Page 14 of A Match Made in Coven
He ignored her fury and pressed on. “I won’t get in your way. Elijah was my friend. I want to find his killer as much as you. Maybe even more.” Lorcan’s voice dropped as a fresh stab of pain jolted him. “Whatever Zoe tells you, I can contextualize it. Help you make sense of it. I can make your job easier if only you’ll allow me.”
He let the silence drag long enough to be annoying, then flicked his finger and unsealed her mouth. Sarah Michelle surprised him by turning around and facing the opposite way. Her shoulders rose and dipped.
“What are you doing?”
“Breathing.” She gritted her teeth. “Before I commit a murder myself.”
When she spun back to face him, she had a pleasant smile plastered on her face that was scarier than if she’d been showing him fangs—maybe besides wings, she had a pair of those, too.
“Mr. Black, you may be present while I speak with the former Mrs. Preston.” Then she leaned in close and whispered, “Use your filthy magic on me again and I’ll turn you into a rat and feed you to my ferret, starting with your ratty, little—”
“I get the picture, Detective Callidora,” he interrupted her. “No need to be crass.”
Then, as gallantly as he could, he gestured for her to move ahead and precede him up the driveway, much enjoying the sight of her perky behind swaying petulantly as she did.
Chapter Eight
It’ll Melt Even the Frostiest Detective’s Heart
SARAH MICHELLE
Sarah Michelle settled into the comfy couch, the soft cushions engulfing her as she took in Zoe’s eclectic living room. Old bookshelves lined the walls, weighed down by everything from shiny traveling guides to dog-eared paperbacks. The air was redolent with the warm, sweet scents of cinnamon and vanilla wafting from a flickering candle on the coffee table—the opposite of the chilly October breeze sweeping against the windowpanes.
Her gaze drifted to Lorcan, perched on the other end of the couch. His tall frame, all long limbs and easy angles, dwarfed the piece of furniture. A prickle of irritation crawled up her nape at his presence, especially because of how her traitorous heart had jolted when she’d first spotted him striding toward the house minutes ago. The memory of the shock, the annoyance, the inexplicable thrill still lingered, making her skin too tight for her body.
Now his proximity was oddly comforting, which only heightened her aggravation. She forced herself to remember he’d had the audacity to magically seal her mouth shut during their spat on the front porch. Gargoyles, he had no respect, no boundaries. And he was a Black—entitled and arrogant, just like the rest of his coven.
Against her will, she cataloged how he smelled. Great. Masculine. A fresh, fruity fragrance with essences of orange, lemon, and jasmine, blended with notes of sandalwood and patchouli that invited her to lean in closer. And the warmth radiating from him seeped into her side, making her want to curl up against him. She did her best to ignore both sensations and the echo of Andromeda’s words—that he might be into her. Regardless of what he thought of her, he was a Black. Completely off-limits.
Pulling her mind away from thoughts of the annoyingly handsome wizard next to her, Sarah Michelle turned her attention to Zoe, who sat across from them, clutching a worn throw pillow. The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d spent the night crying.
“Zoe,” Sarah Michelle began gently, “I know this must be difficult, but I need to ask a few questions about your ex-husband, is that okay?”
Zoe gave a brave nod.
“All right. Did you and Elijah separate on good terms? Were there any lingering resentments?”
Zoe squeezed her pillow, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Our divorce had its painful moments,” she admitted, “but we were mostly friendly after two years. It wasn’t perfect, but we were trying.”
Sarah Michelle pressed further, her tone growing a little sharper. “No controversies, legal or personal?”
Zoe tensed up, her shoulders hunching forward as if to protect herself. “No, nothing like that. Everything was solved with the divorce settlement.”
“Zoe.” Lorcan grabbed the widow’s hands in his. “You’re not a suspect. Detective Callidora is working to piece together Elijah’s life so we can identify potential persons of interest. We’re not accusing you of anything.”
The gall of this man. To talk in the plural as if he were part of the investigation. And to tell Zoe she wasn’t a suspect. They—she, because she was working alone—couldn’t exclude anyone this early. Except for the wizard himself, thanks to his priceless enchanted blade.
But Lorcan’s words had the desired effect, and Zoe’s posture relaxed. A mix of admiration and renewed frustration swirled inside the detective. Damn him for being so good at this.
From that moment on, Zoe became more open, her words flowing more freely. “The divorce was awful. I won’t lie. But I’ve moved on. I’m in a new relationship now.”
“Was Elijah aware you have a new partner?” Sarah Michelle asked.
Zoe nodded. “He did, and he was happy for me. At least, he said he was.” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t know if he was seeing anyone new himself. We didn’t talk much about that kind of thing.”
“And overall, how would you describe your relationship with him?”
“As good as it could be expected between exes.” Zoe shrugged with a rueful smile. “He was late with alimony payments sometimes, and I had to call him about it.” She exchanged a look with Lorcan. “You know how in the air he can be about this stuff—” Zoe caught herself, fresh horror dawning on her face. “Could be, I mean. But he always paid eventually. We had no legal controversies or anything like that.”
