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Although I didn’t say anything, Calvin seemed to notice, because he said, “This shouldn’t take too long. Then you can go on with your day.”
“I’m not under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
As responses went, that wasn’t exactly the most reassuring thing I could have heard. I shifted in my seat. “Why would you even think I was a suspect? There’s no motive.”
His jaw tightened, although he kept his gaze fixed on the street as he turned the corner so he could drive around back and park there. I supposed I should be glad that he wasn’t going to march in the front door of the shop with me; this way, maybe no one would even notice that the chief of the tribal police had taken me for a little ride.
“There were reports that you and the victim were arguing last night,” Calvin said. “According to Max Anders, it sounded pretty heated.”
Irrational anger flared in me. Damn it. Had Lucien left the door to Blue Moon open on purpose so the neighbors could overhear our argument? I didn’t even know why Max would have been hanging around his shop at that time of night, except I’d learned during the few weeks I’d been living in Globe that he tended to come and go at odd hours.
“So, we were arguing,” I said coolly. “Lots of people argue. That doesn’t mean someone’s going to end up murdered.”
“True,” Calvin agreed as he parked the Durango next to the shelter covering my blue Beetle. “But it still establishes a motive. Want to tell me what the argument was about?”
I really didn’t, for a variety of reasons. However, I guessed that holding back really wasn’t an option. “Sure,” I said. “After we get inside.”
That request didn’t seem to faze him; he nodded, and we got out of the SUV and went inside the building. After climbing the stairs to my apartment, we headed into the living room. He didn’t seem inclined to sit down, but only leaned up against the mantel, arms folded as he waited for me to speak.
“Lucien has” —had,I thought, but decided not to stop — “a really successful practice as a spiritual adviser to a lot of Hollywood celebrities and other high-powered people. He’d been trying to get me to join his organization for almost two years.”
“You’re a spiritual adviser, too?” Calvin asked, now looking almost amused.
“I’m a witch,” I said simply. “I wouldn’t say that counseling people was all I did, but it was definitely part of it. I guess Lucien was angry that I left L.A. without consulting him. He was trying to talk me into going back.”
For a few seconds, Calvin was silent, appearing to digest what I’d told him. “You had a personal relationship?”
“No,” I replied at once, wanting to disabuse him of that particular disgusting notion as quickly as I could.Not for lack of trying,my brain told me, but I pushed the annoying inner voice aside. “It was just business…and barely that. Anyway, yes, we argued, but he left after agreeing to meet me for breakfast so we could talk once we’d had a chance to cool down a bit.” Another thought struck me, and I added, “If I’d gone off and murdered him, why would I be sitting at The Flatiron, waiting for him to show up?”
“To make it look as though you were innocent,” Calvin said in reasonable tones.
All right, he had me there. “Maybe,” I allowed. “But that’s not what happened. Anyway, let me show you my knives.”
Without waiting to see if he was following — I knew he would — I led him down the hall to my office. That was where I’d set up my altar, since I really didn’t have enough room in the master bedroom. The altar sat on a table opposite a computer desk, and was really just a green cloth embroidered with a tree and a border of leaves, my Tarot cards in their embroidered pouch, various crystals and vials of herbs, my leather-bound Book of Shadows, and a variety of bud vases filled with wildflowers I’d collected from various spots around town.
Off to one side lay the athame and the boline. I pointed at them, saying, “Those are my knives. They’re used for rituals, nothing else.”
Calvin approached the altar, dark eyes alight with curiosity. And although he leaned down to take a closer look, I noticed right away that he was careful not to touch anything. “It’s very nice,” he said, sounding almost surprised.
Stupidly, I had to fight to prevent a pleased smile from spreading across my lips. I’d worked very hard to assemble items that were both meaningful and beautiful, that fulfilled both form and function. That he’d noticed made an absurd sort of happiness spread through me.
But we were there on much darker business. “Do you need to take them into evidence?” I asked.
“I should,” he replied. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Well, it would, just because I needed those items for my rituals. But I had a feeling that protesting would only make me sound guilty, so I shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I can manage without them for a while.”
I almost added that I had several more athames and bolines down in the store and therefore could borrow some of them if push came to shove…then figured it was probably better for me to keep my mouth shut on that particular subject. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I had a whole shop full of murder weapons just waiting to be used.
“It shouldn’t be too long,” he told me as he extracted a pair of latex gloves and a clear plastic bag from his pocket. After sliding on the gloves, he picked the knives up one by one and deposited them in the baggie, then zipped it shut. “I just need the lab to go over them.”
Although having the knives spirited away for inspection would be an inconvenience, I wasn’t too worried about anything the lab would find. After all, I knew I hadn’t stabbed Lucien Dumond, and so the most incriminating evidence a crime lab might find on the blade would be paper fibers and maybe a bit of wax residue from spatter when I blew out the altar candles.
“Have you talked to Athene?” I asked next, thinking it couldn’t hurt to move suspicion to a more likely target.
“‘Athene’?” Calvin repeated with a frown as he pulled off the gloves and stowed them in a pocket of his trousers.
