Magic and Macaroons

by Bailey Cates

  Lucy grinned. “Of course he will. Won’t you, Peter?”

  “We’ll see,” he said. “But you have to promise to stop keeping things to yourself that might help me.”

  I pointed at him. “As long as you’re willing to hear what I say—not yell at me like you did when I told you about Franklin contacting me through a psychic—then I promise.”

  He shook his head. “Deal. But that psychic stuff was off the mark. Franklin wasn’t even dead back then.”

  At my noise of protest, he held up his hand. “Anyway, I also want to ask you about how that fire—”

  I staggered. He took a big step, catching me by my good elbow.

  “Peter Quinn!” Lucy stepped forward. “This poor girl has been through a lot today. She’s exhausted, not to mention wounded. You have to let her go home and go to bed.”

  “I’m sorry, Katie. You do look awful.”

  I wished people would stop saying that.

  He opened the car door and helped me inside. Lucy hurried around to the other side and got in, keys at the ready. As she started the engine, I caught Quinn’s arm. “The fire? I don’t know how it started. We were in the back of the house, and it could have burned for a while before we realized. But I can tell you it wasn’t a normal fire.”

  “Okay, Katie. Thanks.” He shut my door, and I thought he was humoring me until I saw the deep concern shining from his eyes. Then it was replaced by his usual professional poker face.

  Even though she could barely see over the steering wheel, Lucy skillfully backed the big car out and turned toward my place in Midtown. Mungo curled into a tight ball on my lap, and I rested my hand on his back as I allowed the seat to envelop me in comfort.

  “I can’t believe they got engaged so quickly,” I heard myself say.

  “Steve and Samantha, you mean.” Lucy shrugged and nodded. “It is a bit sudden, but there’s no accounting for true love.”

  “If that’s true love, I guess you’re right,” I said. But that’s not what this was. Or was it? Was Samantha really using a love potion, or was I just a bit jealous?

  “Ben and I had a very short courtship.” A soft smile smoothed the worry lines from her forehead.

  “Only a couple of months, right?”

  “Less than that. But we knew right away. You know.”

  Actually, I didn’t. Declan and I were taking things slow, and that was largely my doing. I was admittedly a tad gun-shy since Andrew had broken up with me right before our wedding back in Akron, though it had been well over a year ago. I couldn’t help it if I liked my life the way it was. Still, Declan had dropped enough hints about living together, marriage, even children that I knew he wanted more.

  Darn it, just because we weren’t jumping into matrimony didn’t mean we weren’t in love, though. And that ring Steve had bought Sam was ridiculous.

  “And then there’s Cookie and Oscar,” Lucy broke in to my thoughts. “They got married very quickly. Within weeks of meeting each other.”

  “That’s not the highest recommendation,” I said.

  She turned her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Katie? Are they having problems?”

  “I’m sure it’s the same getting-used-to-each-other things all newlyweds experience,” I said. Another good reason to take it slow.

  We rode in silence for a few minutes. I was beginning to doze when Lucy asked, “What were you going to ask Steve in there?”

  “What?” I startled awake. “Oh. I was hoping he might be willing to help Mother Eulora.”

  She turned onto my street. “Help her how?”

  “Well . . . we’ve healed together before. I thought maybe we could help her.”

  My aunt pursed her lips. “I doubt Samantha would have liked that. Or Declan.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lucy. I’m talking about healing magic, not sex. I feel so guilty about what happened,” I said. “If I could make Eulora feel better, maybe help her heart condition . . . well, I couldn’t do much right now, anyway, not feeling like this. So I let it go. Still, maybe I can talk to Steve about it when I have my strength back.” I looked out the window. An athletic-looking woman pushed a toddler in a stroller with one hand, her golden retriever’s leash trailing from the other. “I also thought about trying to pierce Dawn’s coma somehow, but Mother Eulora said we need to know if the talisman was involved, and, if so, who used it before we could break the curse. Besides, I don’t know how we could manage any spell work in front of the intensive-care staff.”

