Page 23 of The Mermaid's Bubble Lounge
Meri beamed. “I bought a brand-new Leaf. It was the least expensive of the EVs. I was annoyed it didn’t come in green, though. It’s a leaf.” She rolled her eyes. “I got blue, so it’s like the ocean. Mom met us at the dealership so she could co-sign the registration and stuff. And she called this morning and got me put on her insurance, so I drove it to work. No more begging for rides.”
She was grinning ear to ear, and the bar somehow felt brighter. “Oh, and Sam, I haven’t seen that guy again. I was working in the front garden, and I didn’t see him creeping around. Thank you!” She looked out the window, spotted her dad, and pointed to the ocean entrance in the far corner of the bar.
While Meri told her dad all about her new car—I assumed, since I didn’t speak mermish—I headed to the table near the stairs where Hepsibah, Lilith, and Rose were sitting with their cups of tea. All three women had to be in their eighties, at least. When I sat at their table, Rose stopped mid-sentence, and they all turned to me as one. “Yes, dear?”
“Ladies, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I had a wicche question and knew you three were the ones to ask.”
Rose sat a little straighter, but both Hepsibah and Lilith just raised their eyebrows and waited. They weren’t falling for flattery. I told them about the killings. Lilith and Rose looked horrified, but Hepsibah nodded as though she already knew. When I was done, I asked them the question I’d asked Owen about covering the scent of one individual.
Rose shook her head, but Lilith and Hepsibah shared a look and then Hepsibah said, “White wicches, no. If you’re dealing with a sorcerer, it’s possible.”
Dave’s heavy boots began to pound down the stairs.
Hepsibah pointed to the staircase. “That’s who you should ask. If it’s a wicche, it’s done with demon power. My guess is that it’s a demon.”
“What’s a demon?” Dave asked as he walked around the back of the bar and poured himself a tumbler full of cinnamon Schnapps.
I thanked the women and followed Dave into the kitchen, hopping up on the counter, ready to launch into the story again.
He held up a hand to stop me while downing his Schnapps. He put the empty glass in the dishwasher and said, “I already know. Russell called me last night and I went to the Bubble Lounge. There was no demon involved.”
My shoulders slumped. “Are you sure? Maybe it was a sorcerer using a demon’s power to mask his scent.”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his beefy arms across his chest. “Could a demon do it? Yes. Did a demon do it? No. It’s not about scent for me. My nose is almost as sensitive as yours, but that’s not what I needed for this. Demons leave a metaphysical trace around anything they touch. It wasn’t there.”
Well, shit.
I pulled out my phone. “He killed again in the middle of the night.” I pulled up my text app and hit play on Nerissa’s video before handing him my phone. “Clive, Vlad, and Cadmael went to see if they could pick up a scent to identify the vampire. The killing took place after the three of them visited the nightclub.”
Unlike Vlad, Dave had no reaction. I only knew the video had ended when he handed my phone back to me.
“It wasn’t Vlad,” I told him.
“I know.” He rubbed his hand over his bald head. “The hair is too long and the ear is wrong. It’s damn close, though. Vampires can’t glamour their appearance. Are we sure it’s not fae?”
“We’re not sure of anything, other than you saying it definitely isn’t a demon. I went over the crime scene early this morning before I called the cops and didn’t catch any fae scent other than the merpeople who work at the club.”
He blew out a breath. “I’ll go back and check again after work. There’s no point going now. The cops are probably still there and I’ll have too many tourists with cameras to avoid. I want to get up on that roof.”
TWELVE
Back Away from the Bars and No One Gets Hurt
“Clive said they all heard something on the roof. He went up to look around but didn’t find anything. He’s wondering if the killer can hide in plain sight.”
Dave pulled a covered plate from the refrigerator. “I made those seven-layer bars you like. I was going to leave them out on the island, but Russell’s call distracted me.” He slid the plate along the counter, so it bumped into my hip.
I stared down at them with hearts in my eyes. Shaking his head at my baked goods devotion, he went into the cold storage room. These bars were my favorites. There was chocolatey, caramely, graham crackery, toasted coconutty deliciousness in every bite.
“Owen!” I shouted.
He burst through the door, a look of alarm on his face, and then I held up the plate.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” he chanted. “It feels like my birthday anytime he makes these.” Owen picked up a bar with reverence before taking a bite and closing his eyes in bliss.
Dave returned with his arms full of vegetables. “You two are ridiculous. Go eat those somewhere else. You’re in my way.”
My eyebrows slammed down, but I was too busy savoring my bite to talk. Once I’d swallowed, I warned him, “You’re trampling on our religious rights. This is a holy experience for us. Back off.”
