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“He was certain that witches were stupid enough to pay any price for what they believed to be items of power.” Stella folded her hands in her lap, her spine stiff with disapproval. “Unfortunately, he was right. He’s been making a fortune over the past ten years.”
Peri silently admitted that there were plenty of humans without magical abilities who would be easily fooled by fake artifacts, but she didn’t think for a second that Richard was trying to pass along bogus relics. If so, his name would have been well known among witches as a fraud. Besides, her mother had bought the statue there. That was certainly no worthless piece of junk.
“So why close the doors?”
“He got greedy.” She made a tsking sound. “Before last year he was happy to deal with collectors he had personally checked out. They might trade in fake items, but they weren’t thieves or black-market dealers.”
“What happened this year?”
“Like I said, he got greedy.”
“Tell me what that means.”
Stella looked annoyed at the question. As if she felt Peri was intruding into private family matters. A cold breeze brushed over her as Valen intensified his hold on Stella’s mind. The annoyance faded as Stella settled back in her chair.
“Richard told me that attendance had fallen off at the auctions. He was afraid his customers were becoming bored with themerchandise he was offering. I tried to tell him it was just a lull. It happens in any business.”
“But he didn’t believe you?” Peri asked.
“When does any man listen to a woman? I’ve come to accept that there is some genetic default setting that keeps the male gender from believing they can be wrong about anything, even when it’s shoved in their face.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. She was speaking from experience. “Richard was determined to regain his reputation for offering rare and valuable items. He started traveling overseas to deal with collectors who weren’t nearly as reputable as the ones he had here. Most of the stuff was stolen from recent archeological digs. No one had any idea what the artifacts were or what they might do.” Her irritation with her brother was replaced by a troubled expression. “He swore they weren’t real, but…”
“You feared they might be?” Peri suggested, urging the woman to continue with her story.
“He changed. He’d always been devoted to the business. It’d been in the Pascal family for over a hundred years. There was pressure to keep it going for another hundred years. He was terrified of being the one to fail.”
“Understandable,” Peri murmured.
“That’s what I told myself, but then he began ignoring everything but the Masque Salon. He stopped joining me at the country club to share dinner, and even missed his various club meetings. It wasn’t like him at all. He understood, as a business owner, the importance of keeping a visible profile in town.”
Peri silently acknowledged that running a business without the benefit of magic must be challenging. There was nothing like a compulsion potion to create repeat customers. Then again, he probably didn’t have furious demons tracking him down to try to kill him.
“Could he have been distracted by a girlfriend?”
“I don’t think so. He was secretive and moody, as if he had something on his mind, but I stopped by the auction house several times without warning and he was always alone.”
Peri narrowed her eyes. Was the change in his personality caused by the miasma? If it was in one of the artifacts, it might have been capable of manipulating his emotions.
Of course, there were any number of mundane reasons he might have been moody.
“Was he worried about the business?” she asked Stella.
The woman paused, as if considering the question. Eventually she shook her head. “No, I think he was obsessed with the artifacts he’d bought.”
Peri struggled not to react. Valen had lowered the barriers in her mind, which meant she would be open to suggestion. Despite her strong will, she might feel pressured into telling them what she thought they wanted to hear. It was human nature.
“Any item in particular?” Peri asked in casual tones.
“He wouldn’t tell me, but he muttered one night he’d found the Holy Grail.” Stella lifted her hands. They were as square as the rest of her, with blunt nails that had been painted with a clear polish. This was a woman who preferred functional comfort to glamour. Peri firmly approved her choice. “I laughed at him. After all, every dealer claims to have the Holy Grail.” There was regret in Stella’s voice. “But day after day, Richard became more distant. He neglected me and even started to neglect himself.”
“Neglect himself how?”
“My brother was meticulous. He always thought he was a player with the ladies.” Stella smiled fondly even as Peri grimaced. She easily recalled the video of Richard greeting his customers. He’d been more of a perv than a player. “He never left his apartment without showering and shaving. And his clothing was professionally cleaned and pressed,” Stellacontinued. “I used to tease him that he never married because he couldn’t find a woman who was suitably obsessed with his looks.”
“That changed?”
Stella shivered, as if bothered by the memory. “There were times I would stop by and I would swear he hadn’t showered or shaved for days. The only time he bothered with his hygiene was when he was hosting one of his auctions.” Her brows snapped together as if she was struck by a sudden thought. “Oh, and there was a strange glow in his eyes.”
Peri sensed Valen tense. Becoming a recluse who forgot to shower could be caused by a human illness. Glowing eyes had to be caused by magic.
