0451416325 (24 page)

B
y the time I walked into To Have and to Cuddle, which was a few storefronts down from Potions in the Ring, my nerves were frazzled.

The more Virgil faded, the more agitated Louella became.

She growled and snapped at every person we passed, and I was entertaining serious notions of taking her back to Doc Gabriel.

Then I felt guilty for thinking such things and added another toy to the basket looped on my arm as penance.

I followed Virgil down each and every aisle while he pointed out what I should buy for the menacing little dog.

I wished I’d grabbed a buggy instead of a basket. My arm ached.

But only my arm.

As Virgil disappeared, the pain I associated with him faded as well.

Jenny Jane was all smiles as she floated nearby, excited to see her daughter and grandchild soon. I had to admit, I was looking forward to it, too. Such a simple desire. To see a family line continued, and to perhaps see a little of yourself in the baby. Would the child have Jenny Jane’s sweet smile? Her compassionate eyes?

Had Haywood felt the same way when he learned about Avery?

I hadn’t seen him since he led me to the hatch yesterday afternoon in Rupert’s study, and I hoped he would show up again soon.

I was going to have to find time to go see Avery. She might be able to shed a little more light on the blackmail letters and her father’s state of mind in general. I hoped she knew something,
anything
, that would explain why he had been killed.

Because right now I was at a loss.

No one seemed to have known that Haywood was heir to the Ezekiel mansion, and other than Doug, no one had a theory about who the blackmailer might be.

I still had to talk to Patricia, but I had the feeling she’d tell me the same as the others, if she talked to me at all.

Virgil pointed to the most expensive doggy bed on the shelf, and I dutifully tucked it under my arm and followed as he drifted down the next aisle. Louella followed, too, racing after him as though afraid to let him out of her sight.

I kept thinking on what Hyacinth had told me.

Doug Ramelle is out of his pea-pickin’ mind for even suggesting Haywood is the blackmailer. Doug’s jumping at straws, looking for a scapegoat.

Doug seemed to be the ringleader of the Haywood-is-the-blackmailer circus. Which made me wonder if he planted the suspicion on purpose. What if Mayor Ramelle’s gambling had drained their bank accounts? Or the town’s accounts? Or the Harpies’? Would she and Doug be desperate enough to blackmail their friends to fill them back up again before anyone was the wiser?

My skin tingled, and I had the feeling I was onto something with this theory.

I needed to ask Dylan if the sheriff had looked into the finances of the Harpies. If Doug was behind the blackmail, it would be easy enough to spot in his financial records.

When I turned the corner of the next aisle, I nearly bumped straight into Idella Deboe Kirby, who was loading a case of dog food into her buggy.

She groaned when she saw me.

I didn’t take it personally.

Much.

“You’ve had quite the couple of days,” she said, looking at me down the bridge of her nose. She eyed Louella with contempt.
Tsk.

“The usual,” I said, playing it off. I didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now.

Clasping her hands, her gemstone rings clinked together as she said, “Let me give you some advice, Carly.”

This was bound to take a while, so I set the heavy basket down on the floor. “Oh, please do.”

My sarcasm didn’t deter her.

“Stop nosing into what’s going on.”
Tsk.
“Let it be. Get on with your life. None of this concerns you.”

That
tsk
was getting on my last nerve. “I think it does after someone tried to kill me yesterday. Don’t you want to know who killed Haywood?”

Tucking a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear, she added, “At what cost, Carly? Finding his killer is not worth risking your life. The fire at the mansion should have proven that to you.”

“Do you know who killed him?” I asked flat out, resisting the urge to
tsk
right back at her.

“If I did, I’d say so.”

She was telling the truth.

Her thin eyebrows dropped low and there was a catch in her throat as she said, “Haywood was a good man, and I’m sorry he’s gone, but he’s gone. The blackmail has stopped. Let it go. Despite my better judgment, I like you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Tsk.

For a backhanded compliment, I was touched. “I appreciate that, but what about Patricia?” I asked. “She’s staring at a murder charge. Don’t you want her name cleared? Unless you think she did it?”

