Renovation Spell

by Amy Boyles

  I crossed my arms in a standoff. “I thought that you said you weren’t going to use your hunting abilities for anything malicious.”

  “I’m not,” he said, jaw clenched. Somebody was a bit on the defensive side. “I told Sykes that I would be the one working the spell. I don’t want him doing anything bad with it.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  The first major encounter I had with Sykes Laffoon was in the back seat of a limousine. Sykes informed me that I owed him money or else would lose my company. His cohort, Georgie Boy, a round-faced kid, kept an eye on the time because of all things, Sykes and his mafia friends were unionized and could only work for so long before taking a break.

  Talk about a babied mafia.

  “He’s done nothing wrong with the spells I’ve already found for him,” Rufus said. “He might not be the most savory character, but he hasn’t lied to me.”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “You don’t even know him,” Rufus argued.

  “I don’t have to know him. What I do know about him is that he loans money to people he shouldn’t, and he would have taken my business if you hadn’t stepped in to help.”

  Rufus nodded toward the door. “Would you like to go outside and discuss this? I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation to have with so many listening ears.”

  There were a lot of people in the coffee shop. I lifted my palms in surrender. “No, we don’t have to talk about it.”

  “We can always discuss it tonight,” he said.

  I smirked. “What makes you think there will be a tonight?”

  A slow smile curled on his face. “I get the feeling you’re not finished with me on this subject.”

  But he was right. Not because I wasn’t finished with the subject, but because I was indebted to him.

  I sighed in submission. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said.

  Willard strode up, two coffees in hand. There was something that I had to know. “Did you happen to hear anything loud outside of your house the other night?”

  Willard scratched his head. “No, not a thing, but when I sleep, I fall into it deeply. Why? Should I have?”

  “I heard something loud in your bushes. I think a cat got into the azalea and broke the top half of it.”

  Realization sparked in his eyes. “Is that what happened? I saw my bushes, but I figured Malene probably had something to do with it. That woman’s been snooping around a lot lately. And to be honest, I’ve been so tired at night that I haven’t had a chance to confront her about it.”

  “You’ve been tired?” Maybe Willard would tell me what was making him so fatigued and I could tell Malene, which would stop her from snooping and keep her from getting into trouble. “What’s been making you so tired?”

  Willard shook his head. “Just a project I’ve got going on at the house.”

  Oh well, at least I could tell Malene that I tried. I lifted the coffee cup to both men. “John, I’ll see you tonight.”

  Rufus nodded, but hesitation filled his eyes. What could he be worried about? We’d gone spell hunting before and hadn’t run into any problems. What on earth could we find while hunting for spells that would fill his eyes with hesitation?

  I didn’t know, but now I was curious and wanted to find out.

  From the coffee shop I made my way to Architectural Scavengers, the best place in town to search for the bathtub and a new mantle for Harlow’s house. But of course, maybe I didn’t need to go shopping at all. Perhaps Knight’s ghost could just whip something up for her, since he lived in the house and all.

  Just kidding.

  Walking into Architectural Scavengers was like taking a time machine back into housing history. All different styles and colors of lamps swung from the ceiling—glass and crystal in the shapes of tulips, rectangles and long flutes.

  And that was just above.

  On the floor level, mahogany and oak furniture sprinkled the showroom. Tables, chairs, cabinets, wardrobes, dressers—just about everything you could imagine was in the shop.

  Then there was the collection of hardware—glass knobs, iron hooks—anything you needed to restore a home.

  Past the bins of iron were the real masterpieces—the mantles and antique windows, solid oak doors and tiles. And in the far corner sat the old tubs and bathroom fixtures—sinks and more hardware.

  As soon as I entered, Lance Dewald greeted me, hands extended. “Clementine, darling, how are you?”

  “I’m well. How’re you?”

  We air-kissed each other’s cheeks before Lance dropped my hands. “Well, you look fabulous. That’s saying something, after the night I heard that you went through.”

  Lance’s partner in business and love, Patrick, sailed into the showroom hefting a brown box full of house parts—knobs and lights. “Lance, dear, are you bothering poor Clementine about all that drama that occurred with the Owens?”

  Lance scoffed in Patrick’s direction, giving what I would consider the love of his life a good once-over. Now, where Lance was lithe, blond and brown-eyed, almost boyish looking, Patrick was dark-skinned with navy blue.

  Lance placed one fist on his hip and said with a huff, “I’m most certainly not giving Clementine a hard time about all that craziness. I’m just telling her how beautiful she is in her flouncy top, skinny jeans and ballet flats. She is grace when so many are more outlandish than a peacock.”

  “He’s not bothering me,” I said.

  Patrick settled the box down and crossed to Lance. “Are you sure about that, because you and I both know how much my man loves to gossip.”

  I batted away his worry. “I don’t mind talking about it. I really don’t. I mean, the whole thing is crazy.”

  Lance grabbed my wrist and dragged me over to a coffee table built at the turn of the century. “Honey, tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Lance,” Patrick scolded. “It’s best not to gossip.”

