by Tegan Maher
He finished polishing the wine glass in his hand.
"So, that didn't strike you as worth mentioning before now, maybe?" I asked.
"It did, but Blake said somebody else had already mentioned it to him. Besides, the dude was long gone by the time Cass bit it."
Tempest sighed from her spot at the end of the bar.
For somebody lookin' at hard time or death, you're not puttin' much effort into this.
I thought back to the incident with Stan the day before, when he'd spilled his drink on me and knocked all the food off the table. Bob had been in the process of making the daiquiris for Cass's table.
When I reminded him of that, a look of dawning crossed his face. "I'd forgotten all about that. Those drinks weren't three feet from him—it would have been cake for him to reach across and add something to it. For that matter, a few people could have done it."
"It looks like we finally have at least one suspect who isn't me, then," I said, picking up my phone. It was time to do a little checking up on Colin Moore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FIRST PERSON I called was Blake, since he'd told Bob somebody else had talked to him about Colin. Rather than the cooperation I'd expected after our talk in the office, he stonewalled me.
"It wasn't Colin, Destiny," he said. "You're just going to have to trust me."
"Trust you?" I bit out before I could stop myself.
I could practically see his spine stiffen, and it reflected in the tone of his voice. "Yes, trust me. Mr. Moore isn't the one who killed Cass."
"And how, exactly, do you know that? He had at least one conversation with Cass, and it didn't go well. After that, Cass avoided him like the plague, and the guy told him he was forcing him to do something he didn't want to do."
"Yeah, I know all that already," he said. "Unless you saw him drop the essence in with your own two eyes, drop him off the list, though."
"List?" I snapped, "He is the list. Oh, and don't forget about me."
He heaved a deep breath. "I wish I could tell you more—really, I do—but my hands, and my lips, are tied on this. You have to take me at my word." He lowered his voice. "You may think I'm a lot of things, Cass, but you have to admit I've never lied to you."
I had to admit that was the truth, even though I would have rather pulled one of my own teeth than say it out loud. He wasn't a liar. "That doesn't necessarily mean you're right, though," I said. "Maybe it just means you're telling me what you've been told."
"No, I've been thoroughly briefed on his mission here. I'm not being told anything besides that one way or another, but knowing why he was here, I can tell you he didn't kill him. Plus, I played a couple rounds of gold with him, and I didn't get any bad vibes."
One of Blake's superpowers was sensing the truth. He was a literal walking, talking lie detector. Just like most powers, though, it wasn't infallible, and it wasn't a hundred percent dependable.
I knew that for a fact, because there'd been a few times I'd had to work around it during our relationship in order to plan surprises or avoid him guessing what he got for Christmas. I was a stickler for that, because presents should always be a surprise—that was half the fun.
"Did you discuss the murder with him? Ask him flat-out if he did it?"
"No," he said, biting out the word. "I haven't seen him since it happened."
"Well then, we can't rule him out."
"Destiny—"
"No, Blake." I was beyond the point of irritation. "He had opportunity and maybe ability. At least as much as I have, anyway. He wasn't getting along with Cass for whatever reason, and I'm sorry, but he yelled a threat across a bar not fifteen minutes before Cass bit it. So, why should I be on the suspect list but he shouldn't?"
"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"Not unless you give me a reason to. Putting off positive vibes during golf doesn't quite meet that standard."
We'd come to an impasse. As far as I was concerned, Colin Moore was at least as good for the murder as I was, and I only knew for a fact that one of us was innocent.
After I hung up with Blake, I helped Elena and Bob get ready for the dinner rush.
Celeste, a succubus, was leaning against the bar doing a much better job of making a straw look sexy than Cass's date had done. I sighed.
"Hey Destiny," she said.
"Hey Celeste," I answered, giving her a small half-smile. One of the safety enchantments of the resort dampened the allure of predatory creatures such as succubi, incubi, and sirens, but that didn't do anything about her natural assets—legs that went on forever, glistening hair that curled halfway down her back even in its ponytail, or the almond-shaped eyes that screamed sex.
To her credit, she came to the resort exactly because of the enchantment, and I got it. She was three hundred years old and looked thirty. A hot thirty. She was perfectly suited to her career as a litigation attorney, but it her powers of persuasion were a personal hindrance.
I couldn't imagine not even being able to run to the grocery store in sweats and an old t-shirt without turning on the bagboy when I accidentally made eye contact to say thank you.
Still, she could wear a potato sack and look better than most of us even without the enchantments. I'd hate her a little, but she was too much of a sweetheart.
"Did you work things out with Blake, yet?" she asked.
I scowled at her. "No! Why would you even think that?"
She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. I just figured he'd have worn you down by now."
"No," I said, my stomach turning. "There's not wearing me down. I can't come back from that."
"Okay, sweetie." She pushed herself onto the stool behind her and crossed one leg over the other. "What else is new, then?"
"How much time you got?" I asked with a dry smile.
She patted the stool beside her. "I'm here for a week. That enough time?"
"It's a start." I slid onto the stool and told her about the whole Cass debacle.
