Kheelan leaned back, hands behind his head while he considered. “Interesting, but I still want to find out who at the shop is involved. Someone working there knows about that absinthe hidden away.”
Skye frowned. “Not necessarily. It could be this silent partner who is tampering with evil. The partner’s initial investment was nearly sixty percent of the capitol start-up cost.” She pulled out a piece of paper from the file and shoved it toward him. “The partner’s name is L. Wagner. I couldn’t find out anything more, not even if Wagner is male or female.”
He tapped the paper with impatient fingers. “What’s your point?”
“Since this investor has managing control, he could have a key allowing him free access to come and go as he wants.”
“I notice you say ‘he.’ Could be another woman.”
She hesitated. “It’s a flimsy reason, but for the past few nights I’ve seen a gentleman in a dark suit come in the shop near closing time. He goes into Claribel’s office and she shuts the door and puts out her ‘do not disturb’ sign she uses when she’s reading the tarot for customers. I noticed him because he doesn’t fit the usual customer profile of someone young, female, and casually dressed. He could be our mystery person.”
“Maybe. If it it’s true he’s the partner, then Claribel’s in it up to her sparkly purple eyelids.”
Skye was shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “I don’t believe it. I have good instincts about people and I’ve never sensed anything mean or deceitful in her.”
Kheelan raised a hand. “Hear me out. The first thing I noticed about your boss, besides her dorky behavior, is that she wears gloves most of the time.”
“Big deal.” Skye raised her voice enough it echoed in the near-empty library. She leaned closer to him, whispering, “She’s got arthritis really bad and the gloves help her. I think she’s a little self-conscious, too about the way her hands look. You know, a little twisted.”
“There’s another reason she might wear gloves.” Time to start filling her in. The more she knew, the better their chances of nailing the murderer. “Fairies are super-sensitive to most metals, especially iron. It can cause severe burns.” Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak. He laid a finger on her lips. “Hold on a minute. The day I was in the shop I watched her limping and hobbling like her feet hurt.”
“I told you, she has arthritis.”
“So she says. But when the fae shapeshift to human form, it leaves their feet disfigured. Finvorra, my Guardian, has trouble walking because his toes are so twisted and malformed.”
Skye didn’t look impressed with his logic. “I haven’t even told you the most exciting part yet. I got in that locked storage room in the basement and found this.” She plunked a shiny black rock on the table in front of him. Kheelan picked it up and examined it for unusual markings or sensations. Shrugging, he shoved the stone back to Skye.
“I looked on the stone and it showed me how the fairies are being killed, it has a memory trapped inside it. When the absinthe is poured, the fairies fly to it. When they do, someone takes a metal sheet – iron! - and traps them.”
Kheelan picked it back up again with renewed interest. He palmed the stone and then gripped it with clenched fists. So, that was it. Someone figured a way to lure the fairies down in the basement by leaving out absinthe. The herbs in the drink possessed some kind of fatal attraction to pixies. Once down there, the fairies were trapped. The only exit in the basement, the high, narrow window, was covered in iron bars, instant death for pixies. Their choice was death by absinthe drowning, or burned alive by iron.
Foolish Skye, she didn’t know what she was playing with. With her half-fae nature, no telling what would happen if she were to drink the absinthe. Fear for her safety overrode the amazing revelations. “Did you drink any absinthe?”
“No.” She blushed, averted her gaze.
She was lying.
“How did you get in that storage room? I kept your spare key.”
She met his eyes again, face animated. “That was the other strange thing. I was in the storage room when the key literally dropped by my feet. I figured I had to check it out since a fairy provided the way. I mean, I think it was a fairy. How else did it materialize?”
Kheelan reached in his pocket and pulled out the storage room key. “They didn’t get my key. But the question is whether it’s a good or bad fairy.”
“Had to be good, the bad fairies wouldn’t want me to find this stone and possibly get information on their operations.”
“True,” Kheelan agreed, “but I was thinking of the key, not the stone. Maybe the intent was to trick you into drinking that absinthe. I saw how tempting it is to you.”