Nigel gave Jack a curious look, but then smiled down at me. "Tess! I haven't seen you in forever! I keep meaning to get out to your shop. Are you still keeping up your dance and stretching?"
I grinned at him. "And my singing! I can still do a mean 'Copy Cat Crows.'"
He—almost imperceptibly, to his credit—winced. "Yes. Sure. And this must be the shifter I've heard so much about. Are you here to take dance classes, Jack Shepherd?"
Jack's hand almost vanished beneath Nigel's enormous fingers when they shook hands. "No, I'm afraid I'd be hopeless. Not a smidgen of a sense of rhythm. But we'd like to talk to you, if that's okay."
A voice as lovely and liquid as a mountain stream playing on sun-warmed stones called out from behind Nigel's bulk.
"I told you! I told you some idiot would come out here to pin Earl's death on you! I'm getting the shotgun."
Nigel slowly blinked, and his ears quivered as he glanced back over his shoulder. "Phaedra, that's enough. It's Tess Callahan. She's not about to accuse me of murder."
Jack murmured a question at me. "Phaedra?"
"I forgot that was Erin's original name," I whispered.
Nigel looked back at us. "Would you like to come in?"
Erin shrieked, her voice suddenly not sounding so melodious. "Don't invite them in! That gives them Guest Rights!"
The Fae were big on rules and obligations. I could hear the capital letters when
Erin had said Guest Rights, just as I had with Evie's Bargain. And I knew enough to know that they were a seriously big deal. Erin couldn't kill us now, at least inside the house, and in fact had to be sure we came to no harm.
From the look on her face, this was not making her very happy.
Jack's expression turned grim. "If now's not a good time, I can make an appointment to come back or meet you in town, but I really need to ask you some questions."
Nigel heaved a sigh. "Sheriff Gonzalez has already been out here. I'm not sure what your place in this thing is, but please come in. I'll put the kettle on for tea."
He stepped back and gestured for us to come in, and I stepped over the threshold first, with some vague idea of being a buffer, as one of Nigel's former students. Erin hadn't been married to Nigel when I'd danced here, so I was less confident I'd be of any use there, but I could only do what I could do.
Jack followed me in, looking around with interest. The entryway was a long hall lined with glass display cases on both sides. Trophies and framed photographs from many, many years of dance classes and competitions filled the cases, which were sparklingly clean and free of any dust. As someone who spent a lot of time dusting glass display cases, I had a moment of collegial appreciation for Nigel and Erin.
"Wow! There are so many more trophies than back in my day. Your dancers must be doing brilliantly!"
Nigel returned my smile with a modestly proud one of his own. "Yes, we've been lucky. And of course there are so many more competitions available to take part in these days. I still have yours. Let me see, yes, there it is."
He pointed one large finger at a case about halfway down the right side of the hall, and I walked toward it, feelings of pride and embarrassment warring within me. Especially since Jack followed, hot on my heels.
Jack leaned down and peered into the case and then flashed a grin at me. "'Tess Callahan, best pirouette, five-to-seven-years class.' Tess! You've been holding out on me. I didn't realize I was sharing office space with an award-winning ballerina."
I could feel my cheeks warming up, but I had to smile at the memory of how proud I'd been. "I'll have you know I almost took best plié that year too, but Molly practiced harder. Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby took us out to Red Lobster to celebrate and gave us each our own bouquet."
"Fancy." He pointed at a group photo. "Is that you? Second from the right in the back row?"
I took a peek. "Yep. Molly right next to me, as always."
"They were two peas in a pod, those two," Nigel said, his gentle rumble of a voice holding amusement. "How is Molly? We're planning to go see her band tomorrow night downtown."
"She's great. Scarlett's Letters is doing really well."
"Yes, yes, lovely, let's all have old home week instead of talking about why you're really here with theprivate investigator, Tess Callahan," Erin said sharply, popping up behind the counter at the end of the hall like a lovely but scary and dangerous Jack-in-the-box. "How dare you accuse my husband?"
"I don't—I didn't—I wasn't—" I gulped, not sure how to finish the sentence, but Jack helped me out.
"Tess isn't accusing anyone of anything, Phaedra," he told her. "I'm just here to ask a few questions about some things people told me about Earl Packard and gambling debts. Tess just came along to show me how to get here."