Spinning her buggy wide, she let out a world-weary sigh. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

I felt as though her advice came from her cold heart, but she didn’t understand why I couldn’t give up.

Haywood.

The portal would be closing soon, and I was damn well going to make sure he had crossed over by then. Even if it meant that I ruffled some feathers. And put myself in danger.

“Listen, Carly, take my advice or don’t . . . I felt I owed it to you to try.” Idella walked off with one last
tsk
, leaving me standing in a cloud of her expensive perfume.

Louella growled in impatience as I shifted my weight. I was quickly running out of leads. All I had left was to question Patricia and Avery to uncover the truth. I wasn’t hopeful that either would be helpful.

I rubbed my temples. What a day this had been.

Picking up my basket, I found Virgil in the next aisle. He was barely visible as he pointed to a frilly pink collar studded with rhinestones.

Dutifully, I added it to my basket. “What’s next?”

He shook his head.

“We’re done?” I asked.

Yes.
He knelt next to Louella, blew her kisses. Her tail thumped the floor.

“You’re leaving now?” I asked around the knot in my throat.

Looking up, he nodded. Instead of his beautiful brown eyes looking sad, they were filled with pure joy that came from deep within his soul.

He smiled at me and mouthed “thank you.”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

He blew me a kiss as his glimmer faded away completely.

I swiped tears with the back of my hand.

He was gone.

Louella barked and whined, and I knelt down next to her. “You’ll be okay,” I whispered, reaching out to pet her head.

She must not have believed me because she growled and bit my hand.

I let out a yip, then a laugh. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

•   •   •

Roly and Poly were upstairs, giving me the silent treatment.

I didn’t blame them one little bit.

Because I was weak-willed where a certain man was concerned, a tyrant was in our house, making everyone cower at every growl that came from her throat.

Yes. Patricia Davis Jackson had arrived.

She’d come bearing a hostess gift of chocolate-covered cherries, which was my least favorite treat. Which she knew.

Currently, she sat ramrod-straight on my sofa. She had wiped it first with a handkerchief. Her judgmental gaze flicked around the room, narrowing ever so slightly at each of the housekeeping transgressions she came across as though keeping a mental list. Dust bunnies, check. Cat hair, check. Old magazines, check. Dirty windows, check, check, check.

The only things she seemed to tolerate were Dylan and Louella.

The darn dog had immediately taken a liking to her, and was sitting at her feet grumbling at anyone else who walked by.

Kindred spirits, I figured.

She-devils needed to stick together.

Patricia’s blond pixie cut was styled spikier than usual, and when she turned her head a certain way, it actually looked like she had devil’s horns.

I, however, didn’t point this out to her, which had nothing to do with manners and everything with how the devil-hair amused me.

Dylan had followed through on his promise to bring me a picture of his mama’s mug shot, and I’d been a bit let down by it. Somehow Patricia had managed to look nonplussed and elegant in the photo. I’d definitely gotten the raw end of my deal with Dylan.

He’d also brought home the news that Doug Ramelle had an airtight alibi for the time frame of the fire, so he wasn’t being considered a suspect. It was good to rule him out, but we were still left with a lot of questions as to who it could be.

Jenny Jane was at her post by the front door, and Louella didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her presence. The cats had been only mildly disturbed by her presence earlier—I swear they were getting accustomed to having ghosts around. They were slightly more perturbed by Louella, but mostly ignored her. However, they’d had cataclysmic hissy fits the moment Patricia walked through the front door. They hadn’t been seen since.

Delia had banished herself to the kitchen, and Boo slept on the rug near her feet as she stirred a big pot of chili. My stomach rumbled as I breathed in the scents of cumin and chili powder, onions and garlic. The corn bread I’d made was baking in the oven, and all I wanted to do was eat and go to bed. Mentally and physically I was wiped out.

Tomorrow promised to be a long day. As early as possible, Delia and I were going to drive downstate to see Moriah Booth Priddy. As the fates would have it, the address Mayor Ramelle left on my voice mail was in Opelika, a town adjacent to Auburn, so we planned to drop in on Avery Bryan as well. We were bucking our Southern raising and not calling ahead to Avery. We wanted to catch her off guard.

