Tariq was looking especially handsome when he picked her up that night. They exchanged a quick hug, and she realized he smelled even better than he looked. Harper was never sure how he managed it, working with jellyfish at the aquarium all day, but it was undeniable.
Tariq’s Camry was old but functional, and he kept it cleaner than she kept her Scion. But it reminded her of Joel’s comment about Tariq needing money. She pushed the thought aside. A lot of people needed money. Relatively few of them turned to murder to get it.
As they drove, Harper told him about her visit to Sigrid’s garden, and what she had learned from the podcast about the traffic in body parts.
“So I went online and ordered a finger bone. A proximal phalanx, to be precise.”
He looked at her, surprise written on his face. “Ahumanfinger bone?”
“Allegedly.”
“Why would you want a human finger bone?”
“I don’t. I’m hoping to learn some information about the seller.”
“You’re a private detective now? Visiting witches with poison gardens, ordering body parts off the internet…? You know the old saying, ‘Curiosity killed the cat’?”
“I know it. I also know how it ends: ‘But satisfaction brought it back.’ Maybe I am too curious for my own good. That’s what my father always used to tell me. But I feel like I have to dosomething. You don’t?”
“I suppose I was hoping the police would track down the truth, since it’s their job and all.”
Harper looked out the window. They weren’t far from the tattoo parlor she had noticed the other day. And that reminded her of the shrouded mirror in the Perles Mansion, and what she had seen in that shiny surface.
She was lying to Tariq. It wasn’t simple curiosity urging her on. It was fear of what she had seen. What shethoughtshe had seen.
“Speaking of body parts,” she said. “Do human eyes reflect light the way some animals’ eyes do?”
“No, not usually. We don’t have the tapetum.”
“Huh.”
“Do I want to know why you’re asking?” Tariq said, as he parked in front of the tavern.
“Probably not.” Harper thought back to the woman she had seen on the grass. How she had looked up toward Harper’s apartment, her eyes seeming to glow. Thinking back on it now, Harper was half convinced that she really had dreamed the whole thing.
Xochi gave them a wave as they walked in, and Harper waved back.So this is how it happens, Harper thought. Makingfriends and acquaintances, one by one. A witch here, a tavern owner there…
Two friends had beat them to the bar and nabbed their favorite booth in the back: Gabe Ruiz, the performing arts professor from Monterey College, and Penny Paule, a woman who worked with otters at the aquarium.
Gabe was Harper’s closest friend and ally on the faculty, a stocky fellow with a trim beard and plenty of tattoos. Harper did not know Penny well, but the otter wrangler seemed smart and caring, and she was pretty, with an athletic build and long red hair she kept swept back in a neat ponytail. Harper suspected Penny might have a bit of a thing for Tariq; her hazel eyes were often on him, and she laughed a little too loudly at his jokes. But Harper had not perceived an equal response from Tariq. He appeared to treat Penny with the same warmth and kindness he showed everyone—with the notable exception of Delilah Mason’s brother.
After they exchanged greetings and ordered drinks, the talk turned to the work at the aquarium. From the outside it seemed like being an otter wrangler would be an ideal job, full of unabashed cuteness, like those videos of people taking care of baby pandas. But the conversation consisted primarily of complaints about low salaries and administrative hassles.
Like any job, Harper supposed. She loved doing research and enjoyed giving lectures, especially when the students were engaged and responsive. But there were plenty of dreary aspects of her position: the endless grind of grading papers and exams, dealing with the occasionally unpleasant or even hostile student, the disappointment at finding plagiarism in students’ work, attending endless faculty meetings, assessingjob candidates, and negotiating academic politics. The good always comes with some bad.
At a lull in the conversation, Harper turned to Gabe. “I heard Delilah Mason was in a stage production at Monterey College?”
“Yes indeed, years ago,” Gabe said. “We had that beautiful, shiny new performing arts center, so the college decided to do some outreach to the community. Delilah was one of those who took part, but we haven’t been in touch since. Don’t really run in the same circles.”
“And Joel Aristide was in the production as well?” Harper asked.
“Joel, the ghost tour leader?” Gabe nodded. “Yep. He’s a real character. Surprisingly good at learning his lines, though he wasn’t all that reliable—he had a drinking problem. I hear he got sober a while ago.”
“What was Delilah like?” asked Harper.
“Why are you so interested?” asked Tariq.
“It’s strange, everything that’s happened,” said Harper. “I feel sort of connected to her, even while not knowing much about her.”
