The portrait on its easel was quiet, the photo montage still once more. But people were beginning to talk in hushed tones about witchcraft, supernatural doings, and Thad Vanderhei’s restless ghost.

“Definitely.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Twenty-four

Outside Cuypers and Sons funeral home, Stefan offered to buy me a cup of coffee.

“You’re serious?” I asked him. “Coffee?”

“Is that not the convention of the day?” He raised his eyebrows. “We should talk, Hel’s liaison.”

I ran my hands over my face. Now that the moment had passed, I felt acutely aware of the unique intimacy Stefan and I had just shared. “Okay. Yeah, sure. Meet me down at Callahan’s Café.”

Approximately twenty minutes later, he did, roaring into town on his Harley-Davidson.

At this hour of the afternoon, Callahan’s was quiet. Stefan slid into the farthest corner booth opposite me.

Even with the glamour lending him human semblance, dimming his aura and his ridiculous good looks, he was eye-catching. Tina, the waitress on duty, hastened to bring him a brimming mug of coffee.

Stefan sipped it. “Dear God. This is dreadful.”

“I know.” I poured creamer into mine. “But the refills are free. Did you learn anything today?”

“No.” He took another tentative sip. “No, I’m afraid not. Did you?”

“No.” I wrapped both hands around my mug, determined to keep this on a professional level. “Not there. But we spoke to Jerry Dunham. He wasn’t very cooperative, but he’s got a whole lot of fancy motorcycles he shouldn’t be able to afford. And it looks like the two of you turned up in Pemkowet around the same time, which is also the same time Ray D disappeared. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

Stefan blew on the surface of his coffee. “You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t know you,” I said. “I don’t know anything about you.”

“Untrue,” he said. “You trusted me today. Did I give you cause to regret it, Daisy?”

I shrugged. “Desperate times, desperate measures.”

His ice-blue eyes gazed at me with disconcerting directness. “Very well, Hel’s liaison. What do you desire to know?”

“Ever been to Seattle?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“So you’d never met Jerry before?”

“No. He was already employed at the Wheelhouse when I arrived.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I had no previous cause to dismiss him.”

“Did you have anything to do with Ray D’s disappearance?” I asked.

“No.” Stefan’s tone took on an edge of asperity. “In fact, I’m quite perishingly weary of being questioned about someone I’ve never met.”

“Your territory, your responsibility,” I reminded him. “How about Mary Sudbury?”

He blinked. “Who?”