Opal Fire

by Barbra Annino

  “Yes,” Birdie said, her gaze steady.

  I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath. “You do realize you’ve been divorced for thirty years.”

  “Has it been that long?” Gramps asked and pulled Birdie to him. He kissed her cheek and I nearly gagged.

  “Birdie, you toss death threats at the man like he’s a dartboard,” I said.

  She put her hand over her mouth and chuckled. If I didn’t know better, I swear she was flirting. It was unsettling.

  “Gramps, you thought she tried to poison you once!”

  Gramps wagged his finger, “I never said that. Your grandmother has always been a spit-fire,” he looked at Birdie, his eyes soft, “heck, that’s why I married her.” Birdie smiled. “But the woman isn’t dangerous.”

  That was a matter of opinion.

  “But, you can’t live together, you’ve both said that umpteen times,” I pointed out.

  Birdie broke from Gramps’ embrace and grabbed a plate. “Who said anything about living together?”

  “Well I assume a marriage encounter weekend implies—”

  Birdie cut me off with a wave of her arm. “Enough. It’s none of your business. Now, what can we do for you, Anastasia?”

  “I’ll leave you girls to it.” Gramps kissed Birdie, kissed me, and grabbed another slice of the pie before he left the kitchen.

  I watched him go and turned back to Birdie who was helping herself to some salad. I decided it really was none of my business as long as they kept me out of it.

  Birdie’s head was in the fridge collecting the iced tea, so I smuggled some pepperoni under the table for Thor.

  “What have I told you about feeding that dog from the table?” She came back around and set the tea down while Fiona hunted for glasses.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. Nearly thirty years old and I still couldn’t get away with anything. I got up to let Thor out the back door for a bathroom break.

  Lolly came into the kitchen then, a tumbler of whiskey in her hand.

  “Hello, Stacy. Oh, did you bring us Giorgio’s?” She sniffed the air, her face bright. Perfect. All her bearings were oiled.

  The details of the fire and how it didn’t appear to be an accident shot out of my mouth in rapid succession.

  Birdie, Lolly, and Fiona listened intently, Birdie’s green eyes darkening with each word I said. She didn’t like what she was hearing. If anyone was going to screw with her grandchildren it would be her, dammit.

  “So I was hoping you could cast some wave of protection around Cinnamon. I think she’s in real danger,” I said. “And if there’s anything you can think of that might help me find the truth faster, I’d be willing to listen. You all have lived here for...?”

  Not one of them had ever revealed their age to me. All I knew was Birdie was the youngest, Lolly the oldest, and Fiona was sandwiched between them. And thanks to a long ago courthouse mishap, there were no records of any of them ever being born.

  Didn’t seem like I would get that answer today, either. They stared blankly at me.

  “...Well for a long time anyway, so after I do some digging, I might need your help on the who’s who of Amethyst.”

  Lolly and Fiona locked eyes. Birdie stood up and said, “Wait here.” Then she disappeared into the cellar.

  Thor scratched at the back door and I went to let him inside. He found a sunspot in the corner and curled up.

  When I turned back the three of them were in a huddle.

  “She needs to find her own way,” Birdie was saying.

  “But Cinnamon...” said Lolly.

  “And Thor,” Fiona added.

  Birdie whispered something I couldn’t pick up and they looked at me.

  “Darling,” Birdie said, “It’s time you did your own bidding.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  Fiona floated to the table, carrying a black box with a gold hinge and set it in the center. I recognized it as the container where their magic tools were stored. She flipped open the latch and pulled out a purple sachet. “Elderberry, hyssop, and rue. Hang it from the threshold of the cottage for protection.”

  I held out my hand and she plopped it in.

  Lolly stepped forward and dug into the box. She pulled out a gemstone with a coral hue. Agate, I recognized. “Under your pillow. To help you understand your dreams.” She set it in my open palm.

  Birdie came forward then, a large book in her hands.

  I met my grandmother’s eyes. “Is that...?”

  “The Blessed Book.” She confirmed my suspicion.

