Page 21 of A Match Made in Coven
“We came up with this code,” Lorcan continued, leaning forward. “Anagrams to insult the guy in the company chat without getting caught.”
A pang of nostalgia assaulted him about those early days with Elijah. They had been full of laughter and shared dreams. How had things gone so wrong?
Sarah Michelle started to open her mouth, a scathing comment surely on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped, perhaps catching the shadow in Lorcan’s expression.
“After the police unsealed the offices of Cornerstone, I searched Elijah’s files and noticed the name.” He paused, turning more introspective. “He’d written ‘Manor String’ in a few places in my office. Not immediately noticeable, but the thing you’d catch if you were searching for something.”
“Where exactly?”
“It was clever, really. Scrawled in the margins of old blueprints, in notepads, and even hidden in the metadata of some of our digital files. Like breadcrumbs, waiting to be found.”
The kitchen fell silent as they individually processed the new info and its implications.
Andromeda voiced what they were thinking. “Did Elijah know he was about to be killed?”
Lorcan’s gaze turned distant, eyes clouded with thoughts as he considered the question. “Elijah had secrets,” he muttered, as if speaking to himself. “Probably deep, awful ones. Secrets that could destroy a career, a life, a marriage?” His shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. I’ve been wondering if I knew him at all.”
Sarah Michelle’s gaze was fixed on him, her expression inscrutable. “Manor String. What does it mean?”
He was grateful for the detachment in her voice. One of them had to keep their cool and focus on the practical aspects of the investigation. Besides, his brain coped better with the loss of his best friend when he was trying to solve his murder. If he let himself think too much about Elijah being gone, Lorcan might break apart at the seams.
He reached into his pocket, producing a small yellow Post-it note. “It’s an anagram for Morning Star,” he explained, sliding the note across the table. “And those little asterisks Elijah doodled? They’re actually eight-point stars. You can see it better in this memo, where he drew the actual star.”
Her messy bob fell forward as she examined the drawing. “Morning Star? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not sure,” he admitted. “I always assumed Elijah knew nothing about magic. But I’ve seen such a star only in one place before.”
“Where?” Andromeda asked.
“On a wizarding house in Salem where a white eight-point star is painted on the highest turret.”
Realization dawned on Sarah Michelle’s face, her eyes widening as she pieced together whose house he was talking about. “You can’t seriously expect me to go interrogate my boss’s mother about a murder case?” she exclaimed, equally disbelieving and indignant.
“Do you have better ideas?” he countered, raising an eyebrow.
Chapter Twelve
As Sexy as a Troll’s Pustule
SARAH MICHELLE
Sarah Michelle shielded her eyes against the early morning sun and spotted Lorcan already waiting for her. He was casually leaning against the black picket fence of Glenda King’s townhome, Chiron Manor. He was scrolling through his phone as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he weren’t insolently draped over the house of the most potent seer on the East Coast.
Sarah cleared her throat as she approached him.
Lorcan looked up from his phone with a smirk. “Morning, Shelly.”
She scowled at the nickname only her friends and family used. “It’s Detective Callidora to you.” She jerked her chin toward the house. “Shall we?”
Despite Glenda’s packed schedule and the long waiting list the seer had, Sarah Michelle had gotten them an appointment outside regular hours, probably forcing Glenda to rise an hour earlier than usual, and she wasn’t about to make her boss’s mom wait. Wasting no more time bickering with Lorcan, she strode past the picket fence through the small gate. He quietly—for once—fell into step beside her.
As they traipsed up the walkway, Sarah Michelle gaped at the sheer eccentricity of Chiron Manor. Whimsical turrets sprouted out of the unconventional, multi-story house, defying gravity. Pitch-less black siding covered the exterior, broken only by a white star atop the highest tower. The vibrant foliage around the property glowed in hues of amber and crimson. And the front yard brimmed with Halloween decorations, even if most of the stuff looked more like actual magical objects than plastic seasonal props.
But Sarah Michelle wouldn’t take a closer look. She didn’t work for the Intermixing Department, and it wasn’t her job to get her boss’s mother a citation. As they reached the front door, it opened of its own accord with an eerie creak.
“Funny house,” Lorcan commented dryly.
At the threshold, they were welcomed inside by Glenda’s raccoon familiar, Myron. Sarah had heard the chief complain about his mother’s furry sidekick on several occasions.
