by Ani Gonzalez
"Since you came back?" Kat asked. "I thought you'd lived here your whole life."
Patricia smiled. "Most of my life, but I left to go to college, and I worked at a bakery in New York for a while. It was a difficult period for me, and I didn't keep in touch. If something happened during those years, I wouldn't know about it." Her eyes narrowed. "But I can ask Zach. He stayed in town, and he knows everyone. Most importantly, his father is the town gossip, and he's best friends with Dr. Lebensburg. I bet Mr. Franco knows." Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "And what he doesn't know, he can find out."
"Thanks," Fiona said. "I appreciate your help."
"Sure thing," Patricia replied. "I just wish I could do more."
Kat nodded. "And speaking of help, did Hexalife ever offer you any?"
Patricia rolled her eyes. "Oh, gosh. They wanted to partner with the bakery, and they offered to give me their extracts and syrups at a discount, so I would put them in my coffees and baked goods. They sent me a bunch of samples."
Kat's brows went up. "Were they good?"
Patricia shrugged. "The ones I tried were okay. I liked their rosehip tea mix and the cranberry muffins were fine."
Fiona raised a brow, recognizing the recipes. "Aries?"
Patricia laughed. "Close. Sagittarius. That's why I had all the red stuff. Some of the recipes were interesting, but the baking ones were pedestrian. A cranberry muffin is a cranberry muffin is a cranberry muffin. There's not that much to it. In the end, a partnership wasn't worth it." Her lip curved into a rueful smile. "But they kept trying. They're very insistent."
"Tell me about it," Kat muttered.
Fiona winced. "Was it my cousin Flora who contacted you? She does the recipes."
Patricia laughed. "I wish. No, it was Gemma who pressured me. They are told to look up all their friends from school."
Fiona leaned forward. "You went to college with Gemma?"
Patricia laughed. "I don't think culinary school is Gemma's cup of tea. No, she was in my high school class. I think she called all of us when she started working for Hexalife."
"High school?" Fiona tensed. "But you went to school..."
Her voice trailed off.
"Right here," Patricia said, pointing to the Banshee Creek High School Banshees banner on the wall.
Fiona stared at the purple and yellow banner. She'd been looking for another Banshee Creek connection, and here it was.
She had to find out more about Gemma.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"WHAT ARE you doing here?" Sean growled.
Gavin raised the clipboard he was holding. "Surprise inspection."
They were standing in front of the PRoVE building, a Second Empire masterpiece with purple siding and chartreuse trim. A large yellow and green banner announcing "Pot O' Gold Scavenger Hunt Starts Today!" hung from the porch.
Sean crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Just as I'm about to question Caine? What a convenient coincidence."
"Funny how that happened," Gavin said, trying to look innocent, but failing miserably.
Sean was right to be suspicious. The impromptu inspection was partly an excuse to snoop on the investigation. It was wildly irregular, but Gavin couldn't help himself. Worried about her cousin, Fiona had stayed up half the night reading the Hexalife recipes, trying to figure out if they were dangerous. She found nothing, so she got up early to ask Kat to look at the recipes. Gavin couldn't help her with that, but he was determined to assist somehow.
Thus, he had spent most of the night looking through old EMS reports, looking for poisoning emergencies. There were several every year, but he hadn't been able to link any to Hexalife. Most—particularly the one involving some tourists mixing up their processed cheese and silly string cans—were best categorized as hilarious mistakes or hijinks gone wrong.
There were no deaths by poison. Not even one.
His failure gnawed at him. He desperately wanted to help Fiona, but so far, he'd come up empty-handed.
That's why he was injecting himself into Sean's investigation. Well, mostly. Inspecting PRoVE was always a good idea. It kept PRoVE honest and humanity safe.
Sean laughed as he climbed the stairs to the ornate front porch. "It will certainly come as a surprise."
Gavin followed Sean up the steps. "Fiona heard that PRoVE ordered boxes of Hexalife merchandise. The members thought they were being investigated."
