The Hexorcist Read online

  He made an odd sound that reminded her of a hissing cat. “There’s nothing alleged about it. I caught you red-handed.”

  “Prove it.”

  He worked his strong jaw for a full thirty seconds before throwing up his hands. “Fine. Have it your way. You didn’t break into Henrietta’s apartment and there’s nothing I can do to prove you did ... at least not now.”

  “You can’t prove it because it never happened.”

  “You can say that as often as you want, but we both know it’s not true. Perhaps you should let it go.”

  “Sure. Fine.” She sipped her coffee. “Does that mean we’re done here?”

  “Not even close. I want to know your involvement in this from the start. I want to know how you knew to go after Henrietta in the first place. I want to know what you were doing in her apartment. I want to know what your father has to do with this.” And I want to know who that guy is you left with yesterday, he silently added. He was thankful he had the foresight to keep that question to himself.

  “See, here’s the thing: I happen to believe that all relationships should be a fifty-fifty arrangement. That includes business partnerships, like this one.” She wagged her finger between the two of them. “If you expect me to share information with you, then you’re going to have to reciprocate. That’s simply the way it’s done.”

  “I can’t share information with you. It’s against the rules.”

  “I bet not disclosing that you can shift into a panther is against the rules, too.”

  “Actually, it’s not.” He sneered at her. “I checked the rule book myself. It’s not listed anywhere.”

  “I bet I could find a rule that covers it.”

  “And I don’t think it matters.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I demand to know what you know.”

  “Only if you share what you know.”

  He wanted to pull his hair out of his head ... and maybe shake her until she stopped giving him grief. Even as he thought that, though, he recognized that his libido was firing up. She knew exactly how to challenge him, and he was enjoying the game. “Fine. If I share information with you, though, you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

  To Ofelia that was a win. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from pushing him a bit further. “Why do I have to keep it to myself? Do you have to keep the information I share with you to yourself?”

  He gripped his hands into fists. “Why are you trying to give me an aneurysm?”

  The question made her smile. “I won’t tell anyone.” She had to give him that. He’d earned it. “I’ll share information if you do. You can’t cut me out of this, though. I’m in it until the end at this point.”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth, considering. “If I keep you informed and involve you, then there have to be some ground rules. The first is, if any other cops or coroner personnel or even reporters are present, you’re just a pretty woman on the street. You have to hide your ties to this investigation.”

  Her cheeks warmed at the word “pretty” and she had to rein in the absolutely ridiculous reaction threatening to bubble up. She wasn’t some airheaded female who needed attention from a man to feel complete. “I think I can follow those rules.”

  “Okay. We’ll start point by point. Why did you go looking for Henrietta in the first place?”

  “Because I sensed a hex on Brett Johnson and once I heard what hotel he was staying at, I headed over there. I know a guy who works there and he let me up into Brett’s room. I found a hex bag under the mattress. You showed up not long after and my friend — and, no, I’m not naming him so you can get him into trouble — eavesdropped in the hallway and heard you and Hank talking about Henrietta. I knew she was capable of making hex bags so I thought it was worth a shot.”

  “Did Henrietta make the hex bag?”

  Ofelia wagged her finger. “It’s my turn. What did Brett die of?”

  “We have no idea. The coroner can’t find a cause of death. He’s deferring until toxicology results come in, but he claims that Brett simply stopped breathing for no reason.”

  “The hex.”

  “I wasn’t aware he’d been hexed, but that makes as much sense as anything. It’s my turn again. Did Henrietta make the hex bag?”

  Ofelia nodded, her expression darkening. “She lied when I first asked her about it. Said she would never use that color thread and called the stitchwork sloppy. I believed her because ... well ... I didn’t have a reason not to believe her at the time. Last night, though, I showed the hex bag to someone and he identified it as belonging to Henrietta. She was dead before I could confront her a second time.”

  “Who did you show the hex bag to?”

  Ofelia ignored the question. “Do you have any witnesses who saw Henrietta after she ran from us at Cafe du Monde?”

  “No. We’ve been canvassing the area, but as far as I can tell, no one saw her. Even the woman who was sitting next to her in Jackson Square couldn’t remember her returning to pick up her things.”

  “Maybe she didn’t. Maybe whoever killed her picked them up.”

  “No one knows who that is either.”

  “So, we’re either dealing with an invisible assailant, or someone who is comfortable flying under the radar.”

  “Pretty much,” he confirmed.

  Ofelia held her breath, hoping he would refrain from asking about who identified the hex bag, and then decided to barrel forward. If she could push him hard enough, he might focus on something else. “I met with a friend of Henrietta’s today and he tipped me off that she might’ve been sick. That’s why I broke into her apartment. I wanted to see if I could confirm that.”

  “And?”

  “And I found a lot of medical bills from that place over by the Superdome. She was definitely fighting something ... although I have no idea what. Pascal said that she’d been distancing herself of late because she didn’t want him to know she was sick. I wasn’t sure I believed that at the start. Now, though ... .”

  “Pascal Craven?” Sully wrinkled his forehead. “Why would you go to him?”

