“Ah yes, and how are my part-time voodoo priests?”
Gene shrugged. “Great!”
Frank gave him a heated glance. “Great for him, but not so great for me.” He placed his palms on the counter and sighed heavily. “Tilly, I need your help.”
“Of course you do.” She smiled and cocked her head. “What do you need?”
“Something has happened to my family,” Frank said ruefully.
“Did you lose them?”
Frank look startled. “No.” His expression softened. “Well, not physically. They’re still there. They just aren’t being themselves, including this one.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward Gene.
Gene flashed back a bewildered look.
Tilly smiled serenely. “How are they different?”
“Well,” Frank began then paused and scratched his head. “They’re too perfect.”
Tilly’s eyes sparked with surprise. “But that’s what you wanted! You asked for it from your own lips.”
Protest bathed Frank’s face. “I never said I wanted them to be perfect.”
“But you did Mr. Beal. At your barbeque when your boss was pressing you on your deadline. You asked me to rid the house of evil eye and that you wanted things to be perfect.” She nodded her head once. “Your house is now free of evil eye, and everything is perfect, isn’t it?”
“That’s not what I meant though; I only wanted the day to go perfectly.”
Tilly slowly tipped her head back. “I see.” She leaned forward; her dark eyes captured his with a penetrating stare. “So you were not specific enough for Tilly to use the correct spell were you?”
“Apparently not.” He rubbed his hand over a three day beard.
“So now you want me to perform an uncrossing spell?”
Frank shrugged. “I just want them to be the way they were.”
Tilly nodded. “What would you be willing to pay?”
“Just tell me what it costs, I’ll pay.”
Tilly smiled sympathetically. “Everyone is willing to pay for what they want, even before they know the price. Don’t you know that payments can go on forever?” Her look became solemn. “The price can be wide and cut clear to your soul.”
“Is that your price? My soul?”
“Mister Beal,” Tilly said patiently, “I am not the devil. What would I do with your soul?”
Frank shrugged. “What does the devil do with them?”
Tilly chuckled and stepped back to one of the shelves behind her. She ran a finger slowly along the ledge. “Here we go.” She took a small bottle from the shelf then continued to remove two more then returned to the counter. One by one she held them up.
“This is uncrossing oil, you will use nine drops.” She pushed a pencil and a pad toward him. “You better write this down.”
Frank took the pencil and squinted at the label on the vial. “Nine drops, got it.” He looked up, anxious for the rest of the recipe.
Tilly nodded. “This is Rosemary oil. Put seven drops in a glass of rainwater.”
Frank’s head snapped up. “Rainwater! Where am I going to get rainwater?” He swallowed hard, and his left eye began to twitch wildly. “It isn’t going to rain is it?”
“Are you afraid of the rain?”
Gene laughed. “He’s afraid of rain checks.”
Tilly reached underneath the counter. “I have rainwater.” She shook her head, and her face twisted in a scowl. “I have to think of everything. It’s a good thing in California that when it rains, it pours.” She set a lidded jar of murky looking water in front of him. “Once you have added the Rosemary oil and Uncrossing oil to the rainwater blend it thoroughly.”
“Blend thoroughly,” Frank repeated as he scribbled.
“As you do that, you repeat this chant, Break this hex, give it the boot, free my life from this evil spell.”
“There it is again!” Gene chimed in. “That’s what’s wrong with these spells, they just don’t rhyme. Isn’t a powerful spell supposed to rhyme?”
Tilly glared at him. “Do you want your rash back?”
Gene held up a palm and stepped back in silence.
“Then you must place this mixture in a window for three days.”
“What?” Frank stared. “This is going to take three days? I thought it would work right away like your evil eye remedy.”
Tilly sighed. “Mr. Beal, you’re not that powerful. You must cast spells the slow way.”
“Okay then, you come to my house and cleanse the curse.” Frank’s eyebrows rose in a hopeful expression. “Okay?”
