I thought it was probably better to admit to owning them. After all, I had nothing to hide, right?
He repeated the question. “Do you own a knife…Selena?”
I lifted my eyes to meet his. “Yes, I do. They’re ceremonial blades, used in spell-casting and other rituals. I’d be more than happy to show them to you.”
His gaze held mine for a moment. Right then, I wished I knew him better so I’d know whether I saw anything to worry about in those cool dark eyes. But I didn’t, so I just sat still and waited.
Then he said. “That’s probably a good idea. Let’s go back to your place.”
Under other circumstances, I would have been thrilled to hear him utter those words. As it was, about all I could hope was that he’d take one look at the athame and the boline, and realize they weren’t possibly sturdy enough to have struck down a man in his prime.
On the drive back to Globe, my brain kept working away at the problem. Part of me wondered how anyone could have gotten the drop on Lucien Dumond. After all, he was a sorcerer with a grab bag of pretty nasty tricks at his disposal. Besides that, though, he was also in good shape, did yoga and sparred with masters in a variety of martial arts. Even leaving magic out of it, he was not the sort of person who should have gone down easily.
But I didn’t have all the details. Calvin hadn’t told me very much, which I supposed made some sense. He wasn’t going to let a possible perpetrator be privy to all the facts of the case.
When we drove down Broad Street, I glimpsed a couple of people paused by the front door to my store. They appeared to be staring at the “Be Back In…” sign, puzzled, probably wondering why it was almost noon and the place wasn’t open.
Although I didn’t say anything, Calvin seemed to notice, because he said, “This shouldn’t take too long. Then you can go on with your day.”
“I’m not under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
As responses went, that wasn’t exactly the most reassuring thing I could have heard. I shifted in my seat. “Why would you even think I was a suspect? There’s no motive.”
His jaw tightened, although he kept his gaze fixed on the street as he turned the corner so he could drive around back and park there. I supposed I should be glad that he wasn’t going to march in the front door of the shop with me; this way, maybe no one would even notice that the chief of the tribal police had taken me for a little ride.
“There were reports that you and the victim were arguing last night,” Calvin said. “According to Max Anders, it sounded pretty heated.”
Irrational anger flared in me. Damn it. Had Lucien left the door to Blue Moon open on purpose so the neighbors could overhear our argument? I didn’t even know why Max would have been hanging around his shop at that time of night, except I’d learned during the few weeks I’d been living in Globe that he tended to come and go at odd hours.
“So, we were arguing,” I said coolly. “Lots of people argue. That doesn’t mean someone’s going to end up murdered.”
“True,” Calvin agreed as he parked the Durango next to the shelter covering my blue Beetle. “But it still establishes a motive. Want to tell me what the argument was about?”
I really didn’t, for a variety of reasons. However, I guessed that holding back really wasn’t an option. “Sure,” I said. “After we get inside.”
That request didn’t seem to faze him; he nodded, and we got out of the SUV and went inside the building. After climbing the stairs to my apartment, we headed into the living room. He didn’t seem inclined to sit down, but only leaned up against the mantel, arms folded as he waited for me to speak.
“Lucien has” — had, I thought, but decided not to stop — “a really successful practice as a spiritual adviser to a lot of Hollywood celebrities and other high-powered people. He’d been trying to get me to join his organization for almost two years.”
“You’re a spiritual adviser, too?” Calvin asked, now looking almost amused.
“I’m a witch,” I said simply. “I wouldn’t say that counseling people was all I did, but it was definitely part of it. I guess Lucien was angry that I left L.A. without consulting him. He was trying to talk me into going back.”
For a few seconds, Calvin was silent, appearing to digest what I’d told him. “You had a personal relationship?”
“No,” I replied at once, wanting to disabuse him of that particular disgusting notion as quickly as I could. Not for lack of trying, my brain told me, but I pushed the annoying inner voice aside. “It was just business…and barely that. Anyway, yes, we argued, but he left after agreeing to meet me for breakfast so we could talk once we’d had a chance to cool down a bit.” Another thought struck me, and I added, “If I’d gone off and murdered him, why would I be sitting at The Flatiron, waiting for him to show up?”
“To make it look as though you were innocent,” Calvin said in reasonable tones.
All right, he had me there. “Maybe,” I allowed. “But that’s not what happened. Anyway, let me show you my knives.”
Without waiting to see if he was following — I knew he would — I led him down the hall to my office. That was where I’d set up my altar, since I really didn’t have enough room in the master bedroom. The altar sat on a table opposite a computer desk, and was really just a green cloth embroidered with a tree and a border of leaves, my Tarot cards in their embroidered pouch, various crystals and vials of herbs, my leather-bound Book of Shadows, and a variety of bud vases filled with wildflowers I’d collected from various spots around town.
Off to one side lay the athame and the boline. I pointed at them, saying, “Those are my knives. They’re used for rituals, nothing else.”
