One Potion in the Grave: A Magic Potion Mystery (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

“W
hat’s wrong?” Jamie Lynn asked as soon as I hung up the phone.

I didn’t know what to tell her. Certainly not the truth. Not yet. “There’s a problem at my mama’s chapel. I have to go. I can make your potion first thing in the morning and deliver it to you, Jamie Lynn.”

“No, no.” She nibbled her lip. “I don’t want Lyla to catch wind of this. I’ll come by and pick it up. Is that okay?”

“More than okay. I’m sorry I can’t stay. I left the house unlocked in case you need to use the phone or anything. Just lock up when you leave.”

“I can’t stay much longer, either,” she said, glancing toward the horizon at the setting sun. “A friend of mine will be here soon to pick me up.” Moisture filled her eyes. “I think I expected too much. I think she’s made it clear what’s important to her. I should have known better.”

Her. Katie Sue.

My mama’s voice rang in my ears, her panic. What
happened to Katie Sue that there was blood on her shoes? “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet, okay? Maybe she just . . . got caught up in something.” Jamie Lynn shrugged as I heard a siren in the distance. I needed to go. I gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in touch soon. Stay here as long as you need.”

She sank back onto the chair, deflating before my eyes. “Thanks, Carly.”

I hated to leave but gave her a wan smile, ran to my bike, kicked up the stand, and pedaled as fast as my legs would move toward my mama’s chapel. The whole way I kept thinking about the danger I felt around Katie Sue. I had a bad feeling about that blood my mama found.

The horizon blazed with the fiery colors of the sunset. My palms were slick as I bumped along brick roads, dodging cars, tourists, and my growing anxiety. A sheriff’s cruiser was parked in front of my mama’s chapel, its lights sending blue streaks across the white siding. A small crowd had gathered, necks craned, but there wasn’t much to see. My mama and daddy stood next to Dylan, who looked formidable in his uniform. Mama’s arms waved as she gestured, and I could hear the nervous high pitch of her voice, but not her words. A deputy carefully walked around the gazebo, using a flashlight beam as a spotlight. He placed small flags at uneven intervals. My stomach dropped. He was marking blood spatter. My gaze zipped to all the little flags. A dozen at least.

I jumped off my bike before I came to a full stop, set the stand, and jogged over to my parents. My daddy’s thin face was drawn and pale, and my mama’s was so full of color it nearly matched her scarlet hair. Dylan gave me a dark look. A look that clearly said “be prepared for
the worst.” No need for him to worry about that—I’d been expecting this anvil since Katie Sue walked into my shop this morning.

This morning.

It felt ages ago.

“Do we know what happened yet?” I asked as streetlamps flickered on one by one.

“Not really,” my daddy said. Augustus Hartwell rarely looked anything other than studious. But tonight . . . tonight there was fear in his eyes.

“Last I saw of her,” my mama said, “she was going at it with that sister of hers but good.”

“Lyla?” I asked. Certainly not Jamie Lynn, because she’d been sitting at my house a good while now.

“Fighting like hellcats, they were.” Mama pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“About what?” Dylan asked.

“Sounded like it was about money,” Mama said. “I was just about to turn the hose on them when Lyla up and stormed off. When I checked on Katie Sue, she was crying. I asked her to come inside for a spell, but she said she had somewhere to be and just needed to collect herself.”

Somewhere to be. Her meeting with Jamie Lynn, no doubt. “What time was this?”

“Oh, about six thirty, I think. Around about there.”

I wondered if seeing Lyla had been the reason Katie Sue didn’t meet with Jamie Lynn on time. I had a hard time believing that, though. Katie Sue seemed like she didn’t want to communicate with her family—other than her baby sister—while she was in town.

“I let her be. The next thing I know, she’s gone, but her shoes are still sitting there.”

“Still?” I asked.

“She’d had them off during the fight with Lyla—for a bit there I was thinking she might use one to stab her sister.”

“The fight was that bad?” Dylan asked.

Mama said simply, “Yes.”

I let out a breath. The two of them took the term “bad blood” to a whole new level.

“Did you notice anything unusual, Augustus?” Dylan asked.

