"TURN IT OFF!"
I nodded and cut the motor.
A wide grin spread across his face as he approached the Trans Am. He gave Thor a pat on the head and the dog nuzzled his hand. "What did you do?"
My head was shaking vigorously before I even stepped out of the car and Tony lifted the seat forward so Thor could jump out.
I said, "Oh no. This is not my fault. You restored this thing."
"Yeah and it's not all paid for yet, so what did you do?"
I crossed my arms defiantly. "That thing is possessed, I swear. It has a mind of its own."
Tony laughed. "You're pissing yourself, aren’t you?"
I smirked at him. "Just fix it."
Tony could identify what was wrong with a car in less than ten minutes. He was the Michael Jordan of automobiles. I was confident he could fix the demon mobile and my weekend from hell would resume in no time.
He stuck his head through the window and examined the dashboard. "Probably a short in the wiring. Shouldn't take long. Tell me what happened."
I explained to him how the car decided to test out all its own parts.
"Let me pull it into the shop." Tony got behind the wheel and fired up the engine. I plugged my ears. He sat there with it idling for a minute. Then there was sweet silence.
"So it comes and goes?" He asked, still looking at the dashboard.
"Uh, I don't know. It just happened twice."
He pulled the car into the garage and left the door wide open. Then he grabbed a few tools from a long metal workbench and anchored himself on the front floorboard. I dragged a rickety stool over, sat down and watched.
"So how's my ex-wife and my ex-dog?" he asked.
I laughed. "The dog is good. He’s keeping me company for a few days. The wife is the same."
"You talk to her yet?"
"Not yet, Tony. But I will." As long as she lets me live after this.
"Thanks."
He fiddled with the wires for a while.
"Tony, Cin told me that Thor drank some antifreeze once."
Tony moaned. "That dog. He would eat his own toes if you let him."
I'd have to remember that.
"How did you know what was wrong with him?"
"I saw him do it." He unscrewed the dashboard.
"Oh. So you knew it was lethal? That it wouldn't just make him sick?"
"Yeah, I knew I had to get him to the vet. It tastes sweet so they like it. Now they make it where it's safe for pets, though."
"They do?"
"Sure. There was even an article on it in the paper."
"There was? When?" I would have to ask Parker about that. Wonder who wrote it.
"Last week." He popped his head out. "Listen, Stacy, I can't find a thing wrong here. I'm going to drive it around the block. See what happens."
"Go for it."
Tony maneuvered into the driver's seat and backed the car out of the lot. I stood in the garage and watched. I didn't hear a thing as he drove away.
If there was an article on the toxicity of antifreeze in the newspaper then anyone could have thought to slip it to Gramps. It probably listed the symptoms too. Stumbling, disoriented, slurred speech, nausea. There was a handful of people at dinner that night. I didn’t know if Gramps went anywhere after. What if he did? Somewhere he didn’t want anyone to know about?
The fumes in the garage began to strangle my thoughts so I stepped out for some air. The aroma of motor oil made me want to vomit but to Cinnamon it was perfume. I was wishing she and Tony could work things out as he coasted back to the garage.
"Nothing," he said as he exited the car.
"What do you mean nothing?"
He shrugged. "Seems fine now." Thor was sitting next to me and we exchanged a look. He seemed as perplexed as I was.
"Let's see." I hopped in and twisted the key. The engine revved and that was all. No other action. What if I drove it? I backed down the driveway and onto the street.
More fireworks.
A U-turn got me back into the lot. Tony was leaning over the silver car when I got there.
"It's your problem now. I'm leaving it here." I tossed the keys on the seat.
"Oh, she won't like that." Tony shook his head.
"She won't like that." I pointed behind me. "What are you working on by the way?”
Tony turned to look at his project. "That is a 1968 Oldsmobile 442 W30 convertible." He grinned. "Your cousin's dream car. They're insane expensive, but I finally found one that was in bad shape on Craig's List. I’m gonna restore it. Sold my Camaro to do it."
