Ari looked a question at Gillian.
“You go on,” the lab tech said. “I want to finish out here. Take another reading, get some samples. I’ll let you know if I find anything or come up with a plausible theory.”
“Check the bushes. Police probably contaminated the scene, but if our killer came or left that way, we might get lucky.”
“Will do. If there’s a speck of energy or DNA, I’ll find it.” Gillian waved a careless hand and began a grid search, section by section.
Ari and the bartender stepped inside. The smell of stale beer greeted her at the door, that strange dichotomy that allows something that tastes so good at night to smell so bad the next morning. Her attention quickly turned to the five customers sitting at the bar: three men, two women. All except one young man appeared to be fifty and up. One of the women was a werewolf. Thanks to Ari’s witch gifts, she could spot the auras of shape shifters, even when they were in human form. The wolf gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.
The other four were full-blooded humans. They studied Ari with curiosity and speculation. Neighborhood bar. Strangers stood out. They must be wondering why Joe brought one of the snoopers inside.
Ari knew they weren’t staring because she looked different. Even though her parentage was mostly witch blood, a taint of human had given her the blonde hair. Light hair, green eyes, girl-next-door ordinary. Nothing about her shouted witch. The raven hair, so common to her race of conjurors, had passed her by. She was usually mistaken for human, and she had heard her share of blond jokes—before people got to know her. Often under-estimated on first impression, she had learned to make it work for her.
The younger man sized her up and offered the bar stool next to him. He wouldn’t have done that for a witch. Ari took the offered seat; Joe went behind the counter.
“This here’s Guardian Calin,” Joe announced. “Works for the Magic Council. She’s here about the shooting. Introduce yourselves. Anybody need a refill?”
The young man turned to her, his face a little more guarded after that introduction. “Never met anyone who worked for the Magic Council.”
Ari gave him a friendly smile, ignoring his obvious invitation to elaborate on her job or her parentage. Once they were finished with introductions, she asked about Eddie. They clammed up.
“Don’t mind this crew,” Joe said. “No one wants to get Eddie in more trouble.” He gave the counter a vigorous rub. “Known him a long time. He’s a good kid.”
“And a friend of mine,” Ari said. “If I can help him, I will. But I need to know exactly what happened.”
They relaxed a bit after that, enough to admit everyone had been present the night before except the young man sitting next to Ari.
“Last night was busy,” Joe began, as he finished with the refills. “Being a holiday and all. Lots of celebrating, so there was quite a racket. But we all heard the shots real well. Four of them. Wasn’t fireworks. Too powerful for that. Thought somebody was celebrating with a pistol. Whatever it was, I knew it was trouble and dialed 911. By the time I looked outside, everybody was standing around the body. Then the cops came.”
“Could you see the victim?”
“Um, not really. Saw someone was on the ground. Then heard it was Jules. I didn’t stay outside long. Went back to watch the bar.”
“From what you could see, did Eddie have a gun?”
Joe finished wiping the bar counter. He tossed the rag underneath and leaned on his elbows. “No gun. Saw Eddie, as well as I can see you, but no gun. Can’t believe he’d shoot someone. Two summers ago he tended bar on the weekends after I broke my arm. Wouldn’t take any money.” Joe shook his head, lips pursed. “Don’t understand what happened last night. Gotta be some kind of mistake.”
Ari encouraged Joe to talk about Eddie and listened with interest as he related details of Eddie’s family history. The West kids had grown up with a church-going mother and an alcoholic father. Liquor hadn’t been allowed in their home, but Old Ed, as Joe called him, bought a pint or two every time he sneaked out of the house. “Drink finally killed him,” Joe concluded.
Hmm. Ari kept the spark of surprise off her face. Eddie had said his father wasn’t around much when he was young but nothing about the alcoholism. “And yet Eddie worked for you. With that history, I’d have thought he would stay away from bars.”
“Not around here. Everybody stops at the Inn. Even kids come around to buy their soda. And the West kids both drink a little. Not too much,” he added quickly. “With Lorraine and Jules it was always wine.”
“Any idea why Jules was coming here last night without Lorraine?”
“Often did. They came together now and then for a drink. But more often, he’d stop for a bottle. Take it over to Lorraine’s.”
Ari frowned. Who buys their home stash at a bar? Sounded expensive to her.
