“Bless you.”
“Thanks.” I shook my head. “Lately I can’t seem to even heal myself, much less someone else.”
He gave me a skeptical look.
“Seriously, Carlos, that kind of healing isn’t in my repertoire. My grandmother can cure all sorts of things, usually with the laying on of hands or a brew. But even she can’t cast over serious injuries from a distance, as far as I know.”
He nodded and lapsed into silence. This was Carlos’s way, and although I sometimes had to literally bite my tongue to keep from blathering on in his presence, I had learned to try to respect his silence lest I blurt out something incriminating. I was pretty sure this was what made him such an effective homicide inspector.
We both took a moment, sipping our drinks. I’m not a big drinker, but the Buena Vista’s Irish coffee was sweet, creamy, and delicious. It made me feel warm and cozy inside. It occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and I hoped the alcohol wouldn’t go straight to my head. Clearly, I had work to do.
“Did you find anything interesting in Dupree’s hotel room?” I asked.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Just wondering.”
“As a matter of fact, we found a root and some unidentified powders; sent ’em to the lab. You know, I had asked a friend of mine, a beat cop, to stop by earlier in the day, after Dupree seemed to threaten you at yourstore. At that time Dupree said he felt sick to his stomach, and my friend said he looked pretty green around the gills.”
“And what does that tell us?”
Carlos shrugged.
“I didn’t hex Dupree, Carlos, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that, exactly, but I’m glad to hear you deny it. Is Sailor right- or left-handed?”
“Right-handed. Why?”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought. The forensics guys said the blood spatter patterns indicate that whoever attacked Dupree was left-handed. Also, on the hotel’s security footage Sailor seemed to favor his left hand: He carried a pocket watch in his left pocket and opened the door with his left hand.”
“I hate to say it, but that seems... a little flimsy, evidence-wise. A lot of right-handed people use their left for some things.”
“I know. It’s just another in a long line of hinky aspects. But despite the fact that we found no trace of blood on Sailor, and no discarded clothes anywhere, the eyewitnesses and the security footage place him at the scene and are probably enough to get a jury to swing guilty. Not to mention, Dupree told me himself that Sailor threatened to kill him this morning. I gotta tell you, Lily, it doesn’t look good.”
“No, Carlos, I can’t believe this. What can I do to prove Sailor’s innocent?”
“Find the killer.”
“I... um, okay.”
“Keep in mind that if Sailor didn’t do it, then the person who did looks a whole lot like him.”
Suddenly I recalled Maya’s story about seeing someone who looked just like Sailor in the herbal store; couldthat have been the person who killed Tristan Dupree? And if so, why? And... who was he?
“Need a refill?” Carlos asked. “It might just cure your cold.”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, tell me everything you know about Tristan Dupree.”
“I don’t know much. I met him fifteen years ago or so, in Germany.”
Carlos nodded. “He’s a Swiss citizen, here on a standard tourist visa. We’ve made inquiries about him in Europe. How did you meet him?”
I thought back to the visions I’d had with Aidan. He was right. It was time to remember. Sailor’s life might depend upon it.
“He worked with my father.”