Sean paused in front of the intricately carved wood door. "Interesting. I wouldn't be surprised if they were. Caine sees PRoVE as a policing force among these groups. He has no official authority, but—"
He shrugged.
"But people pay attention to him," Gavin said. PRoVE was better funded and organized than most of its fellow paranormal investigation groups. That generated envy and resentment, but also respect. PRoVE was very influential.
"They do," Sean said. "It would have gone badly for Hexalife if Caine had found fishy stuff going on."
Sean pushed the doorbell, resulting in an oddly familiar ringing sound. It took Gavin a moment to recognize it as the Addams Family theme song. The last time he'd been here, it had been the disco version of Night in Bald Mountain from the Saturday Night Fever movie soundtrack. Caine liked to change things around.
The door opened, revealing an angry-looking Caine Magnusson. The PRoVE leader was dressed in his usual black, but his outfit consisted of only a plain t-shirt and jeans. No leather and no chains. This was as amiable as Caine got.
He glanced at Gavin's clipboard and groaned.
"No," Caine said, raising his hand in a pleading gesture. "Please, no."
"Oh, yes." Gavin grinned. "Inspection time."
Caine heaved a deep sigh. "What a week I'm having." He stepped back to let them in. "Might as well get it over with."
"That's the spirit," Gavin said as he followed Sean inside.
The spacious foyer had intricate moldings painted a lurid shade of green and purple wallpaper with a baroque design. It took Gavin a minute, but he eventually realized the pattern featured skulls of various sizes.
"You redecorated?" he asked, fairly certain that the last time he visited, the wallpaper had been green, the moldings purple, and the décor involved tentacled monsters.
Caine glanced at the walls and his face hardened. "Yes, these days, we're less enthusiastic about Lovecraftian creatures."
"Looks nice," Sean said lamely.
A round table sat in the middle of the foyer, its surface covered by brochures advertising many of the town's businesses. The Banshee Creek Bakery boasted it had "ghost-themed baked goods every day," and the botánica's ad clarified that "exorcisms are extra." Luanne's "Madame Esmeralda—Your Future is My Business" brochures constituted a tall stack, but Fiona's Wicked Wicks coupons were running low. He made a mental note to let her know so she could print more.
The rest of the brochures seemed perfectly legit—the hardware store was having an off-season ghost-hunting equipment sale, and the Urgent Care Center had "Welcome to Banshee Creek—We Are There For You When Things Get Really Scary" flyers. Not surprisingly, there were no Hexalife ads. However, there was another, more serious, absence.
"Where are our safety brochures, Caine?" Gavin asked, his tone sharp.
Banshee Creek Fire & Rescue delivered safety brochures to all the local businesses. The goal was to put important information in the hands of visitors. Unlike other, more restful vacation destinations, Banshee Creek attracted adventure seekers who went into the woods looking for devil monkeys and crawled through abandoned houses looking for ghosts. Keeping them safe was a challenge. And it didn't help if the most popular group in town slacked off.
"Are we out?" Caine's ice-blue eyes widened in fake surprise. "I don't know how that happened."
"I'll ask DeShawn to drop some off," Gavin replied in an icy voice.
"Thanks," Caine said apologetically. "We dropped the ball on that. We've been...busy."
The big Viking did look tired, exhausted rather. H
is broad shoulders drooped and his bushy beard was tangled as if it had been the subject of too much anxious stroking.
Strange, since Caine's boundless energy was infamous around town. The PRoVE leader was indefatigable, a veritable force of nature encouraging the local businesses and lobbying—some may say bullying—the town into newer and more ambitious ventures. His enthusiasm was contagious.
But that was not the case today.
"Gus can help you—" Caine stopped short and shook his head. "Sorry, the sheriff will want to talk to Gus. We'll find someone else to show you around, Chief." He scratched the back of his head. "Unfortunately, we are short-staffed right now." He grimaced. "Perhaps Thomas can take you."
"I know my way around," Gavin said, disappointed Gus wouldn't be his guide.
Caine laughed. "Good, cause Thomas Lane is a good guy, but reality is not his forte."