  “Because he was tight with Henrietta.”

  “I didn’t know that. Do you think he’s a suspect? He is ... odd.”

  “He relishes being odd. He’s not a murderer, though. Besides, he really was fond of Henrietta. He didn’t even know she was dead until I mentioned it. You can’t fake the reaction he had. It was visceral. I felt sorry for him.”

  “And he has no motive for killing Brett,” Sully mused as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it possible Henrietta hired out her services for money? You said she had medical bills. Since she lost her gig at the Grand Laveau, I’m guessing covering those bills was difficult. She was probably in danger of being buried.”

  “I broached that same subject with Pascal and he shot me down.”

  “Why are you taking his word for it? How close are you guys?”

  “Close enough that I visit maybe once a week. He makes me laugh, what with his Interview with a Vampire obsession and the constant celebrity gossip tidbits. Besides, he wears makeup to look like a normal guy pretending to be a vampire. How can you not like that?”

  “I don’t know him very well. Are you two ... like ... dating?”

  The question caught Ofelia off guard. “He’s gay.”

  “Oh.” Sully brightened considerably. “I like him, too. He’s a funny guy. What about other guys? Are you dating any of them?”

  The questions flustered Ofelia. She couldn’t figure out why he was asking. She had an idea why he might ask it, but it seemed too surreal given the circumstances. She decided to focus on something else.

  “Anyway, Pascal knew her better than most and he claims that she wouldn’t take the life of an innocent person, even if she desperately needed the money. I have to say, from what I knew of Henrietta, I would have to agree with that statement.”

  “Okay. Where do you suggest we look next?”

  “You’re the detective.”
r />   “Yes, but you seem to have a better handle on Henrietta than me. I want to hear what you think. If I hadn’t caught you in her apartment, where would you be right now?”

  “The medical center.” The answer was simple enough. “I can’t say with any degree of certainty that knowing what was wrong with Henrietta will help us. It can’t possibly hurt, though.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I need a warrant for medical information. If we wait, the coroner will be able to tell us what was wrong with her. He should be getting to her any time now.”

  “It’s not just the malady,” Ofelia countered. “I want to know about the bills. If she was paying on them ... .”

  “Then she might’ve received payment from someone else recently,” Sully finished. “It’s a good idea. I can’t force that information without a warrant, though, and it might be tricky to get with privacy laws.”

  “I can get the information.” Ofelia didn’t bother to hide her smugness. “Leave it to me.”

  “Do I even want to know what you have planned?”

  “Probably not.”

  SULLY FOUND HE WAS A bundle of nerves as he watched Ofelia approach the front desk at the medical center. The woman behind the counter, a perky blonde who had latched on to him the second he walked through the door, seemed annoyed to have to deal with someone else. Since Sully and Ofelia were going out of their way to pretend they weren’t together, the intake nurse naturally assumed they were there on separate business. She was bound to be disappointed when she realized Sully had no interest in talking to her ... about anything. He was just present to observe.

  “What can I help you with?” the nurse asked, her tone clipped.

  “I need some information on a bill,” Ofelia replied casually.

  “Certainly. What’s your patient number?”

  “I don’t have that information with me.”

  The nurse didn’t look up from the computer she was focused on. “It should be on the card we gave you when you first visited us.”

  “I don’t have a card.”

  The nurse’s sigh was pronounced. “Fine. I need a picture ID and your first and last name. I can track the information that way.”

  “Sure.” Ofelia nodded and dug in her purse, leaving Sully to puzzle out her actions as he leaned against the column in the center of the room.

  “I’ll be right with you, sir,” the nurse practically purred as she pinned him with a look. “Unfortunately this woman came in directly ahead of you. I have to help her first.”

  Sully smirked as Ofelia rolled her eyes. “It’s fine,” he reassured her. “I’m not in a hurry. Take your time.”

  “I’m sure this won’t take long.” The nurse’s expression turned chilly as she focused on Ofelia. “Do you have identification?”

  “I do,” Ofelia replied, extending what looked to be a driver’s license. “It’s right here.”

  Sully frowned as he watched the nurse take the rectangular piece of plastic from the raven-haired witch. He expected her to start squawking about Ofelia not being a patient but her expression didn’t change.

  “Just a second, Ms. Wells,” the nurse said, taking Sully by surprise. “Let me pull up your file. Yes, here we go. I see you were way behind on your bills until two days ago, when you made a payment. Thank you for that. Are you here to make another payment?”

  “Actually, I’m securing a loan,” Ofelia lied smoothly. “I need to know the exact payoff amount for the check.”

  “Ah ... that would be two hundred and fifty-three thousand dollars and twenty-one cents. Would you like me to write that number down for you?”

  Ofelia swallowed hard. “Um ... yeah. That would be great.” She took advantage of the nurse’s momentary distraction and flicked her eyes to Sully. He looked as surprised as she felt.

  “The good news is, despite the bills, you’re in complete remission,” the nurse continued. “It says here that you were terminal three months ago and then made a miraculous recovery. Nobody comes back from pancreatic cancer like you did. I mean ... nobody. It’s impossible. You did it, though.”

