“I do know Cody; of course I do,” she said. Good. At least she wasn’t in any hurry to end this. That was good. “In fact, when he mentioned you were going to be at the Rodchester House of Spirits I sent him down there to take care of things. Made him shave first—that ridiculous beard made him so conspicuous. I expected he’d push you down a flight of stairs or something— My word, there must be a thousand easily explainable accidents that could happen to a person at an overnight in a place like that! But no, he gets into a scuffle with some sort of bodyguard? I know it’s trite to say, but it really is hard to find good help these days.”
“Why would you want to kill me?”
“I didn’t. Not at first. You didn’t have anything to do with this. But then you got involved and made the connection between the stolen trousseau and Scarlet, and I knew that stupid girl would talk. She’s not very bright.”
“Just FYI, she didn’t rat you out. And she seemed bright enough to me. Granted, last time I saw her she was suffering under the effects of arsenic poisoning. But prior to that, she served me with legal papers, and apparently she was smart enough to steal that trousseau for you.”
She scoffed. “She and Cody are so easy to manipulate. He was afraid I would tell his precious Eleanor that he and Scarlet were having an affair, and Scarlet fancied herself in love, would do anything for Cody—also, that girl will do just about anything for cash. Rents are terrible in the city, aren’t they? It’s such a scandal.”
“How did you find the trousseau?”
“Scarlet told me all about falling in love with a wonderful man—the only hiccup being that he was married, of course. But she was enamored and showed me the catalog he had put together for the Rodchester House. Poor thing was so in love, she treated that catalog like a diamond ring. I convinced her to leave it here for safekeeping and looked through it, as I do the catalog for every antique auction I come across, and lo and behold, after all these years! The very trousseau I had been looking for, right there in the Rodchester attics. It really was fate that brought Cody to me, I feel sure.”
“But why would you want to harm Autumn with a cursed trousseau?”
“Autumn’s maiden name is Clark; didn’t you know that? Somehow she escaped the curse my great-grandfather laid upon hers.”
“I don’t know if that’s true. Everyone she loved died, after all. That’s a curse.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. It came to me a couple of years ago, after my husband committed suicide. No children, no friends. And I was afflicted with old age and ill health: This was why I’m still alive. This was my purpose. I tracked Autumn down and spent my life savings to move into this house right across the street. But then what? I can barely get around. How could I enact this final curse, avenge the death of my great-grandfather?”
“And then you discovered the trousseau.”
“Exactly. I almost gave up, more than once. But then Autumn came over here, whining about losing her husband, everyone she loved, as though I haven’t lived a life full of pain. That’s what life is. My great-grandfather was poisoned by the shoe polish he used every day. Do you have any idea how painful that was for him to be slowly killed by nitrobenzene while he polished the shoes of wealthy men?”
I shook my head. I certainly didn’t, but I was pretty sure she didn’t, either.
“So you paid Scarlet and Cody to steal the trousseau from Rodchester House of Spirits, and then what?”
“Then I gave the curse a little boost. I know a lot about poisons—something else that was passed down through the family.”
“You added powdered arsenic to the dresses.”
She nodded. “And I called and told Autumn I had some very old dresses to sell, from an old trousseau. She didn’t make the connection that it was attached to the family curse. She was blinded by her own greed—she thought she was getting something over on me, that I didn’t know how valuable the clothes were.”
I remembered Jamie saying Autumn had bought the trousseau from a neighbor, only realizing afterward that this might be related to the family curse. I had thought “neighbor” referred to Renee, but I had been wrong.
“Don’t feel too sorry for her,” continued Mrs. Morgan, shaking her head and tsking. “Willing to take advantage of a little old lady. Who does that? And she was no saint; she used to sew fake designer labels into her clothes to boost the prices. Scarlet’s old boyfriend, Brad, helped her sell them over the Internet.”
“Did you at least warn Scarlet about the dresses?”
She made a dismissive sound. “Unlike Autumn, Scarlet knew that trousseau was cursed. What kind of fool tries on dresses she knows to be cursed?”
“Cody doesn’t believe in curses. He probably scoffed at the idea.”
Mrs. Morgan shrugged. We stood there for a moment, two adversaries assessing each other in her front entry, which smelled of lemon polish and potpourri. The place was beautiful, with a warm redwood trim and a small tiled fireplace. Colonel Mustard was curled up on the stair landing. It could have been a beautiful, welcoming home, if not for the madwoman intent on vengeance for a great-grandfather she’d never even known.
The hand holding the gun began to sag, and Morgan used her left hand to help support it. And then her head began to shake. Were these the off-again, on-again tremors she had told me about?
And then I saw an ugly gargoyle face in the window.
My knight in shining armor.
“What are you smiling about?” Morgan demanded.
“You know how sometimes something—or someone—is physically attractive but truly a terrible person, and once you realize that, all you can see is the ugliness? And sometimes it’s the other way around: Someone is a truly wonderful soul but just as ugly as a mud fence. And you’d rather have their ugly than the beauty, any day?”
“What on earth are you going on about, child?”