Tilly shook her head. “No, it is best that you do this one yourself.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“On the fourth day, sprinkle several drops of the water in all the corners of your house making sure no one sees you do it.”
“You can bet your sweet bippy no one will see me do it,” Frank quipped as he wrote.
My rule of thumb is I never bet anything sweet,” Tilly said.
Frank looked up with a silly smile. “Good rule of thumb.”
Next Tilly held up a small burlap pouch in each hand. “After you have sprinkled the water in the house, take a bath every day for seven consecutive days, adding a teaspoon of Uncrossing Bath,” she held it up, “and Jinx Removing powder.”
“What do I do when I’m in the tub?” Frank asked.
Tilly shrugged. “I don’t know, why don’t you sing?”
“What words should I sing?”
Tilly frowned. “You’re the jingle writer Mr. Beal.”
“Right.” Frank blushed. “How much do I owe you?”
“Twenty-five dollars.”
“What?” Gene exclaimed. “He’s getting all this for twenty-five, and you charged me fifty dollars for one little vial of oil?”’
Tilly looked at Gene as if she were staring through a pane of glass. “Itchy itchy, burn, burn until you shut your mouth you’ll earn.”
Gene’s hips started swaying in a sort of Elvis Presley kind of way. “Ow!” He winced and wriggled. “Okay, okay!” He pressed his hands together as if he were praying. “Sorry.” He began to madly scratch the inside of his right leg.
“How’s that for a rhyme?” Tilly threw her head back and laughed. “I hope you have some of that oil left.” She bagged Frank’s order and pushed it across the counter.
“Thanks Tilly,” Frank said softly and turned to leave.
“Mr. Beal,” Tilly said.
Frank stopped and turned to look at her.
“You will have some ingredients left over when you are through.”
“What should I do with them? Bury them at a crossroads?”
Tilly slowly shook her head. “Put them in an aquarium with a few gallons of water. You have an aquarium don’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Frank said looking at his feet. “What should I do with the water?”
Tilly gave him a bowled over look. “Fish Mr. Beal, put fish in it.”
Frank nodded agreeably.
“By the way, have you had anymore trouble with your neighbor’s gardener?” Tilly asked.
Frank looked at Gene then scratched his head. “You know, I haven’t seen him for days.”
Tilly smiled. “Foot track magic never fails.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Break this hex, give it the boot,” Frank sang as he sprinkled water mixture around the corners of the living room, “free my life from this evil spell.”
“Honey, what’s this?” Joan asked.
Frank spun around and swung the jar behind his back. “I thought you went grocery shopping. What are you doing back so soon?”
“I haven’t left yet silly, I couldn’t leave without giving you a good-bye kiss.”
“Oh, right.” Frank leaned forward offering only his puckered lips making sure Joan wouldn’t touch any other part of his body. He cracked an eye when she didn’t kiss him immediately.
“What’s this?” she asked again a
s she handed him the folded paperwork. “A strange man just delivered it.”
With the water hidden behind his back, Frank took the papers and opened them one handed. “What?!” He dropped the jar of water on the carpet with a thud. Half of its contents spilled before he could retrieve it.
“What’s that?” Joan asked as she peered over his shoulder.
“Nothing,” Frank stuttered as he put the paper under his arm screwed on the lid to the jar and set it on the floor. “Just a little rain water and room fragrance.” He walked quickly to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. With a hand shading his eyes he looked up to the roof.
“Damn!”
“What is it Frank?”
“Roberts,” Frank said as he slowly turned to face the Robert’s house. “He’s suing us for personal injury.” He squinted back the sun as he looked again at the documents. “It says he suffered substantial back injury from slipping on a bunch of bananas that were lying on our walk.”
“Bananas?” Joan looked confused. “That’s ridiculous. Why would we have bananas on the walkway?”
Frank flashed her a guilty look. In the next moment, his eyes narrowed, and his face hardened. “Fine, if he wants to fight, I’ll give him one,” he said stomping into the house straight to the closet.