Gavin dimly recalled a tall, skinny guy with reddish-brown hair who didn't say much. He tried to hide his frustration. He wouldn't get much information from the taciturn Mr. Lane.
"I'll send Thomas out," Caine said. "Gus is in the back, Sheriff. Follow me." He then walked around the staircase and headed toward the back of the building. Sean followed, smirking at Gavin as he walked by.
"Good luck, Chief," the sheriff said. "I hope you have a productive day."
"I'm sure I will," Gavin replied.
But that was pure bravado. Instead of participating in Sean's questioning, he would be crawling through the PRoVE basement, looking for safety violations.
Oh, well. At least, it wouldn't be an entirely wasted day. With any luck, he'd find a couple of meaty violations. That would make the excursion worthwhile.
He checked the list on his clipboard—exits, fire extinguishers, windows. The Fire & Rescue inspections—as designed by Gavin himself—were extensive. He tapped his pen against the clipboard impatiently. It would be best to get started.
Then a door next to the staircase opened, and a tall man in a black and yellow "Banshee Creek Ghost Tours—Brought by PRoVE" t-shirt peered out.
"Fire and Rescue?" he asked.
His shirt was half-tucked and his pants were covered in dust, but his voice was surprisingly deep and resonant. Thomas Lane sounded more like a musician than a paranormal investigator. His ghost tours must be really good.
Gavin nodded. "I'm Chief McKay."
"Do you mind if we start in the basement?" Thomas asked. "I'm doing an important inventory down there, and I'd love to finish it while you work." He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, dislodging a stray cobweb. "Of course, I'll answer any questions."
"That works," Gavin replied, eager to get started. "Let's do the emergency exit first, then circle back here."
He followed Thomas down the stairs. The PRoVE basement was a big contrast to the rest of the building. Their headquarters was located in a vintage Victorian building with gingerbread trim and antique stained-glass windows. However, the basement was weirdly high-tech with concrete floors, steel doors, and up-to-date LED lighting.
The safety features were top-of-the-line. The metal staircase was fireproof, as were the doors. The floor had a special stamped design that helped with traction. Caine had even installed fluorescent strips that would light up the hallways even if the electricity went out.
Gavin loved the set-up, but it was over-the-top for a paranormal investigation business. The basement looked like a military bunker and the only sign of PRoVE's trademark eccentricity was the collection of medieval weaponry that hung on the walls. Broadswords, axes, morning stars—PRoVE had it all.
But that wasn't all they had, Gavin noted as he stomped down the stairs. The basement had several storage rooms, but the hallway was usually empty and clean of clutter. However, dozens of large boxes now occupied the space. There were so many of them it was difficult to walk around.
"That's my inventory," Thomas said. "I apologize for the mess, but we are cataloguing a lot of products right now. I'm just now getting started on the boxes to our left."
"I can see that," Gavin said, scanning the corridor. The boxes were all labeled with brand names he wasn't familiar with. He recognized a candle line that Fiona had been complaining about—they were popular with teenagers—and a brand of magical-themed fireworks DeShawn had confiscated last week, but that was it. The rest were unknown to him.
"The emergency exit is that way." Thomas pointed toward the left. "I'll be done looking through these in a few days, Goddess willing." He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "The corridor should be cleared by then."
Gavin glanced down the hall. The boxes blocked the emergency exit, which was a safety violation in and of itself. However, he did not mark it on his check sheet.
Because right in the middle of the hallway, sat a big box with a familiar green pentagram logo.
Hexalife.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"I DON'T mean to complain," Flora said in a gentle tone. "But why are we looking through yearbooks of a high school neither of us attended?"
They were sitting in a corner of the Banshee Creek Library—a cozy Colonial brick building with towering wood bookshelves and threadbare oriental rugs, half-hidden behind the piles of green-and-white yearbooks.
Fiona had chosen a discreet spot, but every so often Holly Hagen, the librarian, walked by—as she was doing now—and aimed a disapproving glance at the piles of books surrounding them.