"Well," she said, "I can't say I'm sorry he's dead, but I will say I'm surprised. I didn't know angels could die, except at the hands of other angels."
"You know," I said, rubbing my chin, "that's a good point. I didn't either, until Elsa told me about it. Is it common knowledge and I was just the last to know?"
"I didn't know either," Bob said, "and I've been around awhile."
"I doubt they want it advertised," she said, adjusting her bathing suit top when she noticed a surfer-boy vampire staring at her cleavage. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he snapped his gaze to the bar in front of him. On the supernatural food chain, tricentenarian demon seductress ranked way higher than postpubescent undead.
"I'm trying to think of where I've heard the werewolf's name before," she went on, fishing a cherry out of the bottom of the drink with her straw. "It's familiar, but I can't think of why."
"So should I take Blake's word for it and drop it?"
She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Honey, I literally mess with men's minds to survive, both financially and physically. If there's one thing I know, it's that nobody's mind is impervious to suggestion. It's your hide on the line, and somebody killed an angel. That's no joke. I wouldn't take anybody's word for anything."
Truer words.
I hopped off the stool and headed back to my office, grabbing a lime water on my way. "Then I have some uncomfortable calls to make."
CHAPTER NINE
AS BAD AS I HATED TO, I was gonna have to call my brother. Blake was right about one thing—Michael knew the dark underbelly of the paranormal world. The problem would be getting ahold of him.
I was pulling his number up on my phone when Tempest blinked into my office, causing my ears to pop. She landed in the chair across from me.
"Where have you been?"
She took the time to lick her paw before she answered. "I was up snooping around in Blake's office. I heard what he told you, and don't like that he's apparently under some kind of magical gag order. Those come with
too many strings."
I waited for her to continue, but she went back to licking her paws.
"So," I said, impatient. "Did you find anything?"
"Oh, yeah." She looked up at me, her fuzzy little brow furrowed. "Actually, it's what I didn't find that's interesting."
"And what was that?" Talking to a fox was similar to talking to a cat; they thought in different patterns than we did, so some patience was required. She was smart and analytical though, so it was rarely time wasted.
"An address for Colin Moore, or any personal information, for that matter. I found credit-card receipts, a phone number, and menu preferences. That's it."
"That was on his guest sheet?"
"Yep," she said, popping the p. "Weird, right?"
"I'll say." The guest registry sheet for the resort was necessarily long. When you dealt with such a wide array of species, even the drilled-down list was extensive. I'd been itching to get my fingers on it and streamline it since I started, but it hadn't made my priorities while I was dating Blake, then when it all blew up, helping him run the place wasn't much of a priority.
I'd met him a few months after I started working there when he brought a group of shifter investors to lunch at the tiki. I'd never seen him in all that time, then all of a sudden, I was seeing him everywhere. He'd stop in for a drink after work, or I'd run into him at the employee pool.
We talked, and it took me more than a month to figure out that he wanted to ask me out but was afraid to because of his position. So, I asked him. The hotel didn't have a dating policy per se—we had enough rules and regulations as it was.
To cover the little stuff like injuries and sexual harassment, we signed arbitration clauses when we were hired, and trust me—frivolous lawsuits weren't an issue. The arbitration committee was made up of harpies and you did not want to go before them either as a plaintiff or defendant unless you absolutely had to. It kept everybody straight on both sides of the aisle.
Anyway, we followed the standard lovey-dovey song and dance. Despite what Cass had said, I hadn't slept my way into any position. I'd been doing the same job since the day I started. The only thing that had changed was as I gained seniority, I got better shifts and more responsibility—standard practice in most jobs.
He proposed on our second anniversary, under a full moon on the beach. Then less than a month later, he told me he'd kissed his secretary, but tried to explain it away. I hadn't even known there was an attraction.
So, that was the story of Blake and Destiny, no less, no more.
It's only relevant because in the time that I'd known him, I'd learned that he was a stickler for paperwork. Every box must be checked, every line filled out. So the fact that Mr. Moore's paperwork was so lacking was puzzling, indeed.
"I was just about to call Michael," I told Tempest.
"I think that's a grand idea," she said. "And ask him how hard it is to actually get ahold of the death essence." She tilted her head to the side. "On second thought, don't ask him anything over the phone. Let's meet him for lunch instead."
"Are you suggesting that because you're worried somebody's listening, or because you want to see Rocky again?" Rocky was my brother's wolf familiar, and Tempest had a soft spot for him.
She made a show of examining her paw, even though she'd just cleaned it. "You never know who's listening," she said, trying to be sage. "After all, an angel was killed. This is gonna be top priority for every law-enforcement agency on the planet."
"That's it?" I asked.
"Well, and it'll be nice to see them, too. Rocky has such soft-looking fur, but that air of danger ..." she gave a little shudder and grinned.
"Wicked fox," I said, smiling back. "But I agree. It'll be good to see Michael. And Rocky. It's been too long."
I hit send, and was disappointed but not surprised when it went to voicemail. If he were on an undercover job somewhere, he wouldn't be able to answer. He was good about calling me back, though, so I decided to move on and just go up to the resort and talk to Blake face to face. He wasn't the only one with a bullshit meter, and I wanted to see where he pinged on mine.