“What are you going to do?” Joan asked from behind.
Frank stopped tossing things out of the closet and looked back over his shoulder. “What do you mean what am I going to do? I’m getting my tennis racquet. I’m going to fight fire with fire.” His timing couldn’t have been worse. Not only was his racquet missing but also he suddenly remembered that his cache of snails had vanished mysteriously.
“Well, let me know if you find a lawyer attached to that racquet of yours,” Joan snapped and walked out slamming the door behind her.
A slow smile spread across Frank’s face. It was the first real sarcastic thing Joan had said in many long days. The slamming door was music to his ears. Tilly’s uncrossing spell was beginning to work already. Frank dashed back into the living room and grabbed the jar of rainwater. He danced around sprinkling the corners. “Break this hex, give it the boot, free my life from this evil spell,” he chanted as he pranced. “Break this hex, give it the boot, free my life from this evil spell,” he continued as he trotted up the stairs sprinkling the fragrant water as he went.
The front door swung open. It was Gene.
“Where have you been?” Frank asked. “I have a bone to pick with you about those bananas you hung from the roof.”
Gene huffed and waved a hand. “I buried them.”
Frank’s voice wobbled as he came down the stairs. “Roberts is claiming that he slipped on them and hurt his back.” He pointed toward the front of the house. “Right there on my walkway.”
Gene frowned. “I wondered about that. I had to scrape them off the cement. They weren’t even rotten yet, hadn’t even gotten out of the speckled stage.”
“Well it’s a good thing,” Frank said. “He’d probably sue me for that, too.”
“What was he doing on your walkway?”
“How the heck would I know?” Frank waved a hand expressively. “He probably whacked the bananas down with one of those golf clubs you sold him and slipped on them intentionally.”
Gene rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know? That’s not a bad idea.” He smiled. “You could probably make a pretty good living that way.”
“Yeah right, I don’t think you’d find enough bananas hanging from people’s roofs to have a steady flow of income. I guess I need to get a lawyer.”
Gene waved the idea away. “Nah, just let your homeowner’s insurance handle it.”
“Are you sure?” Frank asked.
“That’s what you pay the premiums for isn’t it?”
Frank stiffened. Sure, why not? In sixteen years, he had never filed a claim. He nodded thoughtfully. It felt good knowing that in the worst case scenario, if the house and its contents were destroyed, they would at least have some money in their pockets to start over with. Law suits were tricky though, sometimes judges favored the plaintiff.
“Welcome to Seasonal Insurance Mr. Beal,” the agent said with a hand extended. Frank took hold and shook it noticing it was as soft as a chamois and clammy. Frank absently rubbed his hand down the leg of his pants as he sat down in the chair across from him.
“Ulf Russo.” His pudgy cheeks blushed. “Sorry,” he said as he nodded toward Frank’s hand. “My doctor says my Sympathetic Nervous System is overactive. I sweat a little too much. Did you know that two thirds of our body’s sweat glands are in our hands alone?”
Frank cleared his throat. “Why no, I didn’t.”
“And you are?”
“I’m his brother.”
“Please sit,” he said indicating the chair next to Frank. A long silence followed as Russo sat and folded his hands on his desk in front of him. His smile was so wide Frank could fairly see flashes of light glittering off his polished teeth. A legal pad was placed on the desk in front of him next to a sleek gold plated pen.
“How can I help you today?”
“I’d like to file a claim,” Frank said as he gazed around at mahogany book shelves filled with leather bound books and lustrous walls adorned with gold framed oil paintings depicting the sights of Paris and Rome.
“I see,” Russo said without picking up his pen. “Can you explain the nature of the claim?”
“My neighbor hurt his back when he fell on my walkway.”
Russo’s eyes narrowed. The black leather of his office chair squeaked as he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head.
“Does your neighbor have any witnesses to his injury?”
Frank looked at Gene then back at Russo. “I don’t know. We were only notified this morning that we are being sued.”