  She made a wry face. “You have a good heart, Katie. But you need to stop feeling guilty. Mimsey was right. None of this is your fault. You didn’t start that fire.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” I said. “I’m sure as heck going to find out who did.”

  Chapter 20

  It seemed like a lifetime since I’d seen my own front door, but it was just before five o’clock when Lucy pulled to the curb in front of the carriage house. Iris and Ben would be sweeping up and cleaning out the espresso maker before locking up the Honeybee for the evening. I hoped Iris had remembered to mix the sourdough to rise overnight. And who knew what kind of prep work we’d need to catch up on the next morning?

  Mungo jumped from my lap, doing his business without ceremony and heading straight to the porch to lie down and wait for us. I wasn’t the only one about to drop.

  Inside, Lucy shooed me toward the bedroom. “You go lie down right this instant, honey. Take Mungo with you. I’ll be in soon with a nice, cool drink.”

  “Shower first,” I muttered. “I can’t stand smelling like this.”

  A quick nod. “Of course. Scoot on in there and clean up. Tea?”

  I bobbed my head and made my woozy way to the bathroom. “Sorry, little guy. I don’t think I can manage a bath for you right now. I know you want the stink of the fire out of your fur. Give me a few hours?”

  Yip!

  With the plastic bag Lucy brought me wrapped around my bandage, I washed my hair three times, slathered on rosemary conditioner, and scrubbed my whole body with a loofah imbued with lavender and tea tree soap. Carefully, I toweled off and climbed into yoga shorts and a tank. Back in the bedroom, Lucy had pulled the covers back, plumped my pillow, and placed a glass of lemon-infused herbal tea on the side table. One sip revealed the flavors of sage and oregano, as well as sweet marshmallow root and slippery elm, all heavily laced with honey. I suspected she’d steeped a bit of Saint-John’s-wort in the mixture, as well as adding a heartfelt incantation to the brew. I said a word of gratitude, added my own healing intentions, and downed the whole thing while sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Then I removed the picture of the fringed gris gris Mother Eulora had given me from the drawer in the bedside table and leaned it against the lamp. I stared at it for what seemed like a long time. A grunting snore from where Mungo sprawled on his back reminded me that I needed rest.

  Rolling carefully onto my back, I propped my elbow on a pillow and pulled the sheet over me. Seconds later, I was probably snoring as loud as my familiar.

  * * *

  The fragrances of garlic and basil, seafood, and fresh bread slowly pulled me from a vague dream in which I was chasing Tanna and she kept turning into a puff of sulfurous smoke. Shaking off drowsiness, I swung my feet out of bed and pushed myself to a sitting position. An odd, sour scent surfaced below the yummy food smells. Then, suddenly, it was gone. The rattle of cookware drifted down the short hallway, and voices murmured in the living room. Mungo was uncharacteristically absent. The solid wood floor felt cool on the soles of my feet as I crossed the bedroom to retrieve my robe. Wrapping it around myself, I stumbled into my living room.

  Ben looked up from where he sat on one of the wingback chairs, hunched over the Civil War trunk. Detective Quinn sat on the sofa, and together they had
managed to spread an assortment of papers over every flat surface within reach. Four boxes were piled over by the bookcase.

  “Hey, darlin’. How are you feeling?” Ben asked.

  Lucy poked her head around the corner of the kitchen. “You up already? I thought you might be out until morning. I called your parents to let them know what happened and that you’re okay.”

  I yawned wide, quickly covering my mouth. “You’re a gem, Lucy. Actually, I feel a lot better. See? I can even move my arm a bit more.”

  “Well, don’t,” she admonished. “You don’t want to break those stitches open.”

  Mungo bounded out of the kitchen. I bent over to pet him. “Why, look at you! You got your bath after all.” He even had a little bandanna around his neck.

  Yip!

  “I came over as soon as we closed down the Honeybee, and first thing gave him a good scrub in the backyard,” Ben said. “He didn’t seem to mind a bit.”

