Avery fixed a stare on her companion. Should she tell him why this was not a helpful explanation or would he come to the realization on his own?
It took a few sips of putrid potion, but he got there. “I’m not sure what it is, small metals or possibly modified plant something—we call it glitter. It’s purely decorative. Adds sparkle.”
Her mind drifted to Saga’s careful explanation of the pearls of colored sugar on her donut on the day they met, then to the woman’s freckles the last day they’d spoken. “Like sprinkles?”
The smile was evident in Lahiri’s voice as he took another sip. “Very like.”
Avery crouched, examining the mirrorlike sheen. Spotless. She pressed her finger onto the surface, watching the way it immediately took to the oils on her hand and left a print. “Is this how he found it?”
“When he arrived, he began his usual morning duties, which includes wiping down the floors and surfaces from the day before. That’s when he found our victim and called us.”
Avery growled. So that was why it was so pristine. Any potential evidence on this floor had already been wiped away. “Have you called the Department of Concealment?”
Lahiri shook his head. “I don’t think it will be necessary.”
Avery stood back to her full height. “Why do you think this is one of mine?”
“I saw the body.”
Her confusion deepening, Avery took in the rest of the store. The shelves that made up the aisles were short enough that the average person could see and be seen over them. This meant whomever stood at the register would be able to view the entire store without leaving their station—save for two spaces: a back office behind the counter and a room to the side sectioned off with a thick velvet curtain. “Where is she?”
Lahiri nodded to the curtain and offered her a pair of black gloves from his coat pocket. “I’ve already taken initial photography for you, so feel free to…do whatever the hell it is you do.”
He wasn’t joining her? “Worse than Doctor Campbell?”
Reza’s expression remained professional, but Avery noticed the way his eyes flinched. “Less blood.”
Was his hesitancy an attempt to prevent any preconceived notions of what she might observe herself? Or could he truly not stomach describing it? She shook her head at the gloves and took one last drink from her cup. Shockingly, the seconds that had passed between sips had not improved the flavor. “I don’t need those.” She handed him the unpalatable ash water. “Or this. No one needs this. This is a crime in itself.”
A handful of lights had been turned on, but the elongated shadows of the morning, while faint, were still present. It drew a smile to her lips. The shadows were as much instruments of her work as they were old friends.
Avery extended a hand to her own shadow on the wall, and in turn, the umbra extended to her as well. Tendrils slid across her palm, clasping around her wrist. She savored the moment of tension, feeling the energy intermingling with her own before tugging it toward her, as she would with a dance partner. The shadow broke away from the corner, folding over her hand like a glove, allowing all the dexterity of her own fingers without the risk of contaminating any surface they touched. She peeked at Lahiri, but his only acknowledgment of her ingenuity was to glance at the window to make sure no one could see what she’d done.
Saga would have said something. She’d be curious how it worked, how it was accomplished. She’d have noted that the corner from which she pulled the shadow was lighter now—that the overall room was brighter.
But Saga wasn’t here. Begrudgingly, Avery reminded herself that fact had been by Avery’s own design. She could not put Saga in danger if they never saw each other. Well, she could. There were variables and exceptions to every equation, but removing herself entirely did lower that percentage considerably.
Avery ran a gloved hand down the fabric of the curtain. Velvet was an intriguing choice for a storefront of any kind. True, it emanated luxury, but it also attracted every tiny particle floating through the air, from dust to crumbs to hair fibers. “The curtain was closed when he entered?”
“It was. That was one of the only things he noticed that was off. Usually after sessions, the victim would tie it back.”
“Sessions?”
“Readings. Tarot cards, crystal ball, that sort of thing.”
“I take it from your tone that your wife doesn’t dabble in divination.”
“My tone was not directed at divination.”
“Oh? Then what was its target?”
“Con artists.”
Avery arched a brow. “Did you know the victim, Detective?”
Lahiri’s demeanor was cold in comparison to his typical attitude. He shrugged and took a drink of his “coffee” as if it were comforting rather than petrol masquerading as a beverage. “I know her type,” his voice rumbled with a protective growl.
“Let us avoid jumping to conclusions about the victim’s character, Inspector. It does us all a disservice.” She tried to catch view of the officers outside. “Are we at risk of them entering?”
