by Amy Boyles
I frowned. "You mean you wouldn't, like, give it to him to hold so that you could run to the bathroom or something?"
She bobbed her head. "Right."
"Well, now it appears he's going around killing fake people."
"So he thinks Chasity is dead?"
I nodded. "Right. He must."
Sera poured her coffee into the kitchen sink and rinsed the cup. "So then whoever else is involved will think that, too."
I eyed her. "What are you suggesting?"
She shrugged innocently. "Nothing. I mean, now's a great opportunity to figure out who's behind this."
I pushed my hand into a stop position. "Hold on, there. You're the one who never wants to get involved with these things. I always have to half drag you into this stuff."
"Well, Dylan. Let's face it—most of the time your ideas are harebrained."
I folded my arms over my chest. "I resent that."
Her gaze cut to the ceiling. It wasn't exactly an eye roll, but it was close. "Okay. I'm not even going to bother commenting on that because there's no point. Here's the thing—you've finally seen something real, something concrete we can go on. Pearbottom walked into Chasity's house and blasted her. Now he thinks she's dead. We can use that."
I stopped chewing the inside of my lip. "How?"
"To get him to confess."
I shook my head. "To what? Killing a piece of kitchenware? We made her out of a cookie sheet, remember?"
"But he would have been the one who killed Wanda LaRue, right?"
I shook my head. "Something just isn't right about this. I don't believe Pearbottom would have killed LaRue."
Sera smacked her head. "What are you talking about? You're the one who always jumps on the killer bandwagon, ready to nail any witch you can. You hate Pearbottom. Gosh, the guy's own mother probably doesn't even like him. What's stopping you from finding out the truth about him? He killed the fake Chasity. He was probably the one who killed her mother. To me it seems pretty soft and dry."
I frowned. "Soft and dry? What the heck does that mean?"
She shook her head in frustration. "You know—open and shut. Whatever. It's late. I think better in the morning, not the middle of the night."
"Okay. I can take a hint when you shove one in my face." I drained my cup and rinsed it out. We straightened up the kitchen and went to bed. For some reason I couldn't get the worry knot in my stomach to ease up.
Jonathan Pearbottom had destroyed the fake Chasity. That meant he'd killed Wanda LaRue, too.
Something about that just didn't seem right.
***
The next morning I confirmed with Jenny Butts that she'd be watching my store again. It was her fourth day on the job, and I had to hand it to Jenny—she hadn't whined about helping me out once. Apparently her cousin was still watching her store and she was enjoying the break. I was probably going to owe her something big—like an outfit or something for all this extra work she was doing for me.
I mean, I could have gone back to work, I guess. But if Pearbottom saw me before the whole house arrest was lifted, my butt would be in solid trouble—no doubt about it.
I was lying in bed, trying to figure out exactly what I was going to do with the day—you know, was I going to try to catch a killer or not—when Grandma popped her head through the door.
"Roman's here."
I wiped crusty sleep from my eyes. "He is? What's he doing?"
"Says he needs to talk to you."
I checked my phone to see if he'd left a message. Nope. Weird. He usually called or something before he came over. It must be important. Probably had something to do with Pearbottom. I dressed quickly and brushed my teeth. There was no time for makeup except a little lip gloss and mascara.
I was pulling my hair into a ponytail when I entered the living room. "Hey. What's going on?"
Roman rose when he saw me. His lips were pulled into a straight, troubled line. "I need your help with something."
"Oh?" I said.
"Can you step outside?"
I nodded. "Sure."
What was going on? I followed Roman out to the front porch. "What's up?" I said.
"I need you to convince Milly to put a glamour on me."
I rocked back on my heels. "What? A glamour. What for?"
He crossed his arms as if embarrassed. "So I can break into Pearbottom's office."
"Why can't you just break in like yourself?"
"Because where Pearbottom's office is located, witch police scanners will pick up my presence. They'll know I was there. If something comes back to me, I'll get pinpointed for it."
I smoothed the crease forming between my eyes. "Then who do you want her to make you look like?"
Roman shook his head. "Promise not to laugh?"
"Sure."
"I'm serious."
I shrugged. "Why would I laugh?"
He inhaled, his chest inflating like pectorals made of helium. "I need her to make me look like a cleaning lady."
I paused. Then a shot of laughter belted from my body. "Holy cow. Are you serious? You're kidding, right?"
His jaw clenched. "You promised not to laugh."
"I know, but that's too funny." I clapped my hands. "I want to play, too. I want to be a cleaning lady."
"Dylan, it's too dangerous."
"What if Pearbottom has the answer to me getting back my magic in his office? I know everyone keeps telling me this bullcrap about it being inside me, but what if it's there, too?"
"You want to be a cleaning lady with me?"
I threw my arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. I did my best Roman impersonation when I said, "Darlin', for you, I'd be more than a cleaning lady. I'd even be a lunch lady."
Roman chuckled about that all the way to Milly's.
"We need glamours, chop chop," I said.
Milly had Polly Parrot perched on the end of her finger. The bird was preening his feathers. Right. Wooden bird, wooden feathers. You get where I'm going with this.