The body was rusted, it had no tires, and the windshield was cracked. Looked like a piece of junk to me, but, what did I know?
Tony’s eyes misted for a moment. I placed my hand on his. "I'll talk to her, Tony."
He nodded. "You're going to leave the Trans here?" He wiped his fingers and nodded to Cin’s car.
"Yep. I'll drive her over later to pick it up. Thanks for your help." I took a few steps in the direction of the sidewalk and Thor trotted alongside me.
Tony said, “Wait a sec, I’ll give you, er, two a ride.”
I looked at Thor. “What do you think, big guy? Want to ride with Tony?”
Thor woofed. “I guess that’s a yes. Thanks.”
A few minutes later, I climbed into the passenger seat of an SUV. Thor leaped into the back seat and stuck his head out the window. "So do you use that safe antifreeze now?"
Tony nodded and fiddled with the radio. He took the back exit out of the garage and we were headed down an alley when I saw a familiar face. Two, actually. Gretchen and Gates.
“Stop the car.” I sunk down into the seat. “Tell me what you see.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Just tell me what you see, Tony.”
“I see two people talking. A man and a woman.”
“Just talking? Anything else?”
“No. Can we go? This is kinda freaky.”
“Get the license plate on the car and then yes, we can.”
Gretchen was sitting in the driver’s seat as we sailed by, so maybe it was her car. I quickly snapped a pic of the plate and texted it to Parker asking him to call in a favor to his friend.
I asked Tony to drop me off at the police station and to take Thor to the cottage explaining he could get the key from Fiona.
Tony parked in front of the station two minutes later and I hopped out, thanking him.
"Don't mention it." He drove off, Thor’s large brown eyes staring after me.
I took the steps two at a time and pushed through the door.
There was no one at the front desk when I got there, so I rang the bell.
A few seconds later, Birdie circled around the corner.
"Hello, Anastasia."
"Birdie." I swung through the little half-gate. "What are you doing? You can't just walk around the place like you own it."
She was eating a chocolate donut. "Why not?"
Why not?
"Because you are...ugh! Never mind. Come on." I tugged her elbow, leading her down the hall to her cell.
When we got there, I thought I was staring at a mirage.
It could have passed for a suite at the Hilton. A fern stood in the corner, books were scattered across the nightstand, there was a blow-up bed adorned with a duvet and throw pillows, a painting of the moon phases on the wall and a tufted bench on the side of the bed. It was nicer than my apartment in Chicago. All she needed was a wet bar and a disco ball.
I didn't realize my mouth was wide open until she said, "Don't gape."
I slowly swiveled all the way around. "How did you...?"
Birdie ignored my question and sat on the bench. "Did you bring me a change of clothes? I asked Fiona to send you with a change of clothes," she said licking the frosting from her donut.
"No, Birdie, I'm sorry. Fiona was a little busy this morning."
As were we all.
"I could use a change of clothes. It would brighten up m
y day. I've had this thing on forever." She frowned at her blouse and skirt as if they had been fished from a dumpster.
I sat on the bed. "I'll bring you some clothes later. Right now--"
"But, I could use some freshening up now." She punched her lip into a pout. "Perhaps you could run to that new boutique that opened up next to the bakery?"
I rolled my eyes. "You want me to go shopping? Forget it. Listen, Birdie--"
"I think it is the least you could do for your grandmother." She polished off the pastry and reached into the nightstand for a napkin.
She sure knew how to lay on the guilt. "All right. Stop with the clothes. Here." I stood up and unzipped my sweatshirt then tossed it on her lap. The tee shirt came off next. Birdie smiled.
"You happy? Now give me your damn shirt so I can talk to you."
Birdie unbuttoned her blouse and handed it to me. Just as I turned to slip my arms through the sleeves, I heard, "Afternoon, ladies."
I glanced up at Leo.
And me, shooting him a full frontal in my white lace bra.
Could a person actually die from embarrassment?