My daddy tugged on his chin. “Rona called me over at the library and had me rush home after she found the shoes. I saw two things that were out of place. I wouldn’t think to mention them at all, but in light of this situation . . .”

“What’s that, Gus honey? What’d you see?” Mama asked, her eyes going wide. Everyone but my mama called Daddy by his given name. Mama’s always called him Gus—it was a name usually reserved for her and her alone.

The rubberneckers slowly dispersed, maybe figuring this was a domestic issue and that there wasn’t anything else to see. No other sheriff’s cruisers had arrived, no fire trucks, no ambulance. I was glad to see them go, but I was worried that the worst was yet to come.

“First thing odd was that on my way home, a jogger ran past me, nearly knocking me over, no apology or anything.”

“That’s just rudeness,” Mama said, waving him off. “Which is not all that unusual unfortunately.”

“Bad manners are something to which I’ve become accustomed,” my daddy said, raising an eyebrow at my mama. “It was the manner of dress that was unusual.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying not to smile at my father’s oh so proper way of speaking. My mama, thank goodness, didn’t seem to notice the playful jab he’d thrown her way.

“The jogger wore sweatpants and a heavy sweatshirt, with its hood up, and also had on gloves.”

“In this heat?” Dylan asked.

Daddy nodded. “As I said, unusual.”

“Was it Delia?” I joked. No one found it amusing but me. I frowned and said, “What was the other unusual thing?”

“Dinah Perrywinkle Cobb was sitting in her truck, parked just around the corner. Unusual since I haven’t seen her since her release from prison.”

We all turned simultaneously toward the spot Daddy mentioned. No one was parked there now. Dylan’s jaw set. I recalled what Katie Sue had told me earlier. That wherever her mama went, Cletus was sure to follow. He had to have been around here somewhere. And he was bad, bad news.

“The jogger,” Dylan said, “man or woman?”

Daddy’s forehead crinkled as his eyebrows dipped. “I’m unsure. Medium height, medium build. I didn’t get a good enough look at the runner to be able to identify a gender based on gait. Could have been either. I admit I was more focused on getting home—and distracted by the jogger’s clothing.”

“Dylan, do you think the jogger had anything to do with whatever happened here?” Mama asked.

“I don’t know, Miz Rona. Sometimes little bits of information come together to make a big picture. But right now, all those bits are looking like confetti. First things
first. We need to see if we can find Katie Sue,” Dylan said.

Mama pressed a hand to her forehead. “I need to sit down.”

“Rona, honey, why don’t you go inside?” my daddy said. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. She scurried up the steps of the chapel—and I figured if she hadn’t dug into the torte yet that it would soon be decimated. Food has always been Mama’s choice of therapy. Part of me wished to join her—I also tended to eat away my troubles—but another part of me, the healer, wanted to find out what happened to Katie Sue. The healer always won.

“We should search the grounds,” my daddy said. “If she hurt herself, she could be wandering around, delirious.”

I noticed Katie Sue’s gold sandals on the bottom step. They’d already been placed in an evidence bag. Rusty splotches flecked the shoes, marring the brilliant gold color. Perspiration popped out on my forehead and dampened my T-shirt. It was just a little after seven thirty now, so whatever had happened had taken place during a very small window of time.

The deputy near the gazebo started flagging a path that led toward the woods. If Katie Sue had been disoriented, she could be lost in the thick brush.

Dylan was stuck between a rock and a hard place. A potential crime scene was at risk, but he needed the manpower we offered. He finally nodded and said, “If you find anything suspicious, don’t touch it. Call out for me right away.”

We fanned out. My daddy headed in the direction of
his and mama’s cottage, and I headed toward the Lover’s Leap trail. Dylan went to speak with the deputy.

I half jogged toward the trailhead, my eyes open wide to the environment around me. Looking for any sign Katie Sue had been through here. But I didn’t have a flashlight, and twilight was making it near impossible to see anything other than shadowy silhouettes.

Mosquitoes buzzed, crickets chirped, and I heard the first croak from a bullfrog in my mama’s pond. Which reminded me of Cassandra Calhoun. Which reminded me of how much the family seemed to hate Katie Sue. And how they probably wouldn’t offer sympathies if something
had
happened to her.