  “Of course it’s best not to gossip, but I feel like doing it anyway.” He turned back to me. “Don’t mind Patrick. He’s not one for a little tongue wagging this early in the morning.”

  I’d been wagging my tongue since practically sunrise, so a little more certainly wasn’t going to hurt anything. “Oh, Patrick, it doesn’t bother me.”

  “If you say so,” he said, a slight hint of judgment flashing in his eyes.

  When he had left the room, Lance swatted my arm. “He doesn’t like a lot of gossip—thinks it gets people in trouble. I don’t know why he would ever think that. I always say an ounce of gossip is worth a pound of the truth.”

  I laughed. “Maybe if the gossip winds up being fact, but otherwise…”

  “Honey, there is no otherwise. Now, dish. Tell me everything that happened.”

  So I spewed the entire story again, by this time grazing through it as quickly as possible. When I finished, Lance fell back into his chair, his mouth gaping.

  “You are kidding? He just disappeared? And no one else saw the knife?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  “Wow, that is something else. I suppose Malene is all over this, wanting to know what happened.”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Malene Fredericks likes to stick her nose in everyone’s business. If that’s not the truth, may God strike me dead.”

  I giggled. “Okay, I’ve told you what I know. Now it’s your turn.”

  Lance lifted from his chair and glanced around. “I have to make sure that Patrick doesn’t hear. Okay, he’s not around.”

  “Seems like he should be used to you gossiping by now, seeing as y’all have been together for years.”

  “Forever, darling,” he said, his eyes smiling. “Fifteen years might as well be forever. But anyway, let me tell you what I know. For years Knight Owens has been a mooch, never able to make a decent cent of his own money. He’s gone fro
m his sister to his brother numerous times, bumming off them. Well, finally his mother got tired of all his begging and gave him a huge lump sum of cash. It was so big that it got a lot of folks’ attention—including his siblings.”

  So that’s what the money discussion was about. Lynn, when she had been talking about sharing, meant the money that their mother had given to Knight. If what Lance said was true, then of course Lynn would be ticked off about the cash. She would feel entitled to it.

  Wouldn’t she?

  Even though she had looked upset last night when Knight disappeared, and had seemed confused, was it all an act? Could she have been behind the entire scheme?

  “What about his brother, Payne? I met Payne, but he didn’t seem to have a real beef with Knight.”

  Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, honey, let me tell you about Payne Owens.”

  I cocked an ear toward Lance. “I’m listening.”

  “Payne is just as bad as his brother, but in a different way. He married a woman right after college—she was rich, super rich. As soon as they married, Payne left town, but what do you know? Two years later he returned, widowed and rich.”

  My jaw fell. “What happened?”

  Lance dropped his voice. “From what I understand, she died in a fire in their house.”

  “That’s horrible. Poor Payne, to lose his wife like that.”

  Lance shot me a pointed look. “Don’t feel too badly for him. Apparently, from what the rumor mill had going around, he had a girlfriend on the side. Payne blamed the girlfriend for being jealous of his wife and setting the fire. Now she’s serving twenty years and he’s free as a bird living here.”

  “What about the money? Shouldn’t he be rich?”

  “You’d think so, but Payne, that idiot, spent it all—vacations and fast cars that he wrecked. He squandered what he had, and now he’s poorer than a pencil lead. He uses his good looks to get by, and soon those will be gone. Trust me, all that man is looking for is his next meal ticket.”

  Patrick waltzed in and placed both hands on Lance’s shoulders. “And we’ll be looking for our next meal ticket if we don’t do some work.”

  Lance rose. “That was all I had to say anyhow.”

  I was still digesting everything that Lance had said when he asked me what I had come into the store for.

  Goodness, I’d nearly forgotten. “Oh, I need to look at your bathtubs and mantles.”

  “Great.” He rose. “Allow me to escort you to the tubs.”

  I slowly rose. “I’m following you.”

  Chapter 12

  The rest of the day I shopped for Harlow and returned calls from other potential clients. By the time my day was done, I was beat. Lady was waiting impatiently for me back at the house.

  “I missed you today, Clementine. Thank goodness you’re home.”

  I gave her a hug. “Did you have a good day?”

  “There’s a squirrel next door who I’ve been staring at through the window. It’s been making fun of me, chattering and laughing. First chance I get, I’m going out there and biting him. First chance!”

  “Wow, I didn’t know you were so violent.”

  “I’m a dog. It’s instinct.”

  She had a point. “Come on. Let’s get you some food.”

  I poured her a bowl of dog pebbles and called Malene to see what, if anything, she had discovered about the Owens triplets. She didn’t answer, so I set about making my own dinner and getting ready for a night of spell hunting.

  My heart sank at the idea of going. I would rather have been spending my time knocking on Tuney Sluggs’s door and asking if he’d found Knight’s body yet.

  As if. Tuney Sluggs was probably sitting at home, watching Wheel of Fortune and not thinking one iota about Knight Owens and his death and subsequent disappearance.

  But since I wasn’t about to charge over to his house, I prepared to hunt, opting for a wardrobe of all black.

