He frowned. “Well, I been a little busy today, being quarantined without a radio.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“But everyone at the station is on this. We’ll get it solved.”
“I need it to happen soon.”
“Why?”
I gently pulled away from him. “It has to do with the ghost.”
He nodded silently. I was glad that he didn’t yell and start us to fightin’. Edie had been a source of contention for a long time. I’d done things, bought things, and tried things that Zach didn’t like because of her influence while we were married. Zach didn’t believe in ghosts, so he felt like I’d created her because I didn’t want to take responsibility for the stuff I did. And I probably shouldn’t have listened to Edie, but it had been hard not to take her advice when I was fighting with Zach.
“Well, I ain’t gonna say I believe in her when I don’t. But I’m also not going to let Bryn Lyons move in on you without a fight. So you cozy up to him with that in mind.”
I nodded. “Will you call me tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? You kicking me out?”
“I need to pay attention to Mercutio and to shut my eyes for a while. I’m exhausted.” Both things were true, but I also wanted a little time to myself to think about what was happening and what I would need to do about it. Edie and the locket were still missing, and I had to make a plan to rescue her. So I needed Zach gone, because I didn’t want him scrutinizing my every facial expression and asking questions I couldn’t answer.
“All right. I don’t need to write my number on your fridge. You know how to get me when you want me.”
I smiled at him, and he stepped forward.
“Gimme some sugar.”
I leaned into him and kissed him. He held me tight for a few moments before he let me go. He didn’t say anything else; he just winked at me, then turned and left.
Chapter 13
Sleep always makes trouble seem not as bad, so when I woke up on Tuesday, I was downright hopeful about things. After all, I’d returned Mrs. Barnaby to her grave and saved a bunch of people’s lives, not to mention ensuring that the production of Glenfiddle whiskey would continue, thereby preventing a Duvall economic catastrophe.
“I’m a hero,” I announced to myself in the mirror as I pulled my hair back. “Good for me. I deserve a super cake mixer and a nice pair of sandals.”
I pinned my hair in a smooth knot at the nape of my neck.
And you can buy them, right after you rescue Edie and get a job.
Unlike with witchcraft, when it comes to confection, I’m talented as all get-out. So despite Jenna’s threats, I was sure that someone in town would hire me to bake. She might have pull, but I make Irish Cream chocolate truffles that melt in your mouth like I stole the recipe from Lindt’s. Unfortunately, things had to be: find Edie first, find a job second.
I’d been tossing and turning in bed, putting together a plan. I needed to do some old-fashioned detective work, I’d decided. Trouble was, I knew nothing whatsoever about detective work. Still, I didn’t see how that should stop me. I didn’t know too much about being a witch, and I’d done all right at that. Sort of.
My first order of business was to put on a Sunday church dress and pumps and go see Councilwoman Faber. Her Jag had been stolen, which might have just been a coincidence, but it was a flashy car, and it hadn’t been recovered. I couldn’t see thieves driving around in it for too long before getting caught, so they must have had a plan to hide it or sell it to a chop shop or something. Also, it was strange that they’d robbed the sheriff and a councilwoman. Robbing high-profile people would make it a high-priority case. Was that part of the point? Did they have something against the town government?
I would ask Mrs. Faber if she had any idea who they were. Then I was going to see the Deutches. Maybe someone had been admiring that big ring of Mrs. Deutch’s. I also wanted to see Georgia Sue. Maybe someone at the party knew something about the thieves but was too embarrassed to tell the police. By now Georgia Sue would have called everyone on the guest list to talk about what had happened. She could be quite the source of information. Speaking of that, Johnny Nguyen might have some news. Yep, it was going to be a productive day, and I wouldn’t even have to worry about casting any spells.
I buttoned up my periwinkle suit and slipped on my shoes. Then I hurried down the stairs. It was time for Mercutio’s medicine, and I wanted to get it into him while he was still groggy. He hadn’t much liked the taste of it the night before.
As I stepped off the bottom step, I spotted Merc. He stood at the door to the backyard with his head cocked.
“Good morning, Mercutio,” I said.
He ignored me, but I attributed his rudeness to being wounded and medicated.
