“There were a few items missing. Silver, mainly.”
Harvey rapped his knuckles on the wooden table. “Then I might have a contact who can help us out. How do you feel about spending your morning down at the tavern?”
“It will feel as though I’ve strayed completely off the right path.” Emily gave her brother a broad smile. “Let’s go!”
With a raspberry cola in hand, Emily perched next to Harvey on a stool at the bar, struggling to balance. Even without the encroaching numbness in her leg muscles, she’d never been great with barstools. If she had her wish, every chair in the world would be built with a solid back.
“If we’re sitting along here, how are you going to question anybody?” she asked, giving the tavern a quick scan.
“Don’t worry. The person I’m searching for hasn’t arrived, yet. He’s probably out the back doing some trade.”
Her watch announced it was ten o’clock, the robotic female voice sounding as out-of-place as Emily felt. She pressed the button on the side three times, condemning it to silence while her brother gave her a long stare.
“How hard do you find it, just getting through a normal day?”
She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. The old treat from her childhood had lost none of the thrill in her transformation to an adult, one of the few things that had stayed the same. “I get by just fine. There’s plenty who have worse to deal with.”
“I thought you’d be better off by now.” Harvey took a long swallow from his pint glass, a mild lager in a warm shade of amber.
The condensation beading on the glass made Emily shiver. With the days creeping farther into Autumn, a cold drink wasn’t the welcome sight it would have been a few months ago.
She chewed her bottom lip, warring between the truth or an easy lie. “I’m not going to get any better. In fact, the doctors have warned me I’m likely to deteriorate.”
Harvey frowned and ran a finger up the side of his glass, flicking the drop onto the stained oak bench. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t know that until a few months ago. It came as a nasty surprise.”
“Is that why your limp gets worse during the day?”
Emily swallowed hard, taken aback that he’d noticed. “There’re some bone fragments left in my head from the accident. They’re pressing on the wrong bits of my brain but it’s too dangerous to operate and get them out.”
“Oh, sis. Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Harvey turned away from her, his voice catching. “I could’ve been here for you.”
“You know me.” Emily stared down into the dark red of her drink. For a split second, it looked like blood and oil, then she blinked, and it turned back into a harmless soda. “I always prefer to deal with things on my own.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know you.” Harvey pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose.
The old-fashioned affectation tugged the corners of Emily’s mouth up into a smile. Heaven forbid he upgraded to tissues.
“We haven’t spent time together since we were little and now, I have no idea how to talk to you about anything serious.”
Emily waved her hand around the bar. “These are serious matters.” When her brother’s brow darkened, she added, “You’re doing just fine.”
“I know you don’t want me here but—”
Harvey broke off and his gaze followed a man who’d come into the bar from a side door. His almost-empty pint glass banged down on the counter and he rose, not even glancing at Emily. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“If that’s your contact, I should come with you.”
“Once I have a word.”
Harvey walked away before Emily could raise another protest. He raised a finger to the man, and there was an exchange of jerked chins and raised shoulders until the pair sat at a corner table.
“Can I get you another one of those?” the bartender asked, and Emily stared in surprise at her empty glass.
“Yes, please.”
She tried to keep tabs on Harvey from the corner of her eyes, but it was hard. When she saw him throw back his head and laugh, her stomach tightened into a cold, hard ball.
Finally, after a good ten minutes of intense chat, Harvey signalled for Emily to come over. She struggled off the stool and weaved her way through the tables and chairs to reach them.
“You’re looking for an old book, I hear.”
Emily nodded at the man. He had straggly hair and a complexion that spoke of too little sun and too much drinking. A starburst of burst capillaries lit his nose up like Santa’s favourite reindeer.
“I’ve fielded enquiries about it before. For a long time, nobody seemed to know where it was or who had it.” The man leaned back, squinting at Emily through deep-set green eyes. “Then the title suddenly came up for auction.”
“That’s the one.” The knot in Emily’s stomach loosened. At least they were on the same page. “Do you know—”
Harvey winced, and the man held a hand up to cut her off. “I’ve already heard enough on the subject from your brother. I can tell you the queries came from four different sources.”
He took a sip from his pint and looked at the low level with a disappointed expression.
“Can I get you another?” Emily asked, reaching for her bag.
“I’ll get us a round in,” Harvey said, escaping for the bar.
Emily thought for a few minutes the man wasn’t going to continue until her brother returned, then he coughed and sat forward. “One of the men originally asking questions was the same man now claiming the book’s been stolen.”
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t feel any real sense of surprise. “Jake doesn’t have it, anymore. I’m sure of that.”
“No.”
She desperately wanted to ask questions, to move this molasses-textured conversation along, but Emily bit her lip and turned to watch her brother’s progress. Even though she had a full glass in front of her, Harvey had ordered a refill. He grabbed the two pints in one hand and frowned as they tipped.
“There was an old lady asking.” The red-nosed man looked Emily up and down, then amended, “A middle-aged lady.”
“Younger than me?”
