The young woman with the bracelet never married. The war took the young man she wanted. Disease and starvation weakened her to where pneumonia sent her to her grave. Her mother sold the bracelet in order to make ends meet. The war was hard on everyone. I considered the bracelet lucky and not because of the daughter. Its sale had enabled the mother to live past the war, marry a second husband, and live a long life. No, it didn’t help the debutante, but it served a purpose.
After the sale, I found Jacob in the antique headboard section of the store. Some of the headboards were exquisitely carved and preserved. The brass ones were polished and bright. He was admiring one that showed a stag and a doe eyeing each other.
“That’s a fine piece of work,” Jacob said.
“In the old days, people believed such carvings would encourage children,” I said.
“They were probably right. You called?”
“I did. And I want to tell you before your patrol people do, that I was in the alley today, the one where Thomas died.”
“That’s not a good idea, but I’m sure you know that. What else?”
Jacob knew me well enough to understand that simply meeting the officers wasn’t going to bother me—much.
“I found a silver feather.”
He looked at me.
“A silver feather comes from a magical being,” I added. “It could be a seraph or Cupid or some other creature. Silver feathers don’t come with sea gulls.”
He chuckled. “That’s true. Yet, you don’t know who might have left the feather, or when it was left.”
I shook my head. “It was some distance from the body,” I said. “And I don’t remember seeing it that night.”
“Not so far that the owner could have missed with an arrow?”
“No, for a skilled archer, the shot would have been reasonably easy.”
“That adds a detail that doesn’t help much,” Jacob said. “We have very little to go on. I mean, no witnesses, no forensic traces, seeing as we couldn’t get any DNA from the lipstick.”
“And lip patterns are not unique, right?”
He shook his head. “Nope. We’re stuck at the beginning. It may boil down to motive. Who had a reason to kill Thomas.”
“Jennifer,” I said. “She'd put up with his shenanigans for a long time. And, as you know, she was never the shy type. If she thought she could get away with it, I could see her doing it.”
“She’s on my list, and she doesn’t have an alibi, but she would have to be really desperate to commit murder. After all, the spouse is the first and generally the best suspect in such cases.”
“Exactly. And we shouldn’t look past the obvious.”
“We? You’re not thinking for investigating this, are you?”
I shrugged. “What can I do? I don’t want everyone in the quarter to think I’m a killer.”
“Look, I’ll look into Jennifer and the feather, although that’s a bit out of my league.”
“I can do it,” I said. “But I have to be careful. Powerful magical beings can be difficult, if you know what I mean.”
“I do. But you know I can’t give you any official standing in this case. You’re not the police, and you don’t have any sort of power to arrest or interrogate. You’re a civilian and a suspect.”
“I know what people think I am,” I said. “And I won’t do anything in any official capacity. But the case is at a standstill. I can help.”
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the text. “I have to go. And I have to remind you that if you have a lead, call me. I’ll take it from there.”
I nodded. “I won’t do anything rash. I’m a big chicken.”
He laughed, a good laugh.
Maybe it was the laugh, or maybe Gwen’s spell wore off, but as Jacob walked out, Roxanne appeared. She immediately began to blubber, and I understood what it was to be driven to murder. At that exact moment, I was tempted to muzzle her for the next ten years.
“We’ll see to her,” Orchid said as she passed.
“We can tell you’re not very happy,” Zephyr said. “So, we’ll try to steer her up to the stacks.”
“You’ll find treasures in the most unlikely places,” I said loud enough for the browsers to hear. I was hoping Roxanne would take the hint.
True to their word, Orchid and Zephyr did herd Roxanne up to the second floor. I was thankful that they were there. Once Roxanne was taken care of, I focused on the feather. I whispered a spell I had used on some of the antiques.
“Born of people
Born of place
Born with secrets long displaced
Secrets you have yet to free
Bring out secrets and give to me.”
I waited, but the silver feather yielded nothing. I was afraid of that. Magicals often rid their feathers of any information, on the odd chance that someone might happen upon something lost. In a society that feared and hunted magicals, keeping hidden was of prime importance.
I had just put the feather away, pushing my mind to consider the records I had to keep, when in through the door came...
Jennifer.
Chapter 6
In most polite societies, there is a decorum to observe. The older the society, the more importance decorum has. In New Orleans, the decorum for the dead was to wear black, at least for a few months, although some people insisted on a full year before the pastel hues of spring could be put on. To say the least, Jennifer did not observe decorum. She was wearing a pastel pink outfit that looked more in keeping with the beach than the funeral parlor. Her red hair was nicely displayed, not pulled into a severe bun like some women would have. Her green eyes were clear and bright. She hadn’t been crying. There was absolutely nothing that bespoke grief and sadness. The only thing she was missing was a pretty song to sing. A summer lilt would have suited her to a tee.
“Can I help you?” I asked. I had to ask, even if she accused me of murdering Thomas. Sometimes, I had to take the tongue lashing I didn’t deserve.
“Why, yes you can,” Jennifer said. “I’m looking for a lamp for the family room and a writing desk for my office. Well, the office I’m going to have. What do you suggest?”
I was surprised. I had given her the perfect chance to call me a killer, and she had passed, as if she didn’t care that Thomas had been murdered. In fact, she seemed positively giddy now that he was dead.
“Do you, do you have a budget?” I asked. The worst thing about shoppers was finding out after an hour that they had a severe budget. Showing them what they might afford was the goal of every approach.
“Not really,” Jennifer said. “Thomas carried a very hefty life insurance policy, so I’m going to pick up a nice bit of change. For the first time in my adult life, I’ll be able to afford whatever suits my tastes.”
“That’s fortunate,” I countered.
“Very fortunate. Especially, since I was divorcing him. If that had gone through, I’m certain he would have changed the beneficiary or stopped making premium payments. His death has made me a wealthy woman.”
I was struck by the callousness of her attitude. She seemed positively happy her husband was dead. She wasn’t talking about a lack of love. She was glad he was gone. I wondered just how much she had hated Thomas.