  “I don’t imagine he did. Thanks, Ben.”

  “No problem. It was the least that I could do.”

  I straightened. “Quinn,” I said by way of greeting. He’d watched our exchange in silence.

  He shook his head and grinned. “Boy, it really takes a wallop to keep you down, Lightfoot. Your aunt said you only went to sleep a couple of hours ago.”

  I glanced out the window. It was still light. But with my sleep disorder, two hours was like a full night’s rest. All I said was, “Sometimes a nap is all you need.” I indicated the mess. “What’s all this? And, Lucy, what on earth do you have on the stove? It smells like heaven in a pot.”

  She grinned. “Close enough, honey. Fresh pesto with basil from your garden, grilled shrimp, and garlic bread courtesy of the Honeybee Bakery. It’ll be done in a few minutes. You’re more than welcome to stay, Peter.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Eagel. I might just have to take you up on that. Katie, you see before you the remains of Frank Taite’s worldly possessions—at least the ones he left at Ms. Timmons’ boarding house. She gave them to me without any problem. And it turns out, there are some interesting things here.” He leaned forward and looked me up and down with such thoroughness I pulled my robe tighter. “You do look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

  Have we found the gris gris? The thought sent a bolt of hope through me. Eagerly, I perched on the edge of the second wingback chair. “Interesting, like how?” Now that I was closer to the boxes, I felt an energy that felt sharply sour. Could that have been the vinegary tang I thought I smelled from the bedroom? One of the boxes by the bookcase seemed to exude a smoky yellow aura. Could it be the talisman? I felt my bare toes tapping on the floor in anticipation, and had to stop myself from barreling over and tearing off the lid. Detective Quinn would think I was nuts.

  Ben leaned back and pressed his lips together. “Peter’s been here for an hour, and we’ve gone through absolutely everything. Twice. Two boxes of clothes and toiletries, a laptop computer that’s password protected, and a few personal items.”

  “The talisman?” I couldn’t keep the eagerness out of my voice. “Did you find it?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “Are you sure? It looks kind of like a necklace, metal and fringed. Here, let me get you a picture.” I bolted up and trotted to the bedroom to get the photo off the nightstand. Returning, I held it out to them.

  Quinn took it with a frown. “Where did you get this?”

  “From Mother Eulora. This is the talisman she gave Franklin—the one I told you about.”

  “Sorry, hon,” Ben said. “Nothing like that in any of this stuff.”

  My eagerness faded, the frustration I’d come to associate with almost everything about the situation returning full force. “Dang it!”

  So, what’s over there in that box?

  “But take a look at what Peter found,” my uncle said. The anticipation on his face gave me pause.

  I scooted closer. Lucy stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the stove and listening to us with a wooden spoon poised in her hand.

  Quinn said, “Who knows what we might find on that computer, but Frank kept hard-copy records of his cases, both on and off the force. This is the one I think you might want to see.” He held a manila file out to me.

  I took it, still aware of the force surrounding the closed box across the room. “Luce, are you using vinegar in anything you’re cooking in there?” I asked, opening the file.

  “No.” She sounded puzzled.

  I looked up. “Anyone else smell that?”

  “Well, I sure smell lots of good things, thanks to your aunt’s hard work,” Ben said.

  Quinn cocked his head and sniffed.

  One thing at a time.

  Quickly, I perused the contents of the file, skimming through the pages and then going back to check on a few things.

  “So, human sacrifice was involved in this case.” I sat back in the chair. “Pretty freaky, but not exactly shocking, given what his lieutenant in New Orleans told you about his last case before he left the force. This is the same one, right? I mean, this isn’t the official police report, just his personal notes, but the dates seem right.”

  Quinn nodded.

  I went on. “Plus, Franklin mentioned human sacrifice to Mother Eulora when he came to see her in April.” I bent my head over the file. “Still, he stopped the sacrifice before anyone was harmed. Wait a minute.” I flipped through the pages again. “Who was the mastermind behind the whole thing?”

