Chapter 6 #3
“That was Joan. The woman’s a legend.”
“Did any of these women attend the party where the victim was last seen?”
“Ooh, you’re good.”
He shrugged. “You don’t get to join the Elite Division by being a slacker.”
“And here I thought you might be a nepo baby.”
He bristled. “I hate that term.”
“Aha! So you are a nepo baby.” Nailed it.
“No, but my boss is. Doesn’t make him any less good at his job.”
“If he’s so good, then why send you?”
“Because I’m usually better at this.” He adjusted his cufflinks. “Truth be told, you’re more of a challenge than I anticipated.”
“I get that a lot. Who is this alleged perpetrator? I need a name.”
He wagged a finger. “Don’t think so. You don’t share, I don’t share.”
“I bet you say that to all the women.” And then I felt it again, a mild tug that would serve as a spark of attraction for others; for me, it served as a warning.
Now that I knew exactly the kind of person I was dealing with, my guard was up—way up.
Best to usher him off the island with great haste and minimal interaction.
“Depends on how much talking is involved.” His dimpled smile was smooth and inviting, not a hint of predation. His voice dropped to husky level. “I vote for not much.”
I fortified my senses. “How about this? If I learn anything during my investigation that leads me to a mainlander, you’ll be my first call. Otherwise, I’m taking the Vegas approach.”
He draped a casual arm across the back of a stool. “Hoping luck is on your side?”
“What happens on Evermore, stays on Evermore.”
“Ah. Because if you’re interested in getting lucky, I can help with that too.”
“As you said, I already have my hands full.” I inclined my head toward the counter. “Can I buy you an iced coffee for the road? I recommend the Cold Shower cortado. Wakes you right up.”
“No thanks.” He withdrew from my personal space, and my body relaxed. “I look forward to hearing from you, Maya.”
I—and every other person in the shop—watched him saunter out the door with the quiet, alluring grace of a jungle cat .
“Why did you send him away?” Catherine complained.
“Because he doesn’t belong here.”
“He offered to help. Why not take it?”
“Because I don’t need his help.” And whatever this “Elite Division” was, it didn’t give him jurisdiction over Evermore.
If it did, he would’ve pushed harder. Buried me in badges and paperwork.
No, whoever sent Gage either knew they couldn’t pull rank or weren’t ready to try, which is why they led with the charm offensive.
“Is this a pride thing, Maya?” Meemaw asked.
“No,” I said, although I wasn’t entirely sure. “With Judd missing, I don’t think it’s a good time to loop in outsiders.”
“Seems like the perfect time to me,” Margie said. “You’re not accustomed to working alone.”
How wrong she was about that. I’d worked more jobs solo than I could count. That was before Evermore, however. Before my life took a drastic turn.
“I have to stick to island protocol,” I said. “That means no outsiders, no matter how handsome and charming you find them.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re more uptight than Judd,” Louise said, “and that’s saying something.”
I pulled a chair closer and rejoined their table. “Did you notice anything unusual when he walked in?”
“I haven’t seen a man that handsome in years,” Margie said.
“Not about him. About you. How did you feel?”
Margie fanned herself with her book. “Honey, that conversation isn’t appropriate in a public setting.”
Meemaw seemed to be the only one to catch on. “What is he?”
“A gancanagh.”
Margie’s nose wrinkled. “A what now? ”
“A gancanagh, otherwise known as a love talker.” Similar to an incubus, this type of faerie feeds off seducing women, which would be fine and dandy if the women consistently survived the encounter.
“I wouldn’t mind a little love talk from him,” Catherine said, staring at the door with longing.
“You’d mind when you turned into an emaciated husk.”
Catherine shrugged. “We all have to go somehow. His way doesn’t seem so bad to me. Better than what happened to Belinda.”
Unless he was what happened to Belinda. Could a gancanagh remove a fate-thread? Even if he could, would he be brazen enough to return to the scene of the crime?
Meemaw sucked the last of her iced coffee through her straw. “On that note, what did happen to Belinda? What’s the official cause of death?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at this time, not while the investigation is still active.” And if anyone learned the details, they were either the killer or in Zachariah’s pocket. Either outcome was useful intel.
Delilah flicked the lights off and on. “About to close up.”
“Thank you, D,” Joan said.
Margie tucked her book into a tote bag. “I feel a bit woozy now.”
“That’s his charm wearing off. It can have that effect on some people.”
“Feels like I got drunk on a Mexican coffee and now I’m sobering up,” Margie said. Her gaze darted to Meemaw. “Not that I’d know anything about that.”
Joan snorted. “Margaret, you’re over a century old. I don’t think you need to worry about getting punished by your mother.”
“Some relationships never change,” Catherine said.
“I never cussed in front of my parents, not even when I was the head of my coven. It would’ve been disrespectful.
” She cupped her hands around her mug and looked at me.
“Do we need to be worried, Maya? Should we be walking in pairs at night? That sort of thing.”
“Just keep your wits and your magic about you and you’ll be fine,” Meemaw said. “Let’s go so Delilah can get home. We’ve squatted here long enough.”
I was grateful for her response because I didn’t have a reassuring one on the tip of my tongue. A more pressing question had taken center stage, and I couldn’t seem to shake it?—
Did the mysterious “Elite Division” send Gage to seduce intel out of me, or to kill me before I found any?