“Juggle them,” he said. “But don’t drop them into your coffee.”
“That happened just once,” I protested, while dutifully willing the balls to change positions a dozen times before they gently landed in my outstretched hands.
“What next?” I asked him, pleased with my skills.
“Next, you’ll imprint wondrous images on people’s minds.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “What happened to brain-washing is an absolute no-no?”
“I forgot how literal you humans are. I’m talking about books, Bex. We’ll go downstairs and supply your clients with books, and, if we’re lucky, receive useful gossip in return.” He groomed his flank. “If these crime waves don’t stop, we’ll have to come up with a plan to turn the lending library into gossip central.”
“That’s not very likely, considering how few people read physical on a regular basis these days. Unless we start hosting a few community events.And please don’t call it a crime wave. That term’s creeping me out.”
***
My customers, or rather the lack of them, proved my point. In our two hours of morning opening, a whole seven books changed hands temporarily. I used the lull to rehearse a few different approaches to getting the ex-girlfriend to spill her innermost secrets without resorting to magic. But first I had to find out who she was. I’d forgotten to ask Ange for the name.
At the thought of my friend, I perked up. She was a much better candidate than me to go in for a mehndi and a heart-to-heart. I intended to tag along, but a good witch could tell when she had to summon help. Also, Ange loved being involved.
I put up the “Closed” sign with renewed energy. The sooner the affair Candice was dealt with, the sooner my new chapter could begin for good, without any lingering sense of obligation. I’d been so used totaking care of everything and feeling responsible for everything, that I’d hardly noticed the pattern. Starting down that path as a child when my mom got sick and my dad did his disappearing act had set me up for unhealthy habits. Well, no more.
The new, improved me was fine with being nice and helpful. What I was done with was riding to the rescue at the drop of a hat. Or a text.
I swept into the police station fueled by my newfound resolve. The fact that Geraldine Lopez, who acted as desk sergeant, confirmed that Detective Trey Stone had just returned to his office, buoyed up my mood another notch.
At his door I hesitated. Would a quick confident rap do before I entered, or should I wait until ushered in? I’d been here before, but in those instances the cases had been his to solve.
Geraldine ended my musings. She knocked, called out, “Chief, I have a visitor for you,” and led me by my elbow into the room.
Trey Stone flashed her a stern glance before he gave me a welcoming smile. “What brings you here, Bex? Not another dead body, I hope.”
“Fingers crossed, we’ll never have to deal with that kind of situation again,” I said, from the bottom of my heart.
“In that case I assume you are here about Timothy Boyd.” He settled on his desk chair. Everything in the room was utilitarian and depressing. Maybe that was the point; loosen tongues so people had a chance to flee from here as fast as they could.
Or did he only conduct official interviews in the designated rooms at the back of the station? In this case, if I stumbled upon a few things that felt right for him, this office could become a calming place, one that spurred on his deductions.
Geraldine nudged me.
Trey grinned. “It’s not like you to be silent when asked something.”
“I was momentarily distracted,” I admitted. “But, yes, you’re right. I wanted to ask you if the police are any closer to solving the case.”
“It’s not my jurisdiction. All I’m aware of is that the colleagues in Cannon Hill have a clear line of investigation. Why, do you have anything to add to your statement?”
I swallowed. “That line of investigation, is it to do with the owner of the chest?”
“Again, it’s not my investigation. Are you planning to meddle again?”
Next to me, I heard Geraldine shift her weight from one foot to the other. She knew better than anyone else apart from my crazy coven how instrumental my “meddling” had been for Trey Stone. Solving several murders, without a single failure, set him on a career trajectory that others only dreamt of.
I stayed silent until Trey Stone felt compelled to talk. Living with Cosmo had taught me well, although usually I was on the receiving end of awkward silences.
“The police are looking into Candice Schott, who has an extensive back story with the victim.”
“She didn’t do it,” I said.
“That’s good to hear from you, but unless you’ve got hard proof that rules the woman out, she’s the main suspect.”
