Every Trick in the Book (29 page)

“Totally not. I’ll just say they were grown at Red Fox.” Trey glanced my way. “Okay,
Mom?”

“I think that’s the best way to handle this, Trey. You can keep everyone else out
of it.” I wondered what Sean would say if he knew I’d paid Jeff to investigate the
meditation center. “You boys want to stay for supper?”

Jeff picked up his jacket. “Thanks, but no. My girlfriend is cooking me a meatloaf
tonight. I gotta go.”

When Trey shut the door behind his friend, he eyed me worriedly. “Jasper really screwed
up. I wonder how it’ll affect the co-op. And Iris.”

“Jasper’s trouble is of his own making. Unfortunately, a person’s actions have repercussions
on those around them.” I touched his arm. “I’m proud of you for making the decision
to take this to the police. It might mean the closing of the co-op, and if that happens,
your life will change, too.”

As he nodded his agreement, I was struck by how much he’d matured during his months
at Red Fox. It was gratifying to know that my son had such a strong moral code. Trey
was so unlike Justyn, whose upbringing had been devoid of stability and good values.
I couldn’t help but wonder what that young man’s life would have been like had his
childhood been different. His circumstances didn’t give him the right to commit heinous
acts of violence, but I pitied him for the hollowness that existed within his twisted
soul.

“I think I’ll go to the police right now, Mom,” Trey announced, calling me from my
morose thoughts. “There’s a meditation session scheduled for eight tonight, and if
the cops know, they could raid it or something. And since I walked down to Nana’s
and borrowed her truck, they’ll expect to see me coming back on foot. Alone. But that’s
not gonna happen.” He shook his head in disgust. “The sooner Jasper gets thrown in
jail, the better. He’s a liar and a
hypocrite and yet, I looked up to him. Well, that’s all over now. I’m not under his
spell anymore.”

I reached out and touched his shoulder.

Trey looked at me, his mouth curving into a grin. “And I’ve got to admit, I really
miss hot showers.”

AFTER TREY LEFT, I WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN AND
opened the refrigerator, searching for inspiration. It had been a long day, and with
no one to cook for, I decided to fix myself a quick and comforting meal. I dumped
a can of tomato soup in a saucepan, put it on the stove, and laid out bread, sliced
cheese, and butter on the counter.

Ten minutes later, I was dining on a perfectly grilled cheddar and provolone sandwich
along with a steaming bowl of tomato soup. Not one to eat anything out of a can without
doctoring it first, I’d added fresh basil, garlic, and a generous sprinkle of black
pepper to the soup.

I tried to focus on the pleasant aromas in my kitchen and the taste of my delicious
supper, but it was difficult, so I reached for an advanced reader’s copy of a young
adult fantasy Flora had given me. The author was one of Flora’s clients, and she’d
loaned me the ARC because I’d read the first four books in the series and was dying
to know if the
shape-shifting hero would end up falling for the mermaid or the forest nymph.

However, I just couldn’t seem to concentrate on the novel. In between reading the
same sentence over and over, I wondered if Trey had already spoken to the police.
And had he asked for Sean or decided not to get his mother’s love interest involved?
It was incredibly difficult to let Trey bear this burden on his own, but I knew he
needed to do this without me.

Only an hour remained before Jasper would begin his next meditation session, and it
was quickly becoming an unpleasant night for a crowd of college students to be traipsing
up the mountain. The cold, starless sky was striped with dark clouds, and the moon
was a pale sliver above the treetops. A nasty wind had sprung up, whipping the last
of the leaves off the branches outside my kitchen window and pulling the petals from
the chrysanthemums on my front porch.

I gazed outside for several minutes, trying to imagine how a drug raid went down.
I’d seen them on television shows, those crime dramas featuring teams of heavily armed
men and women kicking in doors and storming into squalid tenements or warehouses,
but this was not TV. And how would my son fit into the scenario? Would he wait at
the station or lead the police to the meditation center in my mother’s turquoise pickup
truck? Would he accuse Jasper of being a criminal to his face or would the cops insist
Trey stay in the background while they confronted the co-op’s leader?

