Bloodstone (16 page)

The doll was limp in my hand. If it were still charged with any kind of energy, I would have felt it but there was nothing, just emptiness and not much weight.

There was a note stabbed to the back, puncturing the felt cape through to the body. When I pulled the pin out, red (blood?) oozed from the doll.

The note said in block letters:
give me what you are hiding or you are next.

FORTY-SEVEN

I ran upstairs to find Thor and to see what I could learn about the walking dead from Gus. He was talking to Derek, excitedly.

“So, in hand-to-hand combat, Spiderman would beat Batman any day. I mean first, he’s a scientist, right? So he has the smarts and maybe Batman does too, but he’s really just a rich boy with lots of toys. Spidey works alone, has spidersense, the strength, the agility, plus the webshooters.”

I cleared my throat.

“Oh, hey there, Stacy. Cinnamon back from Ireland yet?” Gus asked.

Shoot! I forgot about meeting up with my cousin. “Gus what time is it?”’

He pulled out a phone that looked awfully familiar. “It’s 1:45.”

“Is that my phone?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Found it in the parking lot.” He handed it over and I saw that I had three missed text messages. All from Monique. I clicked one open.

MUZZLE THIS KID OR I WILL. Three exclamation points.

Not again. Not now!

I ran to the window and sure enough, the little shit was gone. “Dammit!”

I turned to Gus. “I have to go. Call me if you need anything. But long story short—Derek and Parker were on the ground when I got here and Thor broke the window.”

I ducked out, then ducked back in and said, “Oh yeah, I think you caught this earlier but I’ll remind you that someone trashed my office and left a Voodoo doll with a note pinned to it threatening my life. You might want to look into that. I left it on the desk.”

For a second after I had read the note, I thought about keeping the doll and bringing it to Birdie to glean what she could from it. It’s possible I hadn’t stripped all its power, but then I decided I would feel much safer with it locked up in an evidence bag at the police station.

The sun was buried behind a sea of clouds as I loaded Thor and hopped into Chance’s truck. Images flashed all around my mind like a sideshow. Sayer slumped over the table. Ivy scribbling in her green notebook. The article with the code written in Ogham. Derek and Parker on the floor. The Voodoo doll. What was the connection? Did my mother’s disappearance have anything to do with Sayer’s death? And where was his body? Was it possible that he was still alive? Or had someone stolen his corpse to cover up murder? It wouldn’t be the first time.

None of it made any sense. I needed some answers fast. That doll, the note—
give me what you are hiding
—my office trashed because of something I had that didn’t belong to me? What could it possibly be? And if that person or persons had the keys to the office, then they had the key to my car and my home.

The cottage. John and Deirdre had a key. But certainly my aunt hadn’t given them my key, at least not my entire key ring. Besides, they only knew me through Leo and John didn’t seem like the type to dabble in the dark side of the craft or to marry someone who did. Not that Voodoo is all dark magic, but creating a likeness with the intent to threaten or harm the subject is an act of malice.

I wasn’t seeing a piece of the puzzle and that piece was nagging at the back of my mind, tapping on my shoulder, urging me to recognize a clue just out of my grasp. It was too much too fast and right now I had to collect Ivy, read the decoded message and get to Birdie’s house.

I pulled into a parking spot in front of Down and Dirty, shoving the swirling thoughts to the back of my mind for the moment. I made a point to double check that the keys were in my pocket as I circled the truck to let Thor out. I wasn’t taking any chances lest more trolls should rear their ugly heads.

Light illuminated from inside the Black Opal across the street and I wondered if Cin was there inspecting the remodel. Maybe I could pop over after I dragged Ivy out of her favorite watering hole. Goddess only knows why the kid liked to hang out here and what bonded her to Scully, but she wasn’t your typical teenager and I suspected she enjoyed harassing Monique for the sheer delight in watching the woman’s eye shadow crack beneath the pressure of a hundred eye rolls. Hell, if I had the time, I’d sit at her bar and harass her all day too.

Thor led the way through the door and one of the beads from the curtain snagged his collar. He bit at it, jerked his head back and the whole thing came crashing down on top of him.

He stood there a moment, glanced over his shoulder, then decided the velvet cloak was a good look. He plopped down and sprawled out across the floor. He reminded me of that Carol Burnett skit when she was imitating the famous drapery scene from
Gone With the Wind
.

Monique emerged from the storage room behind the lacquered bar, carrying two bottles of vodka and teetering on four-inch, polka-dot slingbacks. The Daisy Duke shorts may have looked great on a woman with curves, but she reminded me of a mannequin in a ‘tween store left in the window too long. “God damn it, Stacy!” She slammed the bottles down and her bleached blond pigtail extensions jiggled. I had a sudden urge to yank one out and gag her with it. “Why do you bring that beast into my bar?”

Thor grumbled from his resting spot but he didn’t bother getting up.

“Keep your panties on, Monique, if you’re wearing any, that is. It can be fixed.”

“The whole freaking rod came off!”

I spun around to assess the damage. “The brackets are still there. It’s no big deal.”

I made a motion for Thor to stand up. He did. The curtain rod slipped off him and I handed it to Monique. “You know this is probably a fire hazard anyway, having a curtain in the doorway,” I said.

“Just fix the damn thing,” she snapped.

“Fine, spot me.” I climbed on top of a stool and Monique handed me the rod. She held onto the padded seat with her other hand.

The rod cradled onto the brackets easily, but I was still adjusting the curtain tie-backs when Thor decided the chili didn’t agree with him and discarded it at Monique’s feet. She screamed, jumped back and the stool I was standing on wobbled, then toppled over. I landed on my back right on top of Thor’s vomit.

