by Amy Boyles
“Why don’t you put me around your neck?”
I shivered. “I don’t know about that.”
Eugene floated to my eye level. “I’ve already promised not to bond with you. I won’t break the deal. If you wear me around your neck, I’ll be able to see and hear what’s going on. I promise not to speak, only to listen. Besides, this is a whole new world for me. Before I could only watch. Now I can watch and talk. It’s so exciting.”
I considered his offer. “You promise not to speak and not to bond with me?”
“As Eugene the Skull, I solemnly swear that I will not do anything to jeopardize the deal we already have.”
I studied him, but when you’re staring into two black sockets instead of actual eyes, it’s hard to gauge what’s true and what isn’t. But since my choices were limited on where I could actually tuck Eugene, hanging him around my neck seemed the most sensible option.
I sighed in agreement. “Okay. I’ll wear you. But no funny business,” I said sharply. “My mother finds out you’ve done anything, and she’ll pull your flames out of your eyes slowly. I promise it’ll be painful.”
Heck, I didn’t know if it would be, but it sounded good.
The skull dipped its head in a nod. “As Eugene, I promise not to do anything funny. I will stick to the course. Now. Put me on and we’ll go find the killer.”
I grabbed his chain. “Flames out,” I insisted.
The fire extinguished. Smoke filled the cabin. I waved it away and lightly touched Eugene to make sure it wasn’t too hot.
Satisfied it wouldn’t melt my skin, I grabbed the chain and hooked the skull around my neck. “All right. Let’s go find a killer.”
Chapter 14
We found Watts Pugh in his garden planting mums for the upcoming fall season.
“Mr. Pugh?”
Watts shoved his trowel into the dirt and glanced up. “Ms. Calhoun.” He tugged off his gloves and extended his hand. “It’s just awful, isn’t it? Terrible about Frankie.”
“It is.”
Though I thought Watts was only going to shake my hand, instead he pulled me into a rough hug.
“Oh.” The wind rushed from my lungs as I battered against his chest. “How’re you holding up?”
Watts released me and gestured to his flower patch. “It’s the only thing that keeps me busy. If I think about it too much, it hurts.”
I grimaced, feeling his pain. Not because I knew what it was like to miss Frankie, but because I knew from experience that losing someone hurt, often like you’d sliced out your own heart and tossed it on a barbecue to be scorched.
“If you have some time, maybe we can go inside and talk about it.”
Watts hesitated. He glanced at his front door and shook his head. “Now’s not a good time. I’ve been pretty upset, broke some things in the house.”
He collapsed to his knees and wept. Watts covered his eyes as sobs racked his body. “I thought she was the one. I thought we’d get together, make it work, last forever. But it wasn’t to be.”
Here’s where the tricky part came in. I almost hated to bring it up, but I had no choice.
I cleared my throat. “I heard you moved here recently, just before Frankie showed up. Bentley Falls?”
“Yep,” he said.
“Isn’t that where Frankie lived before coming here?”
He sniffled. “It’s funny how fate puts two people together, isn’t it?”
Watts glanced up at me. Tears bubbled in his eyes. “I’d known about Frankie forever, of course I had. I’d seen her but never imagined I could possibly have been her soul mate. When she appeared in Witch’s Forge and I was one of the chosen, I couldn’t believe it. It was finally my chance to bond with her, get to know this woman I’d admired from afar for so long.”
He inhaled as if smelling a bouquet of flowers. A blissful expression crossed his face. “It was a dream come true to meet her. Now she’s dead. Dead!”
Watts buried his face in his hands. He sobbed to the point where it was uncomfortable—for me.
I still needed to talk to Tex.
What was the best way to untangle myself from a grown man blubbering into his mums?
Very carefully?
“Mr. Pugh, can I get you anything?”
He reached for me, and I extended my arm. Watts proceeded to shift all his weight onto me. I lurched forward and locked my knees to avoid falling over.
