The fury in his eyes faded into desperation. “Gillian . . . just tell me what happened.” His words resonated with pain and confusion. His need for information had nothing to do with making an arrest and everything to do with finding closure for his own grief.
Farouche had been responsible for a host of evil acts, but he’d clearly been very important to Boudreaux. An ache of sympathy bloomed in my chest. If I came clean to him right now there was every chance he wouldn’t pursue it any further. Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave it to chance. Too many other lives were at stake.
“Boudreaux, I can’t.”
His eyes went flat as he slapped the folder shut. He knew I was holding back. “You’re done,” he said through clenched teeth, then strode back to his car and drove off.
Pellini ambled my way. “What’s up with that?” His tone stayed mild, but he watched my every reaction.
I let annoyance creep into my voice. “What’s up with what? A sketch of a woman who he’s decided is me?” I shook my head. “He’s never liked me, and I’m an easy target for his anger.”
Pellini regarded me in silence. “Yeah. That must be it,” he finally said, sounding utterly unconvinced. “I’ve had enough of this place. Nothing here for me. You ready to roll?”
“Gladly.”
? ? ?
Pellini kept the radio on for the drive back which once again saved us from awkward silence. It remained plenty awkward as we sat there not talking, but Pink Floyd was singing about being comfortably numb which at least saved us from the silence part. I wasn’t bored, though. I spent the majority of the drive going over options regarding Pellini and the shocking way he’d batted that potency aside.
I’d worked with Pellini for years and hardly knew the guy. What I needed was a chance to determine whether or not he possessed any sort of arcane skill. It still seemed ludicrous—after all, this was Pellini—but it would be the height of stupidity to not check everything out.
My thoughts continued to churn in a messy useless sludge, and when we pulled into the PD parking lot I was no closer to a defined course of action.
Pellini cleared his throat as he parked. “I, uh, know the plantation was a bust, but maybe we could get together for a beer later today, and I could pick your brain about other possible connections to my case?”
And, like that, a solution emerged. “I’ll do you one better,” I said brightly. “You can come over to my house tonight. Say around seven? A couple of friends are staying with me for a few days, and we’re going to grill up hamburgers and ribs. You’re welcome to join us, and after we eat you and I can discuss the case.”
Tension melted away from him, and he smiled. Not a nasty smile, either. “Seven. Yeah. I can totally do that. I’ll bring the beer.”
And I’ll bring the demon.
Chapter 9
As soon as I had the AC going in my car I called Idris and Bryce and gave them a quick recap of what happened with Pellini. Idris made a few interesting strangled noises when I described how Pellini batted potency away but agreed that my barbecue idea was a good one since further assessment was clearly needed.
“How’s the Malibu running?” I asked.
Idris made a rude sound. “Like a one-legged gazelle. Bryce says he’ll work on it more this afternoon.”
“Good,” I said. “He needs a hobby.”
I hung up with them, and my phone immediately dinged with a text from Tessa: <Back home!>
I smiled. Short, sweet, and to the point—just like my aunt. Well, mostly like her. The sweet part was debatable.
<Yay! Will call when I get home> I replied.
<Got a minute to swing by? Picked up some turquoise that I think you’d like. And fudge!>
Yep, she knew how to get my attention. Presents and sweets.
<On my way!>
? ? ?
A crew of orange-vested city workers had part of Tessa’s street torn up, though I couldn’t tell if it was for a drainage project or road repair. Either way, it obviously required a bunch of sweaty men to stand around and peer thoughtfully into one of several six-foot-wide holes in the street. At long last I navigated the slalom course of orange cones to Tessa’s house, trotted up the steps and knocked on the door.
My aunt opened it a few seconds later, smiling brightly. “Kara!”
“Welcome back!” I said as I pulled her into a hug. Petite, bordering on tiny, she made up for her lack of height with an iron will and a wild fashion sense. Her current outfit was a symphony of pink and black—light pink sandals, black mini-skirt, dark pink belt, medium-pink blouse over a black tank top. Even her frizzy blond hair bore a pink streak on one side.
She gave me a squeeze before releasing me. “Not for long!” she said with a laugh then pulled me in and closed the door. “We’re heading out again as soon as I get a call back from Melanie about staffing at the store.”
“Carl can get that much time off?” I asked.