The cat’s belly is round and his eyes bright. “River wasn’t exaggerating. You seem to do just fine on your own.”
He meows and arches his back into my hand.
I stand and leave him to his meal, making my way to the bedroom on the north side of the cottage and the bathroom off it where the litter box is supposed to reside. I pause when I see River’s bed. It’s unmade and there are three wineglasses on the bedside table. River, Patrick, and the mysterious third were here, together, right before his world fell apart. I narrow my eyes on a smudge of red on one of the glasses. Picking it up by the stem, I inspect the perfect bow-shaped print.
Lipstick.So the third is a woman. Good to know. If I can find her, I might be able to coax more information out of her about that day.
I take care of Jinx’s box, which is remarkably clean considering how long River’s been gone. The cat’s likely been doing his business outside. I tie off the bag and head for the door to throw it away in the garbage can on the side of the house.
When I return to the cottage, I notice a coat stand that I walked right by my first time inside, tucked behind the door. A long purple trench catches my eye. A woman’s coat. I close the door to get a better look.
The fabric is high quality, a European brand with complicated stitching at the cuffs. But it’s the buttons that draw my eye, unusual in their craftsmanship. I turn one over to find VS carved into the back and drop the coat like it’s on fire. VS is Valentine Sullivan, a satyr who designs custom accessories for the elite of Devashire. Elite meaning leprechauns—they’re the only ones who can afford them at hundreds of dollars a pop.
River wasn’t just with a woman. He was with a leprechaun woman. Holy shit! No wonder she required that bargain. If anyone found out a leprechaun was carrying on a sexual relationship with two satyrs, it would be a scandal. A male leprechaun with a female pixie would spark a certain level of social outrage—Seven and I are prepared for that. But a female leprechaun with two male satyrs? The fairy world would go up in flames. Devashire would be shooketh. All other gossip would pale in comparison. And if she was a married leprechaun? Why, theDaily Hattermight not report on anything else for the rest of the year.
But who? I check the size. Small. A younger leprechaun then. Luck filled the older ones out over time, giving them powerful curves. I’d have to ask Seven who the most likely candidates were next time I talk to him. I check my phone again, but he still hasn’t texted me back. Must be busy.
My mind grinds on the question as I lock up the cottage and then head back toward the restaurant. So a female leprechaun met with River to talk about the night before outside his restaurant. I pause on the pathway behind the tavern. It was here, or around here. River said he couldn’t see where the man was murdered, only heard him scream. But this wasn’t an overly private place. If the wrong person passed by in front of the restaurant, they might see the two lovers together.
A sudden thought causes my breath to hitch. What if River’s lover used her luck to cause the area to empty? If she was the reason for the lack of witnesses, the murderer might not be a leprechaun at all. It could be anyone.
I grit my teeth as I put together the implications. It actually makes sense. The person who messed with the security videos didn’t edit out the empty sidewalks because they weren’t responsible for them. Which means our search for a leprechaun murderer is way off base. It’s someone else, someone who was after Adam Barker.
I round the corner of River’s Tavern and revisit the spot where Adam was murdered. Unlike that day, the sidewalk is packed with people coming and going from the restaurant. Concentrating hard, I let my luck bubble in my blood, a tiger that rises at my side. I focus it on one thing, the single clue that River shared with me and the thing that made my blood run cold when I thought of it during my poker lesson.
Why was Adam Barker so protective of the rock he was holding in his hand?
Pouring on the luck, I inspect the cobblestone sidewalk, looking for the gray rock River described. My luck tiger sniffs along the pavers. The man held it firmly until the moment of his death. No one would do that unless they were desperate to keep it a secret.Whydid he want to keep it a secret?
I spiral out from the area where the murder took place, searching and feeding my luck until my head starts to throb. And then there it is, tucked between a strip of lawn and the cobblestone. River is right—it does look like an ordinary stone, only I know this is what I’m looking for because there’re no other stones like this here. The wall is cedar. The grass is thick and green. The cobblestones are red granite, and this rock is different. It’s gray, yes, and veined with silver, but unlike any other material in the vicinity. I reach down and pick it up, surprised at the weight of it considering its size.
“Why was he hiding you?” I whisper.
“Sophia?”
I look up to find Penelope staring at me with a funny look on her face. I smile and slide the rock into my pocket. “Hey, Pen! What’s up?”
She laughs. “I think I should be asking you the same thing. You were staring at that strip of grass like you might be ill. Did you eat something bad?”
I shake my head, casting a wide smile in her direction. “No.” I lower my voice. “Just taking one more look. I’m helping Godmother again.”
“You mean to solve the murder?” she whispers, making a face. “Godmother roped you into working with Seven again! Gods, I thought you were done with that.”
“I was, but I volunteered myself to help River. We all know he’s innocent.”
“Yeah, but isn’t it hard for you to work with Seven after everything?”
The look of concern on my friend’s face is enough to make a ball of iron form in my chest. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t lie to her, not about this, not now, not when her friendship has become so important to me.
“I like working with Seven,” I mumble. “I like… Seven.”
“What?” She’s looking at me as if she can’t quite hear me.
“In fact, I love him, Pen,” I say a bit louder. “And he loves me.”
“But… he was cruel to you.” All the muscles around her mouth tighten and she scowls.
“No. That was his father, not him.”