Then I thought about Katie Sue’s family. Her mama. Cletus. Lyla. None but Jamie Lynn seemed too pleased that Katie Sue was back in town.

I heard footsteps and looked behind me. Dylan loped toward me, a flashlight in his hand. “You’ll most likely need this.”

He was right. Twilight was quickly turning into darkness. “Thanks.”

“Remember,” he said. “Anything suspicious, just holler. I’ll come running.”

“I’ll remember.”

He gave a nod and turned away, his own flashlight sweeping side to side. I flicked on the light, pointing it toward the trailhead. I’d been on this trail more times than I could count, but never had I been filled with such dread.

The bullfrog croaked again, spurring me into action. I started forward, alternately hoping I’d find Katie Sue and hoping I wouldn’t.

I’d taken two more steps when I stopped, picking up a sound.

Adrenaline surged as I realized it was someone crying. I took off running toward the noise and just as I was about to enter the trail, a woman stumbled toward me. “Help!” she wailed. Tears streaked her dirty face. Twigs and leaves were tangled in her hair.

Gabi.

I gasped as I realized she was covered in blood, absolutely soaked in it. All the injuries I could see were a jagged cut on her face that had crusted, and she held one of her hands against her chest as though it was hurt. It wasn’t enough to explain the amount of blood . . . and I kept searching for other wounds.

But before I knew what was happening, she rushed toward me and flung her arms around me, crying and wailing, her body convulsing against mine.

I held her tightly, trying to catch my own breath, as I again spotted movement at the trailhead. Johnny Braxton appeared, carrying a bloodied and battered Katie Sue, who looked like a limp doll in his strong arms. My aunt Marjie hobbled along behind him, using a branch as a crutch.

I suddenly realized whose blood it was that had soaked Gabi’s clothes.

Drawing in the deepest breath I could manage, I hollered, “Dylan!”

Chapter Thirteen

“Y
our dreams suck,” I said.

Delia glanced my way, a pale eyebrow lifted. “You’re cranky. Don’t forget that my dreams saved your life not that long ago.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumped, then mumbled an apology.

“Accepted,” she said. “But only because you had a bit of a traumatic night.”

Bit
was an understatement.

“Otherwise,” she added, “I might have had to put a hex on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

She smiled a wicked smile. “Dare me.”

Part of me really wanted to, because I was feisty that way, but I was also smart enough to know she’d actually do it. “I’ll pass this time.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“No need to gloat.”

She laughed—a sound I didn’t hear very often. Despite her Gothic flair, she was really quite reserved. But
the more she let me into her world, the more I saw that her outward appearance was a wall she’d built around herself for protection. From what, I still didn’t know. But I was grateful that she trusted me enough to glimpse small peeks of who she truly was.

We sat on my mama’s front porch in comfy white wicker chairs, padded with deep cushions, while dual ceiling fans circulated humid air and the scent of citronella candles. Delia’s little black dog, Boo, stretched his leash as he sniffed around the porch, the bushes. She’d adopted him from a local animal rescue group that didn’t know his exact age or breed. They guessed he had a lot of Yorkiepoo in him, but none of that mattered to Delia. She’d taken one look into his jet-black eyes and fallen head over heels. I didn’t blame her. There were times I wished I could steal him out from under her, but doubted I could get away with it for long. She’d definitely put a hex on me then.

We were lucky, Delia and me. Tucked safely away in this little nook, with a light breeze blowing, the water in mama’s fountain burbling, and the stars glittering in the dark sky. On any other day, we’d probably be telling stories or swapping gossip and sharing deep thoughts.

But not tonight.

Tonight we were waiting.

Waiting to hear word on Gabi and Aunt Marjie—they’d been whisked off to the hospital, my mama and daddy going with them. Waiting on Dylan to finish speaking with Johnny Braxton. Waiting for the call that my mama’s done had herself a nervous breakdown because her wedding venue was draped in police tape. Waiting on the county coroner to come collect the body
under the white sheet that lay near the gazebo. Waiting for all hell to break loose when word got out that Katie Sue Perrywinkle was dead.

