Witch in the House

by Jenna McKnight

  “No, I had to come back for an extra memory card. And then I saw you out here lobbing snowballs with—Is that a snowshoe? Do people really walk on those?”

  Jade barely nodded, moving into position to block his view of the cup as he stepped closer.

  “I thought so. I just had to come out and ask. I mean, my friends in Pensacola are never going to believe—Look out!”

  He reached her so fast, Jade didn’t have time to dart away.

  “You almost tripped over this.” He picked up the Tupperware.

  Blast. Jade plucked it from his hand, relieved that his stolen sock wasn’t out in the open between them. She tucked it safely beneath her cape.

  “Something wrong?”

  “It’s, ah, delicate. I don’t want the lid to pop off by accident.”

  “Really?”

  Mason looked so unconvinced, Jade simply said, “Mm-hm.”

  He studied her for a long moment, mostly in the vicinity of the split arm opening through which the cup had disappeared. He noted the snowshoe, the river valley to the east. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Kind of a new twist on a message in a bottle, isn’t it?”

  Pretty good at putting two and two together, Jade thought. Even if he didn’t come up with four, he was too close for comfort. Smart, just as she’d requested.

  “It’s an experiment,” she said vaguely, leaving it at that.

  Mason nodded slowly, then shrugged as if that made perfect sense, and if not, he was too polite to say so. “I’ve got a pretty good arm. You want me to throw it for you?”

  Would the spell work if he threw his own sock in the current? No reason why not. As a spell, it was foolproof, unless the spirits had other plans. They were always the unknown factor.

  “You do want it in the river, right?” he asked. “You’re not aiming for the train or anything?”

  “The river.”

  Helpful, too. What was he doing? Working his way through her list?

  Mason swung his right arm in broad circles, warming up. He held out his hand. “Well, come on, hand it over.”

  She’d look petulant if she refused. “You sure you can throw that far?”

  “I have to audition?”

  “I can get it pretty far with the snowshoe. What if you’re no good?”

  He chuckled at that, leading her to believe he was good at everything. She stifled a sudden urge to unbutton her cape and flap it to bring her temp down.

  “Is this right?” he asked.

  While she’d been wondering how good he was, he’d packed a snowball for her inspection.

  “You never played in the snow?”

  “Just long enough to learn it’s cold, wet, and I don’t like it.”

  She nodded at the snowball. “It’s good.”

  Mason stepped closer to the precipice.

  “It’s a long way down,” Jade cautioned. “One slip, and you’d better have a good swan dive.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “You live up here, and you’re afraid of heights?”

  “No. Just landing.”

  Mason held her gaze with twinkling eyes that heated her up even more and made her think twice about sending him away. But of course she had to.

  He wound up like a pitcher, all grace and strength and ease, in spite of the bulky parka and heavy boots. The snowball flew twice as far as anything she’d lobbed, so she handed over the Tupperware.

  When he glanced at it, she said, “It’s not polite to read other people’s mail,” and he smiled and didn’t look any closer, just wound up again and threw it even farther than the snowball.

  “That okay?” he asked, looking rather proud of himself as he brushed snow off his hands.

  “Looks good from here, thanks.” Time to break this off before she got herself in trouble. She pretended to feel the cold, shivering and stomping her feet as if to get warm.

  Mason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s how I’ve felt since the plane crossed over Atlanta.”

  He has a nice laugh, Jade decided. A strong smile, not perfectly symmetrical, but showing some character. Straight teeth. But it was his eyes that made her smile back, even when a little voice inside her said not to encourage him. But how could she help it? It wasn’t the shade of unweathered steel that attracted her, but the way they sparkled as he tipped his head and focused all his attention on her.

  “You’d better go in and warm up,” he said.

  As Jade shuffled through the snow and up the wooden porch steps, she felt Mason’s gaze on her back. She didn’t have to turn and look. In fact, she refused to turn and look. She knew.