“Yeah. She was cagey about the whole thing, but I knew what she wanted.” He snorted at a memory. “The woman wasn’t nearly so subtle as she thought. When she opened her Louis Vuitton bag, a bundle of cash came spilling out. She was so ready and willing to pay, I felt bad not being able to take the money off her.”
The man paused, tipping his head to one side. “Well, not much money, anyway. I promised to keep her informed and charged a fee for it. That’s just common sense.”
“Who else?”
“Some bloke with Down’s Syndrome.”
Emily jerked back, nodding. “Terrence Salem.” As the man stared at her across the table, Emily frowned. “The police already questioned him.”
“The police.” He flicked a hand up as though brushing away an annoying fly. “They wouldn’t know what’s really going on if you sat down and explained it in minute detail. He’s been asking, too.”
“Why?” The question escaped from Emily’s mouth before she could think to stop it.
“You don’t stay in my line of business long asking why.” The man gave a tight smile. “I also got asked a bunch of times by a red-haired kid. A girl just out of her teens. She was obviously working for someone else, but I don’t know whether that someone was one of the aforementioned, or a separate buyer who wanted to keep themselves right out of the frame.”
Harvey appeared back, loading up the table with the drinks. The man took his new pint and drained it in one long chug. He sighed in pleasure as he banged the empty glass down. “That’ll do me.”
It wasn’t until her brother tugged on Emily’s arm that she realised the man wasn’t talking about the beer—he was talking about their conversation.
“Did you get what you needed?” Harvey asked as they abandoned t
heir drinks at the table and hurried outside the pub.
“I think so.” Emily cast one last glance back at the tavern, the strange man silhouetted against the corner window. “At least now I have an idea where to start looking.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Okay,” Emily said, sitting across from Crystal. “Since your next appointment’s still twenty minutes away, I hoped you might recognise a few folks in town just from their descriptions.”
It was a good bet. Crystal might not have a gift for communicating with the dead, but she was an excellent source of information about the living. Her floofy hair hid a mind like a steel trap. Not only did she regularly converse with a wide cross-section of Pinetar’s population, her brain stored up every tidbit of gossip anyone had ever said to her.
Crystal shifted on her seat and linked her hands across her belly. “Shoot.”
“Do you know a red-headed teenager?”
“Girl or boy?”
“Girl.”
Crystal scrunched her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I reckon that’ll be Belinda Bierswack. She’s a real ginger. If not her, I’ve got the names of a couple of strawberry blonds who might fit the description in a pinch.”
“Is she still in school?”
A joyous laugh greeted that question. “Belinda wasn’t even in school when she should’ve been. As soon as she could legally sign out, she’s never looked back.” Crystal frowned and shifted so her elbows rested on the table. “I think she had a job at the clothing store on Banks Lane. The one with the price tags which’d make your eyes water.”
“Really?” Emily chewed her lip. “I’m not sure that fits with a burglar.”
“Oh, she’d be up for that, all right.” Crystal snorted and wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Belinda’s never been one for the straight and narrow. I keep expecting to find out she’s filched a wallet while a customer’s in the changing rooms or something. Give it time.”
“Have you had many dealings with Terrence Salem?”
“The man from the roller derby?” When Emily nodded, Crystal put a finger up to her cheek. “I’ve heard a few things about him on the grapevine. This time last year, he was in a bunch of strife.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“He got mixed up with a biker gang. They used him for moving drugs around the place.” Crystal shrugged. “Because who’s going to question a kid with Down’s Syndrome. Not that he’s a kid, anymore.”
“How old is he?”
“Early thirties. Agnetha must’ve read him the riot act because once he got disentangled from the gang, he got himself a real job and there’s never been a peep of trouble from him again.”
Emily placed her hands flat on the table, eyes half closed as she concentrated. “I didn’t realise he was as old as that.”
“No. He still looks a lot younger than he is.” Crystal’s fingers leapt up to her face to explore the crow’s feet extending out around her eyes. “I wish I had that trouble.”
“How old is Agnetha?” Emily asked, then remembered what the sergeant had said about her becoming guardian to Wanda and Sheryl. “Is she really his sister or is he a foster kid?”
“They’re brother and sister, all right. She’d have maybe twelve years on him. The parents thought they were done with all that, then Terrence came along as a surprise.”
“Where are the parents?”
“Auckland. The Mum’s some bigwig with the university up there. They started off in Christchurch, Agnetha moved out here, then Terrence followed after his run-in with the gang.”
Emily sat still for a moment, shuffling people around in her head to fit the new descriptions.
“Do you know anyone in town with a penchant for Louis Vuitton?”
Crystal glanced at her sideways. “Agnetha again. What’s all this in aid of?”
“Harvey introduced me to someone at the pub. A fence. He gave me a few descriptions of people who’re after the same book I’m looking for.”
“If it’s your witch-ghost, that makes sense. There’ve always been rumours around town Agnetha is tied up with some sort of modern-day coven.”
Hoping she wasn’t telling tales out of school, Emily said, “She’s the Supreme.”