  The Blessed Book began as an oral history of the women in my family. When my great-grandmother came to the New World she recorded what she knew and what she had learned within these pages. Since then Birdie, her two sisters and my mother added to its knowledge base. I had never actually seen the book before. Never even believed it existed. But here it was.

  “Every truth you seek is bound within these pages,” Birdie said, cupping the book. She stretched her arms out and I touched the worn leather cover. “It belongs to you, now.”

  I snapped my hand back.

  Oh no. What was I supposed to do with this? They talked in circles, riddles, and rhymes most of the time. I doubted I could decipher whatever was in there. Plus, I knew little about pagans, witches, and especially magic. What could I possibly add to this book? Not to mention the thing was thicker than all the Harry Potter novels combined. It would take forever to sift through.

  “Um, this is not exactly what I meant. See, I was hoping you three could do your witchy thing and I could do my reporter thing and maybe we could figure this out together.” I smiled at Birdie, begging for a positive response.

  Birdie set the book on the table and tilted her head high.

  “Anastasia,” she said.

  I gulped. “What?”

  “You have already accepted your familiars. The cat, the dog. You believe they were sent to you for guidance—protection, do you not?”

  I looked at Thor who was licking his carry-on bags. Not exactly the portrait of protection. Plus I only said that once to appease her. I lied. “Yeah, sure. But Birdie, I need your help on this one. This is serious.”

  Birdie clasped my shoulders. “The magic is in here.” She pointed to my heart. “The knowledge is in there,” she pointed at the book. “Now, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Wait, you’re really leaving? Now?”

  She was slipping on her gloves, her purse hooked on her wrist. “Of course. And I expect you to look after your aunts.”

  Now I was getting angry. How dare she take off when I needed her? I was there when she needed me. I came back here for her, to help with the business, the house. Her leaving now was, was...just like my mother.

  I shouted at her for the first time in my life. “I have never asked you for anything!” Lolly jumped and Fiona busied herself by putting away the dishes.

  Birdie turned to me, just as the doorbell rang and smiled. “I know. That is why you have earned this now. Your gifts are your own. Learn them well. My gift,” she threw a look at the book, “is in there.” She wafted from the room.

  A second later, Fiona said, “That must be Mr. Smalls at the door.”

  Smalls? As in Benjamin Smalls? “You have got to be kidding me,” I said

  CHAPTER 6

  “Darling, would you mind seeing him in?” Fiona asked me.

  I was still staring after the empty space Birdie had recently occupied.

  “Actually, Fiona I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “Please, Stacy. Lolly needs to prepare the other rooms and I want to finish the food tray.”

  I sighed. The guy already hated me; it wasn’t like it could get any worse. “Alright. C’mon, Thor.”

  I trudged through the long hallway, Thor at my heel, and swung open the front door.

  The insurance agent looked at me, backed up and checked the address on the building.

  A gracious hostess would have p
ut aside the pettiness and explained that he was indeed at the right house. But the lioness in me wanted to watch the jerk who was not only denying my cousin her claim, but accusing her of arson, squirm.

  Smalls fumbled for a piece of paper and took his glasses off to read it.

  “Mr. Smalls, are you looking for the Geraghty Girls’ Guest House?”

  “Yes, Miss Justice, I am.”

  “Well, you’ve found it.” I stepped aside to let him in. That’s when he saw Thor, sitting still as a statue his shoulders puffed out.

  Smalls jumped. I got the feeling he wasn’t enjoying our quirky little town.

  “Does he live here?”

  Thor regarded Smalls the same way he did the toy terrier down the street; with speculative interest and a knowledge that the creature was beneath his station.

  “No, he just visits now and then.” I leaned in and said softly, “Helps us weed through the riff-raff. You understand. Can’t have just anyone sleeping in the family home.”

  Smalls set his bag down, looking none too happy about it. “Well, I guess I’ll be checking in then.”

