“Oh, yeah. Boyfriend was a creep. Totally screwed up the group. It started out pretty normal. You know, I’ve told you about the classes. The guy wasn’t there at the beginning. This girl,” Ari nodded toward the body, “wanted to buy a love potion in the worst way. Just wouldn’t give up. Believe me when I tell you, she was intense.”
“Aren’t all teenagers intense?”
“Not like this.” Ari paused, the scene vivid in her mind. Angela had stood out in the crowd of mostly teen girls. Insistent, verging on desperate. Ari had felt sorry for her, especially after the boyfriend walked in. He butted into the class, loud-mouthed and angry. Angela had turned red with embarrassment.
“The jerk boyfriend came in with an attitude, ranted and raved about Otherworlders, and then stomped out. He seemed to hate witches in particular.”
“So, he wasn’t a fan.” Ryan showed the first spark of humor for the day. “Doesn’t make him a killer.”
“Fine, laugh at me, but this guy was a real dipshit.”
“Did he make threats? Against you or the girl?”
“No. Pretty much like I told you. Insults, wild accusations. Otherworlders are demonic. Illegal drugs are produced by dark magic. Accused me and my kind of conspiring to control the human race. Crazy stuff.”
Ryan’s forehead creased in a brief scowl. Even he didn’t believe that kind of drivel. “Maybe he was on drugs. The autopsy will tell us if she was using.” He picked up the pamphlet and dropped it in an evidence bag. “All right, from what you’ve said, this guy has a nasty temper and was on the verge of losing control. If he got mad enough, maybe he could kill.” Ryan glanced toward the victim again. “But look at this scene, Ari. I’m not convinced a human could do this. It took a lot of force.”
“And we’ve got claw or teeth marks. Yeah, I get it. But I’d like a chance to jerk his chain.”
Ryan gave her a sly grin. “I’ll try to arrange that. Give my sketch artist a detailed description before you leave.” He scanned the room quickly. “We’ll play this as usual, if that’s OK. My department takes the lead with human suspects and physical evidence. You handle the magic stuff. Otherworlders won’t talk to us anyway. I hope the ME gives us a better cause of death, but I’m not counting on it.”
Ari agreed. Unless the medical examiner found evidence for the magic lab to analyze, his autopsy report wouldn’t help at all. The cause of death was sure to be multiple trauma, but the assailant hadn’t been human. The cause of death wouldn’t narrow the pool of suspects. Too many Otherworlders possessed the necessary strength, and the natural weapons, to inflict the victim’s injuries.
It was after 5:00 a.m. when they left the crime scene. They had a few potential leads. Ryan’s officers located two witnesses who reported a silver sedan in the neighborhood; another described a black van. They would try to locate both. Bags of debris had been sent to the lab for analysis and a rush put on the reports. They’d found no evidence of forced entry or an apartment-wide search. Except for the kitchen/dining area, the rooms were undisturbed. That had tentatively ruled out random violence and burglary, leading them to one inevitable conclusion: the victim had known her killer.
Ari’s first job was to find the vampire boyfriend. As she left Ryan outside the victim’s apartment building, she glanced at the sky. Streaks of gray indicated dawn wasn’t far away, too late to search for a vamp, and she’d be sharper after three or four hours of sleep anyway.
By the time she collapsed across her bed, the sun peeped through the window. She drifted off with a final weird thought: their prime suspect would be doing the same.
Chapter Four
It was just after 8:00 a.m. when Ari appeared at Claris Denning’s storefront.
“Coffee,” Ari croaked, setting the bell jingling as the door closed. Even over the rich smell of herbs and spices that habitually permeated the shop, she identified the tantalizing aroma of rich, black caffeine. Humans had definitely got one thing right. Coffee was essential, and Claris always had the pot on.
A young woman with long brown hair tied at the back of her neck looked up and smiled. “Hard night?” Without waiting for an answer, Claris nodded toward a beaded curtain at the back. “It’s brewed.” She set down an armful of dried herbs, sorted and tied in small bundles, and smoothed her long skirt. Claris tried hard to present the expected Mother Earth image at the shop, and her amiable personality fit, but Ari had seen her too often in cutoffs and a skimpy tank top to be deceived.
This morning Ari paid little attention to her friend’s attire. She made mumbling noises, so intent on her mission to the coffee pot that she failed to respond to her friend’s question. She disappeared behind the multi-colored beads as Claris watched with a tolerant smile.
Claris and Ari had been tight since meeting in second grade. The freckle-faced kid in pigtails had welcomed Ari, who only attended part time, while the other kids kept their distance. Even at that age, Claris was into holistic medicine and natural healing. Her pockets were filled with tiny bags and jars of herbs and ointments, which she freely dispensed to the scraped knees of anyone who would let her. Ari was a frequent but willing guinea pig over the years. In fourth grade Claris produced a green salve for mosquito bites that turned Ari’s skin a rosy purple. Great-Gran eventually used a potion to take the itch away; after a long two weeks, the purple dots faded on their own.
