The next breath, his expression grew stern. He stood even taller, an unspoken threat emanating from his broad chest. “I must insist you answer my questions honestly, without further delay, or I will be forced to use the full breadth of my office to—”
“That’s enough, Michael.” Bastien’s words were a dangerous whisper.
Finally, Celine seethed to herself. Lucifer had finally seen fit to extend his magnanimity her way.
Bastien shouldered past Celine, stepping before Michael Grimaldi, standing much too close for comfort, matching him toe to toe.
Detective Grimaldi eased back. A dark satisfaction coiled in Celine’s chest. How she longed for the ability to frighten someone with nothing more than her presence. To live in Bastien’s skin for just an hour. To know what it felt like to have that kind of power.
“As Celine already said, neither she nor Miss Montrose was privy to Miss Stewart’s actual thoughts and could, therefore, only speculate about the latter’s reasons for following them,” Bastien continued in a measured tone. “Any further questioning on your part insinuates that the lady is withholding the truth.”
The detective nodded once. “Which is simply a kinder way to say the lady might be a liar.”
A muscle jumped in Bastien’s jaw. “You still haven’t learned your lesson.”
“And you still fancy yourself a knight in shining armor. Some kind of dark prince.” He sneered. “Do you plan to call me out again? Shall it be pistols at dawn or sabers in the square?”
“That depends.” Bastien paused. “Are you going to beg your cousin to save you again?”
A glimmer of rage passed across Detective Grimaldi’s features. “Very well. I’ll dispense with the formalities.” He spoke to all those present, the tenor in his voice reverberating off the paneled walls. “Everyone here is a possible suspect in a murder. All of you might be lying to me.” His lips coiled into a smirk. “In fact, I expect it. Know that I will not relent until I uncover the truth. The Court of the Lions does not hold more authority than the New Orleans Metropolitan Police, despite the lore surrounding it. As an officer of the law, I am duty-bound to pursue any course of action to determine how this poor young woman came to be found murdered, drained of all her blood.”
At this revelation, a block of ice settled around Celine’s heart, the cold burning into her throat. “Someone . . . drained Anabel of her blood?”
Swiveling toward her, the detective nodded. “And used it to write that mathematical symbol beside her body.”
“Actually . . . I don’t think it has anything to do with mathematics,” Celine said, awareness giving her voice life. “It makes far more sense that it would be a letter or a character.” A different kind of power threaded through her. A kind unlike any she had ever known. “Perhaps even one from an ancient text.”
Detective Grimaldi’s brows arched before he managed to wipe his face clean of all emotion. “Interesting. And how did you come about this hypothesis?”
“My father is a professor of linguistics. He had a chart on the wall of his office, showing the evolution of the English language.” Exhilaration flared through Celine. This was the detail that had troubled her for the last hour. This was the thing that had remained just beyond her reach.
“Do you know what the symbol stands for?” the detective pressed.
“It looks similar to the letters L or C in Latin or Greek, but it isn’t written correctly. It’s as if it’s been turned askew or written by the hand of a drunkard.”
“I see.” He pronounced these two words slowly. Contemplatively.
Celine cut her gaze at the young detective. “It’s within your purview to suspect everyone here, but you can’t possibly think I would tell you these things if I had anything to do with Anabel’s death. It would be tantamount to confessing that I am the murderer.”
Sergeant Brady stared at Celine as if she’d sprouted wings and a horn. “Well, I’ll be damned. Has the girl gone and confessed?”
Michael Grimaldi peered over his shoulder, his expression wry. “In the future, I would take the time to listen fully before coming to conclusions, Sergeant Brady.” He focused once more on Celine. “I will say, however, that I’m intrigued by the notion. Would you mind—”
Bastien cut him off before he could finish. “If you wish to continue this line of questioning, I insist you arrange a time to meet at your headquarters tomorrow, so that Miss Rousseau is afforded the chance to secure her