk that you did it.”
The smile slipped from his face. “And how do you know it’s me they’re talking about?”
“Because I saw you here last night, in the parking lot on my way out. You were arguing with the deceased. A witness saw you pin the man to the wall and get in his face. Thing is, it was shortly after that the man turned up dead.”
Starke’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
She smiled, and she knew it wasn’t the friendly kind either.
“Devlin St. Claire. An operative with the Paranormal Investigations & Tactics Squad.”
His jaw tensed, and she heard his teeth grind together. “So what, because I’m a Were I’m instantly guilty? It isn’t conceivable that another Were entered the alley after me to do away with the guy? He wasn’t exactly popular with the shapeshifters in town.”
“And why is that?”
“He loaned money with high interest rates. If you missed a payment, he’d practically double the amount you owed.”
Not My Shifter/ Sinfully Cursed (Shifter Paradise) (Volume 1) Page 2