My conjectures only served to increase my anxiety, so I got a fire going in the living
room and poured myself some wine. After taking a single sip, I set it down again.
It was doing nothing to relax me and I doubted anything could
until Sean or Trey called with news. But my phone remained stubbornly silent.

Looking for a way to pass the time, I switched on the television, turned to a mindless
reality dancing show, and flipped through a small press publisher’s winter catalogue.
I loved reading about the upcoming releases. The tantalizing blurbs, alluring cover
art, and promises of hours spent absorbed in a captivating story helped distract me
from the day’s events.

Shortly before nine o’clock, the ringing of my phone startled me into dropping the
catalogue and nearly knocking over my wine in my eagerness to talk to my son. However,
it wasn’t Trey on the other end of the line. It was my mother.

“I know you’ve been pacin’ the floorboards all evenin’. Probably nursin’ a glass of
wine instead of tossin’ back a shot of whiskey. When are you gonna learn how to cure
a bad case of the nerves?”

“Mama!” I barked. “What’s going on?”

“Trey’s here with me. That girl, Iris, too. They’re right as rain.” She lowered her
voice. “Trey’s a bit shaky, but he’s puttin’ on a good show in front of the young
lady. She’s a pretty thing, but she’s had a hard time of it and looks like she’ll
keel over any second. I fixed them some sandwiches and left them in the living room.
Trey wanted to call you right away, but I knew you’d want me to settle him down some
first.”

I thanked her, grateful that my mother lived close to the co-op and would take excellent
care of Trey. “So did the cops find the ’shrooms?”

“They sure did. Your good-lookin’ policeman wasn’t with them, though. Guess he’s got
his hands full lookin’ for
another bad man. Anyhow, a handful of kids are gonna have to call up their mommies
and daddies and confess to bein’ real stupid, but the adults of Red Fox are in much
bigger trouble.”

I sighed in relief. “Then Jasper’s been arrested?”

“No, hon. Jasper slipped away in the dark. The police went after him, but he knows
those mountain trails better than anybody.”

This was not what I wanted to hear. “Does he have any idea that Trey was responsible
for the raid?”

“Yes, indeed, he certainly does. Trey told him off good. He didn’t want to go into
too many details with me, seein’ as Iris is Jasper’s sister and all, but I could tell
that he’d needed to speak his piece and he spoke it.” She cleared her throat. “Unfortunately,
Jasper skedaddled right after that.”

I groaned in frustration.

My mother was quick to assure me that Trey was perfectly safe. “There’ll be cops crawling
all over these parts for ages. Nobody’s gonna come and go from Red Fox without their
say-so.” She sighed. “There were good folks up at the co-op, too, Lila. They’re all
gonna leave as soon as the cops let them. Head farther west with the goats and all
their gear. When they do, I’ll lose some of my favorite clients.”

“It’s sad,” I agreed. “But I can’t pretend that I’m not relieved. The thought of Trey
spending the winter up there was giving me nightmares. Those portable heaters only
do so much, and what would happen if he got sick? Or injured?”

“Don’t say anythin’ like that to him, ya hear?” she cautioned. “This is a raw wound.
No need to rub salt in it.”

I spluttered. “Give me some credit. It’s not like I’m glad that Trey’s happiness was
shattered by a charlatan. My poor boy. His own dad ran off when he was a baby and
then this
pseudo–father figure betrayed his trust. I hope he won’t be affected too adversely.”

“The young are tougher than we think. They bounce back better from these sorts of
things than older folks do. Why, Trey’s already mentioned college. He’s tryin’ to
convince Iris to visit the campus with him and meet with some folks there about applyin’.”
My mother made a sympathetic noise. “Guess her brother took off with all the cash,
though. Don’t know how she can pay for school unless the cops run him down.”