  “Follow me,” I said. “This is my grandmother’s inn, along with her two sisters. It’s been in the family for decades and...” I was walking and talking for a minute before I noticed he wasn’t behind me.

  I looked back and Smalls was still standing in front of the door, looking down. I trailed his stare to the bag. He remained still.

  “You can leave it there for now. Grab it when you go to your room.” I pointed up the stairs.

  “Oh, so, there’s no bellman?”

  Was that a joke? A bellman? Who did this guy think he was, Prince Charles?

  “Sure, but it’s his day off. If you like we can strap the bag to Thor and he can haul it up the stairs for you.” Thor groaned and rolled on his back. I smiled.

  The insurance agent did not.

  “There’s no call for sarcasm,” he said, buffing his perfectly groomed hands.

  I had yet to find an occasion that didn’t call for sarcasm, but I wasn’t kidding and told him so.

  It was hard to say if he believed me, but he stepped around Thor and followed me to the registry desk anyway. I got him checked in, gave him a key and a quick tour. Then I called Aunt Fiona.

  “So nice to meet you, Mr. Smalls,” Fiona gushed, extending her hand. I didn’t have time to see if he would shake it because then she said, “My sister has just set out some delectable snacks in the parlor for your enjoyment.”

  I heard the word parlor and ran back fast. Thor was in the middle of accosting a silver platter full of crab-stuffed mushrooms.

  “Thor,” I hissed, “bad boy.” I pulled him from the food and chastised him some more. He dropped his head and slumped to the piano, looking guilty yet unrepentant, while I went about the business of damage control.

  It appeared Thor had stolen six mushrooms before he was busted. I scanned the room for a fresh platter but didn’t see one.

  “Now, won’t you follow me to the refreshments?” I heard Fiona say.

  The buffet was piled high with napkins so I swiped one and checked the presentation of the appetizers. The plate didn’t look too bad. Just some slobber and maybe a hint of hair. Certainly wouldn’t kill anyone.

  I sopped up the goo and rearranged the mushrooms, then stuffed the napkin in my pocket just before Smalls and Fiona entered the room.

  Oh, please. You would have done the same.

  Fiona motioned for the insurance agent to help himself to the snacks. He hovered over them for a minute, planning his attack. Then he plucked a tiny tray from the sideboard and filled it with apples, cheddar cheese, and three mushrooms, one of which had a short, tan hair waving from it.

  Fiona flashed her eyes at me, then at the dog, who was still licking his lips. Smalls poked the mushroom into his mouth.

  I kept mine shut.

  “So, Mr. Smalls,” Fiona began, “what brings you to our humble town?”

  Here we go. I couldn’t wait to see how this would play out. My experience in entertaining guests at the inn has, to put it gently, not gone smoothly in the past. So far though, no guest has accused a family member of a felony.

  Until now.

  I leaned back against the piano and crossed my arms. Thor laid his head on my feet.

  “Actually, I’m investigating an arson,” Smalls said, unfolding a napkin.

  “Oh, my,” said Fiona.

  I straightened up. “Excuse me, but that’s an alleged arson. We are still innocent in this country until proven guilty.”

  “Miss Justice, I appreciate your passion for the judicial system and your pride for your cousin, but I am confident there is sufficient evidence to support her involvement in the incident.”

  Incident was emphasized. As if I didn’t know what the little weasel was talking about. The more time I spent around this guy, the more I wanted him to give him a wedgie. I wondered if there was a spell for that so I wouldn’t have to touch him.

  Fiona piped up. “Cinnamon? No, sir, you must be mistaken. She is a good girl. She may get a bit hot under the collar now and again, but that runs in the family.”

  I cleared my throat and sent Fiona a ‘you’re not helping’ look. She went about straightening the doilies on the sofa.

  “Well, I have all the proof I need right there in that bag,” Smalls said and pointed to the leather satchel he left in the foyer.

  Only it wasn’t there.

  “Where’s my bag?” Smalls looked around the room. He set his tray down and searched behind the curio cabinet, beneath the piano, and near the buffet.