“You want to get a little fresh air?” I walked over to the door and opened it. “Hellfire and biscuits,” I gasped.
The four spots where I had cut symbols into the ground were blackened and the usually lush tangle of green plants and bright flowers had turned brown and died overnight. The yard was barren, eerie, as dry and cracked as a southwest desert.
“Aunt Mel is going to kill me.” I slapped a hand over my mouth and shook my head, heart racing.
Mercutio gave a speculative meow, and I could tell he was upset too, but this was no time for him to have palpitations. He was in-firmed and needed his strength.
“It’ll be all right,” I told him. “I just need some topsoil and some seeds.”
Mercutio cocked his head at me.
“A big heap of topsoil,” I added. “We’ll go on by the nursery right after we find the locket. Or after I do. You’re going to stay home and eat some tuna with your medicine.”
The doorbell rang, and I jumped.
What now?
“Oh, a visitor. Isn’t that nice, Merc? Some company.”
I went to the front door and pulled it open. Smitty—Calvin T. Smith to his momma—stood on my doorstep in his deputy’s uniform. He was good Texas stock, built solid with a nice, slightly crooked smile and a clean shave. I’d been a bridesmaid at his wedding.
“Good morning, Smitty.”
“Morning, Tammy Jo. How’re you?”
“Oh, fine. Zach’s not here. He’s at his place.”
“Actually, I came by to talk to you.”
Uh-oh.
“Oh, really? Well, come on in and have a cup of coffee.”
“How come you’re all dressed up? Job interview? We heard you quit Miss Cookie’s.” He walked in behind me and closed the door.
“Oh, you heard about that? Well, we had some creative differences over there.”
’Cause I’m creative, and she’s not.
“Hmm. That never seemed to bother you much before.”
“Oh, it’s been on my mind on and off. I guess it just built up.”
I took out a can of Maxwell House and pulled off the plastic lid.
“You don’t need to make me coffee. I had some at work. Councilwoman Faber just put some fancy coffee machine in the town hall, and most of us been walking next door. You should come down and try some. It makes this white foam—”
“Smitty, what’s goin’ on?”
He stopped and looked as embarrassed as he had the time freshman year in high school when he’d had to give the oral report on human reproduction.
“Well, it’s real awkward, Tammy Jo, you bein’ a close family friend and all.” He paused.
Don’t you even . . .
“Turns out I’m here to arrest you.”
Off the grill and into the gullet. The whole room spun around me. Turns out I was going to need more than a heap of topsoil to fix my day.
I sat down hard on the couch with Mercutio hissing at Smitty as he joined us in the living room.
“It’s okay, Merc. Just a little misunderstanding. Smitty would never arrest me. After all, I broke down and wore a pea-soup-colored bridesmaid dress and a four-inch fake magnolia on my head for his wedding just to keep Heather happy.”
Smitty cleared his throat and looked out in the yard. “Now, you know this wasn’t my idea. But I am a deputy, and I’ve got to follow the law.”
“So what are you charging me with? And does Zach know you’re over here arresting me?”
“We all thought it best not to bother Zach with this until after lunch. He had a long day yesterday.”
“
He
had a long day?” I sputtered. “What’s the charge, Smitty?”
“Actually, there’s a couple. They were working on the paperwork when I left to come get you.”
“Working on the paperwork? This isn’t some parking ticket! You’d better—”
“Now, get ahold of yourself. Yelling at the arresting officer isn’t going to make the judge inclined toward leniency.”
I’d had just about all I could take. I’d gone ahead and planned my day, and getting arrested was no part of it. I didn’t have time for jail.
I lowered my voice to NutraSweet. “The charges?”
“Well, reckless endangerment. Lucy Reitgarten says you splashed them with some hazardous waste, and then they all got sick. Then you left the scene of the crime after the sheriff told you not to, putting the rest of the community at risk.
“The other charge is for indecent exposure. Hope Cuskin says you were prancing around naked last night in full view of her son’s window. He’s a minor, you know.”