“No, Charming.” Snot dripped from his nose. I almost barfed. “I’m okay. I’ll be all right. I’m just waiting for the funeral, when I can bury Frankie and move on with my life. If I can ever move on.”
He shook his fist at the sky. “Why her? Why’d you have to take her?”
“Well, it’s funny you should ask,” I said. “Because you know Frankie had a lot of enemies.”
Watts spat with disdain. Right into his mums. Maybe he considered that a type of newfangled watering system.
“The only enemy I know that Frankie had was your mother,” he snapped. “Everyone knew Glinda Calhoun hated her. It wasn’t exactly a secret.”
I bristled. This was the second time today that someone had mentioned my mom. It was starting to irk me.
Which was why I rushed to Mama’s defense. “I know they weren’t the closest of friends, but my mother had nothing to do with Frankie’s murder.”
Watts cocked a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He ran a gloved hand over his hair and turned back to his mums. “It was well known that your mother and Frankie used to cast spells against each other.”
That was news to me. “What are you talking about?”
Let’s be honest, I wasn’t sure I believed a sniveling man who was planting mums only days after his wannabe girlfriend was murdered.
There was simply something off about it. Don’t ask me why, but that’s the impression I had.
Watts hiked both shoulders to his ears. “I’m saying one time Glinda exchanged Frankie’s red lipstick for a potion filled with fire ants. Made her lips blister up. That’s what Frankie said. Another time Frankie made it so that when Glinda stepped outside, her skirt blew into her face.”
He shot me a pointed look. “You can imagine what everyone got to see when that happened.”
Yep, my mother’s pink panties. “That was a long time ago. These women grew up. Became adults.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Frankie confided in me the night she died that she was fairly certain your mother had pulled a trick on her again.”
“Oh?”
“Said she received a bouquet of black roses.”
“My mother didn’t do that.” I folded my arms. “I was with Frankie when that happened. Sending a bouquet with roaches? That’s not Mama’s style.”
Watts handed me a cheap plastic planter, the kind you get from the store. “Pull that mum out for me, would you?”
I pulled the orange plant out. “Here you go.”
“That bouquet wasn’t the only thing about it—the roaches, I mean,” he explained. “Once your mom dropped a whole bunch of roaches in Frankie’s hair. That’s what made Frankie think Glinda sent the flowers.”
My stomach knotted. Could that be true? Why would my mother perform such petty magic on Frankie? That wasn’t like her.
“But Frankie never said a word to me about her theory,” I murmured.
“Why would she?” Watts patted the soil surrounding the newly planted mum. “You were helping her find her soul mate. The last thing Frankie wanted to do was upset you.”
“I have a hard time believing this.”
Watts waved the shovel in his hand. “Believe it or not, doesn’t matter to me. But if you want to know who had the most reason to want to kill Frankie Firewalker, it was Glinda Calhoun. That’s all I’m saying.”
Watts rose and brushed off his pants. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I’ve planted my mums and need some time to mourn.”
I stepped out of his path. �
��Of course.”
Watts strode onto his porch and pulled the screen door open. He paused. As if a thought had occurred to him, he turned around. “And Charming?”
“Yes?”
“People will tell you that a lot of folks had reason to want Frankie dead, but the truth is, she never wound up murdered until coming to Witch’s Forge. That’s something to think about.”
Before I could respond, Watts disappeared inside his house, letting the door slam behind him.
Eugene spoke for the first time since arriving. “Sounds like this Glinda Calhoun lady is who we should be interviewing next. I’ll be glad to ride along, see what I think of her excuse for where she was the day Frankie was murdered.”
“Eugene!”
“What is it?”
“Glinda is my mother.”
“I don’t know that word, ‘mother.’”
I nearly smacked myself on the forehead. “That’s the woman you gave a pedicure to. At the house.”
“Oh,” he said as realization hit him. “I thought Glinda was more common a name than that. Do you think she killed Frankie?”