  “I did,” Ofelia agreed, her mind working a mile a minute. “Could you remind me of my next appointment?”

  The question must’ve seemed odd to the nurse because she lifted her eyes and looked Ofelia up and down a second time. “You don’t remember when your next appointment is?”

  “My memory has been a little lax of late. I think it might be the medication.”

  “Of course.” The nurse bobbed her head. “It’s three weeks from today. They’re going to do another set of scans. If these are as good as the last ones, you won’t have to stop in again for another six months. That has to be exciting.”

  “Totally exciting,” Ofelia agreed, scratching her cheek as she ran the information through her head. Henrietta had been dying ... up until three months ago. Then something happened to miraculously save her. Now she was dead.

  What was going on here? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  Eleven

  “What did you do?”

  Sully waited until they were outside to grab Ofelia’s purse and start digging for her wallet.

  “Hey!” She slapped his arm and reclaimed her bag. “That’s mine.”

  He pinned her with an exaggerated look. “I’m not trying to steal from you. I’m simply trying to figure out what you did to convince that woman you were Henrietta.”

  “What makes you think I did anything?” She adopted an air of innocence. “She could just be an idiot.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You did something. Spill.”

  She thought about toying with him, but it felt unnecessary. He’d agreed to keep her in the loop. Frankly, that was more than she anticipated when he caught her in Henrietta’s apartment. She was going to take it as a win and be gracious. Er, well, as gracious as she was capable of being.

  “It was a simple glamour. I made her think it was Henrietta’s identification. It wasn’t difficult.”

  “So, you’re basically saying that you controlled her mind.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Ofelia didn’t like what he was insinuating. “She was easily malleable. It didn’t take much to push her. I wouldn’t have made her do anything dangerous, or that could’ve resulted in her being hurt. That’s not who I am.”

  He held up his hands in capitulation. “That came out wrong. I wasn’t insinuating that you’re a bad person.” To the contrary, the more time he spent with her, the more intrigued he got ... which was beyond frustrating. He understood she was a good person ... with a few rough edges.

  And ... geez ... she smelled like heaven on a cracker.

  “We needed the information,” Ofelia reminded him. “I got it for us.”

  “You certainly did.” He snagged the billing records from her and gave them a hard stare. “She fell into debt pretty quickly. Without insurance, she would’ve been in deep trouble. Two days ago she plopped down seventy-five grand in cash as a payment. Where did she get that money?”

  Ofelia knew exactly what he was insinuating. “You think she killed Brett for someone else and that someone killed her when he or she realized the heat was on.”

  “I think, on the surface, that seems to fit the scenario we’re looking at,” he clarified. “I’m not ready to fully commit to that idea, though. As an investigator, if you commit too early, that’s when you make mistakes.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not ready to settle on one theory, though. At least not right away. There are a few things that bother me about this.”

  “Like what?” She leaned against a tree in the shade and crossed her arms over her chest. “What bothers you most?”

  “The victim.” He opted for the truth. “I can see Henrietta being weaponized as a killer — however weird that feels to say — but why this particular victim? He’s not local. Anyone who knew Henrietta well enough to gauge her weak spot would have to be local.”

  In
truth, Ofelia hadn’t gotten that far. She was impressed by his breakdown. “That’s a good point,” she said after a beat. “Why that victim indeed? Do you know anything about him?”

  “No, but that’s going to be first on my agenda tomorrow.” He planted his hands on his hips and looked toward the horizon. “The sun is starting to set. The days will start getting longer again now. That’s good, because I hate it when there’s so little light in the day.”

  She slid her eyes to him and nodded, thoughtful. “Can you see better than most people in the dark? I only ask because that’s a cat thing and I’m curious. I used to have a cat. He died when I was a teenager, though, and I never got another one. Maybe I should get a cat.” She realized her words could be taken multiple ways. “One from the shelter, I mean. Um … so, can you see better than most people in the dark?”

  He chuckled at the question … and the rambling. “I can see better in the dark, although I’m not a robot or anything."

  “And you don’t crap in a box, right?” The statement was meant to be a joke, but when she saw the irritation, faint as a whisper, whip across his handsome features she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. Of course you don’t crap in a box. Who would clean that?”

  Sully made a disgusted throat-clearing sound. She recognized that he dusted it off whenever he was at his limit. “Keep it up.”

  She considered doing just that but then remembered what time it was, and where she had to be. “I need to get back to Krewe. I left my father to handle things and that’s never a good idea. He and Bastion are probably at each other’s throats even as we speak.”

  “Yeah. We should head back to the Quarter,” Sully agreed, gesturing toward his car. He’d retrieved it from the police station before they left. The distance to the medical center was too great to walk. “Let’s get out of here.”

  THEY MADE THE DRIVE BACK TO the French Quarter in relative silence, both of them lost in thought. Ofelia assumed he would drop her at the police station and she would walk back to Krewe. Instead, he parked one block over from the bar, and escorted her right to the front door.