“Mrs. Morgan, your world is about to be taken apart. And I’m not your child.”
“What—”
Before she could get the sentence out, Oscar crashed through the window and bowled her over. Morgan cried out in pain as she went down. The gun skittered across the tile of the foyer; I lunged for it, then pointed it at the old woman, who lay, frail and pathetic, on the floor.
“My arm!” she cried out. “That . . . that thing head-butted me!”
“Heh,” said Oscar. Then he looked at me. “It was okay this time, right, mistress?”
I nodded. “It was just fine, Oscar, just this once.”
Chapter 26
When the police arrived I told them I had disarmed the old woman myself and that I had no knowledge of how the window had been shattered, shaking my head about the things that happened in urban neighborhoods these days. Mrs. Morgan tried to tell the paramedics about the horrifying creature that had crashed through her window and head-butted her, but they assumed she was hallucinating.
Oscar waited patiently in the car, in pig form, while I told Inspectors Ng and Stinson what I knew about Morgan’s belief in a family curse and how she’d admitted to adding arsenic to the dresses to be sure the curse came true. I suggested they speak to Scarlet and track down Cody for the rest of the story.
“What do we do with the dog?” asked a young uniformed officer.
“Call animal control,” said Inspector Stinson.
“Maybe someone at the dog park wants him,” I suggested.
“You want to take care of it?”
“Not really, but I feel bad for the poor thing; he just lost his person and now he gets shunted off to the pound?”
Stinson shrugged. “I got much bigger things to worry about.”
“All right,” I said, giving in to the inevitable. Maybe I could find yet another hapless friend to take Colonel Mustard. He was a sweet dog.
It was a long time before they’d finished asking th
eir questions. When Colonel Mustard and I finally descended the stairs, drained from the grilling and exhausted by the emotions of the day—not to mention the lack of sleep last night—my gaze alit on a welcome sight across the street: Sailor, straddling his motorcycle. His helmet was off and he appeared to be simply waiting, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on Mrs. Morgan’s house.
I stashed Colonel Mustard in the car with Oscar and made a beeline for him.
He enveloped me in a hug. I could feel myself letting go, relaxing, savoring the strength of his arms around me, the scent of his leather jacket and the indescribable aroma of citrus and spice that always seemed to linger on his skin.
Neither of us said a word for a very long time.
“You drive me absolutely insane—you know that?” he said finally, his voice gruff with emotion. “I thought you were going straight back to Aunt Cora’s Closet.”
“I was, but then I saw Mrs. Morgan. She’s an old lady, I thought. It never occurred to me that she would be any kind of danger.”
“Doesn’t take much to pull a trigger.”
“I know. I have to stop underestimating people.”
“That you do,” Sailor said. “Listen . . . I know this isn’t the best time for this. In fact, I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment for a while . . .” He cleared his throat. “Something’s been on my mind, and when I realized what happened here, it dawned on me that I can’t put this off any longer.”
I pulled away from him.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I said, my voice breaking. “It’s fine. Really, Sailor, it is. You have your own life; you can’t continue to put your training on hold for me, to keep sticking your neck out for me. I mean, we make jokes about you being my bodyguard, but you’re right: It’s because of me that you’re wounded all the time. I got you attacked at the Rodchester House just last night, and today I had an encounter with a killer. I’m like a bad penny, but, you know, a coin bad enough that it will get you killed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s fine, really. We’ve had a good run, certainly better than I’ve ever had with any other man, and—”
“Dammit, woman, I meant nothing of the sort. I’ve never met someone so intent on breaking up with the man who loves her.”
That stopped me.
“I’m . . .” He cleared his throat. “Look, I know this is a hell of a time, right out here on the street. And I’m not talking right away, not until we’re both ready . . . but . . .” He ran a hand through his hair and gazed into my eyes.
“Dammit, Lily, I’m asking you to marry me.”
Chapter 27
After a long moment I realized my mouth was agape. I tried to speak, but the words refused to coalesce in my brain.
“I’m going to give that a minute to sink in,” said Sailor. After another long pause he added, “Or maybe two.”
“I . . . but . . . you . . . ,” was all I could manage to say.
“I’m guessing this comes as a surprise to you.”
“It’s just . . . I . . .” Again, speech failed me.
And then I saw the shift, the moment his eyes shuttered, and the sardonic look I knew too well came back on his face. “Or perhaps I misjudged your feelings for me. It’s a ridiculous idea, anyway. Who’s ever heard of a pain-in-the-ass witch meeting up with a psychic and—”
I flung myself into his arms.
“Is that a yes?” he demanded. Then he held me away from him: “Lily, tell me. Tell me something.”
“I love you.”
His face softened; he gave me a crooked grin. “Call me a stickler, but I’m afraid I need actual verbal confirmation here: Is that a yes? Will you marry me?”
I swallowed, hard. “It’s just . . . marriage is supposed to be a lifetime thing.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“That means . . . you’re willing to be saddled with the likes of me, forever?”
He nodded.
“Really? I’m not easy.”
