Dizzy Spells (7 page)

I nodded. I should have known. Most people
in small country towns were related to each other. At least there
was always a network that could be counted on to supply plenty of
information, whether real or imagined, about people’s personal
lives.

“There,” Thyme said loudly, startling me.
“He’s on the move.”

“On the move? When did you join the army?” I
teased her as I turned the key in her ignition and slid down in my
seat.

Sure enough, Alder Vervain was heading
across the motel parking lot to his car. He was carrying a folder
of some sort. He didn’t look around, which suited me just fine. The
motel parking lot was full, and my car was sandwiched between
others on the road, so I hoped we had escaped his notice. Still, I
couldn’t shake off the uncanny feeling that he knew only too well
that I was there.

Alder climbed behind the wheel. He pulled
out of his space and headed for the exit.

“Follow him, but stay back,” Thyme said
urgently. “Don’t tip him off.”

I pulled out a reasonable distance behind
Alder’s car.

“I think he’s heading for his house,” Thyme
said with obvious disappointment, after Alder had led us a winding
ride over back roads. “Maybe we should just go back.”

“I don’t know,” I said. Alder’s car had
disappeared around a sharp bend. When I drove around the curve,
Alder’s car was nowhere to be seen, and the road was straight for
miles. I slammed on the brakes, and swerved to a stop.

“What the heck?” Thyme exclaimed.

“Where could he have gone?” I was really
beginning to think Alder had mystical powers.

“I don’t know, but just keep driving,” Thyme
said.

I did as she asked. Just up ahead was
another road to the left. It was hidden by wattle trees until I was
almost upon it. I turned onto it. It was paved but not as well as
the main road, and my car bounced this way and that. Thyme lost
some of her scrying water in the process. This road climbed rather
steeply, going directly up the hill instead of winding around it.
The road was narrow, so much so that if another car came, I would
have to pull off to the side to allow it to pass. I fervently hoped
that Alder didn’t come back down the hill past us. We’d be sitting
ducks.

For once, luck was on my side, because
before long the road widened and the ground leveled out. Soon I saw
a dirt lane down to a pretty little white house that was surrounded
by bougainvillea and magnolia trees in full bloom.

“Oh gosh, how silly of me,” Thyme said.
“There’s his car. This must be where he’s living now. He sold his
parents’ farm after they died.”

I started to pull off the road, but Thyme
stopped me.

“Keep going,” she said. “Don’t pull over.
There’s a road to the right that will take us back to town.”

“Shouldn’t we watch him?” I asked.

“No,” Thyme said firmly, shaking her head.
“It’s one thing to follow him around town to find out if he has a
client interested in you, but it’s another thing entirely to go to
his own home. A man has been murdered, after all. Do you remember
the last time?”

I swerved to miss a bush turkey that had run
out on the road, and then glanced at Thyme. She looked like an
angry mother or a stern schoolmistress. I hoped it was because she
had just lost some more scrying water and wasn’t angry with me for
wanting to sit outside Alder’s house.

“You almost got hurt when we tried to solve
Brant McCallum’s murder!” she said.

I nodded. “Yes, but surely you don’t think
Alder Vervain had anything to do with Thomas Hale’s murder?”

“Someone murdered him,” Thyme said. “And it
was likely someone in this town. If we’re going to do help Dianne,
we have to be careful.”

The mood for rest of the ride home was
somewhat contemplative and somber. It wasn’t until I was home that
I saw that Thyme had left the small bowl of scrying water on the
floor of my car. I took it inside with me and put it on the coffee
table in the living room. I figured the cats wouldn’t drink it, and
just as well, as who knew what magical things would happen to them
if they drank moon-enchanted scrying water?

After a quick dinner of chocolate ice cream
and wine, I showered and dressed for bed. I wondered whether I
should follow Thyme’s instructions and smudge my bedroom with white
sage, but then decided against it. I was way too tired for that. I
was asleep almost as soon as I hit the sheets.

Later I awoke, gasping from a nightmare. I
lay in bed for a moment, thinking about the bad dream. Someone had
been chasing me down a long hallway that had no doors or windows.
There had been footsteps behind me, and they had been getting
closer.