  “Are you certain you left it in here?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes, I did, it was right there,” Smalls was growing agitated, eyes still circling the room. “She said I could pick it up later.” Smalls lifted his head towards me. “You!” He pointed to me. “You took it.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Where is it? Where is my bag?”

  Thor lifted his head and perked his ears.

  “I don’t know, maybe the bellman carried it upstairs,” I said.

  I admit I liked screwing with the guy. Which turned out to be a big mistake.

  “Is it possible you brought it to your suite?” Fiona asked.

  “No, I haven’t been to my room yet.”

  “Well, let’s have a look, just in case.”

  We all climbed the stairs and Fiona produced a key when we got to the third room on the right.

  She opened the door and Smalls stuck his head inside. Apparently, there was no sign of the bag.

  Sweat beads popped up all over Smalls’ forehead and his face was tomato red just before he grabbed me by the shoulders. Through gritted teeth he hissed, “Give me back my property.”

  I didn’t know where this man was raised that he thought he could put his hands on me and get away with it, but Thor was raised by Cinnamon, who never let anyone get away with anything. Least of all, men who didn’t know better than to insult, assault or just plain piss off a woman.

  The Great Dane lunged forward and clamped a jaw on the insurance agent’s ham hock of a wrist, forcing him to release me.

  Fiona, normally a champ under pressure, froze in shock.

  Not a drop of blood was spilled, but Smalls screamed like a girl in a schoolyard. I wanted to bite him myself.

  Thor jumped up and planted his paws on either side of the wall, pinning the insurance agent there. The dog towered a good two feet over him and let out a warning that came close to the sound a black bear makes when it's territory is threatened.

  Frankly, had we not been inside the walls of my family’s B&B, I might have let Thor enjoy this little moment. But responsibility took precedence and I said firmly, “Thor, release!”

  He hesitated, so I tapped him by the collar, telling him I meant business. Thor jumped down, the force of which sent Smalls on a short tumble over the carpeted stairs. He stopped rolling when he met the first landing.

  It all happe
ned in slow motion, but the reality of it hit me like a tidal wave. My dog just wrapped his teeth around the insurance agent handling Cinnamon’s claim. That couldn’t be good.

  “Fiona, take Thor down the back stairway,” I said.

  I skidded down to Mr. Smalls who was curled up like a ball of yarn.

  “Are you okay? Mr. Smalls, are you hurt?”

  “Leave me alone,” he said and batted me away with his right arm. Unfortunately, I was crouched on my heels at the time, which is a very unbalanced position to put yourself in on a flight of stairs. I tumbled back, too, and smacked the railing.

  Smalls stood up. He was a little wobbly and his suit coat was torn, but other than that he seemed fine.

  “Mr. Smalls, I am so sorry,” I said. I got up and took a step.

  He blocked me with his hand. “Stay away.”

  “Please, let me help you. We’ll mend that suit coat.”

  “Help me? Are you crazy?”

  Why did people keep asking me that?

  “Look, this is a huge misunderstanding. I did not take your bag.”

  I didn’t. Really.

  Smalls tried to get up. He winced. “I’m pressing charges. You and that dog assaulted me!”

  “That’s absurd. It was an accident. Besides, you put your hands on me first.”

  Geez, now I was the one who sounded like a little girl in a schoolyard. But he really shouldn’t have done that.

  Smalls ignored me and pulled out a cell phone.

  “Hello, police?”

  Terrific.

  CHAPTER 7

  The last time I was in a holding cell I was visiting Birdie. She got arrested for doing a Lady Godiva impersonation down the middle of Main Street during the 4th of July parade.

  Even that day was better than this one.

  “Gus!” I called.

  Gus moseyed around the corner, drinking a Yoo-hoo.

  “Hey, Stacy, what did ya need?”

  A clean record? A normal family? An ass doughnut?

  “Where is Leo? You said he’d be here by now.”

  “He was on his way but he got called out to the Shelby farm because someone smeared Nair on all their goats. Poor things are freezing their walnuts off.”