  Classy, right?

  When eight o’clock rolled around, Rufus arrived, exactly on time.

  He, too, wore all black, donning his signature leather pants that made him look like a rock star and a dark button-down shirt.

  “Are you sure you’re not in a band?” I joked.

  His dark eyes twinkled. “What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic. I may not know much about myself, including my name, but I know my style.”

  I laughed. “Do you mind if Lady comes?”

  Rufus bent at the waist and wagged a finger at her. “Only if you promise not to eat any more spells. There are a lot of nasty ones out there, ones that could do real damage to you.”

  Lady batted her eyes—I swear she did. “I won’t eat anything bad, Mr. John. I promise.”

  “Then you may come with us.”

  We piled into Rufus’s Range Rover. He made a point to open my door, of course, and I thanked him. As soon as he started the engine and we rumbled down the road, I turned to him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  A bubble of worry worked its way from my stomach to my throat. Rufus was now throwing surprises into our relationship. I wasn’t sure that I was ready for this.

  “Am I going to like this place?”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. I discovered it the other night.”

  What was there to worry about? If Rufus tried anything, which I doubted, I’d just blow him into next week with my power. Or better yet, I’d try to summon that magical spear and shoot a hole right through him.

  Wow. I had some really violent thoughts sometimes. And here I was worried about my dog and how she was reacting to a squirrel while I’m planning how to wound Rufus if he tries to hurt me first.

  To be fair, at least the two of us have a history.

  We rumbled out of town and down a dirt road that I’d passed a million times but hadn’t ridden down. “What’s out here?”

  “Just wait,” he said, his voice holding a secretive lilt.

  “Yeah, Clementine,” Lady chirped, “you have to be patient.”

  Rufus arched a brow. “You should listen to your dog.”

  “Great, you’re both against me.”

  Lady yawned. “Honey, if the shoe fits, you should be putting it on and strutting in it.”

  I laughed. “That’s not how that saying goes.”

  “I can get away with it. After all, I’m a dog.”

  “Here we are.” Rufus nodded out the windshield. “We have arrived at our destination.”

  Shining in the headlights stood an old covered bridge. I could tell that at one time it had been painted a cherry red, but now the paint was faded and peeling in strips off the sides.

  A creek sputtered and coughed below. As I peered out the window, magic started to happen.

  Floating up from the creek came spells. They looked like a sea of dandelions lashed by the spring air into the wind. Hundreds of them floated, swirling in the sky.

  “Wow,” I said quietly. “We’ve seen spells before, but there’s something truly magical about this place.”

  Rufus grabbed his satchel from the back seat. “I thought you’d like it.”

  His arm brushed my shoulder as he pulled the pack through the slot between us. A jolt of energy snaked down my arm, and suddenly the air became thick, full of heat and humidity.

  I opened my door, releasing the tension into the sky. “So you’re looking for a mimic spell.”

  Rufus got out, came around. “I am.”

  He stood close to me, too close. Wind picked up his hair, and the scent of his cologne trickled up my nose. He smelled of the woods and coffee—two of my favorite things. I wanted to wrap myself up in him.

  The thought didn’t surprise me, but it made me realize that I absolutely did not hate this man.

  I wanted him. Against every grain of sense in my body, I wanted Rufus to pull me into a kiss, graze his fingers down my flesh.

  I wasn’t angry with myself about this, but it was time for me to accept
something—I didn’t completely trust Rufus, but I didn’t hate him. I didn’t feel that burning anger in my gut anymore.

  It had vanished, replaced with hesitation. No, I wasn’t ready to throw myself at him, but I was ready to accept that maybe the Rufus I knew didn’t exist anymore. He had become someone new.

  But who?

  And if I didn’t know any better, as I stared at the dancing lights lifting from the ground and spiraling in the air, I would think that Rufus was trying to romance me, because the scene was hideously romantic.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I said.

  “I hoped you’d like it.” He dropped his bag on the ground. “I was driving down this road the other night and found this little treasure trove. Of course, all I wanted to find was a memory spell, but ended up discovering several others to add to my collection.”

  I arched a brow. “You have a collection?”

  “I am a wizard,” he said proudly, hand to heart. “What sort of one would I be if I didn’t have a collage of spells tinkling about my living space?”

  “How’re you storing them?”

  “How do you think?” He pulled a baby-sized mason jar from his pocket. “Tiny glass containers.”

  I giggled at the sight of the pint-sized container. And yes, I meant literally pint-sized. It was a wee thing.

  He slid the jar back in his pocket. “Shall we? Don’t forget, a mimic spell.”

  I nodded. “Got it.”

  As Lady bounced, snarling and snapping at spells but not coming close to snatching one in her jaws, we strolled over the knee-high grass and took the slope down toward the creek.

  I plucked a spell from the air. “I never knew that magic could be so beautiful.”

  “Did your parents teach you nothing?” he said, sounding annoyed.

  “Well, you know that they died when I was younger. They weren’t magical.”

  Rufus stopped, stared at me. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to grow up with parents who didn’t know about how to use magic.”