Page 34 of A Match Made in Coven
Together, they approached the bartender, a burly man with an array of tattoos and a scowl etched into his weathered face.
Flashing her badge, Sarah Michelle introduced herself. “Detective Callidora, Salem PD. I have a few questions for you.”
The bartender barely glanced up from his task, his expression unchanging. Sarah Michelle pressed on, undeterred by his lack of response. “I’m looking for a man named Silas. He’s the owner of this establishment.”
“Don’t know anyone by that name,” the bartender grunted.
Sarah Michelle glanced around the dingy room, taking in the hostile glares and murky atmosphere. The bartender thought he was a tough guy? Well, she was tougher.
Just as she was about to press further, two men emerged from a backroom. One of them, a greasy, middle-aged man with a large belly, was addressed as Silas by his companion.
“Mr. Silas.” Sarah Michelle turned her badge toward him, noting the usual confused expression that crossed his face—a typical reaction from humans when confronted with an enchanted badge. “We’d like a word, if you don’t mind.”
Silas’s eyes narrowed as he took in Sarah Michelle and Lorcan. But he was quick to hide the displeasure as his lips curled into a sneer that he must’ve meant as welcoming. “Why, I’m always available to aid our fine police force,” Silas said with exaggerated politeness, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Why don’t we step into my office for a chat?”
Sarah Michelle hesitated, every instinct screaming that following this man into a private room was a terrible idea—especially after noticing the not-so-subtle nod he’d given to one of his goons. But she couldn’t back down now. They needed answers.
Sarah Michelle exchanged a similar glance with Lorcan, who had remained true to his word and stayed silent throughout the exchange, hoping he’d understand that they had to stay alert.
He nodded as if he was on the same page with no need for words, and they followed the loan shark to the rear of the bar.
The “office” turned out to be little more than a glorified closet. Though cleaner than the main bar, it was still unpleasant. A desk crammed in the back was piled high with disorganized papers. A faint smell of old smoke permeated the room, and the dim light from a single overhead bulb cast long, ominous shadows, making the entire place feel like a trap waiting to be sprung.
Silas settled into a chair that creaked under his weight, his eyes cold and calculating as he studied Sarah Michelle and Lorcan sitting opposite him.
“So, how can I help you?”
“I’ll cut to the chase.” Sarah Michelle took the lead, bluffing, “We’re aware you run the illegal gambling around town and also act as a loan shark. But we’re not interested in investigating those activities. We’re looking into Elijah Preston’s murder. Answer my questions, and I won’t set vice on you.”
The man nodded, never losing his sleazy smile, gaze darting to the closed door behind them.
“Was Elijah Preston a patron of your illegal casinos?”
Another nod.
“Did he owe you money?”
“Yes,” Silas oozed. Even his voice was oily.
“And now he’s dead.”
“Ah.” Silas leaned back, his unctuous smirk widening. “It’d be counterproductive to kill my debtors, detective. Dead men don’t pay their dues.”
Sarah Michelle didn’t back down. “Perhaps a beating went wrong?”
Silas examined his nails, his demeanor one of amused boredom. “I’m a professional. I know the difference between busting a kneecap or two and stabbing someone in the back of the head with antiques.”
The specific detail about Elijah’s death left Sarah Michelle stunned. How did he know? Silas laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Part of my job is keeping tabs on my insolvents, including knowing when one of them ends up dead and how.”
Sarah Michelle’s pulse kicked up a notch. Silas’s network of informants had to run deeper than any human thug had a right to if he could get info on a case run by Salem MPD—she’d understand if it were merely a human case, but they had enchantments to protect their files. The news of Elijah’s murder was public, but not the specifics. Wait, was Silas aware witches existed? Was he one? She couldn’t detect any hum of magic coming from him, but something felt off.
Lorcan stiffened beside her as if he were having the same suspicions.
Silas knew more than he was saying, and he wasn’t afraid. Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that they were dancing around an untold truth, and Silas was leading the waltz.
He might have been honest—at least about not killing Elijah. But she wouldn’t take anything someone like him said at face value.
“Then you won’t mind if we take a look and ask around.”
