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She addressed me, but her come-hither stare remained on Kol behind me. Seriously? How could she possibly be flirting with him.
“I have an appointment with the manager, Ms. Carella.”
“And you are?”
“Marina Creed, senior editor of The Herald.”
“Of course. If you’ll just be seated.”
She waved to the empty waiting area and swept from behind the desk, making a dramatic display of smoothing her dress against her thighs. Please. Still, I glanced at Kol to see if he was aware of his new fan. He stood in his typical militant stance, his expression revealing nothing.
“Marina Creed?” he rumbled in a low whisper.
I cleared my throat. “My pseudonym. For the paper.”
“Why do you need one?”
“Because I—” I blew out a frustrated breath, unwilling to confess my family drama to him. “Because I just want to use one. That’s all.”
“Mmm. Nice reason. Logical.”
I cut a look at him, but he missed my death stare, facing the petite brunette with a blunt short cut in a black pant-suit who strode toward us.
“Ms. Creed?”
“Yes. Thank you for meeting with me,” I said, shaking her hand.
Her gaze found my large shadow. “And this is?”
He stepped forward. “Ms. Carella, my name is Kol Moonring. I am leading the murder investigation for the Morgon Guard.” His voice was much softer than usual as he offered his hand in the most polite manner I’d seen him adopt so far.
I stared at him, wondering where the Iceman had gone. Did I dare admit there were more layers to this man than the one he let me see? His hard glance dared me to say a word.
“Nice to meet you both. Please. We can sit in here.” She waved to the waiting area. “We have a few minutes before my next client shows up.”
I situated myself on a sofa next to Ms. Carella. Kol sat forward on a chair opposite us, opening his wings slightly so they wouldn’t catch on the chair back.
“We won’t be long.” I pulled out my notebook from my bag and flipped to a clean page. “Can you tell us first whether Maxine had any Morgon clients.”
The brunette shook her head. “No. We’re a human-only boutique. No offense, Mr. Moonring.”
“None taken.”
Not surprising. This was obviously a high-end salon, catering to a wealthy clientele. Unfortunately, there were still many, especially among the aristocracy, who still preferred to live apart from the Morgons. Ms. Carella showed no signs of being a racist outright, but she was apparently aware her clients wouldn’t take kindly to Morgons frequenting the place and might decide to patronize other salons. Business was business.
“Do you know if Maxine had any Morgon friends?” I continued.
“None at all. As a matter of fact, I was shocked when I heard she disappeared from the Vaenger Games. I’m not sure if she’d ever even gone to one before. But—” She stopped abruptly and stared at her clasped hands in her lap.
“But what, Ms. Carella?”
“Well, Maxine was sort of a wild one, you know? The fearless type. Always looking for the next adventure. One of the girls”—she waved toward the salon—“said Maxine had started talking about wanting to date a Morgon. To see what kind of adventure that would be.”
Ms. Carella glanced at Kol, giving an apologetic smile, as if it might offend him to hear a woman speak of his race like a sporting event. I jotted the notes, shifting uncomfortably.
“I see. And had she gone through with this adventure of hers? Did she date a Morgon?”
“Not that I know of.”
