The Deadly Diadem: A Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mystery (Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mysteries Book 2), Tegan Maher [read this if .txt] 📗

five minutes to wash the sweat and grime off my face, swipe on some eyeliner, and change my dirt-smeared tank top for a fresh tee-shirt. Times like these were the reason I always carried a spare change of clothes. We were already waiting outside when James pulled up in a sheriff’s department SUV. Luther opened the front door, and for a minute, I thought he was stealing shotgun, but he simply motioned for me to get in before climbing into the backseat.

“Hey, Sage. You look great,” he said, then glanced into the back. “Luther, right?”

“Correct,” Luther said, his tone a little stilted. “And she always looks great.”

“So,” I said in an attempt to smooth things over, “what do we have?”

James frowned toward the rearview mirror, but didn’t say anything. “Jamie Swanson, twenty-five. She was at her bridal shower in Old Town when she threw a temper tantrum, appeared to be choking, turned green, and died.”

“A temper tantrum?” I asked. “Over what?”

He lifted a shoulder as he turned onto Dolphin Avenue, the road that led to Old Town where the wealthiest of Marauders Bay residents lived.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get all the details. The guests are understandably upset and didn’t offer many details when they made the 911 call.” He glanced in the rearview again. “I’m not sure what the etiquette is with this whole witchy magic thing, but I’d never met you before the incident with the pendant. I like to know who I’m working with Are you ... like Sage?”

That seemed to be the question of the day, and I was eager to see how he answered.

Luther was quiet for so long that I started to think he wasn’t going to answer. “Close enough.”

“What does that mean?” James asked with a frown.

“It means that, like Sage, I have magic. I choose not to share details beyond that. Think of me as a professional consultant.” His tone was neutral, at least, but his words were a dodge.

James was getting as irritated as I was with Luther’s lack of forthrightness, but for different reasons, I was sure. “I’ll be the lead on these investigations. What if I need more information than that?”

“You don’t,” Luther replied, his tone clipped. “I dislike sharing even that much with you, but this is the path Sage has chosen, and I find myself unable to walk away from the situation. Therefore, I’ll cooperate that much, but you don’t need to know any more than that I’m an asset.”

Well harumph, then. His feathers were ruffled, and I had no idea why, but I didn’t have time to figure it out before James pulled through a set of wrought-iron gates and drove up a paved driveway toward an expansive brick manor house. At least a dozen high-end vehicles were parked in an area off to the side, and a catering van sat by the side of the house, presumably at the kitchen door.

“Fancy,” I said. “What are we dealing with here?”

James sighed. “Her father’s in oil and natural gas, and her mother comes from a long line of investment bankers and is one herself. Jaime graduated from Wharton, which is where she met her fiancé, William. And don’t call him Bill, apparently. They were getting married next week, and today was her bridal shower. According to my sources, there was a guest list of thirty for the shower, and every one of them has similar backgrounds—and bank accounts—to hers. I didn’t have time to do more research than that.”

“Fabulous. Should I practice holding my pinky out before we go in?” I asked.

“This isn’t a joke, Sage. I need for you to at least pretend to be a professional. When we go in, try to say as little as possible and just ... do whatever voodoo it is you have to do to figure out what happened.”

I shot him a defensive glance. “In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t exactly come from the sticks, either. I know how to play the role of socialite and Ivy League graduate; I just choose not to.”

As a representative of Parker’s, I’d attended my fair share of thousand-dollar-a-plate charity dinners and high-roller auctions that required seven-figure financial verifications just to walk through the door. “So don’t worry that I’ll embarrass you.”

“I suppose she put that to bed, now didn’t she?” Luther said from the back, and for the first time, there was a note of amusement in his voice. “I, for one, never underestimated you, Sage. And just for the record, Sheriff, voodoo has nothing to do with her type of witchcraft.”

My face warmed, and I knew I was blushing. I had no idea why, but the show of faith made me feel good. Without meaning to, I compared the two men in my head. James was kind, but definitely had a touch of Good Old Boy in him even though he was modern. He was smart but not brilliant, and he strove to excel both because he was a perfectionist and because he worried he wouldn’t be able to fill his father’s shoes. He was also still on my list for dumping me and calling me weird when he found out I was a witch even though I bore some responsibility there, too.

Luther, on the other hand, was self-assured and didn’t seem to give two hoots what anybody thought. I’d seen hints of a sense of humor, but I’d also witnessed bursts of arrogance. I didn’t know him well enough to make an accurate call on his intelligence, but from his demeanor, he was cultured and—if I had to guess—educated. Of course, that might all come from being hundreds of years old, too. I didn’t know that for a fact, but my mom had made a reference that implied he’d been around for a while. And even though James was quite attractive, I also had to give Luther the points for looks, though I’d never admit that.

He had the whole ‘international man of mystery thing’ going, along with green eyes that seemed