“No personal grudges?” I asked. “No irate neighbors? Nobody jealous or mad at her? Any frenemies?”
Komang glanced at Iluh. “Frenemy?”
“A fake person who pretends to be nice but secretly hates you,” Iluh said. “I don’t think so.”
Komang shook her head. “No, she would’ve told me.”
“It doesn’t have to be someone with a grudge.” Jim leaned back in his chair. “Most homicides are committed for three reasons: sex, revenge, or profit.”
“We can rule out sex,” Komang said. “My mother was happily married for over fifty years. My father died two years ago and she isn’t looking for romance.”
“Revenge is probably not a factor either,” I said. “Your mother was universally loved and respected.”
“That leaves us with profit,” Jim said.
“She had a life insurance policy,” Iluh said.
Komang drew herself back. “Are you suggesting . . .”
Uh-oh. “It’s not connected to the life insurance,” I said quickly. “You need a body for the life insurance, and if everything had gone as planned, Eyang Ida would’ve become a jenglot. She would be declared missing and the family would have to wait years before she would be officially listed as deceased.”
“What other things of value did she have?” Jim asked.
“Well, there is the house,” Komang said. “You’ve seen it. It’s not something I would expect anyone to kill her over. People don’t murder each other for thirty-year-old three bedroom, two baths. Her car is safe and runs well, but it’s not expensive.”
“Any artifacts?” I asked. “Cultural items? Sometimes people don’t realize they own things that hold valuable magic.”
Komang sighed. “She collects My Little Pony toys.”
Iluh nodded. “You should’ve gone to the bedroom. She has shelves of those. She thinks they are pretty. She sculpts them out of modeling clay and paints them.”
That’s something I would’ve never guessed.
Iluh bit her lip.
Jim focused on her. “You thought of something.”
She exhaled. “It’s probably nothing. Eyang Ida owns part of the building where her salon is located. A few months ago a law firm contacted her asking if she would sell it.”
“I remember that,” Komang said. “We’ve looked over the proposal. She owned that place for years, so she turned them down.”
Jim turned alert, like a shark sensing a drop of blood in the water. “Did they say on whose behalf?”
“No.” Komang frowned. “I think the client remained anonymous.”
“Do you remember which law firm?” I asked.
“Abbot and something,” Komang said.
“Abbot, Sadlowski, and Shirley!” Iluh said, her face lighting up. “I remember because if you put all the capitals together you get—”
I giggled. Iluh giggled back.
Komang gave Iluh a disappointed mother look.
“They should’ve rearranged their names,” Iluh said.
“It’s a place to start,” Jim said.
I drove through the quiet streets to Eyang Ida’s salon. It was the best place to start. We could go after the law firm, but no lawyer worth his or her salt would divulge the name of their client if the client wished to remain anonymous. Right now, with the attempt on Eyang Ida’s life having failed, was the best time to snoop around and see if anyone was unsettled by it.
Jim sat in the seat next to me. It was the strangest thing. His face was relaxed, his pose lazy. Jim had only two modes: menacing and waiting to menace. He usually worked so hard on being scary, he intimidated people while he was asleep.
I slowed down, just to keep him languid a little longer. The way he sat now, draped over the seat, made me think of him lying on a blanket on the grass under the peach trees. Just lying there, quietly napping, with the sun on his face. I could lie next to him, read a book, and bring us some iced tea when we got thirsty . . . In another universe.
“What was the plan, telling Komang that we’re dating?” I demanded.
“Just keeping the record straight,” Jim said.
“You just told my mother’s BFF that I have a boyfriend. I’m going to get a call from her.”
“You can handle one phone call,” he said.
“And then the phone calls from my uncle and my aunt, and my cousin and my other cousin, and my once-removed cousin’s second daughter, and my roommate from college whom I haven’t seen in four years . . .”
Jim smiled.
“It’s not funny.”
“If you called them all together and made one big announcement, it would save you some trouble,” he said.
Ha. Ha. Oh so funny. “Is that why you’re inviting me to the barbeque? So you can knock it out?”
“They already know,” he said.
Great. Magic alone knew what he told them about me.
We pulled up in front of a long rectangular building. Built with sturdy red brick, it faired the magic well—the walls seemed mostly intact and the roof was in good repair. Five businesses occupied the building. First, Ida’s Hair Place, closed and dark, the door intact; then Vasil’s European Deli; followed by Family Chiropractic and Wellness Center; F&R Courier Service; and Eleventh Planet, a comic book store.
“Why offer to buy just one business?” I thought out loud. “That would make no sense.”
“Exactly,” Jim said.
“There is nothing super great about this location. The street has some traffic but it’s not really busy.”
“And the parking lot is more than half empty,” Jim added.
That was true. Two cars waited by the comic book shop, a horse tied to the chiropractor’s pole shifted from foot to foot, a large truck sat by Vasil’s Deli, and a bunch of bicycles rested in the bike racks by the courier service. I concentrated. I felt nothing mystical or magical about this location. It was thoroughly . . . average.
“Whoever this person is would have to either make the offer for all of the businesses—” Jim started.
“Or be one of the business owners in the building looking to expand,” I finished. “I feel an urge to shop.”
“As an attentive boyfriend and your caring alpha, I fully support you in it.”
Every time he said he was my boyfriend, I had to fight the need to go, “Wheeeee! He said he was my boyfriend!”
We got out of the car and walked toward Eyang Ida’s salon. Walking next to him always made me notice how large he was. He loomed above me, almost a foot taller than I was. He was walking next to me, wasn’t he? How did that even happen?
“Jim, why are you here?” I asked.
“Do you want me to be somewhere else?” he asked.
“No!” Poor half-blind Dali, sounding so desperate. “I meant that you have the Pack to run and here you are with me. You’re almost never with me.” Okay, now I’d gone from desperate to pathetic.
“I know,” he said. “But you are Pack. This is Pack business. The rest of the Pack will hold on for one weekend. They know where to find me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
We were almost to the door.
Jim stopped. I looked at his face. His eyes were warm and I stopped with my foot up in the air. His eyes were never warm. Merciless, guarded, hard, yes, but not warm. Not like this.
“I want to know what you do,” he said quietly. “I want to hang out with you and spend time with you. I like us being together.”
I almost melted right there. And then guilt mugged me. I’ve been avoiding the Keep. I could’ve gone and spent time with him. He was busy and probably miserable and I’ve been selfish and worrying about who would think what. That wasn’t me.
I reached over, ducked under his arm, rubbed my head against him, and smiled. He squeezed me to him, the tips of his fingers lightly sliding over my skin. Oh my gods, he did the cat thing. It made me want to pull his clothes off just so I could touch more of him.
We stopped by the door and sniffed in unison.
Hmm, let’s see, Eyang Ida, car fumes, a half dozen scents of soaps and shampoos, five different people scents, all about a day old—must’ve been her customers . . . Nothing fresh except Iluh’s scent deposited a few hours ago. She must’ve came to the salon to check on Eyang Ida.