Hubris was the damnedest thing, Mary reflected bitterly while refusing to look at Talent.
To his credit, he leveled the housekeeper with a stern, unyielding look. “The crime scene, if you please, madam.”
Her gaze darted about the empty street, then back to Talent. “Come.”
She led them into the front parlor. When Mrs. White had left, a man entered the room and frowned. “I am Mr. Rush, a longtime friend of Mr. Pierce. I am here to assist in closing up the house.” Rush was a man of about thirty, well groomed and so stiff-backed that it was a wonder he did not have a poker stuffed up his arse. “How may I help you?”
“I am Inspector John Talent, and my partner Miss Chase.” He flashed his credentials. Official-looking documents designed to impress and quell inquiry.
Rush’s gaze flicked to Mary, and his expression darkened. “Partner?”
Frankly, Mary was now as surprised as Rush. What had happened to “blind niece”?
“I’d rather you had not arrived so close to calling hours,” Rush said. “It is most indelicate. But I suppose there is no help for it now.”
“You plan to receive callers on such a day?” Talent asked.
“Well, no.” Rush frowned. “It is merely the principle of you being here during an hour in which callers might be driving past the house.”
“Can’t see how they’d know we are here,” Talent muttered as he pulled out a small notebook and pencil. Likely he didn’t need them, but he’d clearly decided to act the part of a proper investigator. “Who discovered Mr. Pierce?”
Rush clearly wanted acknowledgment for his little chastisement, but he answered. “That would be Mrs. White.”
Talent scribbled something down, and Mary glanced at his pad, stifling a laugh as she read the words: Look into the prat’s background—Mrs. White’s too. He pocketed the notebook. “We’ll need to speak with her, then. And view the crime scene.”
Again, Rush’s gaze darted to Mary. “Of course, Inspector.” Then he gave her the condescending look one employs with an ignorant child. “If you’ll wait here, miss. I’ll have tea sent in.”
“Miss Chase shall be accompanying me.”
Rush’s thin nostrils flared, then pinched. “A crime scene is no place for a lady.”
“Try not to view me as such at the moment, Mr. Rush.” She moved nearer and caught his gaze. Only a moment more, and he’d be hers. But he broke the connection.
“Believe me, miss”—cool grey eyes traveled up and down her form in a way that made her skin prickle—“that shall not be hard. Regardless—”
And that is when Talent’s temper broke. He stepped closer to her, his body not quite shielding, but aligning itself as if he would, given further provocation. Dark clouds of irritation twisted his features, a gesture familiar to her, even though he wore the face of another man.
“Here is what shall happen.” Talent’s tone was iron. “You shall turn around, walk out of this room, and collect Mrs. White, who shall answer any and all of our questions. And then we shall view the body.” His gaze bore into Rush. Though he was now older and softer about the middle, Talent’s physical presence was undeniable. “Or I shall haul your arse down to the magistrate so that you can explain why you have interfered with an official investigation.”
All color fled Rush’s face, and his thin mustache quivered with outrage. He made no move to answer. Talent’s setdown had rendered him frozen.
Talent’s expression turned bland. “One foot in front of the other, Rush.”
Really, Mary thought, as she laid a hand upon the irate Mr. Rush, Talent had no sense of delicacy whatsoever. Upon feeling her touch, Rush glowered down at her, and Mary locked eyes with him and let her full power go. The effect was instant, and the man’s body went lax and warm. She gave him a little smile. “You will do as the inspector says, then you shall go find yourself a nice cup of tea.”
“Tea sounds lovely,” Rush murmured, gazing down at her with something akin to adoration.
“Yes, doesn’t it now?” She gave him a gentle pat. “And when you have finished your tea, you shall have no memory of me.”
“No memory.” He nodded in an absent-minded way.
“Lovely.” Mary gestured to the door. “Now off you go, Mr. Rush.”
Rush ambled off as though in a fog. Perhaps it was because GIM were not as physically strong as other supernaturals that Adam had sought to give them other methods of defense, but whatever the reason, a GIM had the power to beguile a person into doing her bidding by simply locking gazes and willing it so.