Nothing in my world made sense.
"Who do you want to look like?" she said.
Roman reluctantly showed her the employee file. I peered over her shoulder at the photos of two older women. Their chins rested just below their noses as if they were toothless, and they wore checkered handkerchiefs over their white-streaked curls.
Milly snorted. "You want to look like that? I can't wait to see this," Milly said, laughing. She chuckled so hard, one of her support hose dropped to her ankle. She bent over. About half the bones in her body snapped and popped as she tugged the sock back up over her varicose-veined leg.
"It's not for a beauty pageant, Milly. This is business," I said.
"I hope it's business, and I hope the glamours don't stick too long. I'd hate for you to be stuck looking like me for the rest of your lives."
"That makes two of us," Roman said. "Will you do it?"
"I thought you needed me to ask?" I said.
He shrugged. "Only because I didn't want to admit to needing to look like that. But you've both laughed at me enough that I'm not embarrassed anymore."
I wrapped a hand around his arm. "Oh, you were embarrassed? That's so cute."
He shot me a scathing look. I tweaked his nose.
Roman rolled his eyes. "Anyway, will you do it?"
Milly knuckled a tear from her eye. "I'll do it. Let me stop laughing so I can focus." She took several sharp breaths and grabbed her cane. She crossed to the center of the room and closed her eyes. Her right eye popped back open. "Let me see those pictures one more time."
Roman showed her the photos.
"Get ready, kids. This should be one heck of a ride."
It was one heck of a ride. My body bounced and flopped as I took on extra pounds—and I stooped like a much older woman with crippling osteoporosis. Both of us did. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw Roman. You'd never have guessed that beneath the husk of a sixty-something-year-old woman was a six-foot-two god of testost
erone.
"Still want to see me naked?" I joked.
"No thanks," he croaked in an old woman voice.
"Honey, I think we've reached a new height in our relationship," I goaded.
"Once this is over, let's never discuss it again."
I cackled. Oh, this was too rich. "Lead the way. I'm ready to clean some toilets."
Milly magicked us directly to the employee side of witch police headquarters—which was a door at the end of a dank alley. I didn't ask what city we were in—there was no telling anyway. The building before me looked like the back of a bar. Crates and boxes were scattered around us, and the acrid smell of stale beer crept up my nose.
"This is disgusting," I said. "Let's get inside."
We'd arrived an hour before the women's shifts were supposed to start. The idea was to sneak in unnoticed, search Pearbottom's office while we were supposed to be cleaning, and get out. Roman had information that Pearbottom worked from home a couple of days a week, and this was one of those days—lucky us.
We shuffled inside. Bright, glowing lights assaulted me. I blinked to adjust my eyes. Though the outside looked like a crumbling mess, the inside was stark. I'd been at witch police headquarters before, but this was apparently a different side of the building.
A guard nodded to us. "Getting an early start, ladies?"
Roman stepped forward. "Heard there was extra work to do today. Thought we'd get a move on," he said in his best old-lady voice.
The guard nodded us through.
The place was a catacomb of purple hallways. Detectives milled past us. The building buzzed and hummed with technology and the bodies of employees.
"You used to work here?" I whispered to him.
He nodded. Which was good. Roman knew his way around. He led me to the cleaning supplies. We grabbed some gear and ambled along the hall, emptying trash cans and sweeping up debris. I followed Roman, keeping a slow, steady pace.
He reached an empty office and ducked inside. The hunch on my back and the extra bulk made me move at a snail-like pace. I gave one last glance at the detectives. All of them in the bull pen had their backs to us.
I stepped inside the office. Roman eased the door as close to shut as I figured he dared to do. Our eyes met.
"What are we looking for?" I whispered.
He shook his head. "I don't know. Anything that might tie things together."
I gave a stiff nod and crossed to his desk. Roman took the file cabinet.
The only drawer that wasn't locked was the one full of pens and paper. Every other one wouldn't budge. I should have known as much. Pearbottom wasn't going to leave anything good lying around.
Jerk. Not really, but you know, I'm trying to figure out how he went bad and all. The least he could do was leave a trail for me to make my life easier.
I gave up on the desk and glanced around until I found a bushy plant. Yes, I realize that's not a great description, but that what it was—a full plant with broad, flat leaves. The kind your mom gives you when you get your first office job. That sort of plant. I crossed to it and stuck my hand in it.
"What are you doing?" Roman as an old lady said.
"Checking this plant."
"Why?"
I shrugged. "The desk was locked."
"Check under the desk."
I frowned. "There's nothing under the desk."
He nodded toward it. "Under the drawer."
"Oh." I pulled my hand out of the dirt and crawled over to the desk. I looked up at the underside of the drawer and still didn't see anything. "Nothing. You got anything?"
"No." But the way he said it made me think he was lying.
"Roman," I warned. "Do you have something?"
He shook his head. "No. I didn't find anything. Come on. Let's get out of here."
We shuffled old-lady style back to the door and out of the office.
"I want to go to the second floor," I said.
"Why?" Roman whispered.
"Grandma said that's where the file is on my parents' accident."