Russo was silent as he stared at the ceiling. Slowly, his mouth curved up to one side. He leaned forward and pressed an intercom button.
“Miss Henry, would you bring me Mr. Beal’s policy information?”
“Yes sir,” came a muted response.
Russo’s mouth twisted from side to side like he was chewing the inside of his cheeks. “The first thing we have to do is check your liability coverage.” He leaned forward and folded his hands.
Frank’s insides clenched at being under silent regard. “Ulf,” he said looking at Russo’s ebony desk plaque. “That’s an unusual name.”
Russo smiled. “It’s Swedish.”
“Russo sounds Italian,” Gene said.
“My mother is Swedish.” He pointed toward the bookcase to a mahogany framed photo of an elderly woman with short hair worn in a finger curled twenties fashion. “She insisted that I carry her father’s first name, Ulf. My son’s name is Ulf, too.”
He must be giddy with pride, Frank thought. “Does it mean something?”
“Wolf,” Russo said with a pompous smile.
The office door swung open and a slender woman came in carrying a manila file. She smiled pleasantly at Frank and Gene as she placed it on Russo’s desk then quickly left the room.
“Thank you, Miss Henry,” Russo said almost inaudibly and waited for her to close the door before he opened the dossier. “Let’s have a look.” He took in a breath and whistled its release. “The liability portion of your policy will pay for both the cost of defending you in court and any court awards.”
Frank relaxed and felt his back melt into the curve of his chair. He smiled and gave Gene a wink.
“However,” Russo said as he looked up. “It only pays to the limit of your policy.”
Frank’s composure slipped a rung. “What does that mean?”
“Tell me something,” Russo said as he re-laced his hands behind his head. He hitched a leg up and rested his ankle on his knee. “How did the accident happen?”
“Well,” Frank began. “He claims that he slipped on some bananas.”
Russo stared. “And these bananas, how did they get on your w
alkway?”
“That’s just the thing, they weren’t on the walkway. They were hanging from the roof.”
Russo frowned, uncrossed his legs and picked up his pen. “Most folks hang wind chimes.”
“Yes, that’s true but my brother thought it was a type of good luck charm.”
Russo’s head snapped up. “Your brother hung them?”
“It’s sort of a religious gesture that offers a home and everyone in it protection.”
Russo smiled and shook his head. “I know bananas are a good source of potassium but I’ve never heard of them offering any sort of protection.”
“I was helping to avert the evil eye,” Gene chimed in.
Frank flashed him a glance that said to put a sock in it.
“Mr. Beal, you should contact me before doing any home improvement projects…” he stopped in mid sentence and frowned. “What is the evil eye?”
“It’s the glance of doom,” Gene offered. “You wouldn’t believe what we went through with the skeleton dance and the peacock.” Gene hitched his chair forward until he could place his elbows on the desk. “The evil eye brings bad luck on people, and if anybody had bad luck, Frank did.” He jerked his chin in Frank’s direction. “Black specks were floating around in his house like sparkles in a snow globe.”
Frank elbowed Gene’s ribs and smiled. “Sometimes my brother gets carried away.”
Russo smiled dryly. “Do you expect me to believe that Mr. Beal had bad luck because someone looked at him the wrong way?”
Gene scowled. “You want to see my rash?”
Russo sighed and leaned forward. “Here’s the bottom line. You have a five thousand dollar deductible for any injury your neighbor sustained from these … bananas.” He glanced at Gene. “But I seriously doubt that your policy would cover any damage caused by a…” Russo rubbed his chin. “Are you a visiting relative?” he asked Gene.
Gene nodded.
“By a visiting relative.” He shrugged and slapped the folder shut. “I would recommend that you upgrade your liability limits and lower your deductible. Your premiums will be more but from what your brother is saying, I recommend a no-fault medical coverage.” He clicked his sleek gold pen and few times then leaned back.
Mixed Nuts Page 10