“No, I do not think she killed Frankie,” I snapped. “I don’t think she had anything to do with it.” I exhaled a deep breath. “I think we need to talk to Tex. See what he has to say.”
“About what?”
I threw up my hands. “Ah!”
Thorne’s voice surprised me. I didn’t know why. I should have been used to being surprised by the vampire. He had a bad habit of sneaking up behind me and speaking out of turn.
I whirled around, fuming. Fireworks nearly flew from my eyes. “Just what do you think is okay about scaring someone half to death?”
Thorne hid a smile behind his hand. “What makes you think I was trying to scare you?”
I waved my arms. “You started talking to me out of the blue. Listening to my conversation.”
His eyes narrowed as he glanced around. “Who were you talking to?”
Oh sheesh. Another awesome secret I had to keep from Thorne. “No one.”
He cocked a brow.
It was the only excuse I had in my arsenal, so as stupid as it sounded, it was the best one. “I was talking to myself, okay? Sometimes when a problem presents, the best way I know to work out a solution is to talk about it.”
His voice dripped with sarcasm. “To yourself.”
I hugged my arms as if talking about it made me self-conscious. “Yes, to myself if you must know, Mr. Nosy.”
He raised his palms in surrender. “You’re the one who offered the explanation.”
“And now you have it.” I sniffed the air. “So what are you doing sneaking up on me?”
His lips curled into a delicious-looking smile. “If you must know, I saw you over here and wondered if you’d like to have dinner.”
“When?”
“Tonight. As I didn’t suggest a certain day, I figured the assumption would be tonight. Dinner. You and me.” His eyes narrowed. “But if you’re too busy butting your nose into places I recommended you stay out of…”
“No,” I said quickly. “I am most definitely not doing that.”
Please don’t say anything, Eugene. Please keep your mouth shut.
I waited for the skull to open his mouth and contradict me, but he didn’t. What a relief.
“So anyway.” Thorne reeled the conversation back in. “About dinner. Are you free?”
“Yes, I’m definitely free. Absolutely.”
Should I have been so available? I once read that girls shouldn’t be too available to men but Thorne and I had only gone out once and it wasn’t like we’d even kissed, so what was one more dinner?
Maybe I’d be lucky and my lips wouldn’t swell to the size of oranges.
“Great. Pick you up at seven?”
“Perfect.” I slugged his arm as if we were old buddies. Thorne’s gaze darted to his bicep and then to me. Maybe vampire’s girlfriends didn’t do things like that.
I laughed nervously. “See you then, pal.”
He smiled. “Oh, and while I’ve got you…”
“Sure.”
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t thinking about talking to Tex. Were you?”
He had heard that part of my conversation. Crap.
I clicked my tongue. “Nope. Not going to do that.”
“Good. Because I’ve posted men at his house to make sure certain people don’t go wandering around. If they do, I’ll find out about it.”
My chest tightened. I glanced at Watts’s house. Had I been discovered?
“Don’t worry,” Thorne said as if reading my mind. “I was late showing up to my post today at Watts’s. I saw him go inside after the two of you finished your conversation.”
I cringed. “Oh. I was asking him about mums.”
Thorne raked his knuckles down his cheek. “If I catch you at Tex’s house, I’ll lock you up.”
I scoffed. “You just asked me out on a date and now you’re going to lock me up?”
He winked. “Gotta keep an eye on you. I figure dinner’s the best way to do that. There are other ways too, but our relationship isn’t that far along yet.”
His eyes lit like coals as they grazed over my body. A deep flush flared on my cheeks.
“I don’t think this conversation is appropriate.”
Thorne took an intimidating step toward me, casting me in his shadow. “I know it isn’t,” he said huskily. “But I kind of like it.”
Then Thorne turned and crossed the street, getting into his pickup.
When he was down the street, Eugene spoke. “Is it just me or is it getting hot out here?”