I spun around and buttoned the shirt as fast as I could. I think Leo must have been a little shocked because I heard him say, "Um, sorry, bye."
I shook my head at my grandmother.
"Every time I see that man you make me look like a lunatic."
"Don't be ridiculous. You look fabulous."
I rubbed my eye so it wouldn't twitch. "We need to talk."
A quick peer down the hall revealed we were as alone as we were going to get. I went back to the bed and sat down.
“Did Ed deliver groceries that day of the dinner?”
“He delivers on Tuesdays and Fridays.”
Another dizzy spell washed over me. I closed my eyes, but there were no pictures this time.
"Are you all right?" asked Birdie, hand on my knee.
I met her gaze. "Are you kidding? No, I am not all right." I stood up and walked to the wall. A picture of a woman holding the Earth in the palm of her hand caught my attention. "I'm worried, frustrated, confused, scared. Plus crazy things have been happening to me." I turned around. "And not par for the course crazy, either. Really weird stuff." I leaned against the wall and put my hands behind my head.
"Like what?" Birdie asked softly.
"For starters, Cin's car is going bonkers on me. I'm afraid to drive it. The lights go on, wipers start up, radio blasts."
"Electrical surges?"
When she said that I thought about the blackout at the cottage. "I thought so, but Tony couldn't find anything wrong with the wires."
"What else?"
"I've had a few dizzy spells. And I keep seeing flashes of distant memories. Except I don't remember them."
"Visions?"
My eyes popped open. I was falling right into her trap. "No, Birdie, not visions."
She stood up and took a step forward. "Dreams that seem all too real? Feelings in the pit of your stomach, like you know something. Physical discomfort?"
"Cut it out." Now I'd done it. There was no backing up this train.
Birdie grasped my shoulders and stared into my eyes. "My dear, this is what you were born for."
“What's behind door #2?”
Chapter 24
"Birdie, please." I grabbed her hands. "We need to discuss some important business. Not this hocus pocus, abracadabra crap." I waved an imaginary wand.
Birdie slapped her palms on her thighs and shot arrows at me with her eyes. "How can you still deny what you are when it is staring you in the face?"
I crossed my arms. "What? What am I? A psychic witch? Because I gotta tell you if that's what you think, I suck at it."
Birdie's face grew red and a tiny vein on her forehead throbbed. "Witches are not psychics. And magic is not mysterious. You know that. A witch is simply a person who practices magic. And what is the definition of magic?"
She planted her hands on her hips and waited for my response. I wasn't getting anywhere until I passed this test.
"Magic is the culmination of Energy and Will to bring about Change," I parroted.
"And who aids us in that?"
Us? What us?
She held her chin up and tapped her foot.
"All Nature and the Spirits," I said.
I toed the rug. Spirits. The pennies. I completely forgot about the pennies.
Birdie smiled. "To answer your question, Anastasia, no you are not psychic, not yet anyway. You are sensitive. Attuned to nature, the forces of energy and our spirit guides. If you want the responsibility," she added. "Turn your back on it and it dissipates."
Dissipates. Disappears. Like my mother.
My mother. I had to find out why she was still power of attorney for Gramps.
I met my grandmother’s stare. "Turn my back on what? What responsibility?"
Birdie grabbed my hand. I could feel the warmth of her fingers penetrating my skin, my flesh, my bones. Her voice was steady, her eyes bright. "There exist only three, who avail their people. The Artist in the midst of a masterpiece, the Warrior in the heat of battle and the Seeker of Justice, wherever she be."
I stared at her. So she didn't think I was the Ghost Whisperer. She thought I was Joan of Arc. "I'm guessing you think I'm the Seeker of Justice?"
"I know you are." Her voice was low and scratchy, like a casino junkie.
"How?" Best to humor her.
"It was in the Blessed Book my mother kept. A third generation child of the New World. I knew the minute your mother brought your father home."
I shook my head. "Simply because his name was Justice…"
Birdie held up her hand. "That's all for now." She walked over to the bench near the bars and sat down. A brown satin cushion was fastened to the top. "Now, what business do we need to discuss?"