“What?” I gasped. “I was in my own yard last night. The only way Craig Cuskin saw me was with binoculars. And I’ll just bet it wasn’t Craig that Hope was worried about. You know, Judge Bob was always spying on Momma and Aunt Mel with his binoculars until Hope caught him at it. She told them she didn’t want them sunbathing in the yard or even wearing shorts to water the lawn or wash the car. Now that is ridiculous. Just ’cause the Cuskins are rich and he’s a judge doesn’t mean they have say-so over what we wear or don’t wear. It’s our own private property.”
“So you admit that you were outdoors naked last night?”
I pursed my lips and got up. “I’m going to give my cat his medicine. Then you can take me to the station. My first phone call will be to Zach, and we’ll see what he has to say about the Cuskins spying on me. Judge or not, Zach’s likely to knock Bob into next week.”
“Now, the naked in the yard business is the least of it though. You got to understand that.”
I ignored him. I’d forgotten that Lucy, Jenna’s sister-in-law, worked at Glenfiddle. And how come the Glenfiddle workers remembered me splashing them with the passionflower potion? Weren’t these potions supposed to cause at least a little bit of amnesia? I mean, how was a witch supposed to spell-cast without getting caught? I took a deep breath and blew it out. This was just one more reason why magic is not for me.
The cell at the station could have been cleaner, but it wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Marvin, who supports the whiskey and ale businesses a little too vigorously, was asleep next to me on one of the benches in the cell. He’d gotten wet in the storm and had only partially dried into a horrible, musty, sweaty, drunken mess. He smelled extremely bad, and I would have paid a thousand dollars I didn’t have for one spray of Lysol or a little pine-scented room freshener.
When Zach showed up, he was as angry as I’d seen him since the day the judge granted me a divorce despite his protests. Zach had contested the thing as though I’d asked for one of his kidneys in the settlement. The judge told him he should’ve poured that kind of energy into the marriage, and we might not have ended up in court. Yep, Zach had been really steamed that day.
Zach used a key to unlock the door. “They put you in with Marv?”
“Had to. Some frat boys home for the weekend were in the other one, and I didn’t feel comfortable with them.”
Zach clenched his teeth ’til I thought his jaw would snap. “Come on out of there,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me right to him.
“It wasn’t toxic waste. I swear it.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He paused. “And you don’t know the guy that attacked them, right?”
“What guy?”
“Someone in costume. Same guy who left the corpse at the scene I expect.”
Hmm. I didn’t think that it would be helpful for me to mention that it was the corpse that did the attacking.
“Er—”
“Never mind. Don’t answer that here. I don’t want you saying a word until I’ve got you a lawyer. I’ll have to go by the bank and work something with the mortgage.”
“I don’t want you to remortgage your place. That’s not fair. I’ll have to do it with my house.”
“That house isn’t yours, Tammy Jo. You can’t go take out a mortgage on it.”
“I can’t let you risk your house. We’re not even married.”
“Where else are you going to get the money?”
“Maybe I can just talk to Judge Bob. He’s got a soft spot for my family.”
“What he’s got for your family ain’t soft. And you’re not askin’ him for a damn thing. We’ve got to get you a lawyer.”
“She has a lawyer.”
We both looked over to the doorway, where Bryn Lyons stood dressed in one of his designer suits. That man could put male models to shame with his good looks.
“No way,” Zach ground out.
“For reasons I don’t wish to discuss at this juncture, I’ll be working gratis, which means free,” Bryn said smoothly.
“You do family and corporate law. She doesn’t need a divorce, and she isn’t starting a business. You’re not qualified to represent her in a criminal case. And besides which, no fucking way.”
“Zach,” I said gently. “He might be able to help get me out of here.”
“Yeah, and so might I if I killed off the witnesses against you. Doesn’t mean it’ll work out for the best in the end. You let him represent you for free, he’ll want something in return.”
We both looked over to Bryn.
“The arrangements I work out with clients are always mutually acceptable. This is not a form of extortion. She needs legal counsel. I’m here to provide it.”
I felt like a towel caught between a pair of dogs—I was very likely to be torn apart. But the bottom line was that I needed a lawyer, and free was all I could afford.
“You’re hired,” I said to Bryn.
The veins in Zach’s neck threatened to burst, but he didn’t say a word.
“Tell them I’ll need a room to talk to my client in,” Bryn said. “And tell them to bring me the warrant and every statement they’ve taken so far from witnesses. I want to see everything, right now.”