Fiona reached for another yearbook, opened it and placed it in front of her cousin. "Just read through it, and tell me if any names sound familiar."
Holly sighed—probably dreading the epic re-shelving job that awaited her—and finished setting up the PRoVE scavenger hunt. The library's scavenger hunt item was a book of Irish limericks. The participants had to find it in the Celtic section and take a picture, which created even more re-shelving for Holly.
The librarian, however, was a staunch supporter of all the town's activities, so she was a good sport about it. She had put up a bulletin board for the selfies and it already boasted a dozen pictures. The library staff had taken a photo with the green leather-bound book, and Caine and his crew, it seemed, had already joined the scavenger hunt.
Fiona hated to cause more work for her friend, but they had to go through all the yearbooks. The Hexalife group covered both genders and all age ranges. They had to cover all the bases.
"The yearbook staff was very creative," Flora said, scanning the pages. "And they were really into the ghost stuff. They even had a prom ghost."
Fiona glanced at the books. The school's yearbook title was The Last Scream, and the books all had a raggedy ghost logo that resembled, you guessed it, a banshee.
The school, like the town, embraced the local legends enthusiastically.
"There's Gemma," Flora said, pointing to a picture of a curly-haired girl with braces and glasses. "But we already knew about her."
"And Patricia," Fiona said. "They really were classmates."
"Looks like they were in the Business Club together," Flora replied. "And Young Entrepreneurs."
"Interesting," Fiona said, recalling the nervous mien of the bespectacled Hexalife member. "I wouldn't have taken Gemma for a numbers person."
Flora's back stiffened. "We have business types, although I'm not one of them. I just want to be left alone to putter around with my plants and recipes, but the other members are very much into the business side of it. Gemma did an excellent job with our marketing, producing professional logos and the brochures. Sure, there were a few hiccups along the way, but the company wouldn't be as successful without her."
Fiona frowned. "What hiccups?"
Flora leafed through the yearbook. "There were a few typos, and she got at least one of my recipes wrong. Gemma is a big picture person. She's fantastic at coming up with the right visuals, but she's not good at keeping track of details. We spent a lot of money on reprints."
"Which recipe did she get wrong?" Fiona asked, wondering if Gemma's mistake could have had tragic consequ
ences.
"The Precious Pisces Phishy Potato and Tuna Salad," Flora said. "She confused shallots and scallions."
"Oh." Fiona tried to conceal her disappointment. Was there such a thing as a shallot allergy? It sounded unlikely.
"Were there any other mistakes?"
"Oh, yes." Flora kept checking pictures as she talked. "She messed up one of Bella's spreadsheets and she switched Sagittarius and Capricorn in one of Stella's pamphlets last June. Stella was furious."
Fiona made a mental note to ask Luanne what could happen if Sagittarius and Capricorn had their horoscopes mixed up. It sounded even less potentially tragic than the shallot allergy, but she was desperate at this point.
"Violet used to scream at her something awful." Flora shuddered. "They had huge fights."
Fiona opened her mouth to ask about the fights, but stopped as she heard voices in the stacks. She glanced back.
They weren't the only ones hiding out in the library. Fortune-teller Stella was there, dressed in a green tapestry coat and a matching knitted hat, her face dark with emotion.
"I already told you to leave me out of it," she snarled at someone Fiona couldn't see as her sight was blocked by bookshelves. "I'm being picked up today and I don't want anything to do with this mess."
Stella paused, seemingly listening to what the other person was saying, then she laughed. "You can't be serious. You know what's going on as well as I do, and I don't want any part of it. Violet has gone too far."
Her companion said something inaudible and Stella snorted.
"She'll be fine," she said. "She always is. We've been here before." A wide smile crossed her face. "But I won't be here for this one. It's sayonara Hexalife for me, so get out of my way."
She pushed the other person out of the way and headed out. Fiona glanced at Flora, who shrugged.
"I have no idea what they were talking about," she said, then went back to the yearbooks.
Fiona followed her lead, but she kept glancing at the stacks, trying to see who Stella was talking to. Unfortunately, the mystery person never appeared.
