Page 41 of Deadly Avarice
“Could be, but we can’t automatically make that assumption,” I answered.
The crime scene techs arrived about ten minutes before the ME, Dr. Evelyn Stowe.
“Good morning, Detective O’Hare,” Dr. Stowe happily greeted. Dr. Stowe nearly always had a smile and pleasant word. I found it amazing given her chosen profession. I didn’t think she especially enjoyed finding a murdered human, but what I did think was that Dr. Stowe was an optimistic person at heart.
“Good morning, Dr. Stowe.” I absolutely refused to call her Evelyn like she’d told me I could on numerous occasions. We discussed the scene. It didn’t take long, and I left Dr. Stowe to her job. “Let me know if you get an ID.”
“You know it,” Dr. Stowe congenially replied with an odd little two finger salute.
I always had an ace up my sleeve if we couldn’t ID the victim. Having Boone as my boyfriend had its perks. Thinking of Boone, my phone dinged with his distinctive text message sound.
Pulling out my phone, I checked the message.Heard from the Warlock Council. They just e-mailed me the list of names.
I inhaled, trying to still my unease. I wasn’t sure why I felt that way. This was what Boone wanted, what we needed. Still, it was the start of something big. Something I wasn’t sure about. It wasn’t that I disagreed with Boone or that I didn’t think something should be done. I simply wasn’t sure what this mission would do to Boone. It would take a toll, of that I was certain. I simply didn’t know how big of a chunk of his soul it would consume.
Typing back, I asked,The Director of the Warlock Council?
Boone sent an exasperated emoji and wrote,Of course not. No idea who the warlock is that sent it. Pops might know them.
I considered that and sent back,Might be a good idea to ask. Make sure it’s legit.
On it,Boone quickly replied.
If I felt more comfortable about Huxley, I would have told Boone to contact him. The slight was obvious. The damn director of the Warlock Council should have been the one to initiate contact. Fuckers were beginning to really piss me off.
Remembering my latest victim, I texted,Might have a body I need ID on.
No problem. You want me to come to the precinct?
Not yet. Let’s see what the ME can tell us.Depending on the soul, bringing one back from beyond the veil could be taxing on Boone. He’d told me multiple times that it wasn’t bad and bringing one back here and there was nothing for him. Still, Ididn’t want to take advantage, not that Boone would see it that way.
Just let me know. Love you.Boone added three heart emojis. I typed back,Five, and added an x plus the number two.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I headed to my vehicle. There wasn’t a lot more I could do here. If the local population didn’t want to speak with Johns, then they sure as shit weren’t about to speak with me. Work smarter, not harder. It was a lesson Tompkins had instilled into me. It was also a lesson I’d had to learn on my own. Sometimes the hardest thing to do was just stand there, doing nothing. That was something Captain Tompkins used to say—Don’t just do something, stand there. I’d been confused as hell the first time he’d said those words to me. Now I understood them perfectly.
My brain whirled and spun as I drove back to the precinct. I’d heard from the prosecution regarding the DeVane domestic case. To no one’s great surprise, Cecilia DeVane’s lawyer put in a plea of self-defense. So far, the prosecution wasn’t fighting it. I easily agreed with their decision, not that it was my business. My job was investigation, not prosecution. I considered that a small mercy. I had never aspired to be a lawyer.
My brain spun back to my previous captain, Shane Tompkins. I’d kept in touch or, at least, was trying to keep in touch. Sometimes it was a one-way communication street. I got it. His niece’s actions destroyed something inside Tompkins’s soul. That type of betrayal wasn’t something you simply placed in your rearview mirror and kept about your merry way. It hurt and it would continue hurting until the day Tompkins died. According to Boone, maybe longer. While it was true that you couldn’t take your wealth with you, evidently you could take your pain, anger, and whatever other emotions were weighing you down or lifting you up.
The older I got, the more I tried looking at situations with more perspective. I used to be more reactive. Depending on the situation, I still was. It was a rare human who wasn’t. What I was slowly learning was letting things go. I wasn’t a fairy and couldn’t solve the world’s problems like their queen. What I could do was try and take care of my backyard. While my sister, Lynn, didn’t live near me and technically didn’t fit into that category, she was family. While I’d spoken with Nana numerous times since our trip to Chicago, I’d avoided calling my sister. My older brother, Erik, and my younger one, Evan, told me not to worry about Lynn, that she’d come around and realize her idiocy regarding Boone. I wasn’t so certain. Lynn’s husband Glen was a toxic piece of shit. I hated to think what kind of poison he was planting in my nieces’ heads.
Leaning my head against the backrest, I reached up and massaged the growing kink in my neck. Life was too damn short to be at odds with those you cared about. Prejudiced hate was a stupid waste of time.
I made a mental note to try and reach out to Lynn. My efforts probably wouldn’t bear fruit, but I’d be angrier at myself for not trying than whatever nonsense Lynn said about Boone.
I pulled into the precinct as I made that decision. Calling Lynn would need to wait until after work. I waved and nodded at a few officers and office workers as they drifted in and out of the building. Becks was busy at her computer when I walked by. She looked engrossed in whatever she was tracking down, so I kept my greeting to myself and kept going until I reached Captain Cicely’s cracked open door.
Leaning against the door frame, I asked, “Have you got a minute?”
“Gaia yes. I’ve been staring at this damn screen far too long. What’s on your mind, O’Hare?”
Captain Loretta Cicely was a petite woman. Her chair and desk swamped her body, but not her spirit or personality. Like every other witch I knew, Captain Cicely’s fingers were covered in rings while charm-laden necklaces hung from her neck. Charmed bracelets encircled her dark skin and glinted in the overhead lighting. The tinkling sound of metal and crystalline gemstones always preceded Captain Cicely. It was a sound I found musical and soothing.
A deep sigh escaped me when I heavily sat on the wooden chair across from her desk.
“That bad?” she questioned, a single eyebrow lifting.
“I’m not sure.”