Calvin approached the altar, dark eyes alight with curiosity. And although he leaned down to take a closer look, I noticed right away that he was careful not to touch anything. “It’s very nice,” he said, sounding almost surprised.
Stupidly, I had to fight to prevent a pleased smile from spreading across my lips. I’d worked very hard to assemble items that were both meaningful and beautiful, that fulfilled both form and function. That he’d noticed made an absurd sort of happiness spread through me.
But we were there on much darker business. “Do you need to take them into evidence?” I asked.
“I should,” he replied. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Well, it would, just because I needed those items for my rituals. But I had a feeling that protesting would only make me sound guilty, so I shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I can manage without them for a while.”
I almost added that I had several more athames and bolines down in the store and therefore could borrow some of them if push came to shove…then figured it was probably better for me to keep my mouth shut on that particular subject. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I had a whole shop full of murder weapons just waiting to be used.
“It shouldn’t be too long,” he told me as he extracted a pair of latex gloves and a clear plastic bag from his pocket. After sliding on the gloves, he picked the knives up one by one and deposited them in the baggie, then zipped it shut. “I just need the lab to go over them.”
Although having the knives spirited away for inspection would be an inconvenience, I wasn’t too worried about anything the lab would find. After all, I knew I hadn’t stabbed Lucien Dumond, and so the most incriminating evidence a crime lab might find on the blade would be paper fibers and maybe a bit of wax residue from spatter when I blew out the altar candles.
“Have you talked to Athene?” I asked next, thinking it couldn’t hurt to move suspicion to a more likely target.
“‘Athene’?” Calvin repeated with a frown as he pulled off the gloves and stowed them in a pocket of his trousers.
Of course, he wouldn’t have known about her. It wasn’t as if Lucien probably had anything on his person that connected him to the woman who helped with the day-to-day business of GLANG. In fact, Calvin probably didn’t know about the Airbnb, e
ither. The gossip mill in Globe was pretty efficient, but I assumed even it had its limits…especially since the town’s biggest rumor-monger — i.e., Josie Woodrow — had probably been distracted by my store opening.
“She’s Lucien’s business partner,” I said. “He told me they’d come to town together.”
“Were they close?”
I had a feeling he’d asked that question because he wanted to know if there might have been some component of jealousy involved in Lucien’s murder. Maybe there was. Athene had seemed cool and in control the few times I’d met her, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Sometimes a cool exterior hid a raging volcano.
“Do you mean, were they romantically involved?”
He nodded. “Some might say there was sufficient motive if they had a relationship and he’d brought her with him to coax another woman back to Los Angeles.”
When you put it that way….
“I suppose so,” I allowed. “But honestly, I don’t know for sure. Lucien always had a lot of women around him.”
“Romantic partners?”
“I think using the term ‘romantic’ isn’t exactly accurate.” I paused then, wondering how much I should tell Calvin Standingbear. Then again, the more information I supplied that could point the finger of suspicion away from me, the better. Hands planted on my hips to give me some reassurance, I went on, “I guess a lot depends on how much you’re willing to believe.”
The straight, dark bars of his brows lifted slightly. “Believe about what?”
“About Lucien’s powers.”
“‘Powers,’” Calvin repeated.
I nodded, then waited. No point in me trying to convince him of something he didn’t want to accept as real. Some people were willing to have an open mind, and some weren’t.
After a brief pause, he said, “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough in this world to convince me there are some things that can’t be explained.”
If I’d been holding my breath, I would’ve let out in a relieved gust right then. As it was, I could only thank the universe that Calvin wasn’t close-minded the way so many other people were. And honestly, I got it. I’d had enough evidence early on to support the belief that the ordinary, day-to-day world most people lived was overlaid by a world of esoteric powers and forces, of entities that had nothing to do with our mundane lives.
Some people never pierced that veil, though, and so it was almost impossible to convince them of anything that wasn’t right in front of their eyes.
I uttered a silent thank-you to the universe that apparently Calvin Standingbear wasn’t one of them.
“Well, then,” I said. “I don’t know exactly how he did it, because I don’t mess around with those sorts of dark spells, but from what I could tell, he had the ability to draw energy from the people around him. Whatever gifts they possessed — and he always made sure to find people who had some form of psychic ability, even if it wasn’t very strong — he drew it out of them to power his enchantments. And one of the most efficient ways of drawing that power from them was through sex magic.”
Those two words fell like a thud in the middle of the conversation. For a long moment, Calvin just stared at me, dark eyes speculative. Was he wondering if I’d practiced that sort of magic? I hadn’t, because I had my own ways of focusing my energies, but just the idea that he might be imagining me engaged in that kind of ritual made hot blood rush to my cheeks.
“So, that’s what he practiced?” Calvin asked next.
Once again, I had to thank the universe that this time he hadn’t asked for any sort of elaboration on what that kind of magic actually entailed.
I nodded. “Among other things. But anyway, that’s why Lucien always had a lot of women around him. I only saw him with Athene a couple of times, and I didn’t see anything in their interactions that hinted they were intimate, but I can’t say for sure.”