I jumped out of bed, scattering the cats,
and turned on the light. I didn’t think I’d be able to go straight
back to sleep, so I got a glass of water and went into the living
room. I was going to look for something to watch on cable, not a
horror movie of course. Willow and Hawthorn were already on the
sofa, glaring at me. I reached for the remote, but then my eyes
fell on the container of scrying water on the coffee table.

As I looked at it, I saw shapes forming. I
blinked, at first thinking I was imagining things. I rubbed my eyes
and looked again. Sure enough, I could clearly see a shadowy figure
in the water. I gasped and looked more closely.

Thyme had told me that scrying came more
easily to some than to others. I had assumed it wouldn’t come
easily to me. Yet as I peered into the depths of the dark water, I
clearly saw a shadowy figure in front of my house, moving
stealthily away. The sight chilled me to the bone. At the moment, I
knew full well that someone had been creeping along the street
outside my house in the middle of the night. And whoever it was,
was filled with malicious intent toward me.

Chapter 11

“Don’t think so hard about it.” Thyme patted
my shoulder as we made our way down the sidewalk. “You’re so
stressed that you’re making my hair turn white!”

I shot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m kidding!” Thyme said with exasperation.
“Come on. I know I said to be careful, but you’re taking it too
far. He’s not a mass murderer, just a low-rate private detective.
He’s so great at his job that he made it obvious he was
investigating you. And we don’t even know yet if someone really has
paid him to follow you. Even if that’s true, it could just be some
loser ex who can’t let go.”

A vivid image of my boyfriend came to mind.
I remembered his scathing glares of disgust over my Nachos of Doom.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I guess a paid stalker is hard to brush off
as no big deal.” It was Thyme’s turn to give me an apologetic look
as she shifted the basket of cream stuffed lemon cake from one arm
to the other. “Sorry, Mint is better at the
reassuring-people-through-a-crisis thing than I am. But if you ever
want to turn anyone prematurely bald, let me know.”

“There’s a spell for that?” I gasped as soon
as I said the words, and looked around for eavesdroppers. Luckily,
no one was staring at me like I was a crazy person.

Thyme, on the other hand, seemed completely
unfazed. After a quick glance around, she turned her attention back
to me. “Yes, there are spells for everything. And even in a mundane
way, there are herbs and oils you could put together to make it
happen. But I’ve found that sneaking hair removal cream into their
shampoo bottle tends to work faster.”

I laughed. I thought for a moment that Thyme
was just joking. She seemed too calm and matter of fact about
it.

“Hey, it works!” Thyme waved her free hand
in the air. “I have a terrible dating record. I think I have a
primal need for high blood pressure and anxiety. I always end up
with both a few weeks into a relationship. Payback is great stress
relief—non-magical payback, that is.”

“You seriously don’t put Nair in their
shampoo?” I didn’t know whether I was amused, appalled, or just
plain envious. Truth be told, I was probably envious. If I had
tried to pull something like that, I bet I’d be sent to jail and
I’d end up being bunked with an inmate with multiple personalities,
all three of which would hate me. That would be just how my luck
would roll in the revenge department.

“No I’m kidding.” Thyme’s mouth quirked into
a grin and she ducked as I swiped at her. “I fantasize about what
I’d like to do to them. Usually it’s little things like locking
their keys in the car or hiding their wallet in the back of their
freezer. The only thing I ever did, was taking an industrial
strength magnet to my last boyfriend’s memory cards.”

“Memory cards?’

Thyme nodded. “On his games. A strong enough
magnet can ruin a saved game. The way he played, half his life was
probably on those things.”

“Thyme!”

Thyme stopped walking and put her free hand
on her hip. “I refuse to feel sorry for a man who throws a tantrum
when a kid out-games him. He pawned my things to buy a two hundred
dollar game upgrade. I don’t have anything against gamers as such,
but if you ever date one, make sure he’s not a kleptomaniac with a
Peter-Pan complex.”

I was shocked. “He actually pawned your
things for a game?”

“Yes, my sapphire earrings and a gold fob
chain that my grandmother had given me. I did get them back in the
end. Most do make it out unscathed,” Thyme assured me. “In real
life, not in my mind.”