Roman frowned, making his sour expression look even more dour. "We have to be quick."
"Okay. Do you know where we need to go?"
He nodded. "I'll show you the way."
We climbed a back set of stairs one flight. Roman pushed a steel door at the top of the landing. Its hinges screeched as it swung open. I paused. Blood rushed in my ears as my heart crashed against my rib cage.
"You're up here early," came a slow, nasally female voice.
Sitting behind a metal desk sat a witch wearing owl-rimmed glasses with a silver chain dangling from them, a beehive haircut, and cherry-red lipstick. She opened the top drawer of the desk. It creaked like fingernails on a chalkboard. It took everything I had not to shield my ears.
"We have a party tonight," Roman said. "Thought we'd get to work early."
"So be it," she droned.
We shuffled inside.
"We have to look busy," Roman said.
I pretended to sweep while Roman sorted through files. "Here it is," he said.
"Here's what?" came a voice from behind us.
We turned to find the witch standing with hands on hips. Her words came out as slowly as a slug. "I knew there was something screwy about you two. I'm going to report you."
Roman barreled toward her. I did the same, though I struggled to move fast. She raised her hand to work a spell. Roman grabbed a trash can and dropped it on her head. The witch shuffled back and forth as if disoriented.
Roman pulled me through the door and slammed it shut. He grabbed the broom from my hand and hooked it over the knob, locking her inside.
"Come on," he said. "We've got to get out of here."
I glanced back in time to see the witch struggling to climb to her feet. We needed to be gone before she had a chance to sound any alarms.
"Done already?" the guard at the door asked, barely looking up from his paper and cup of coffee.
We stood within inches of freedom. My chest barreled out as I gulped for air. I did my best to hide it behind a handkerchief I placed to my mouth.
"We're taking a quick break. Be right back," Roman said.
"All right," the guard said.
We stepped past the guard station. Roman reached for the door just as the BAROOOGA BAROOOGA of an alarm started to blare.
The guard snapped his newspaper closed. "What the heck?"
Roman jerked the door open. On the other side stood our mirror images. For half a second we faced our doppelgängers.
They stared at us, their mouths open.
The guard glanced over. The alarm still shrieked. His gaze cut from us to the women and then back to us.
The newspaper and coffee fell from his hands. Brown liquid sloshed over the tile. The guard rose. "Stop!"
Roman grabbed my hand. He pushed past the women, and we scrambled out the door. This was bad. This was very bad. Milly would be beaming us back at any second, but we needed to be exactly where we'd arrived.
That's how the spell worked.
Roman pushed the two women inside and slammed the door shut. He threw himself against it, trying to keep it closed.
I heard the guard pounding on the other side. I didn't know if hidden inside Roman's old-woman body lived the strength of his six-two frame, but gosh, I certainly hoped so.
I wedged my back against the door, helping him keep it shut.
"How much time do we have?" I asked.
Roman flipped his arm up to look at his watch. "About thirty seconds."
"Think we can hold him?"
Sweat dripped down the side of his face. "I hope so."
The pounding stopped. I threw Roman a terrified look. "Is this about to get bad?"
He put his ear to the door, listening. "Take cover," he shouted.
Ignoring the pain shooting up my hips, I dived under the scattered crates. Roman followed.
A half second later, the door blasted off its hinges. It smashed against the brick
of the building next door and fell a few feet away. I released my breath when it landed with a solid thud on the ground.
The guard stood in the door with what looked like an army of witch police. They stared at the crates we were hidden behind. This was it. We were dead. We'd be dragged into witch police headquarters and imprisoned for impersonating people and breaking into the second floor and even just for being alive, probably.
"Search the area," the guard said to the others. The men and women behind him scattered down the alley.
They left the guard alone. Just a few more seconds, I thought. A few more seconds and we'd be out of here.
He stared at the crates. He walked over and threw the tallest aside, leaving us exposed. He stared down.
"You two are under arrest." He pulled out a pair of cuffs. The magical cuffs sailed through the air, aimed straight at me. They nibbled at my wrist.
Roman grabbed me, lifting me off the ground. "Sorry, we have to go."
He pushed the guard out of the way. The man fell to the ground. The cuffs followed us, trailing me. Right then, Milly's magic whisked us out of the alley.
I landed on my knees in the middle of Milly's living room. I glanced at Roman. Dirt streaked his face and clothes.
"You two have a hard time?" Milly asked.
"Hard enough," I said. "Can you transform us back?"
She snapped her fingers. "You got it, toots."
When I was back in my own body, Milly said, "You two go get cleaned up. Come back when you're done."
"Did you get the file on my parents?" I asked Roman.
He shook his head. "No. I think that witch stole it back."
"Oh," I said, my shoulders sagging.
"I'm sorry."
I shrugged. "Thank you for trying. It's my fault all this went bad. I'm sorry."
He smiled. "No apology necessary."
After we were both cleaned up, we headed back downstairs to join Milly.
"So," she said, "what'd you find?"
Roman shook his head. "Nothing."
Why did I get the feeling he was lying? But why would Roman lie? I'd never known him to before.