Joe anticipated the question. “I compete with the local grocery on wine, beer, and soda prices. Keeps folks coming in.”
“Did he always come at the same time, the same night of the week? Enough so anyone would notice?”
“Not particularly, but he or both of them were here often enough. And it being July 4th and all…”
“He was expected,” Ari finished.
They all nodded, mumbled agreement. “Lots of people could have guessed,” one of the older customers emphasized.
“Including Eddie?” Ari persisted.
“Well, yeah, if he thought about it.” Joe’s face was solemn. “Suppose so.” His shoulders tensed, as if he’d taken a poke and expected another. He didn’t like the questions that might damage Eddie, and Ari liked him for it.
She changed the subject. “What about other enemies? Fights? Someone who resented Jules coming in the bar?”
Heads shook in the negative. “Never saw him even have an argument,” one of the men said. “He was pretty well accepted.”
“Of course, there’s people who fear and dislike all vampires,” Joe said. “But no bad talk in my bar. Everybody’s welcome here, if they behave themselves. Jules was an OK guy. Not sure I’d want him to date my daughter, but a good customer.”
“Full of great stories,” the older woman piped in. “Knew a lot of history first hand. And I liked the way he treated Lorraine. Protective, you know? I understand why Eddie was upset, but Jules took good care of her.”
“Jules and Lorraine must have had some disagreements. Could this be a lovers’ fight?”
“Lord, no!” the woman said without hesitation. She looked at Ari with her mouth rounded in protest. “That sweet kid? She was crazy about him. Not a bad word between them.”
“What about former boyfriends of Lorraine? A jealous ex? Anyone?”
Ari’s questions were met with shrugs and blank faces.
“I must be confused,” said the young man seated next to her. “Why are you asking about other enemies? I thought Eddie confessed.”
“It’s routine. We’re still looking for answers. For instance, the missing gun. If you remember or hear anything that could help us find it, please give me a call.” Ari handed out her business cards.
The young man pocketed the card with a frown. “Still don’t get it. You act like Eddie might be innocent. Why would he admit to the shooting, if he wasn’t guilty?”
Ari raised her eyebrows. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Ari would have recognized Lorraine West anywhere. She was the feminine version of her brother. Small frame, copper curls, turned-up nose liberally sprinkled with freckles. Seated on an over-stuffed brown and ivory sofa, Lorraine was dwarfed by the large man holding her hands. They both turned to look when Lorraine’s mother ushered Ari into the apartment’s living room and introduced her.
“Sorry to intrude,” Ari said. “Difficult time, I know.”
Lorraine nodded. “Yes, thank you.” She withdrew her hands from the man’s clasp, placing them in her lap. Her blue eyes were red around the edges, puffy. She clutched a damp tissue.
The forty-something man stood and stepped forward. Dark brown hair carefully combed to one side framed his round face. Affable appearance, yet intense gray eyes met Ari’s inquiring look.
“Ms. Calin,” he acknowledged. “Harold Shale.”
He stuck out his hand, which Ari accepted. Brief handshake, practiced smile, slight tingle of some kind of energy. Her witch senses went on alert. He had a neutral aura. Weird.
“Harold was our counselor,” Lorraine said, as if that explained it all.
Ari relaxed. It did explain the tingle. Most human counselors had at least some latent psychic power; maybe that’s what led them into their career. Some were aware; many were not. She wondered which category fit this man.
“What type of counseling do you do?” She returned his direct gaze.
“Shale and Associates. We offer relationship counseling for human clients and their Otherworld partners.” He broke the brief eye contact and turned to Eddie’s sister. “I must be going, Lorraine, but please call me if there is anything I can do.”
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said softly, dutifully. Ari figured she’d repeated those same words many times.
Ari stopped the counselor before he could leave. “I may need to chat with you at some point.”
“About Jules? I’m not sure how much I can tell you.” He frowned, creasing his forehead into deep lines. “Our sessions are confidential, you understand. I can’t betray a client’s privacy.”
“It’s all right, Howard,” Lorraine interrupted. “Please tell her whatever she needs to know. I don’t mind, and I want the murderer found.”
“But Lorraine,” he began, then stopped.
Ari waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. Was he really worried about confidentiality? Or something else? Something about his manner was off. Maybe just discomfort over the murder of a client. Proximity to death affected some people that way.