We were still giggling over Thyme’s ideas
for revenge tactics when we arrived at
Glinda’s
. Ruprecht’s
store was as warm and welcoming as ever. Books were shelved from
top to bottom, ancient globes hung from the ceiling, and glass
cabinets displayed all manner of mystical items, from crystal balls
to exotic incense.

I could spend all day in
Glinda’s
and
still not see everything there was to see. It was a combination of
a mystic library, a museum, and a set from a Harry Potter
movie.

Camino waved us toward the back room. “Looks
like someone is feeling better!”

Thyme grinned. “I’ve been giving Amelia some
relationship advice on the way.”

“Goddess help us!” Camino exclaimed with a
shake of her head, and then glanced over at me. “Is that to say you
have someone on your mind?”

“No!” I said quickly, feeling my face color
at the unexpected question.

“The handsome firefighter perhaps?”

“No,” I said again, this time truthfully. It
was Alder Vervain who had come to mind, rather than Craig. I
somehow couldn’t bring myself to share Thyme’s opinion of Alder.
“Thyme was just distracting me from, well, everything.”

“She has a talent for that!” Mint called
from the back.

Thyme snorted rudely as she handed over the
basket. “Just so you know, ignore whatever Mint’s been saying about
me! She’s my accomplice!”

Camino laughed softly and nodded. “I’d not
doubt it for a minute.”

Mint peeked around the corner with a stack
of small white ceramic plates in hand. “What makes you say
that?”

“Don’t try to play the angel, Mint.” Camino
waved a knobby finger at both Thyme and Mint. “I helped change your
diapers. I likely know you two better than you know
yourselves.”

As the women squirmed, Camino turned her
attention to me. “These two were always causing all manner of
mischief when they were younger. Poor Ruprecht, trying to cope with
two little bulls in his antique shop.”

“We weren’t that bad!” Mint insisted, her
face coloring.

Thyme grinned. “Yes we were,” she said with
a chuckle.

“One time when Mint was about seven, she got
it in her head that she was going to be a beautician when she was
older. Next thing I know, I found my poor cat, Calliope, in the
kitchen sink, being dyed pink. Calliope never let Mint and Thyme
near her for the rest of her days.”

“Camino!” Mint was red faced as she set out
the plates. “You promised not to share that silly story with guests
anymore.”

“Amelia isn’t a guest. She’s practically
family,” Camino sniffed, unaffected by Mint’s protests.

Ruprecht shuffled out from hiding, one of
his cats perched contently on his shoulder, in the same way a
parrot would sit on a pirate’s shoulder. “And there was also your
first, or should I say, only sleepover.”

I dragged my eyes away from the cat on his
shoulder and asked, “What happened?”

“We decided to paint,” Thyme said simply.
“We painted a Ming Vase, a Victorian statue, and a jade dragon. We
were terrors. It wasn’t until high school that Mint decided her
life’s goal was to be boring.”

“I am not boring!” Mint protested. “Last
week I went line dancing.”

“Line dancing?” I said without thinking.

“I had a really nice time,” Mint said
defensively as she busied herself cutting the cake.

“Dancing?” Thyme appeared to be dubious at
the claim.

“It was a nice time. I even talked with a
man from out of town.”

I noticed Ruprecht and Camino exchanging a
look of surprise. This was apparently news to them.

“While dancing?”

“No, Thyme! I didn’t dance. Happy?” Mint
huffed and scratched her arm. “I break out in hives when I’m
totally surrounded. Sue me!”

I was relieved that none of my embarrassing
childhood stories would ever come to light. They would never let me
live them down.

“I apologize, Amelia.” Ruprecht reached out
to pat my hand. “We’re getting away from ourselves. The whole point
of the evening was to help you with your problem. Is there anything
we can do?”

Suddenly, the reality of the whole thing
came crashing back—the body on the porch, and Alder Vervain’s claim
that someone had hired him to investigate my possible involvement
in the matter.

I plastered what I hoped was a cheerful and
reassuring look on my face. “Oh what, what can I do? Hopefully, the
police will solve the murder soon, and find out what the man was
doing at my house.”