I hated that question. It only led to trouble.
“No. I’m not.”
His brows arched in surprise, and he gestured toward the door. “If you’re not the witch then you must be a thief. You were about to break into this shop. I could have you arrested.”
My cheeks warmed in embarrassment. It figured I’d have an officer waiting on my porch. Pulling myself together, I lifted my shoulders in an easy shrug and flashed him a smile.
“You caught me.” I held out my hand. “I’m Tessa Daniels, the witch.”
He closed his fingers over mine. “Detective Derrick Chambers. It’s what I do.”
“Catch witches?” I choked.
“If they need catching or have something to hide.” He angled his head and pinned me with an inquiring look. “How about it, Miss Daniels? Do you have something to hide?”
Chapter 3
His question caught me off-guard. Heat transferred between our palms along with a jolt of awareness I saw reflected in his eyes. So, maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt off-balance. Keeping my features calm, I stepped back and felt the smallest tug, as if he was reluctant to relinquish my hand. He must have realized his mistake because he let go, flexing his fingers before stuffing them into his coat pocket. It was the only crack in his armor since he’d emerged from the shadows.
“Something to hide?” I laughed to cover my nerves. “Not unless you count the shame of a witch locking herself out of her shop.”
“I see.” Derrick removed his hand from his pocket and revealed a small brass key. “I found it on the walkway. You must have dropped it.”
I frowned. The man had watched me make a fool of myself trying to unlock the shop and hadn’t said a word? I plucked the key from his palm and mouthed the curse that sat ready on my tongue. Inserting the key into the lock, I twisted the handle, but the door didn’t budge. Cringing, I remembered the deadbolt. It was still engaged from my stupid spell. I ground my teeth together and murmured the incantation. The bolt slid back, and I opened the door with a flourish.
“After you, Detective.”
He entered the shop, and his gaze roamed over the shelves and display racks loaded with jars and stoppered bottles. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, giving off a pungent, earthy smell. Derrick ducked, narrowly avoiding a cluster of sage, and wandered toward a cabinet full of books, running a finger through the grime and dust on their spines as he bent to read each title. I couldn’t tell if his lips flattened from the strange subjects or the dust he rubbed between his fingers, but his slow, silent perusal of my shop made me grind my teeth. He crossed to my workbench next and picked up a jar of orange paste, scrunching his nose in disgust when he sniffed its contents. Out came a small leather journal, and he scrawled a notation.
“Those are on sale.” I pointed to the jar he’d moved out of smelling distance.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” He inspected a sprig of herbs resting on the counter with the tip of his pen. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“The kingdom’s introduced a new program whereby police drop in for friendly house calls?”
“No.” He gave me a dark look. “I’m here on official business. There’s been a murder at the palace.”
“A murder?” I feigned ignorance and tucked my nervous fingers behind my back. “That doesn’t explain why you’re in my shop.”
A moment of silence passed before he pulled a chair from the worktable and scraped it across the floor. “Have a seat.”
I must have looked like a woman walking toward the gallows as I closed the distance and lowered myself into the chair. The wooden spokes pressed into my back, but I refused to slouch, needing every ounce of confidence I could get. He towered over me, so close I could smell the faint woodsy scent of his cologne. I shifted, taking the spice in deeper. It was similar to something I sold, but whatever he’d purchased was better. Damn him.
Derrick placed an elbow on the workbench and leaned in. The move seemed casual, but the rigid way he held himself made me think otherwise. His voice was smooth and even when he spoke, a rich timbre that set off a flutter in my stomach.
“Last night, at the prince’s ball, a young woman named Ella Lockwood was murdered. A witness claims she visited you earlier in the evening. Why?”
The symbols on my palm had grown warm again, so I massaged the spot with my thumb. I didn’t know anything about Ella’s murder. Maybe it would be best if I distanced myself from the situation before I got involved any deeper. It wasn’t as if I could point out her killer or give the detective any worthwhile clues.
I tilted my chin and lied. “I had so many customers yesterday, I’m not sure I remember anyone specific.”
Derrick leaned closer. The cuff of his sleeve brushed against my shoulder blade. “I see. It must be difficult to keep track of the steady stream of people coming into your shop.” He lifted his gaze and stared pointedly at the empty doorway. A full torturous minute passed while he watched all the nonexistent customers. I squirmed in my seat, pleading for the bell suspended above the door to jingle. It stayed silent. Traitorous instrument.
“The mornings are slow. It picks up.” My optimism sounded hollow. I would have given anything for someone to enter the shop, even a green-haired Mrs. Anderson.
“You know what I think?” His tone dropped, breath warming my ear. I held still and barely contained a shiver.
“What, Detective?”