  She stomped her feet on the mat both to distract herself and to knock off the snow before opening the door.

  “You’ll let me know if it works?” Mason called out.

  Jade lost the battle. She turned back to him, and couldn’t help smiling when she said, “I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “What the hell?” Mason muttered.

  He’d spent the day knocking around Clarksville and all stops in between, capturing images of eagles, both bald and golden, from different points. They were quite amazing, really. Once, for five whole minutes, he’d forgotten he was cold, and how turned on he’d been watching a woman launch snowballs at the river. A woman he was investigating, and not for romantic reasons.

  Between stops, he’d collected information on Mystic Manor. He had to be out and about to establish his cover anyway, so he talked to antique shop owners, waitresses at small cafés and tearooms, and local shop owners who liked to chat and knew the area well enough to make recommendations. And what had he learned? That brochures on Mystic Manor were virtually nonexistent, so how did Jade attract enough business to stay in business? That many claimed the property was haunted, cursed, or something equally unkind, while others smiled warmly and said nice things about Jade and her parents, how they’d helped them or a family member in the past. Though when asked for specifics, there was a lot of hemming and hawing, and no one would say how exactly.

  He’d finished his day by returning to Mystic Manor with more questions than answers, no new information about the missing husband, and now this.

  He leaned closer and peered intently at the notebook computer sitting on the small table in Anthony’s room. Sure enough, that was Jade on the monitor, crawling around his room on her hands and knees. Not that he was surprised to discover she’d been in his room. Guilty people had a habit of being where they weren’t supposed to be.

  One thing for sure, he no longer thought this assignment was designed solely to keep his mind off recent relationship issues.

  “That’s nothing,” Anthony said.

  “It gets worse?”

  “What’s wrong with your voice?”

  “Throat’s scratchy,” Mason said quietly, demonstrating an onset of laryngitis to go with it. He needed palm trees and sunshine and waves lapping on a sandy beach. He’d never before given a second thought to his neighbors’ colorful flowers, but suddenly he missed them.

  “Keep watching,” Anthony said, gesturing toward the screen.

  Mason shot his partner a glance, hoping the camera hadn’t caught him flirting with Jade the night before. Keeping in mind that Anthony was still a little put out over the bartender non-incident, he made sure there wasn’t an ounce of accusation in his tone when he asked, “Since when do you wire my room?”

  Anthony grinned broadly. “Hey, a guy’s gotta test new equipment.”

  Mason elected not to expound on the legal concept of expectation of privacy. Instead he folded his arms, taking extra care to hide just how interesting he thought Jade’s cute tush was, poking up in the air as she crawled along the side of his bed, peering underneath. Black jeans hugged her rear and thighs like a glove. And if she continued to wear boots with stiletto heels on a daily basis, he was going to have a helluva time keeping his mind on business.

  “I installed mine last night, yours this morning while you ate breakfast,” Anthony said.

&nbs
p; Mason relaxed a bit, that fear put to rest.

  “You’re looking better today.” Anthony leaned close and sniffed. “Smell better, too. You been eating oranges?”

  “It’s the soap.”

  “Yeah? Which one smelled like that?”

  “Luck Soap.” Mason shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. How about you? What’d you use?”

  “Scorpio.”

  “I’d rather have luck than scorpions.”

  “It doesn’t mean scorpions. It’s for people with their suns in Scorpio. Forget it. You know what? You don’t look better after all. You want a refresher on Jade’s background?”

  “Admit it, you’re just mad about the bartender.”

  “Forget the bartender.”

  “Believe me, I’d like to.”

  “Are you ready now?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” Anthony consulted his notes. “Jade’s twenty-eight. Local girl, as you know. Attended one year of college in Columbia, Missouri. At nineteen, she began Mystic Manor Botanicals. Which is a good thing, because when her parents divorced and decided to leave the house to her instead of fighting over it, it was heavily in debt, and she was able to show the IRS that she had a chance at turning it around. At twenty, she started the B&B. Now that we’ve seen how much she charges, I understand. Sort of.

