Derrick nodded. “It’s possible. That’s why we want to run another article on the front page, something that will distract attention. The writeup should be critical of the agency and insinuate the killer has the upper hand. He wants attention, so we’ll give it to him and let him bask in it while we work a different angle.”
“A bait and switch?” John grinned and rubbed a hand over the whiskers on his chin. “I like it. In addition, the exclusive will sell a ton of papers.”
“We thought you’d appreciate that.” I placed the glass slipper along with the note in front of John. “This was left on my doorstep following the memorial dinner.”
He whistled and reached for the piece of paper. His brow lifted as he read the killer’s warning.
“If the slipper fits? What a cocky bastard. I assume this was taken from the scene?” He examined the shoe, turning it over in his hand. “Looks damn uncomfortable if you ask me.”
“Beauty is pain, Mr. Lincoln. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”
He grimaced and slapped a hand over his paunchy stomach. “I’ll take your word for it, Miss Daniels.”
Derrick handed John a pre-written ad. “This is what we’d like placed near the back of the paper. Inquiries should be forwarded to my office. In the meantime, we’ll be running damage control on the evidence leak.”
“It’s going to be a circus.” John shook his head in pity.
“We hope so. A circus draws a crowd. But once we have them packed into the seats, we control what they see and hear.”
“Even at the expense of your good name, Detective?”
Tension tightened Derrick’s jaw. “My name isn’t any good if I don’t catch Miss Lockwood’s killer.”
After learning what the case meant to Derrick, I couldn’t imagine anything he wouldn’t try, even if it subjected him to ridicule. He seemed to welcome it, free of the shackles of what people expected and driven only by results.
John tapped his fingers on the desk and eyed the glass slipper. An odd look flashed in his eye.
“You know, there are rumors Miss Lockwood might not be the only victim. Care to address that, Detective?”
“The agency doesn’t comment on rumors, John.”
“I guess that means you won’t confirm the rumors swirling around the two of you? A witch and a detective is an unlikely partnership, especially considering Miss Daniels’ background.” He flipped through a notebook on his desk. “I hope you don’t mind, but my reporters have done some digging.”
I clenched the handrails of the chair. Had they discovered my connection to Argus? I’d underestimated what working with the newspaper would mean. My life had become fair game and fodder for the gossip section.
“I can’t imagine what you’ve found, Mr. Lincoln. My past hasn’t been that interesting.”
John laughed and read from the notebook. “Not according to our sources. They make your life sound very interesting. A comedy of errors, in fact. It’s amazing, the people who come out of the woodwork hoping to cash in on someone’s reputation. And yours, Miss Daniels…” He winced.
A buzzing sounded in my ears. Derrick spoke, his lips moving, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“Take the barn fire on Stratford road about seven years back. The owners claim you were channeling energy for a prosperous harvest and you lit a haystack on fire. Luckily, your mother was there to supervise, or they would have lost everything. She paid them not to press charges.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “That was an accident.”
“Maybe so, but what about the time you turned a young man into a mouse when he made an advance on you? We have a source willing to come forward. He alleges it took you three days to change him back. His family put up missing posters. How much did it take to keep them quiet?”
Heat crawled up my neck. It had taken quite a bit. I’d sold a large sum of my mother’s books that day, and speculation had followed me for months.
John flipped the page in the notebook. “There are numerous complaints of spells gone wrong.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted at the page. “Do you know a Mrs. Anderson? She claims a couple of weeks ago, you turned her hair green then refused to refund her money.”
“That’s not what happened!”
The notebook snapped closed, and John raised his hand. “Miss Daniels, you’re welcome to share your side of the story. It will round out the article. I already have an idea for a headline.” He arched his hand through the air. “I’m thinking,Disgraced Witch Embarrasses Family Name and Endangers Society.What do you think?”
My whole body went rigid. A sly smile played around John’s lips. It was obvious what he was really after: leverage. Apparently, certain men in my life thought they could use me for their own purposes. First, Argus, and now, John Lincoln. I burned with humiliation and a profound helplessness.
Derrick remained quiet, letting the scene play out. I wasn’t sure if his silence made me feel better or worse. Either way, I couldn’t look at him. My mediocre magic wasn’t a secret, but when you put all my destruction together, it painted a vivid picture.
