Questioned by the Cops - Part Seven

Or, Laurent doesn't know his rights.

Previously On - The bookstore is a fascinating place. It’s owner seemed a little tense, but when the police showed up and one of them was Willy’s beautiful sister, all of those thoughts went out the window.

The door opened and she and a man who I presumed to be her partner stepped through. She smiled then, though I could see it wasn't intended for me. That hurt in a way I hadn't expected. It was a sad smile, but warm.

"Hey, Hunter. I guess you heard about Willy."

I turned so that I could take in both Hunter and this beautiful creature.

"Yeah, sorry about that. My thoughts to your family, Helen." Hunter paused, realization of something dawning on him. "Oh, I guess that would just be you now."

Helen nodded. "I'm it as far as the St. Germaine family goes."

I raised an eyebrow at that. The shaman said that their last name was Evans. Knowing that they might be related to the bone dust in the pouch I wore made even me uncomfortable. Not one to believe in coincidences I promised myself to speak to the shaman at length about that detail.

Helen gave me an appraising look. "I'll let you finish with your customer and then we can talk."

I gave my best courtly bow, sweeping the air with one hand. "Laurence Smythe at your service, m'lady."

Helen snorted a laugh. "You get the kookiest cases in here."

"I had the pleasure of meeting your brother before he died. He and I had... business together. My condolences."

All laughter was gone from her face. "How long ago was that exactly?"

"Just within the last two days. We met over," I scanned my knowledge of this century, "the interwebs and shared common interests in studying the occult. I was just talking about that with Hunter. Perhaps I can be of some assistance in your investigation?" I hoped that such 'help' would direct interest away from me.

"The last thing I need is one of Willy's friends muddying the water. We'll get your information though, since you've seen him, in the last few days you said?"

I nodded. "I came into town evening before last. I was staying with a friend, but will be obtaining lodging after I leave here. I will render any aid possible."

She produced a notebook. "Give me your cell phone number."

I paused, the silence straining my ears. "I'm afraid I don't..."

The man that had come in with her stepped around. He was four inches taller than my own five foot eleven inch frame. He had an underdeveloped musculature and an overdeveloped set of upper teeth. "So let's get this straight, you drift into town a couple of days ago to meet someone that you know from the internet. You aren't staying anywhere permanent yet. You don't have a cell phone and you were one of the last people to see Willy alive. That about it?"

I went over the details in my mind and saw that the pieces weren't falling in a way that would benefit me. I heard a low chuckle from Hunter. "I suppose one could put it that way." I shot a glance at the proprietor.

"That makes you a person of interest, then." Helen reached under her jacket. I had a hunch I knew what lie there.

"No need for any restraints, officers."

"Detectives." The man corrected me.

"Detectives. I will gladly go with you wherever we need to go so that we may talk about Willy."

"Kind of you, Lawrence." Helen moved her hand back in the clear. I was certain she could have a weapon or handcuffs out in a blink.

"Let's step outside then." Helen's partner nodded at the door.

I complied, moving out first.

"Hunter, we'll be back later today to chat." I heard Helen's sensible heels on the hardwood floor.

Soon I was back out in the thick Louisiana air. It hadn’t grown warmer since I first walked into the shop. "So, we're to ride to the station for this chat? As a 'person of interest' would it be advisable to lawyer up?" I found that the education I received from the man who shot at me earlier was coming in more handy than I thought.

Helen's partner came around my left. "Now, Mr. Smythe," he pronounced it with the long i sound that I had, but added a dose of sarcasm, "have you done anything wrong? Have we told you that you're under arrest?"

"No, Detective... I'm sorry you have me at a disadvantage. What is your name?"

"Detective Sparrow."

"That's a wonderful last name." I squinted at him. "You have some Native blood." I loved the people who occupied this country before the Europeans arrived. They were always entertaining.

"A ways back, sure." He looked irritated at my observation. That pleased me to no end.

"Detective Sparrow, I haven't done anything for you to be arresting me. I can understand your wanting to talk to me." I pressed into his mind with my own. "I don't think that it's necessary for us to go through the trouble of this game that you're playing."

His vision clouded and he squinted at me. "Not necessary."

I felt a fist clip me on the shoulder. "Stop that."

The shock broke the connection. I was both frustrated and fascinated. She knew what I was doing. She knew how to stop it. How much did she know?

"Sparrow, get in the car. We'll be there in a second."

He nodded, still a little fuzzy from the crude mystical hypnosis he had been subjected to. Crude though it was, it was hundreds of times more powerful than the pale imitation humans used. Soon we were alone.