Could Jasper successfully evade the police? He was on foot, and it was cold, especially
at night. He didn’t have clothes or shelter. Even if he found refuge in a cave, he’d
eventually have to come down from the mountain in search of food.

“Maybe you should all come stay with me after tonight,” I suggested.

“No, no,” she quickly replied. “We’re fine here. Jasper’s long gone. But
you
should join us. The sooner the better.”

I didn’t like the edge to her voice. “What makes you say that?”

My mother answered in a hushed tone. “The mirror. Remember when you broke that mirror
on moving day?”

My shoulders sagged. I really didn’t want to rehash my mother’s dramatic reaction
upon seeing the glass scattered across the floor of my front hall. “Yes, I do. I also
remember your ominous prediction that trouble was headed my way. And you were right—it’s
hardly been a peaceful autumn—but why are you bringing that up now?”

“When I picked up one of the pieces, I saw a shadow lurkin’ near your new house and
knew it meant you harm. Today, when I was readin’ the cards, I saw that tall, dark
figure again. It’s angry and full of blame. It’s gonna lash out. And soon. You shouldn’t
be alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, even though I felt prickles of dread. Still, I’d already
made a fool of myself once by hiding in Flora’s closet at the office. I wasn’t going
to run and hide somewhere else now. I wished her a good night and then hung up, staring
at the television screen without taking in the images. My mother’s mention of a tall,
dark figure immediately made me think of Justyn, but Sean was out there, vigilantly
searching for Justyn while most of the inhabitants of Dunston slept. I wanted to talk
to him, to see if he’d heard anything about the co-op bust from one of his fellow
officers, but I didn’t want to disturb him. Knowing he was on the hunt for a killer
put my mind at ease. Suddenly exhausted, I turned off the TV and went to bed.

That night, my dreams were fractured and unsettled. Once again, I was huddled inside
Flora’s closet. I heard several voices bouncing around her office, but in the illogical
way of dreams, they belonged to people who didn’t work at Novel Idea. They included
the reporter from the
Dunston Herald
who’d wanted to interview me after the Kirk Mason mix-up, a girl I’d known in grade
school, and Big Ed from the Catcher in the Rye sandwich shop. Feeling unthreatened
by this group, I opened the wardrobe door to find the carpet littered with thousands
of shards of broken glass. I was about to gingerly step down from the closet in my
bare feet when I saw a reflection in one of the jagged pieces. It was Justyn’s face.
His dark eyes were filled with hatred, and his mouth was curled into a murderous sneer.
Suddenly, his face was everywhere, glaring out at me from every shard.

I woke with a start. Instead of being scared, I was furious. I was not going to be
haunted by this man.
I
was going
to haunt
him
. In the half-light of the early morning, I believed that I knew exactly where to
find the killer.

SHOWING UP AT
Espresso Yourself well before my regular time, I was relieved to see that the coffee
shop wasn’t busy yet. It usually drew a pretty good crowd on weekend mornings. I waved
to Makayla from a relatively private café table in the corner and watched as she slid
a tray of apple scones into the oven to bake and then walked around the counter to
join me. She had a coffee cup in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

“Girl, you’re famous. It’s not quite the front page, but it’s mighty close.” Makayla
tossed today’s edition of the
Dunston Herald
onto the table. Her face was etched with concern as she placed my latte next to the
paper.

My eye was immediately drawn to a large photograph showing Sean and me. The caption
read:

“Oh no,” I murmured, fearing what the article would say. It was a short piece and
mostly rehashed the details of Melissa’s and Tilly’s deaths while adding several quotes
from frightened residents of both Dunston and Inspiration Valley. Unfortunately, the
intrepid reporter had interviewed Kirk Mason, who’d told him all about yesterday’s
case of mistaken identity and my foolish deduction that he was the murderer. I sighed
in dismay. Why would he have shared the story with the reporter? Did he hope it would
gain him notoriety and therefore increase his chances of having a
publisher buy his book? And couldn’t Jude have kept from going into such detail about
the murder case with his new client? I’d have to have words with my coworker when
I saw him next.