The District by Carol Ericson Page B

good with the cards.” Libby patted Eric’s arm. “Sorry if Nigel made you uncomfortable, Agent Brody. Your father’s case riveted the city back in the day, and it all came back when the Alphabet Killer started leaving messages for your brother a few months ago.”
    “Jesus.” Eric raked a hand through his hair. “You know all about my family, too?”
    She shrugged. “Like Nigel said, it was a sensational case.”
    “Do you remember my kidnapping?”
    “Of course, but when you walked in here and introduced yourself, I didn’t realize you were the brother who had been kidnapped.”
    “I don’t see how my brother can put up with this, living here.”
    “People forget, move on to the next tragedy. It’s just fresh in our minds because of the recent case. Nobody really believed your father killed those women.”
    Eric’s chest rose and fell. “He jumped from the bridge.”
    Libby twirled her braid. “Lots of people jump from the bridge.”
    Christina raised her voice and tilted her chin toward the door. “Any reason to suspect Nigel?”
    Libby chuckled. “Nigel can barely turn those tarot cards his arthritis is so bad. He’s not capable of wrapping his hands around a knife and slitting someone’s throat.”
    “Is there anything else you can tell us, Libby?”
    She raised her delicate brows. “Haven’t I told you enough? I gave you the motive.”
    Eric snorted. “A war on witches? What for?”
    “Dominance, power.”
    Christina’s ears perked up. Had Libby noticed her special attention to the power card in the tarot deck, or did she really know something?
    “Did you think I meant a bunch of God-fearing Christians were waging this war against the coven?” Libby tsked. “It’s not outsiders, Agent Brody. It’s another coven of witches. Mark my word.”
    When they hit the sidewalk, Christina gulped in the fresh air. “Did we just enter an alternate universe, or what?”
    “I felt like we were the ones being interrogated in there. Libby knew all about your witchiness and old Nigel knew all about my family history.”
    “Watch it.” She punched him in the shoulder.
    “What happened when she shook your hand? Some kind of witch-to-witch communication?”
    “Would you stop calling me a witch?”
    “Tea?” He nodded toward a coffeehouse at the end of the alley. “I need to process this.”
    “Sure.” Her arm swept along the street and the people strolling from shop to shop. “Apparently the night’s still young here in The Haight.”
    “You haven’t been away from city life that long, have you?” He opened the door for her.
    “They do roll up the sidewalks in San Miguel at ten o’clock on Friday nights, eight on weeknights.”
    “You loved the city. Why’d you move out?”
    “Ah, I thought I told you. My mom needed some help.” She folded her arms and peered at the drink menu on the wall.
    “You told me your mom had retired from nursing. You’re living with her?”
    “Mom and I always got along, sort of.”
    “Is she really ill?”
    “Small chai latte, please.” She shook her head. “Just slowing down a bit, and she likes the company.”
    “That’s why I’m surprised she retired.” He ordered a decaf coffee, and they took a table in the corner.
    He shifted in the wood chair and stretched his legs in front of him. “Did you know anything about witches’ covens before Libby gave us the 411?”
    “You mean anything other than what I’ve seen in the movies?” She popped the lid from her cup and blew on the surface. “My half sister’s a witch.”
    Eric sputtered and wiped the coffee from his chin. “Vivi’s a witch?”
    “I thought I told you that before, too.”
    “You must be having imaginary conversations in your head with me because you never put it that way before. I thought she just dabbled in the occult.” He blotted beads of coffee off the table with a napkin. “What does that mean exactly, that she’s a witch? Does she cast spells and mix