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“Anyway,” Calvin went on, “I did get her laptop and phone from Tansy, along with her logins, so I have one of my guys taking a look at those now. I’m just hoping that if the killer was someone who actually knew her, there might be a clue hidden somewhere in her texts or in her social media accounts. Because if there isn’t….”
The words trailed off, and the broad shoulders under their khaki uniform shirt seemed to hunch slightly. He didn’t have to finish the sentence. If Lilith really had been murdered by a stranger attending the ritual — someone who had promptly disappeared to Phoenix or wherever — then we might never track him down.
That would be a definite black eye for the San Ramon Apache tribal police in general, and Calvin in particular. The murder of someone with as high a profile as Lilith Black didn’t just go away overnight. People would be talking — and speculating — about the crime for quite a while, at least until the next sensation came along.
“Well,” he said, his tone changing abruptly, “let’s go in and get some food. I never had a chance to eat breakfast because I went into the station early today, and I’m running on coffee and not much else.”
No arguments from me; I opened the door and got out, and Calvin shut off the engine and came to meet me so we could walk into the restaurant together. I noticed a few lifted eyebrows as we entered, but no one said anything, and we took a seat at a booth in the corner without overhearing any murmurs.
He looked supremely unconcerned as he took a menu from the restaurant’s owner, Ingrid, who was playing hostess that day, and ordered some iced tea. I asked for some as well, and we were left alone with our menus.
Since I’d gotten the hint that Calvin didn’t want to discuss the case in public like this, I figured I might as well bring up a neutral topic of conversation. “Do you think we’ll have an early or late monsoon this year?”
From the half-amused, half-pained expression that flitted across his face, I got the impression that he thought my change of subject was ham-handed at best. However, he played along, responding, “Hard to say. We’ve been dry for a couple of years, so some people think we’re due for a change. I suppose we’ll find out one way or another if we’re patient.”
Patience had never been one of my virtues, but I got his point. We could talk about the weather all we wanted, but that talking wouldn’t change anything. “Well, I hope it’s early. We hardly ever got any real thunderstorms in Southern California. Monsoon season sounds exciting.”
“It can be…as long as your roof is in decent shape.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “It better be, since Ted Jenkins supposedly gave it a clean bill of health when I bought the place. I’d hate to have all my brand-new furniture ruined because of a crummy building inspector.”
“Oh, if Ted looked it over, then you’re in good shape.” Calvin set down his menu as Ingrid approached, and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with a side salad.
Because it was a hot day outside, I opted for chicken salad on a croissant, also accompanied by a side salad. Ingrid took our menus and said she’d have our food out in a bit, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Well, I’d exhausted the topic of the weather. I realized then there were so many things I wanted to talk about with Calvin — the investigation, the San Ramon tribe, the way Grandma Ellen had guided me to exactly the right spot the night before — but unfortunately, none of them were appropriate to a public conversation. And all right, we didn’t have anyone seated in the booth directly behind us, and yet I knew I needed to be careful.
“So….” I said, then paused. Safe topics, safe topics…. “Did you go to school here in Globe?”
Another one of those knowing smiles curved his mouth. I tried not to stare at it too hard, just because then I’d start thinking about how it felt when he kissed me, and I didn’t want to get all hot and bothered in the middle of a restaurant in Globe at eleven in the morning.
“Not until high school,” he replied. “We have our own K-8 school in San Ramon. But by the time we hit high school, we have kind of a handle on things, if you know what I mean.”
I did, even though I had to wonder if a bunch of shape-shifting teenagers with rampaging hormones were actually that capable of keeping their coyote sides in check.
But I supposed the San Ramon tribal elders knew what they were doing. If nothing else, it was probably a good idea to have some integration with the community in Globe, even if the San Ramon Apache mostly kept to themselves.
Before I could say anything, though, Calvin went on. “And what about you?”
I shrugged. “Typical Southern California upbringing, I guess. I grew up in the Valley, mostly in Sherman Oaks.”
“You don’t sound like a Valley girl,” he said, still smiling a little.
“Oh, I trained that out of myself.” Which really wasn’t that hard. I just made sure to sound like the people I saw reading the news or in my favorite TV shows…and honestly, the pure “Valley girl” stereotype was just that — a stereotype. I’m not saying there weren’t women in the San Fernando Valley who sounded like that, but they were in the minority. “Anyway, I went to Cal State Northridge for a couple of years and then dropped out. I knew an ordinary degree wasn’t going to help me with what I really wanted to do with my life.”
“Which was being a psychic.”
He said it in a matter-of-fact way, with none of the condescension I was used to from most people. Then again, with his background, he also had to be open to the fact that there was a lot more in heaven and earth than your regular person on the street might believe.
“Yes,” I replied. “I realized pretty early on that I had a gift. Luckily, my mother didn’t try to keep me from using it.”
“She’s back in California?”
I nodded. “Yes. She got married about seven years ago.” I didn’t bother to add that the man she’d married was her former boss. There hadn’t been any hanky-panky — he’d been divorced for years when they got together — but it still sounded kind of weird if you didn’t know all the particulars. If things worked out between Calvin and me, then at some point I’d give him the whole story.
“And your father?”
This was starting to sound like another interrogation. I sipped some iced tea and said, “He’s just a guy she hooked up with. They were never really together.”