I joined her and explained how I was still working on the bail money. She didn't seem to care one way or another. We discussed a few business dealings of Gramps' but she didn't know much about what took place after their divorce. She was surprised to hear that my mother was still named as power of attorney, but Gramps had always believed she would come home one day. Perhaps, Birdie said, that was his way of holding onto that faith. Then I asked what she thought about Roy and Ed Entwhistle, hoping to gain further insight into their relationship with Gramps.
"Your grandfather took in every stray dog, helped whomever he could and I didn't object until that moron, Roy, nearly ruined us." She fluffed her hair with her hand.
"What did he do?"
"What did he do? Nothing." She threw her arms in the air. "The man had no ambition, no drive. He was willing to sit and watch his ship sink and he tried to talk your grandfather into staying on deck with him. I never interfered with Oscar's business until then. If I hadn't, we would have lost everything."
But instead, Gramps gained a fortune. Maybe he thought he owed his success to Birdie. Maybe that was the reason for the policy. And it was also possible that Roy resented Gramps and Birdie for his failures early on. He was doing fine in recent years, but what if Wildcat’s proposal threatened his livelihood? Maybe Gramps was planning to kick Roy out and rent the space to his old war pal.
“Birdie, did you know that Gramps granted Ed the plaza and the land it’s on in his will?”
She shook her head.
“Any idea why he would do that?”
“You’ll have to ask him, Anastasia.”
I decided against telling her the state he was in now. I asked about Gretchen and Birdie had never met her. Never even knew Pearl had a niece.
“What’s Wildcat’s angle?”
Disgust fell over her face like a veil. “I don’t even know why Oscar keeps in contact with that beast. He saved your grandfather’s life once during the war, but other than, he has no redeeming qualities.”
Seemed she and Pearl agreed on that.
“You want to elaborate?”
Birdie rolled her eyes. “He has always been jealo
us of your grandfather. Wanted whatever it was he had and wasn’t ashamed to take it. Success, money,” she looked at me pointedly, “love.”
I didn’t like where this was headed. The last thing I wanted to hear about was the love lives of my grandparents. It was right above how a toilet functions as Things I Don’t Want To Know.
“What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you ever known someone who weaseled their way into people’s lives, sucking their souls out little by little?”
I had, actually. When I was a little girl, a playmate of mine would get so jealous of anything I got that she would steal it. I spent hours casting spells to find my lost things until I dreamt that she had taken them and buried them in her backyard. Being an only child, I took matters into my own hands and dug up her mother’s freshly planted tulip bed. There, in the earth was a Barbie doll, a slinky, a pair of clogs and my pet rock. Actually, now that I think about it, that might have just been a rock. She wasn’t allowed to play with me after that.
“Yes,” I said.
Birdie just blinked.
“So he’s untrustworthy?”
She didn’t respond.
If there was ever a question I never thought I would be forced to ask my grandmother it was this: “Did Wildcat try to steal you?”
Birdie balked. “Please. He couldn’t handle me.”
Who could?
So that left Pearl. Or some other woman.
Birdie wasn’t positive, but she had her suspicions. And frankly, it would explain Pearl’s attitude towards Gramps’ old friend. We shelved that discussion and I told Birdie I'd do everything I could to find the truth and promised to get the money to bail her out.
"Really, dear, don't bother. It's rather like a vacation. Besides, this will all be over soon enough."
Only Birdie would view jail like a vacation. Although judging from the guests at the inn this weekend, I couldn’t blame her. The guests. That reminded me.
"Birdie, what's the Wild Woman package?"
A sly smile spread across her lips. "Why?"
"Because you have two of them tearing the place apart and I'd like to channel their energy into something constructive. Or at least far away from me."
"Don't worry. The girls should have plenty of tasks to keep them busy the rest of the weekend. It's all in their packet in the room."
Witch Way To Amethyst: The Prequel (A Stacy Justice Mystery Book 0) Page 13