  “At twenty-one, she married our good friend, the missing Doug Stockard, whom she met in college. Kept her name; family tradition from way back. A year later, he disappeared. No children. She didn’t do much the first year after that, but then she beefed up the business, put Mystic Manor in the black, and even has a nice nest egg.”

  “So she doesn’t need the death benefit,” Mason said.

  “Would’ve come in real handy six years ago, though.”

  “No other family?”

  “There’s an uncle somewhere. I’m looking into that. Her in-laws live in Hannibal, both on disability. Her husband’s brother lives with them, no visible means of support.”

  Mason was taking it all in, filing it away to take out and examine later when he didn’t have something as interesting as Jade to look at. Crawling across the screen, her hair tumbled forward, long, dark curls spilling over her neck and shoulders, trailing onto the carpet, getting in her way. She flicked it back absently with her hand. At one point, a long spiral caught on her pale yellow sweater, and if she’d been in this room, he couldn’t have stopped himself from reaching out and putting it right.

  “You all right?” Anthony asked.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Well, if we’d just come up from a dive, I’d think you look like you have the bends.”

  “Hm.” Mason shrugged. “Must be the cold. Is she active in the community?”

  Anthony studied him a moment longer before letting it go. “I talked to some of the residents.” He blew out an exasperated breath.

  “Let me guess. Shady reputation?”

  “A mixed bag, let me tell you, and strong feelings all around. Have you heard the church bells?”

  “Kind of hard to miss them.” They brought back warm memories of childhood summers, when he and his brothers and sisters had lived behind a church and had the whole playground to themselves, except on Sundays.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Anthony asked. “Now you’re grinning kind of goofy.”

  “I’m fine. Go on.”

  Anthony didn’t look convinced, but he continued. “There’s Group A: church ladies who aren’t too happy when someone turns up her nose at joining a congregation. They don’t even care which congregation, just pick one. And not just Jade, but Annie, as well. Group B, on the other hand, likes Jade because she’s ecology-minded and eagle-friendly. When I told them I was working on an article on the birds wintering over here, they were eager to talk to me.”

  Mason nearly groaned in envy. “What’d you do—sit in a toasty warm McDonald’s? Drink hot coffee all day?”

  “West Bluff doesn’t have a McDonald’s. No fast-food places.”

  “At all?”

  “Nada. There’s more. When I mentioned that I’m staying here, at Mystic Manor, the dynamics got really complicated. I got a lot of those square-shouldered, we’re-a-small-town-don’t-mess-with-one-of-ours looks. You know the one I mean. But then there were the others. Group C. Swear to God, Mase, they moved away so fast, I expected them to whip out wooden crosses.”

  Anthony shivered at the run-ins he’d had. Mason wouldn’t have been surprised to see him suddenly cross himself.

  “I’ll get out again tomorrow, but I thought it was best I back off for a while. I also made contact with the other two stakeout teams. We divided up the work, so there aren’t three strangers in town suddenly asking questions.”

  “Good idea. Hey, you should talk to Weezy. She won’t run away.”

  Anthony grinned broadly. “Energetic little thing, isn’t she? Good cook, too.”

  “Yeah, she could get paid for that anywhere. So why does she get up before dawn and cook breakfast for a couple of strangers for free?”

  “Free, huh?” Anthony was quiet a moment, mentally reviewing items he’d learned since they’d begun the investigation. “Mystic Manor’s solvent now. Jade should be able to pay her help.”

  “Weezy says it’s voluntary. Says there’s no way she’d accept pay for helping Jade, and that’s a direct quote.”

  “Interesting. I heard that more than once today, how she’s helped people. Maybe she’s helping Stockard get rich.” Anthony jotted a note to follow up.