CHAPTER TEN
EVEN THOUGH I WAS ONE of the few employees with porting privileges, I opted to walk. I loved running my fingers across the top of the sea oats, and the packed sugar sand felt good against my feet. It also gave me time to think about how I was going to approach Blake again, considering he'd been so firm on the phone.
The more I thought about it, the more hopeless it felt. There had been at least five people who had access to the drink on the table. I didn't consider them to be particularly viable though, considering four of them plus Cass would have had to be distracted enough for one of them to slip the essence into his daiquiri unseen.
Out of that group, the gargoyles were the most suspicious, if only because the girls didn't strike me as the sharpest crayons in the box. Besides, with Cass dead, I doubt they got paid. The gargoyles, on the other hand, were shady. I doubted there was any honor among that particular group of thieves, and gargoyles were known for being ruthless.
If Cass had crossed one of them—or all of them for that matter—they wouldn't have hesitated to off him if they stood to profit, angel or no. They were equal-opportunity con artists.
The other point of access would have been the bar. In addition to Colin, the two witches had been there, though I couldn't for the life of me remember seeing them. Considering I made it my business to keep track of everybody in the place in order to keep drinks full and shenanigans to a minimum, I was disappointed in myself.
I could understand missing the gorgon; Fiona and her crew had been down for lunch, so I would have assumed she was with them. The witches, on the other hand, were a mystery. I'd ask Blake about them, too, though Bob said they'd paid cash.
The resort was grand. It had been funded by a group of uber-wealthy inter-species investors who wanted a place to go where they could be themselves.
The first season was booked before the place was even built, so they pulled together an advisory committee that evaluated areas of improvement. As a result, they doubled the size and added extra charms allowing a wider array of species to enjoy the amenities—the dampening charm for the succubi and incubi being one of many.
The main hotel was twenty stories high and housed more than a thousand rooms, a casino, six pools, five conference areas, and a handful of restaurants and bars. In other words, Blake had his work cut out for him, just keeping it running—thus the meticulous bookkeeping.
The main entrance was massive—probably a hundred yards across, split in two by a huge sphinx. She wasn't just for looks, either; she was yet another clever security measure. Since nobody except Blake, the security team, and a handful of employees could use teleportation into or out of the hotel, folks were much less likely to commit crimes if they knew they'd be eaten as soon as they dashed out the front doors.
"Hey, Margo," I said. Yes, the sphinx was a woman.
"Destiny!" she exclaimed, her stone face breaking into a smile. "What a pleasant surprise. I never see you up here anymore. I miss our late-night chats."
When I was the early waitress at the tiki, I'd wait for Blake outside, sitting between her paws and enjoying the ocean. We'd talk about anything and everything. "I know. I miss them, too. I close the tiki pretty much every night now, and since Blake and I ..." I pinched my lips together and huffed out a breath.
She nodded in sympathy. "I know, dear. It was all I could do not to eat the home-wrecking tart when she left that day. She deserved a few good chomps."
I patted her paw. "You're a good friend. I had to restrain myself, too."
"If it's any consolation, she hasn't been back, and I haven't seen him with another woman."
Lifting my shoulder, I said, "It doesn't really matter. I want him to be happy, but it just can't be with me."
She gave me the side-eye. "Don't forget who you're talking to, young lady."
Oh yeah, she saw into the hearts of all,
whether they were beating or not.
I straightened my shoulders. "Well, I figure if I say it enough, one of these days it'll be true."
"Enough with the unpleasantness. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Well, it's actually another bit of unpleasantness, at least from a legal standpoint. I assume you heard Cass was murdered."
She dipped her head, and some sand cascaded to the ground around her. Even though she was stone, I'd always felt bad for her when the occasional high wind would blow sand in her face.
"I did," she said. "Nasty business, that. Bad for the resort, too. If we don't solve it quickly, it'll be a PR nightmare."
"Did you sense anything odd yesterday, or in the past few days?"
She pulled in a deep breath. "No, but since they started selling day passes online, not everybody comes through here now." She paused. "There was something odd a few days ago with those gargoyles Cass hangs out with. They met with an incubus right over there, and not one of the good ones, either. Something changed hands, but it was too small for me to tell what, then the incubus went that way"—she motioned with her head to the south entrance—"and on their way past me, one of them said they were glad they weren't going to have to deal with Cass much longer. Called him a fool who'd gotten what he deserved."
I frowned. "Do you think it could have been the essence?"
She puckered her lips, thinking. "I suppose it could have been, but I can't say for sure."
So the gargoyles were at the top of my list, but they weren't the only ones.
"What about a werewolf named Colin Moore?"
"Hmm," she said, scrunching her forehead. "Moore. Handsome devil? Hair just a bit too long?"
"That's him. He threatened Cass not long before he keeled over."
"Yes," she said gently, inclining her head a little, "but so did you. If everybody that ever threatened that hideous man were a suspect, the investigation would be sunk."