Witchcraft and nasty little murders

Chapter Six Friends

Grey clouds were gathering over Gaxburn City. Even as evening approached, the La Habana nightclub did not open, although there were those who would have gone to the gate to gain admittance, but the yellow tape at the street entrance proved a deterrent.

Ophelia was uncomfortable, but the tightness in her chest was gone when Esteban's pale, bloodstained corpse was bagged. She was forced to admit that the proximity of the detective helped her a lot.

The man was about to light a cigarette when the coroner appeared. This time, it was not Kendra Smith who provided the information, but a tall, white-skinned man in a suit, his rubber gloves off. He approached the detective as if they had known each other for a thousand years. Detective Harper brushed aside his hair, tucked his unlit cigarette behind his ear and focused on the newcomer.

"Hello, Darren," they shook hands in a light-hearted mood, and then the coroner turned dubiously to Ophelia.

"Feel free to say it before her. She is a consultant," the detective explained the situation, which made the coroner's eyebrow rise.

"It's a clean case. A bullet to the head, no frills, just like in showdowns."

"Anyone else hurt?"

"No," the doctor declared.

"Interesting. The victim always had at least two bodyguards with him," he explained, and Ophelia wondered if he knew the perpetrator, or if he'd been killed in his private hours, because everyone needs a little privacy. Esteban liked women, so maybe they were dealing with a modern-day Mata Hari. As she looked at the detective, she realized he was thinking something similar.

"Thanks, Stanley."

"The body goes to Dr Smith; she does the rest. She'll be in touch with you shortly," he added, and left.

Ophelia stepped up to the detective, took the cigarette from behind his ear and stuffed it in her own mouth, forcing him to put another cigarette in his mouth. Ophelia shielded her finger with one hand at the side so that others could not see what she was doing. She lit first the man's cigarette, then her own, and they took a few steps back from the scene. They had already removed the body and CSIs were examining the marks left behind.

"What do you think? Are the two murders connected?"

"I don't know," the tall, long-haired man scratched the back of his head as he frowned, "Esteban had a lot of enemies, and in his case, he didn't have the magical disguise we found on Hannah, so it's possible it's not the same perpetrator."

"But you do seem troubled," she let out a puff of smoke like a dragon.

"Because timing is always key. And now, let's face it, it's really awful," the detective took a drag on the cigarette, too, and then cast a cold glance at Ophelia. "Some kind of abracadabra would be nice..."

"I have an idea, but..." At that moment her phone rang. She looked at the screen and gave a lopsided smile. "She often calls me when I think about her," she explained.

"Then maybe you should answer it," he urged her.

"Shit, I never thought you'd make me give in in the end..." she grumbled before picking up the phone. Of course, he understood very little of that. "Hi, Lyra. What's up?"

"I was just worried and I called you. How's the investigation going?"

"Thanks, I'd say it's going well, but we're stuck. I could use some help, but I'd rather discuss the details in person."

"Okay, maybe tomorrow night?" her friend suggested.

"Perfect."

"There's this authentic Chinese restaurant we've always wanted to try. How about we meet there at eight?"