He started to chuckle. “Did you think I haven’t thought this through, Lily? It’s not like we’re on a bender in Vegas. I’ve known you, through thick and thin, for quite some time now.”
“Almost a year.”
“Almost a year.” He nodded. “I’ve tried talking myself out of being in love with you, over and over again. And I fail. I can’t see my future without you at my side. I can’t see your future without me at your side. And . . . I’ve been married before, remember? I realize now that I wasn’t ready. Not nearly. And she wasn’t the right woman for me.”
“And now you’re ready?”
“Yes.”
“And . . . I’m the right woman for you?”
“Heaven help me. Yes.”
“Aidan says we won’t be good for each other.”
“I think you know my feelings about Aidan—and especially with regard to his thoughts about our relationship.”
Ever since Aidan proclaimed that I would never be able to experience true romantic love, I had been insisting I was strong enough to break the trend, to love someone, to have a partner. Was I ready to put my magic where my mouth was and take the plunge? Sailor stood in front of me now, motorcycle gear and black eye, sardonic expression . . . and he was the most welcome sight in the world.
I nodded.
“I need you to say it.”
“Yes,” I breathed finally. “I do. I want to marry you.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I thought I spied the glint of tears in his eyes.
“Oh! Almost forgot.” When he spoke his voice was gruff.
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket.
“Bronwyn helped me with the size, and she thought you’d like it. So did Maya. And Selena shined it for you. It’s a druzy, which I was told is like the inside of an agate, with a glittering effect due to the growth of tiny crystals atop a colorful mineral. But if you don’t like it we can get a different one. I know a diamond’s traditional, obviously. Also, I know you don’t wear rings, so if you’d prefer a necklace—”
I opened the box. Nestled in a velvet bed was a ring with the stone in a convex teardrop shape. It glittered pink, purple, blue, and green within its antique silver filigree setting.
I caught my breath. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“This marriage isn’t going to work out if you can read my mind. I can already tell you that.”
“I can’t read your mind, Lily, and I wouldn’t even if I could. Not unless you wanted me to. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“Then how did you know about the ring?”
He cocked his head, a questioning look on his face.
“When I was a girl, Graciela gave me one just like this. But it was lost—or taken from me—when I went to visit my father. I’ve always mourned it.”
“So, is it a good thing or a bad thing that this ring is just like it?”
“A very good thing.” My voice was thick with emotion.
He took the box from me. “Then let’s do this properly, shall we?”
He got down on one knee and held the box out in front of him. “Lily Ivory, sorceress extraordinaire, pain in my butt, and mistress of my heart, will you do me the honor of taking my hand in marriage?”
“Yes. I will.”
* * *
The next day I was still floating on air. Autumn’s murderer was in police custody, and Sailor and I were engaged. Engaged.
Me. Lily Ivory, engaged to be married to a wonderful man.
I looked down at the ring for the thousandth time since Sailor had slipped it on my finger. The tiny crystals glittered in the afternoon light, warming my heart.
“I told him you’d love it,” said Bronwyn. No customers were in the shop, so Maya, Bronwyn, and I
were enjoying a peaceful day at Aunt Cora’s Closet. Oscar snored on his pillow, Loretta lay on her rug behind the counter, and Colonel Mustard was curled up by the dressing rooms.
“I can’t believe you all kept the secret from me!” I said. “Selena, too. Very impressive.”
“It was so hard!” Bronwyn exclaimed. “We were all so excited for you. Even Maya.”
“True,” said Maya with a smile. “Though you made me wonder, when you reacted so strongly to the idea of living together, much less marrying.”
“I’m not going to lie: It’s still pretty scary. But we can’t go around avoiding scary things, now, can we?”
“No, we certainly can’t,” Bronwyn said, beaming.
The only flies in the ointment were what to do with Colonel Mustard—Oscar was not pleased, to say the least, and kept coming up with suggestions of whose doorstep to leave him on—as well as a few lingering questions: How—and why—had Mrs. Morgan kept the police from thoroughly investigating Autumn’s store and apartment? And why had Renee reacted so oddly to me when I asked her about Jamie, and lied to me about going to San Jose with Scarlet?
Although upon reflection I realized that Mrs. Morgan was the one who’d told me Renee had gone down to Rodchester House of Spirits. Probably Morgan had lied to deflect suspicion.
In fact . . . it occurred to me to pass by Vintage Visions, one more time, to see if the police were processing the scene. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, but it kept niggling at the back of my mind.
“I think I’ll take these two pups to the dog park,” I announced. “I need a little fresh air. I’ll be back in an hour.”
* * *
In the back of my mind I thought Rolando might be at the park; I remembered him—and his dog—playing with Colonel Mustard, and I held out a small flicker of hope that he might be interested in adopting the dog.
Of course, I supposed there might be paperwork involved. I wasn’t sure how it worked when someone was arrested: Could their pets be adopted out? But even if it was only temporary, Colonel Mustard needed fostering; Oscar’s attitude aside, he was really too big and rambunctious to be happy in my little apartment.
A Toxic Trousseau Page 26
