His smile faltered.
Georgie spoke. “Five minutes, Boss.”
Sykes lifted his hand. “Take me off the clock.”
“But, Boss,” Georgie argued, “we’re never off the clock.”
“I am now,” Sykes snapped.
Georgie ran his sleeve over a field of sweat on his brow. “Whatever you say.”
Sykes turned back to me. “My relationship with my niece is none of your business.”
I shrugged. “Maybe not, but what if your niece got a couple of nice dinners out of you, maybe the money to buy herself a van and start a business, and then decided not to put out anymore? Ever known a woman like that?”
Sykes’s expression soured. Good. So I was totally making all this up. It was complete and utter bull-crap, but it was a possibility. From what I knew about Crystal’s character, it would not have surprised me one bit if all of what I’d said happened to be true.
He jabbed the cigarette out in an ashtray and hooked one leg over the opposite knee. “My niece was a user of people. I won’t argue with that. But the extent with howfamiliarwe were with one another is off the table.”
Ew. That meant he was very, veryfamiliarwith his niece. Like, he knew her in the Biblical sense. Gross.
But hey, this was the South, and weird things happened in Peachwood—like floating spells and knobs that could see other places, just to name a couple.
“Yes, I admit that she did come to me asking for money, and I gave it to her. I even took her out to dinner. If Crystal had her own unique way of paying off debts, that was her own thing.”
Which meant that yes, she did pay off her debts by being a hussy.
“But Clementine Cooke,” Sykes said, his voice full of grit, “I had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to her. I loved her very much. As flawed as she was, she was still a good person, in her own way. She wanted to be better than she had been.”
We stared at one another before I broke the silence. “I want to know who killed her.”
“Me too.” He chuckled and slapped a hand on the couch. “I thought it was you, I have to admit. That’s why we picked you up.”
“Oh? What were you going to do to me?”
“I was going to kill you.”
My throat shriveled. “You were going to what?”
He batted away my question as if it wasn’t important. “But I see now that you had nothing to do with it. I’m glad to know that.” Sykes drummed his fingers on his thighs. “John tells me that you’re quite the spell hunter.”
I shrugged. “I’ve helped him before.”
“You ever need any extra money, come see me. I’ll have work for you.”
I had a feeling that “work” would make me feel like I was covered in slime. “Maybe,” was all I said.
He turned to Georgie. “We back where we picked Ms. Cooke up at?”
“Looks like it, Boss.”
“Good.” He tapped the window, and the limo slowed to a stop along the curb. Sykes flung out his hand and opened the door. “It was nice seeing you, Clementine.”
I got out, convinced that Sykes had nothing to do with Crystal’s murder.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said as I exited.
“Oh, and Ms. Cooke?”
