And then we’d driven out to tribal lands.
Now we sat in Calvin’s office. He’d left the door open, but everyone in the station seemed to have been instructed to stay away, since no one was working at either of the desks immediately outside.
He’d also been conscientious enough to get me a cup of water. I gulped from it and said, “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Expression sober, he replied, “Two of my people found Dumond’s body dumped on a riverbank when they went to go fishing this morning. His wallet with I.D. was still on him — along with nearly five hundred dollars in cash. Obviously, robbery wasn’t the motive. He’s been taken to the county M.E. for an autopsy, but right now, best guess as to time of death was around midnight last night.” Calvin’s dark eyes narrowed, feeling like a pair of black laser beams as they focused on me. “Care to tell me where you were?”
“I was home in bed,” I said. For the moment, I thought it better to stick to the facts. I couldn’t really process my feelings about Lucien’s death, especially since I thought I might be more relieved than anything else…or I would have been, if I weren’t sitting in the San Ramon tribe’s police station, getting grilled by the chief. “Where else would I have been? I was exhausted after the store opening.”
Something flickered in Calvin’s eyes. Was he remembering me at the store, how excited I’d been to have the place open and people actually coming in and buying things? Maybe he was trying to reconcile the woman he’d seen then with the kind of person who’d be able to murder a man in cold blood.
“Got anyone who can corroborate that?”
He probably knew perfectly well that I didn’t. The whole town knew I lived alone. And all right, Archie had been there, had known I’d collapsed in bed a little after ten o’clock, but I kind of doubted the word of a talking cat was anything I could plausibly offer as support for my alibi.
“No,” I said. I almost added that anyone in the area would have been able to see that I hadn’t left the building after I locked up the store, but who would have even been around to notice? None of the other lofts in my particular block were used as residences, and while there was a small apartment building — formerly a dormitory for miners — at one end of the street, it was far enough away that I doubted the people who lived there would have seen any activity on my block. “But it’s the truth.” I hesitated, then added, “How — I mean — ”
“How did it happen?” Calvin asked. “He was stabbed multiple times with a knife. We haven’t found the murder weapon yet, so I can’t tell you what type.” He stopped there, arms folded over his chest. The sleeves of his khaki uniform shirt were rolled up, and I noticed for the first time that he had an interesting tattoo on the underside of one arm — the phases of the moon, waxing and waning against his smooth brown skin. “Do you own a knife, Ms. Marx?”
“Selena,” I said automatically, even as a painful, worried lump began to form in my throat.
Because I did happen to own a knife. Several, actually. The athame, or goddess dagger, used in a variety of rituals, and the boline, a small, sharp blade used to cut up plants and papers and other items used in all sorts of ceremonies. The athame, because its purpose was purely ceremonial, didn’t have a functioning point or blade, although I suppose if you shoved it into a person hard enough, it might penetrate the flesh. The boline was sharp enough along its edge, I supposed, but Calvin had said that Lucien had been stabbed, and the boline was definitely not a stabbing kind of knife.
I thought it was probably better to admit to owning them. After all, I had nothing to hide, right?
He repeated the question. “Do you own a knife…Selena?”
I lifted my eyes to meet his. “Yes, I do. They’re ceremonial blades, used in spell-casting and other rituals. I’d be more than happy to show them to you.”
His gaze held mine for a moment. Right then, I wished I knew him better so I’d know whether I saw anything to worry about in those cool dark eyes. But I didn’t, so I just sat still and waited.
Then he said. “That’s probably a good idea. Let’s go back to your place.”
Under other circumstances, I would have been thrilled to hear him utter those words. As it was, about all I could hope was that he’d take one look at the athame and the boline, and realize they weren’t possibly sturdy enough to have struck down a man in his prime.
On the drive back to Globe, my brain kept working away at the problem. Part of me wondered how anyone could have gotten the drop on Lucien Dumond. After all, he was a sorcerer with a grab bag of pretty nasty tricks at his disposal. Besides that, though, he was also in good shape, did yoga and sparred with masters in a variety of martial arts. Even leaving magic out of it, he was not the sort of person who should have gone down easily.
But I didn’t have all the details. Calvin hadn’t told me very much, which I supposed made some sense. He wasn’t going to let a possible perpetrator be privy to all the facts of the case.
When we drove down Broad Street, I glimpsed a couple of people paused by the front door to my store. They appeared to be staring at the “Be Back In…” sign, puzzled, probably wondering why it was almost noon and the place wasn’t open.
Although I didn’t say anything, Calvin seemed to notice, because he said, “This shouldn’t take too long. Then you can go on with your day.”
“I’m not under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
As responses went, that wasn’t exactly the most reassuring thing I could have heard. I shifted in my seat. “Why would you even think I was a suspect? There’s no motive.”
His jaw tightened, although he kept his gaze fixed on the street as he turned the corner so he could drive around back and park there. I supposed I should be glad that he wasn’t going to march in the front door of the shop with me; this way, maybe no one would even notice that the chief of the tribal police had taken me for a little ride.
“There were reports that you and the victim were arguing last night,” Calvin said. “According to Max Anders, it sounded pretty heated.”
Irrational anger flared in me. Damn it. Had Lucien left the door to Blue Moon open on purpose so the neighbors could overhear our argument? I didn’t even know why Max would have been hanging around his shop at that time of night, except I’d learned during the few weeks I’d been living in Globe that he tended to come and go at odd hours.
“So, we were arguing,” I said coolly. “Lots of people argue. That doesn’t mean someone’s going to end up murdered.”
“True,” Calvin agreed as he parked the Durango next to the shelter covering my blue Beetle. “But it still establishes a motive. Want to tell me what the argument was about?”
I really didn’t, for a variety of reasons. However, I guessed that holding back really wasn’t an option. “Sure,” I said. “After we get inside.”
That request didn’t seem to faze him; he nodded, and we got out of the SUV and went inside the building. After climbing the stairs to my apartment, we headed into the living room. He didn’t seem inclined to sit down, but only leaned up against the mantel, arms folded as he waited for me to speak.