Judi presented him, and he resisted an urge to shove his hands in his pockets and duck his head sheepishly. “My name’s Cormac Bennett.”
“He took the tour, and he says he’s spoken to Amelia Parker, the Lydia Harcourt murderer,” Judi said. “I thought it might be nicer if we could all sit together over tea. Or coffee, Mr. Bennett?”
Tea, Amelia proposed, predictably. “Tea’s fine.”
Frida didn’t bother being at all circumspect when she said to Judi, “Do you know he has two auras?”
“No, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” Judi said. “Let me go plug the kettle in.” She skirted around the counter to the back room while Frida studied him. Cormac ignored her, absently looking at stained glass butterfly ornaments hanging from a rack without really seeing them. Eventually, she followed Judi to the back, and they had a hushed conversation.
They’re suspicious.
Of course they are, he thought. He didn’t even blame them. He was a surly-looking guy who’d spent his whole life working on being intimidating. Hadn’t been a handicap until now.
Perhaps we should have invited Kitty along after all.
Well, too late now. They’d have to make this work somehow.
A faint patter sounded, then a thud as a cat jumped from behind the counter to the glass surface. It should have slid, but the animal braced, stopped, and elegantly arranged itself to a
sitting position, looking like an Egyptian statue. The animal was hairless, probably bred that way, but that didn’t make it any less bizarre, with huge ears, knobby feet, and velvety wrinkly skin. The tail wrapped around its legs was a skinny stick. It had big green eyes and an accusing stare. Even the cat was suspicious.
Good God, what’s wrong with it? Amelia exclaimed.
It’s supposed to be that way, I think. He held his hand out to the creature. The cat’s nose wrinkled, but it didn’t offer to sniff, much less approach for petting. Just kept that glare focused on him.
“Esther is generally a good judge of character,” Judi said, emerging from the back room holding two mugs.
“That so?” He accepted one of the mugs.
“She sees it—you have two auras.” Frida said it as an accusation as she reappeared with a mug of her own.
“So I’ve been told.” Cormac sipped. It was a green tea with something else mixed in.
Ginger, Amelia offered. Lovely. Amelia appreciated the tea more than he did; since he didn’t really have an opinion about tea one way or another, he drank it. At least it was in a solid mug and not some dainty china cup.
“The two auras thing doesn’t surprise you?” Judi said. A prompt.
He was happy enough not having to mention Amy Scanlon right away. “No, not really. So what exactly does two auras look like?”
Frida pursed her lips, considered. Cormac tensed under the scrutiny, but held his ground. Sipped tea calmly. “It’s double vision, like you’re out of focus. Though I’m thinking part of that is just you, yeah? But there’s one strong layer, then another layer under that. A lot of red, a lot of blue, and they’re not merged at all like they should be—two auras instead of one with many colors. And it’s clouded, like you’re not too sure about things. Can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it. You have an explanation?”
They must have had some idea of what he was going to say, the expectant way they were looking at him. “It’s Amelia Parker,” he said. “We met. She, ah, needed a ride. And here we are.”
The two women blinked back at him, speechless.
Rather blunt. You might have frightened even them.
His mustache crinkled in a wry smile, and he spread his hands as if to say, just so.
“I … see,” Judi said, nodding. “That’s how you know so much about the murder, then.”
The cat swished its naked tail and stalked along the counter to Frida’s waiting hand, arching her back as the woman stroked her.
He set the mug on the counter. “I’m not really here about the Harcourt murder or Amelia Parker,” he said. “Let me be straight with you. I’ve come to talk about Amy Scanlon.”
The silver-haired woman blanched and leaned against Frida. Brow creased with concern, Frida steadied her.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Judi said, and Cormac didn’t deny it. “We felt it, but we couldn’t guess how, or why. About a month ago, right? Late at night, I started sweating and shaking and couldn’t stop.”