Delia had arrived at the same time as the ambulance, and had taken my hand while Dylan transferred CPR duties on Katie Sue over to the EMTs. When they finally stopped their efforts and called the coroner to come pick up the body, Delia put an arm around me and guided me here, away from everyone. Away from the throng and all their
emotions
. We were especially vulnerable in crowds, and it was best to view this situation from afar.

The
situation
. Katie Sue was dead.

The anvil had fallen, crushing me with the guilt that maybe I could have somehow prevented this outcome.

Delia had made me change into one of Mama’s T-shirts (
DANGEROUS
CURVES
was stamped in bold white letters across my small chest, which would have made me laugh on any other day) and cleaned me up the best she could, scrubbing dried blood from my arms, my chin, my cheeks. She’d been extra careful with my hands, still blistered and raw. My normally suntanned skin had been beet red by the time she’d finished, but I wouldn’t have minded if she kept on scrubbing. I had the feeling I wouldn’t feel clean for a long, long while.

“Do you really think she jumped off Lover’s Leap?” Delia asked.

The woods behind us buzzed with critter chatter, the night song of cicadas, crickets, katydids, owls, and frogs. It was quite the symphony they had going on, and every once in a while, quiet would reign, making me wonder what had spooked them into a moment of silence before their song swelled once again. But it was a secret the
woods would keep. I just hoped that it wouldn’t also keep the secret of what had happened to Katie Sue.

From what we knew so far, when Marjie and Johnny had come across Gabi yelling for help and trying to carry Katie Sue up the narrow trail that snaked from the river to the top of the bluff, Katie Sue was still alive. Barely. By all appearances, Katie Sue had jumped off the bluff, but instead of landing in the water, she’d hit the rocks below her. They knew they didn’t have time enough to get out of the woods and call for an ambulance, so Johnny had picked up Katie Sue and carried her as fast as he could. But somewhere on the trip out of the woods, she’d died.

I closed my eyes against the memories of her injuries. The gaping head wound. The broken bones jutting at odd angles. The abrasions, cuts, and bruises.

The talk of suicide had grown along with the amount of gawking tourists gathering on the sidewalk, filling the street with their nosiness. Gossip flowed faster than the swirling waters of the Darling River after a soaking rain, picking up dribs and drabs as it went.
That her boyfriend had dumped her; that she was distraught from fighting with her family; that she’d taken to the bottle like her mama; that she’d let her demons get the best of her.

I had to admit, it looked like a suicide. There had been others in that same spot over the years. Usually a casualty from a breakup, a soul too brokenhearted to realize that true happiness was found within—not with somebody else. It was as though throwing oneself off that cliff was proof positive that there were no happy endings. It was ultimate happily
never
after. However, I kept thinking of Katie Sue’s shoes. The flecks of blood on them.
And the danger I’d felt around her. I’d bet my witchy senses that this wasn’t a suicide. “No,” I said. “I don’t.”

“Me either.” Delia stretched her long legs. Boo came over to her and gently pawed her knee until she lifted him onto her lap.

I glanced at my cousin, who looked both angelic with her snowy blond hair and her fair complexion, and also devilish with her dark clothing and cape. “Why? You didn’t have another dream, did you?”

“Just a feeling,” she said darkly. “Katie Sue came into my shop earlier; did you know?”

“For a hex?”

She nodded. “She was quite mad at someone. She wanted a little . . . revenge.”

I easily recalled the anger she’d been emanating when Gabi and I bumped into her behind Marjie’s house. “Mad” was too mild a description. But I still didn’t know who was at the receiving end of all that rage. Had it been Warren, who she’d just been meeting with? Or someone else?

“Did she say who the hex was for?”

“No, but I have the feeling we’ll know soon enough. It was my baldness hex, the weak version. Whoever she gave it to, well, their hair is about to fall out. But, because it’s the weak variety, the hair will grow back.” Moonlight fell across her face as her lips twitched into a half smile. “Someday.”

I blinked, amazed how casually she could talk about causing someone to go bald. “What if it had been extrastrength?”

“Cue ball for the rest of their life.”

“Dang.”

“I rarely sell that hex,” Delia said, scrunching her nose. “When someone asks for that strength I need all the particulars, a full rundown on what the hexee had done to deserve that kind of revenge.”

I was glad to hear she had some kind of moral barometer.