“Well, she’ll be your best bet, then. If there’s a spell you need help with…”
“Apparently, she wasn’t overly fond of Wanda and she hated Sheryl. I don’t think I’m going to find any help there.”
Crystal barked out a laugh. “Well, if she’s not going to volunteer to help, what are you going to do? Even if she has got her hands on the spell book that you’re after, I’m fairly sure it’ll be the worst idea to steal it back.”
“Considering that we’re running out of time, even a terrible idea is better than none.” Emily ran a hand through her hair, still feeling the CPR exercise from the other day in her tired muscles. “But if she has taken it, I don’t where it’s hidden. Wanda had a look through the house while the police were questioning her and—”
“You took the police to Agnetha’s house?” Crystal’s mouth fell open with shock. “Man, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
“Nobody in their right mind would ever trade them,” Emily said with a grin. “And that’s without me taunting the lead witch around the area.”
“Well, if you do need help…”
“You’ll be my first phone call. I’ll give Belinda a try but it’s looking more and more likely Agnetha or her brother are the ones behind the theft.”
“In that case, I’ll write a lovely speech for your funeral,” Crystal said, laughing as she escorted Emily out of her front room.
Emily avoided the price tags as she pretended to browse the dresses inside ‘Festivals and Frolics.’ She didn’t want the expensive items to distract her attention and make her clumsy. It was hard enough to snatch a few casual glances at Belinda without fear of damaging a dress she’d have been lucky to afford in her old job.
“Can I help you?” the owner asked, sidling up to Emily. Maybe a sixth sense was kicking in because the woman gave her a long, appraising stare.
“I’m just looking,” Emily said with a polite smile. “I’m not sure anything here takes my fancy.”
“Were you shopping for a special occasion?”
“A wedding.” The lie slipped from Emily’s tongue with such ease she felt rather proud. “It’s my niece, and I’d really appreciate a younger person’s opinion.” She felt a bit guilty for using the same made-up relative for the second time in as many weeks.
The owner’s smile didn’t even falter as she turned and beckoned Belinda over to their side. “Maybe Bel can help you out, then. Is she about your niece’s age?”
“A bit younger, perhaps.” Emily pulled out a lime frock with large white flowers dotted at random over the fabric and held it up to her neck, smiling at the young redhead. “What do you think?”
“It’d be great for a funeral,” the woman scoffed, nudging aside the proprietor to take another dress off the rack. “This should be more appropriate.”
The garish sun-frock was festooned with orange and yellow slashes on a background of bright red darkening to deep maroon. Emily did her best not to wince as she took the garment out of Belinda’s hands. “Do you really think this suits me?”
“Try it on.” The young woman led Emily to a pair of changing rooms out the back. “You’ll see.”
“Do you mind staying here?” Emily asked quickly as it looked like Belinda was about to head back to the main shop. “Only I get claustrophobic and it helps if there’s someone outside to talk to.”
The woman stared at her with a disbelieving expression but stayed. “Sure. Whatever.”
“Thanks.” Emily pulled the curtain across and struggled to pull her T-shirt up over her head. “Have you worked here long?”
“A few months,” the bored reply came. “It’s really great.”
The deadpan delivery made Emily smile. “Are you interested in clothing or design?”
“Not really. I like denim and leather.”
Emily lost focus for a few seconds as she manoeuvred into the dress. For a horrifying second, she thought her arm had managed to tear a hole, but it was just the movement of a crossover flap held in place with Velcro.
She surveyed her reflection in the small mirror, then pulled back the curtain to examine her full-length reflection in the one outside. The garish colours caused her rosy complexion to deepen into a flush, like a practising drunkard or a woman whose blood pressure was off the charts. The placement of a yellow streak near the neckline threw a jaundiced pallor onto her chest and chin.
With a turn one way, then another, Emily kept her horror to herself. “What d’you think?”
“It’s great,” Belinda answered in the same dull monotone. “Really suits you.”
“It makes me look a hundred years old,” Emily snapped, clicking her fingers to draw the young woman’s attention. “Rather like a book I heard you had an interest in.”
“What?”
The girl stepped back but Emily matched her, holding up an accusing finger to point at Belinda’s chest. “I talked to a fence at the tavern and he said you’d been asking about a spell book that belongs to me. It was stolen from a dear friend’s house. You know anything about that?”
The young woman’s eyes opened wide, and she jerked her head around. Emily didn’t care if it was to check the owner couldn’t hear or to seek help, she grabbed Belinda’s chin and forced her head back to face her.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Who’re you working for?”
Belinda brushed Emily’s hand away, her face twisting into a snarl. “You’re talking nonsense,” she said in a furious whisper.
For a second, she didn’t know what to do. Then she smiled broadly at the girl. “What did you say to me?” she asked in a high, shocked voice. “Didn’t your manager teach you to treat customers with respect?”
The redhead’s eyes opened so wide the whites formed a complete ring around her irises. Her mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish.
Miss Hawthorne Sits for a Spell Page 10