“Do you know where I can find this Athene?”
“Athene Kappas,” I said, figuring he should have her full name. “Lucien told me they’d rented an Airbnb somewhere around here, but he didn’t give me any details.”
“That’s all right,” Calvin replied. “There are only a couple here in Globe. I’ll contact each of the owners and see if Athene is staying there.”
Although I’d never warmed up to Athene — her chilly personality and utter devotion to Lucien precluded any kind of friendly connection between us — I couldn’t quite hold back the burst of pity I felt at the thought of her sitting alone in that Airbnb, waiting for Lucien to return. I assumed he must have told her that he was meeting me for breakfast, and so, even though it was now past one o’clock in the afternoon, maybe she still hadn’t begun to suspect anything. Maybe she was sitting there, looking at the time on her phone and worrying that her partner’s extended absence had to mean he’d been successful, and he and I had gone off together somewhere. It was just the sort of maneuver Lucien would pull…if he was still alive, of course.
Or she could have packed her bags and headed out of town once she’d made sure he was dead. Either possibility seemed equally plausible.
“Did you find his car key?” I asked.
“Mercedes?” he responded, and I nodded. “The fob was in his pocket, along with his wallet. Like I said, robbery didn’t seem to be the motivation.”
There went that theory. I didn’t see how Athene could get out of town if she didn’t have the key to Lucien’s car. Unless they’d come here in separate vehicles, but that scenario seemed a little far-fetched. He wouldn’t have wanted to give up the opportunity to have a captive audience during the nearly eight-hour drive from L.A.
“Well, I hope you can find her,” I said.
“I do, too,” he responded. “I’m hoping she can give me some answers. In the meantime, I’d like you to stick around.”
The request didn’t surprise me too much. I managed a wan smile. “I just opened a store. Where would I go?”
To my surprise, he offered me an answering grin. “Just covering my bases, Selena. I’ll let myself out.”
With a nod, he headed out of my office and down the hall to the apartment’s front door. A moment later, it closed quietly behind him.
Absurdly, I wished I could have thought of a reason to make him stay. Offered him lunch or something. Which I knew was beyond silly. The guy was conducting a murder investigation.
And, for the moment, I was the prime suspect.
Doing my best not to sigh, I got out my phone and called Hazel. It was already past time for our lunch date, and for all I knew, she’d already found out what had happened to Lucien, but I wouldn’t leave her hanging.
Life had never been this complicated in L.A.
7
River Adventures
“Oh, my God!” said Josie as she sailed into the store, the watercolor-patterned scarf in tones of fuchsia and turquoise she had draped around her neck fluttering dramatically behind her. “I just heard.”
Just now? I thought. It’s been almost an hour since Calvin left. I thought you worked faster than that.
Somehow, though, I managed to give a philosophical shrug. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? I mean, I can see why the police would want to talk to me, but I didn’t have much to tell them.”
She paused in front of the display case next to the cash register, hands planted on her substantial hips. “I went and told Calvin what an upstanding citizen you were, but he only said that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss an open investigation.” Her brilliant blue eyes fastened on me, concerned…but also curious. I knew she wanted to get the inside scoop.
Since I wasn’t with the police, I didn’t have any such barriers to communication.
“I was home the whole night,” I went on. “You know how worn out I was from getting the store ready to open.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, now sounding almost impatient. “But do you have any idea who might have been involved?”
“I told Calvin to talk to Athene, Lucien’s
business partner.”
“Yes, the woman who came to town with him yesterday,” Josie responded, and I looked at her, startled. Before I could ask how she’d known that, she went on, “Oh, my friend Betsy rented them the house they were staying in. She inherited it from her mother, and instead of selling it, she fixed it up as a nice little vacation rental. Actually, she asked me to help with some of the decorating, and of course, I said yes. We got the cutest — ”
“So, Lucien and Athene rented your friend’s house,” I cut in, knowing I needed to head Josie off at the pass if I didn’t want to get an intimate recounting of every stick of furniture that had gone into the Airbnb in question.
“Yes,” Josie said. She was probably so used to people interrupting her like that, she hadn’t even noticed. “She said she wished she hadn’t, because the neighbors had called to complain about the noise.”
“The noise?”
“Apparently, they were playing some kind of very loud tribal-sounding music. It went on for at least an hour. Betsy was just about to go over there — even though it was almost midnight by that point — when it finally stopped and the neighbors saw somebody drive off in a big black car.”
“Lucien’s Mercedes,” I murmured, and she tilted her head, eyes bright with interest.
“He had money?”
“Quite a bit, I think,” I said. I sounded distracted even to myself, though, because my mind had already begun to race, trying to put the pieces together. So, Lucien had been at the house until nearly midnight. My best guess about the music was that he and Athene had been using it for some sort of ritual. What kind of ritual, I didn’t know, although I had an uneasy feeling that they’d blasted the music to cover up the sound of some sort of sex ceremony.
Grave Mistake Page 7
