“According to the witnesses and the security tapes, hewasthere. Walked out through the hotel lobby with blood on him, stopping to check his watch, cool as a cucumber. Big as day and bold as brass.”
“But that makes no sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. Frankly, that’s what troubles me the most. I can easily believe Sailor could go after someone he thought might harm you—but I can’t believe he would be so ham-fisted about it. Sailor’s not stupid. If he’d planned to do Dupree harm, why wouldn’t he have caught him out on the street, away from witnesses and cameras?”
“Good question.”
“And if Sailordidmurder Dupree, why would he go straight home and wait for the cops to bang on his door? Or if it was a deal where he just went to talk to him, and things got out of hand, why wouldn’t he have told us Dupree attacked first, claim self-defense?”
I nodded, and sneezed.
“Bless you,” Carlos said. “And finally, according to the witnesses, Dupree must have fought back, because Sailor left the hotel battered—cuts, bruises, blood dripping down his face, the whole nine yards.”
My heart flipped. Was Sailor okay? “Was he taken to the hospital? Is it bad?”
“That’s another hinky part: When Sailor was arrested, he didn’t have a scratch on him.”
“He didn’t?” I was relieved for Sailor, but Carlos was right—that was hinky.
He shook his head. “Of course, I hear tell there are folks out there with special talents, maybe the ability to cure a person faster than would be normal. So, the crime happened late this afternoon. Where were you this afternoon and evening?”
“I was in the shop, with Maya. We closed at six.”
“That the usual time?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. What did you do after the shop closed?”
“I went upstairs, made dinner for—” I halted.I made mac ’n’ cheese for my pigwould sound weird. “...myself, and did a little housekeeping.”
“And afterward...?”
“I was with Ai—” I stopped, remembering how Carlos felt about this particular witchy godfather. But the cat was already out of the bag, so I finished what I was saying. “Excuse me. I met with Aidan Rhodes at the wax museum.”
Carlos gave me a look. A cop look.
“He’s a business associate, Carlos.”
“And what kind of business would that be, exactly?”
“Witchy business.”
“Uh-huh. When was this?”
“I probably arrived at the wax museum about seven thirty or eight.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you spent the next several hours with him?”
“Time flies when you’re doing witchy business.”
“I’ll just bet it does.” He rubbed his neck. “Okay, it’s not the greatest alibi, but they’ve got security camerasat the wax museum, which can verify your presence. Unless... Is this the sort of thing you can do from afar?”
“What sort of thing?”
“Curing Sailor, healing his wounds.”
I sneezed again.