But Claris got better at her craft as she got older, and her green thumb with herbs and medicinal plants eventually led her to open Basil & Sage almost three years ago. The shop squatted on the bank of the Oak River in the tourist portion of Olde Town, an area filled with quaint, wood-sided shops and small eateries. Since restoration nine years earlier, this attractive area reflected the glory of the 1800s when Riverdale had been a major river port. Today Olde Town, with its red brick pavement, overflowing flower boxes that lined the streets, and electrified old-fashioned lanterns, drew a steady tourist trade that provided Claris with a livable income.
The two young women were as close as sisters, except Claris was a full-blooded human.
The beaded curtain rattled behind her as Ari pushed into the small kitchen. The sunlit room was saved from drabness by a vase of yellow and blue flowers on the worn wooden table and the tidy arrangement of utensils and craft items throughout the area. A gleaming, silver coffee pot, which Ari had given her when the shop opened, dominated the counter of the small kitchenette on the right. The left side of the room held floor to ceiling shelves stacked with assorted jars of various colors and sizes. Sleeping quarters were upstairs. Behind the kitchen table a door opened into the greenhouse, where Claris grew her own medicines and special herbs, including many of the ingredients Ari used for her own potions and ointments.
“Comb your hair,” Claris called from the front.
Ari clutched the coffee cup and ignored her friend. Half a mug later, she refilled and finally looked in the rectangular mirror attached to the fridge door. Green eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, stared at her in dismay from the center of a windblown tangle of honey-blonde strands. She had inherited the hair color, so unusual for a witch, from her great-grandfather, the human Great-Gran brought into the clan.
She snatched a brush from Claris’s bathroom and tried to tame the tangles. Leaving home with wet hair almost always ended in a bad hair day. Admitting defeat, Ari grabbed her coffee cup and wandered up front.
“Not enough sleep,” she complained. “Up all night at a murder scene.”
“Murder? That’s awful. Hope it was no one I know.” It was a rhetorical comment. Claris’s tone said she couldn’t possibly know anyone who would be a murder victim. That she remained so untouched by violence while living in Olde Town was part of her charm.
“Well, in a way you do. Remember the redheaded girl at Monday’s class? The one who wanted the love potion?”
Claris sucked in her breath, almost dropping the herbs in her hand. “Is she dead? Or did she kill someone?”
“She’s dead. And the boyfriend’s a suspect.”
“The angry guy? That’s not a surprise, but wow.” Claris stopped for a deep breath. “You’re telling me I had a murderer right here in my shop?” She stared wide-eyed at Ari.
“Relax. He won’t be back. And maybe he’s not guilty. We do have another suspect. But I’d kind of like for him to be guilty. He was so nasty that day.”
“Well, yeah, but murder?” Claris studied Ari’s face. “Why are you involved? Aren’t they both humans? Did it have something to do with the class? Are the police coming here?”
“No one’s coming here. Don’t worry about it.” Ari hesitated. She’d already said too much, but this was Claris. They told each other everything. “Yeah, they’re human, but there’s evidence of supernatural violence. Claw and teeth marks.” She didn’t mention the broken neck or the splattered blood. Claris couldn’t stand the gory stuff, even in movies. Maybe that’s how she managed to live and work in Olde Town; she simply shut out all the violence.
“Oh, an Otherworlder did this.” Claris’s tense shoulders relaxed a little.
At moments like this, Ari was most aware of the differences between them. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it surfaced from time to time. The term Otherworlder had been adopted by both communities, but it still defined a rift. Human vs Otherworlder. Ordinary vs magic.
“Maybe. We can’t rule out anything at this point.” Ari sipped her coffee and dropped the topic. “Thanks for the pick-me-up. I needed it. Can’t keep my eyes open.”
“You should go back to bed. Take a nap upstairs, if you like.”
“Tempting, but I have way too much to do. Ryan should call any minute.” Ari took another swallow of the cooling coffee. “Funny thing. I’ve known since Sunday that something was going to happen. One of those spooky feelings.”
Claris flashed her a knowing smile. “You mentioned that on Monday. Something about having an interesting evening the night before. Then we got sidetracked by the class and the tour bus. Is this murder connected? When you brought it up, I thought you meant good interesting, not bad interesting. Nothing that would lead to dead bodies.” Her hazel eyes lit for a moment as she added, “I keep hoping that one of these days you’re going to meet some hot guy. Maybe a tall, muscled superhero type.”