  “We think Frank took part of that file with him.” Quinn tipped his head toward the folder I held. “I’ve got a call into the NOPD to find out what the official story is. And I’m hoping that information will be on his computer. Because there’s . . . well, keep reading.”

  Lucy disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, then came back out to join us, the spoon still held absently in her hand. She sat lightly on Ben’s knee, and he steadied her with his arm. Watching me with a grim expression, he stroked his beard with his other hand. Mungo had snuggled down on the throw rug next to my foot.

  I returned my attention to the papers in my hand. “A coma? Whoever it was induced a coma and then was going to kill the victim with— Oh, my God.” I looked up. “A snakebite? Quinn! It says they got away! It says here they escaped without making their sacrifice, but they were never caught. It says—let’s see here—it says they kept their victim for only a couple of days before trying to complete the sacrificial ritual.” I met the detective’s eyes, scrambling for the right words to convince him of what I was thinking. “Do you think it was more than one person?”

  Slowly, he nodded. “A complicated plan like that, it would make sense for there to be more than one perpetrator.”

  I reached down and scritched Mungo behind the ears. “Franklin disappeared without a trace from Cozie Temmons’ rooming house in April. He visited his friend, Mother Eulora, around the same time, but then never came back to see her. I think he would have if he could have. I think he would have contacted me, too.”

  “Why?” Quinn asked.

  I shook my head. “I just do. But he didn’t die until just a few days ago. So, where was he that whole time? Is there any indication of another case he was working on during that time? No, wait. There wouldn’t be because he disappeared without taking any of this stuff with him.” I licked my lips. “Here’s the thing: Those people he stopped from sacrificing their victim were never caught. And their plan had been spoiled by Detective Franklin Taite.” I hugged myself, almost glad for the twinge in my shoulder to remind me that this wasn’t a dream. “They got to him, Quinn. I think he was in a coma for months, and then they managed to go through with their snake-bite sacrifice. And now Dawn’s in a coma, too.”

  His poker face didn’t waver. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben hold Lucy a little tighter. “That’s crazy,” Ben said.

 
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” I insisted. “Quinn, how hard would it be to check hospitals here in Savannah and the surrounding towns for long-term coma patients?”

  The silence that followed seemed to stretch into minutes but was probably only seconds. Finally, he spoke. “Not too hard.”

  I grinned. “You’ll do it?”

  “No.”

  My smile dropped.

  “I’ll have a lackey do it.”

  Ben laughed. “You know Katie’s right more often than not.”

  Quinn allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his face. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t agree to this nonsense.” He reached into the pile of folders on the table. “There’s something else. About his niece.”

  I leaned over and grabbed the file before he could properly offer it to me. Another quick scan, shorter this time because there was only one page. “Dawn was in North Carolina for the past two months?”

  Quinn nodded. “Frank had her infiltrate a cult headed by some nutso prophet.”

  “A cult!” Lucy said. “How could he?”

  “I’ve heard of this bunch. They’re pretty harmless—mostly woo-woo pagan stuff. Not exactly another David Koresh. It looks like Frank sent his niece to bring a girl back to her parents.”

  Lucy still frowned.

  “I’ll check into it,” Quinn continued. “Obviously, she finished what he sent her to do and came back to Savannah. I doubt that it has anything to do with Franklin’s death or her current condition. You never know, though.” He began gathering the folders into a neat pile. “Any chance that dinner invitation is still open?”

  My aunt bolted to her feet. “Oh, heavens. I turned it all off, but it’s ready. Come in and help yourself.” She darted back into the kitchen.

  Ben and Quinn got up as the dish-rattling sounds began again.

  “Quinn,” I said quietly.

  He paused. Ben noticed, but went ahead to join his wife.

  “Are you worried that someone might go after Dawn? At the hospital, I mean. For another, er . . .” I trailed off, unwilling to say the words.