We weren’t calling Moriah, either, because there was no way to explain why we wanted to see her. We planned to stake out her house with Jenny Jane until she laid eyes on her grandchild, then skedaddle.

“More wine?” I asked Patricia.

Nodding, she held out her glass. “For an inexpensive brand, this is decent.”

“Inexpensive” was her classy way of calling the wine cheap.

I glanced at Dylan.

He smiled at me.

That smile. It was what did me in, every time.

Instead of pouring the rest of the bottle over Patricia’s head like I wanted, I filled her glass and went back into the kitchen and silently screamed, probably looking a lot like an Edvard Munch painting.

Delia kept on stirring as if her life depended on it. I walked over to her and dropped my head on her shoulder. She patted my hair.

“Do you want me to hex her chili?” she whispered. “I have a sleeping hex in my pocketbook that will knock her out for three straight days. She’ll never know what hit her.”

“I might want that for myself.”

She laughed, and I soaked up the sound.

“I just need to get through the next couple of hours,” I said. “I can do it.”

I knew Dylan wanted me to read Patricia’s energy, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to tap into it. There were certain boundaries I never wanted to cross and that was one of them. The toxicity might do me in.

“You can absolutely do it,” Delia said. “I’ll help. She doesn’t like me any more than she likes you. But at least I’m not trying to steal her beloved baby boy away from her. Grab the corn bread, will you?”

I slipped on an oven mitt. “I’ll take that hex now.”

“No way. You’re not leaving me to deal with her alone. Supper’s ready when you are.”

I grabbed a knife to cut the corn bread and Delia pried it out of my grasp.

“I’ll do that,” she said as though not trusting me with a knife around Patricia. “Why don’t you call them in?”

I supposed I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. Dylan had already set the table. The food was done . . .

Pressing my eyes closed, I turned around, and took a breath. “Supper’s ready!”

A moment later, Patricia came into the kitchen, followed by Dylan.

“How quaint,” she said. “Eating in the kitchen.”

Dylan pulled out her chair. “No reason to be formal with family.”

With pinched lips, she murmured, “Indeed.”

I checked on Louella. She was asleep on the sofa, drooling on one of the cushions. I didn’t dare disturb her. She’d had as rough a day as any of us. Boo had followed me out and jumped up next to Louella. After a moment he noticed Jenny Jane, jumped back down, and went up the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Back in the kitchen, Patricia rubbed a cloth napkin between two fingers, frowned, and set the napkin on her lap. I should have set out the cheap paper towels I used for cleaning. That would have served her right for judging.

Delia made eyes toward her pocketbook, silently asking if I wanted to use the hex on Patricia after all.

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t think that would start any kind of truce off right. I shook my head.

Dylan kissed my cheek as he dished out the chili. Several small ramekins filled with toppings already sat on a dark cherry lazy Susan in the middle of the table. Cheddar cheese, scallions, white onion, sour cream, and avocado slices.

We all sat, perfectly civil—Patricia and Dylan opposite each other at the ends of the rectangular farm table, Delia across from me.

I’d found the vintage jadeite chili bowls at the local white elephant sale a few years ago, and I adored them. If Patricia made one crack about them, I was going to come across the table at her, so help me.

“It smells delicious, Delia. Thank you,” Patricia said, shocking the hell out of me.

Louella wandered into the kitchen and went straight to Patricia’s chair and sat at her feet. Patricia leaned down and rubbed the dog’s head, and I swear if Louella was a cat she would have been purring.

“Thank you,” Delia said. “It took second place at the Darling County fair last year.”

“I can see why.” Patricia took another bite. “It should have placed first.” She broke off a piece of corn bread and fed it to Louella, shocking the hell out of me again—for two reasons. The first being the egregious breach of etiquette on Patricia’s part and the second being that Louella actually ate. She hadn’t eaten a thing since I brought her home hours ago.

Delia raised her eyebrows at me.