  Fascinated by Jade’s activities on-screen, Mason continued to observe her quadrupedal path through his room. “Maybe she’s checking for dust bunnies.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep watching.”

  Within seconds, Jade was rummaging through his dresser drawers.

  “What’s next? My suitcase?”

  “Keep watching.”

  “My laundry?”

  Dumbfounded, Mason leaned closer to the screen and replayed the segment. From the way Jade scrunched up her face, it could be that she’d gone into his room to find the source of a terrible odor and finally located it, but he didn’t think so. His jaw dropped when she stuffed his dirty sock into her pocket.

  Probably the closest I’ll get to being in her pants.

  “Still think it’s dust bunnies she’s looking for?” Anthony drawled.

  “When was this taken?”

  “About thirty seconds after you turned out of the driveway this morning. Nice set of wheels, by the way.”

  “It was cold and rough and drafty,” Mason griped, then grinned ruefully as he dropped into a chair. “And kept me out of the ditch more than once. Jade talked me into going to Clarksville today.”

  “Because?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Maybe because the road to the lock and dam is low on the snowplow’s to-do list. I checked; she was right about that.” He related everything he’d learned out of town, then indicated the playback. “But after seeing this, I’m thinking maybe she wanted me off the premises for a good long while. When I came back for a memory card, I caught her throwing Tupperware off the bluff into the river.”

  Anthony’s brow shot up. “Evidence?”

  “I don’t think she was unhappy with the product.”

  “How big was it?”

  “Tall cup, twelve to sixteen ounce capacity. Sealed, so it’d float. Skull and crossbones drawn on it, which brings up another item. According to Weezy, Jade grows poisonous plants in the conservatory.”

  “Think that’s a ruse for ones the DEA would be interested in?”

  “Possibly. But why float them downriver?”

  Mason rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he was about to suggest crossing the line in a big way, but rationalizing that surely the plain view doctrine covered indoor, public areas of a B&B.

  “How many cameras do you have?” he asked.

  “I’ll go into Hannibal and get more.”

  Mason glanced at Jade’s image one final
time, looking forward to reviewing new footage of her shenanigans at the end of each day. “Can you send copies to my computer as you get them?”

  “No problem.”

  He looked forward to viewing them in private.

  Chapter 6

  Y ou say you’re staying up at Mystic Manor?”

  The local hardware store was long and narrow, with rough wood floors. It smelled of sawdust, old metal parts, and oil.

  Anthony had stopped in to ask about a map of the area. It was one of his favorite gambits in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. After that, he generally hung around, letting people get used to him. It never took long before someone turned to him, and said, “You’re new in town.”

  Once Mystic Manor was mentioned, he was practically home free.

  “Big place for one woman,” he said, steering the conversation toward the Delarue family and friends. He discreetly switched on the digital recorder he carried. Later he’d send a highlighted copy to Mason’s computer.

  First guy to bite was gray, stoop-shouldered, and in no apparent hurry to do whatever it was people did when they retired and bought a business to keep from being bored.

  “Worked on the heating system there once, don’tcha know?” the owner said. “Long time ago. Miz Delarue’s grandfather was alive at the time. Yessir, called me up from St. Louis to work on it. Took forever. Dang near needed a set of blueprints to keep everything straight and find my way around. Found one, too. On a wall in a bedroom. Don’t that beat all?

  “Loved the town and came back here to retire, don’tcha know? Didn’t see too much of the old man after that. Not that he was antisocial or anything. A lot of the Delarues kept to themselves. Like the one who lives there now. Jade, is it? I think that’s right. She was in here last month ordering wallpaper, don’tcha know? She keeps pretty much to herself.

  “Seems odd for a B&B owner, don’tcha think?”

  Anthony glanced at the display of bird feeders, both hanging and pole-mounted. “Do you know if Mystic Manor has a feeder?”

  “Yep. But she won’t take to you feeding them birds just anything.”