“Take Dixie Perrault for example,” she said.

“No!” I could easily picture the hair stylist who’d suddenly started wearing wigs about a year or so ago before she up and moved out of state.

“Oh yes.”

“What’d she do?”

“The question isn’t what she did. It’s
who
she
didn’t
do.”

I swatted away a moth. “Hush your mouth.”

“Let’s just say that a lot of upset wives suddenly understood why their husbands had developed an affinity for fancy salon hairdos. The wives banded together, came to see me, and told me the whole sordid tale.”

When Dixie left Hitching Post, I’d joked with Ainsley, asking her if Dixie had been making Carter cinnamon rolls . . . Little did I know how close I had been to the true reason the hairstylist left town. “Why not give the baldness hex to the husbands?”

“Oh, don’t worry none about them,” she said softly, her gaze focused in the distance on something I couldn’t see. A memory.

It was probably a recollection I
never
wanted to know about.

Drawing one leg up onto the chair, I wrapped my arms around it. I set my chin on my knee. My role in life was to fix people. It seemed Delia’s was to exact revenge. But try as I might, right here, right now, I couldn’t find
fault in what she’d done to Dixie. Or to the husbands who strayed.

Tomorrow, maybe, I could find some measure of judgment. By then I might have some wits about me and remember why I didn’t make hexes. Why I chose to focus on healing, not harming.

But not right now.

Because right now, as I kept staring at that white sheet, I felt the need for revenge. It rose inside me, fighting to be let loose. It clawed at my soul, slicing open the very heart of me. Ripping to shreds everything I had ever stood for.

I hated it. Yet I embraced it. It gave me purpose. I had to find out who did this to my old friend. Had to find out
why
. Maybe then I could understand. I could put it in a neat tidy compartment in the back of my mind, tucked away as a painful lesson. I could go back to seeing the light.

Delia said, “When she was with me, despite the revenge hex, she seemed . . . hopeful. She wouldn’t go jumping off a cliff. Not willingly.”

I had a flash of someone making her walk to the bluff and forcing her to jump. Heavens above, I hoped that hadn’t been the case. Tears stung my eyes, and I took hold of my locket, squeezing it until my knuckles ached. “Hopeful about what?”

“I don’t know exactly, but when I read her energy, I felt happiness.”

I watched the flame flicker on the citronella candle as I said, “What time was she at your shop?”

Delia tipped her head side to side, thinking about it. “Round near one-ish.”

After Marjie’s gun-toting incident and the car ride with Warren Calhoun, but before I’d seen her poking her head out at my mama’s chapel.

It made me wonder what had happened in that car with Warren. Had they made up? Had he agreed to whatever ultimatums she’d laid down before him?
Hopeful.
I didn’t question Delia’s observation. She had the same empathy skills I did—she’d know hopeful if she felt it.

Which made Katie Sue’s death that much more tragic.

Again, I wondered about her secret ammunition. . . . It was still out there, somewhere. That ammunition might have just turned into evidence. Hopefully, it would point to who was responsible for her death.

I needed to put together a timeline of her whereabouts during the day. Who had she met with? Who’d received the hex? And what had she been fighting about with Lyla? Old family problems? Or something new?

My gaze skipped to all the people gathered around. Familiar faces, most of them. On the fringes, I spotted one of Warren Calhoun’s lug nuts. He was standing completely still, intimidating in his size and demeanor. There was no way he could see me watching him, not from this distance, but I could have sworn for a second there that our gazes met. The next thing I knew, he turned and threaded into the crowd, disappearing from sight.

I searched for any other sign of the Calhouns, but I didn’t find any. Were they oblivious to what had happened here? Or were they on the way to the hospital to meet up with Gabi?

Gabi, who’d been covered in Katie Sue’s blood. Gabi, who’d “found” Katie Sue on the rocky riverbank. Her
presence raised the question of why she’d been on the trail in the first place. Alone, at that. And how she’d come across Katie Sue.

My gaze once again swept the crowd, and a flash of metal caught my eye. Lamplight gleamed off one of Jamie Lynn’s crutches. By now she had to have learned who was under that sheet, and it showed by the look on her face. Then Lyla appeared behind her, put an arm around her shoulders, and led her away.