Holy nutfugget, that hurt. And the putrid smell of the slippery mess wasn’t making the situation any more pleasant. However, moving was not an option for a couple of seconds as I caught my wind.

Monique’s face twisted into a look of fury she usually reserved for women who stood in the way of her latest conquest. That, and the Mary Kay lady when she ran out of Pole Dancer Red lipstick.

There was a spot of sick the size of a quarter on one of her toes. I really didn’t see what the big deal was. There were no customers in the front and the mess could be easily cleaned up.

I struggled to stand up. “I’ll clean it up, okay, calm down.”

Her nostrils flared. “Get. Out. Now.”

“Monique, just take it easy.” Never saw her so angry. “Look, I’m going to grab a towel.”

I told Thor to go get Ivy and he trotted into the back room. There was a roll of paper towels behind the bar and I soaked a few, grabbed the whole roll and went over to clean up the mess.

That was when I saw the penny in the middle of the recycled chili.

I didn’t have time to pick it up, though, because behind me, I heard, “Aghhhhh!”

I pivoted to see Monique had a crazed look in her eyes. She came at me, arms flailing in no particular direction.

I’m not usually one to resort to violence. Plus, I promised Cinnamon long ago that if Monique ever needed ass-kicking my cousin could get in the first jab. Since Monique never tried to steal my husband (mostly because I never had one), I agreed.

So it was quite a relief when I jumped out of the way and Monique skidded across the floor like a drunk monkey on a skateboard and landed face-first in the puke. I hoped that popping sound was just the button on her halter-top and not an imploded implant. That was a mess I wasn’t about to clean up.

I almost laughed until I heard her wretched sob.

Geez. Could this day get any worse?

As much as that woman made my skin crawl, I couldn’t stand to see a fellow human being in pain. She was obviously upset about much more than what just happened.

I set the towels aside and reached for her hand. “Come on. I’ll help you up.”

“Get away from me,” she sniffled, slapping my hand aside. “You aren’t my friend.”

“That’s probably because you stuck your tongue down my ex-boyfriend’s throat five minutes after we broke up.” I reached for her again. “Give me your hand.”

She peeked at me and I was thankful to see that the muck wasn’t on her face, because that very likely would have set off a volcano in my own stomach.

She sighed and grabbed my hand, then wobbled to her feet. I handed her the paper towels.

Her head was still down as she mumbled, “Thanks.”

We both cleaned up in uncomfortable silence and since there wasn’t much hope in salvaging my jacket, I tossed it in the trash along with the soiled towels, saving only the penny.

The year held no significance to me. Not my birth year, not Ivy’s or anyone else I could think of at the moment.

I didn’t like that one bit and I suddenly wondered what was taking the dog so long to retrieve Ivy.

Unfortunately, that was the moment Monique decided we were starring in a Lifetime movie. “I don’t have any friends,” she said softly. “I won’t even have customers when your cousin re-opens her bar.”

I silently cursed the gods for appointing me Counselor of Loose Women.

If Cinnamon could hear what I was about to say she would kick me. Hard. “Have you ever tried, I don’t know...being nice to people?”

Monique narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m nice. I’m just misunderstood.”

The only reason I continued was because I was still wiping off. “Let’s pretend that’s true. How about not trying to hump every man you come in contact with? Some women hate that.”

She seemed to be considering it for a moment. Her eyebrows wrinkled together like she just ate a lemon and I guessed that option held no appeal, but I gave her credit for mulling it over. I walked to the trashcan and discarded more soiled towels.

Monique risked a smile when I circled back around and for a split second, I was horrified she might hug me. Then the smile fell off her face as she looked past me to the entrance.

“Well, if it isn’t the Wicked Bitch of the Midwest,” Monique said to Cinnamon.

I squeezed her hand and whispered, “You see, that’s what I am talking about. Here’s your chance to be nice. Be the bigger person.” I nudged her forward and the two women faced each other.

Cinnamon shot me a confused look. Her black hair and dark eyes seemed to deepen a shade as she stared down her nemesis. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be? Trailer Trash Barbie?”

So much for playing nice.

Monique’s hands were at her sides, her fists clenched into tiny balls that were growing ever more white by the second. I cleared my throat to encourage her.

In a strained voice she said, “Ha, ha, ha. That’s a good one, Cinnamon.” Then she looked back at me and I nodded.

Even without the four-inch heels, Monique was a few inches taller than my cousin but something about Cinnamon’s strength and muscular physique seemed to overshadow the blond bartender.

Cinnamon was trying to grasp just what the hell was happening here. She fumbled with the fray of her ripped jeans and straightened the skull on her beaded tee shirt. “Okay.” She glanced around, clearly searching for a hidden camera.

I tapped Monique and she asked in a crackly voice, “Did you have a nice trip?”

Cin looked at her, her left eye twitching ever so slightly and said, “It was lovely. Thank you for asking.”

The two of them stood there, gazing everywhere but at each other.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, and me with a lopsided grin on my face because I was hoping upon hope that perhaps the days of me getting sucker-punched for stepping between the two of them, were over.

Monique spoke first.

She shifted her stance toward me. “I tried, Justice, I really did but I still want to fold her up and stuff her down the garbage shoot.”

“And I still want to pop one of her implants and watch her fly around the room.” Cin turned to Monique and said, “Did she put you up to this?”

Monique said, “Yeah, can you believe it?”

Then they both turned on me and the chattering got so loud, I hardly heard the cries.

“Quiet!” I said. “Do you hear that?”

“Oh, that’s just Scully,” Cin said. “He’s upset about losing some friend. That’s why I’m here, actually.” She looked from me to Monique. “Do either of you know anyone named Ivy?”