I watched the truck whip around a corner and disappear. My throat had gone desert dry, and it took a moment before a coherent thought filled my head.
“It’s not just you, Eugene. It’s not just you.”
Chapter 15
“Would you care to share with me what you learned from Watts?”
Thorne and I sat in a steak restaurant. I had to admit I was slightly bummed—gone was the waterfall and beautiful sunset. But you know, steak and an interior that was cut into a cave, literally, were also pretty cool.
A cool breeze trickled by and set threads of hair tickling my neck.
“Oh, like I said, Watts and I only talked about mums.”
Thorne studied me with an amused smile. “I’m sure you didn’t ask him anything about the fact that he’d only recently moved to Witch’s Forge.”
“How’d you know that?” I shot out before thinking. “Crap. Okay. You got me. Yes, I asked him about that. He said it was coincidence.”
“That’s what he told me. Do you believe him?”
I narrowed my eyes to slits. “I thought you wanted me to stay out of it.”
“I do. But if you’re going to ask certain people questions, even though I’ve asked you not to,” he growled, “I thought you might as well share the information you gleaned.”
I scoffed. “So you’re not really asking my opinion. Just trying to pull information.”
Thorne leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his flat belly. “And what if I was asking your opinion?”
“I’d think you must have suffered brain damage between the time I saw you earlier and now.”
He chuckled. The sound filled my ears like the sweetest music. I did my best not to join in, but it proved impossible. I laughed to the point of tears, which annoyed me because I didn’t want to fix my mascara.
“Okay,” Thorne finally said. “Let’s say I’ve suffered brain damage. I couldn’t stop you from talking to Watts. So I want to know what you think about what he said.”
I picked at a roasted brussels sprout on my plate. “He seemed to genuinely care about Frankie. He saw it as fate that they wound up on the show. He cried pretty hard about her death, which makes me think he might be overreacting a little bit.”
I popped the brussels sprout into my mouth and chewed. “Is the funeral televised?”
“No.”
“It seemed like Watts enjoyed the attention of bawling and crying in front of me.”
Thorne leaned forward. “Maybe he just likes attention.”
I thought it best to keep what Watts said about Mama to myself. I didn’t need to give Thorne a reason to question her.
“Did he tell you what he thinks about Glinda?”
I froze. “Um. He did mention something about my mother.”
Thorne sipped his red wine. “What do you think about that?”
The sun slipped below the horizon and the cave darkened. Gas lights flickered to life, the sound of their streaming flames buzzing around the room.
I drank from my own glass, letting the warm red wine roll over my tongue before swallowing.
“What do I think? I think Watts is trying to place blame in the one spot it doesn’t exist.”
“But your mother had reason to go after Frankie, didn’t she?”
My gaze shifted from Thorne to my plate to other diners. “Did you bring me here to ask me about my mother? To see if she’s capable of killing?”
“I brought you here because I wanted to spend time with you,” he said patiently. “I’m asking about your mother because I want your opinion. My guess is that you’ll say no, your mother isn’t capable of anything like that. She’s not a murderer. So if I bring her in for questioning, I don’t want you to be blindsided. I want you to know it was for good reason.”
Hackles spiked down my spine. “Bring her in for questioning? She didn’t do it.”
People glanced over at us. I lowered my voice, trying to keep it at a civilized tone but fearful I had fallen way short.
I flattened my palms on the table. “Look, I know my mother and I haven’t always been the closest, but she’s spent her life helping witches. I didn’t even know anything about her beef with Frankie until I arrived in this town. Don’t you think if it had been a big deal, I would’ve known about it? You can’t keep those kinds of secrets, the kind that gnaw at you from the inside out, quiet forever.”
I glared at him. “Or maybe you can. Vampires are different from witches—especially Southern ones. We purge our pain. Y’all keep it tucked safely away. We have to release it. It’s just who we are.”
