by Falls, Bella
With renewed energy, she clapped her hands with glee. “It’ll be like our slumber parties from back in the day.”
“Except let’s sleep first and then have you bake some goodies in the morning,” I suggested.
“Exactly. Let me go upstairs real quick and tell Mom and Dad the plan.” She hustled up the stairs, and I listened to her skip the special ones we’d long ago identified as tattletale squeakers.
I waited for my cousin on the porch, breathing in the night’s fresh air and enjoying even the slight reprieve from the ghosts inside. Sarah’s story was amazing, and I knew without question what decision she would make if she were in my place.
Even after Dani was snoring next to me in my bed, I lay awake with a niggling thought I couldn’t shake. Sarah’s spectral presence tonight proved that using a crystal ball didn’t always bring hardships or ruin. If I could use it even for a quick moment, perhaps we’d know who killed Croy and could discern how to keep Uncle Jo out of trouble. It would be nice to know if we would make it to the other side of this disaster that affected all of us.
As my eyes fluttered closed in the dark of the early morning, I knew my next mission would be to make sure my father’s decision to get rid of the crystal ball didn’t happen.
Chapter Twelve
I n the morning, Dani dragged me down to the cafe where she plied me with sticky buns and coffee until I promised I would meet her and the others of our informal coffee coven out for drinks sometime soon.
“I think if it’s at night and we’re imbibing alcohol, then maybe we should call ourselves the cocktail coven instead,” I suggested, trying not to spill the dark roast lifeline of my mornings on the counter when the diner next to me scooted over to make space and accidentally bumped my elbow.
My cousin threw me a towel to mop up any mess and zipped over to another set of new customers to give them breakfast menus. When Aunt Delia had mentioned the cafe was getting busier with all the curiosity about the murder, she hadn’t been exaggerating. People occupied every table, and a dull hum of conversation filled the space. Unwilling to be rushed off my stool at the counter, I took small bites of my third sticky bun to make it last.
“I heard that he was caught trying to steal something valuable, so one of the owners hit him over the head,” some man I didn’t recognize declared.
My ears perked up, and I listened with renewed intensity to hear the latest scuttlebutt.
“Naw, I don’t think anyone from the family was involved in it at all. I heard that young man was trespassing, and he touched something he wasn’t supposed to and it exploded on him,” countered another unknown customer.
If regular speculation in this locale was as inaccurate as the tourists’ tittle-tattle in the cafe, then perhaps I had more time than I thought to try and solve the mystery at hand and keep my uncle safe. Draining my cup of the last drops of coffee, I slid off the stool and placed some money underneath the saucer.
Aunt Delia appeared out of nowhere with two plates of sunny side eggs over her special morning hash for the customers next to me. With experienced quick hands, she scooped up my dollar bills and handed them back to me. “As if I would let you pay.”
“Would you keep it if you boxed up a half-dozen sticky buns for me to take away?” I begged, thrusting my money back at her.
Without a word, she winked at me and pushed through the swinging doors to the kitchen. A new person bumped me out of the way as they took my abandoned seat, and I huddled closer to the wall. A few others gave even more ridiculous accounts as to what had happened to Croy, amusing me by how much people didn’t care about the truth as long as they had something to talk about and act as if they were in the know.
“Do any of you read newspapers or watch the news?” a man bellowed, slapping his hand on the table loud enough that everyone else stopped to listen to him. “There’s only been one person of interest since they reported the body, and that’s one of the Jewell brothers. Why else are we here if not to be close to their property and try to get a look? They may say they’re closed, but I’m gonna figure out a way to get on their land and have a look for myself.”
Something about his voice nagged at me, but I couldn’t place him nor get a good look with so many people milling about. Angered by his audacity, I pushed off the wall with the intent to go over to the table and let him know what was what, but Aunt Delia beat me to it. She maneuvered around the end of the counter, handing me the pastry box, and stood in front of the customer.
“What?” the stranger challenged.
My aunt tapped her foot on the floor. “Did you come in here to order something or to run your mouth?”
The bodies in my way moved enough for me to get a good look at the speaker, who glanced around at the other customers watching the spectacle with great interest. “Excuse me, but last I checked, it’s a free country. I’m allowed to say what I want.”
Sweet tea and spells, I knew that angry look. That was the seller from the flea market who had followed me around because I stopped him from cheating that young couple. Earl. I remembered the name because of the amazing song by one of my favorite female country trios. I vibrated with impatience in my cowboy boots, wanting a crack at him for myself.
Aunt Delia crossed her arms. “It’s true that you can make any statement you’d like in this country. But when you’re in my cafe, I would suggest you be more mindful. Now, let me get you some coffee while you look at a menu.”
As my aunt walked away, Earl stood up fast, his chair scraping on the tiled floor. “I know who you’re married to, and I think you should watch yourself. I wouldn’t want to go to bed with a murderer sleeping next to me.”
A wave of shocked gasps spread throughout the crowd, and a couple of people ooh’d with warning. Aunt Delia closed her eyes, and her mouth moved while she counted down. Out of all of my family members, she and her daughter possessed the most patience of us all, the exact opposite of me. However, when Aunt Delia got to counting, Dani and I knew better than to stick around for what came after.
The bells on the front door tinkled, and a new arrival shoved his way through the throng. “What’s going on here?” Barney Whittle asked, hooking his thumbs through the buckle of his uniform belt.
“That man is being overly aggressive with Aunt Delia. Plus, I think we all heard her say she planned on trespassing on our land to snoop around,” I accused with a pointed finger. Most of the room backed up my last statement. “His name is Earl, by the way.” I glared at the cheat, shooting him a smug smile.
His face turned bright red and he grumbled something under his breath, no doubt cursing my presence.
Barney tipped his head to me before addressing the aggressor. “Sir, may I suggest that you find another place to eat your breakfast this morning. No need to cause a scene here.”
“Does this mean that the police are taking the accused family’s side?” Earl spit with rage. “Doesn’t anybody else find this a bit fishy? Considering there hasn’t been any other announced suspects, I would think you’d want to keep an eye on every single one of them.” He leaned to the left to look around the officer and scowled at me.
Resisting the urge to rile him up even more by flashing him the finger, I gripped the pastry box and mentally started my own countdown to stay as calm as possible. I counted down from ten and got to the final numbers while the lady still rambled on.
Three —
“Doesn’t anyone else think if they have the right person for the crime that he should be in jail, not living in his home, on his land, in the middle of the community where he might do something else?” Earl challenged.
Two —
“That poor innocent boy, who was probably just walking over the property, lost his life because of a mad man.”
One —
“I, for one, think—”
Summoning a tiny bit of power, I concentrated on the plastic glass of ice water and flicked my finger in its direction. The clear cup flew forward, and the liquid con
tents splashed over Earl’s clothes and spilled on his shoes.
He pointed right at me. “Hey! Did y’all see that?”
Barney turned his head in my direction in irritation, and I busied myself with looking through the cellophane window of the pastry box at all the sticky buns inside it. “Listen, sir. I appreciate that you have theories. And you can have as many as you’d like, but out of respect for the owners of the cafe, why don’t you express them somewhere else. At this point, your behavior is bordering on harassment.”
Earl soaked some paper napkins trying to dry off his wet pants. “Isn’t anyone going to help me out?” he griped. The rest of the room turned their backs on him and spoke in low murmurs, ignoring the rest of his antics.
He shot me a deadly glare. “Fine, I’ll go. But I think there’s something really fishy going on. And until someone in law enforcement finds another reason why that young man died over there,” he pointed in the direction of our barn, “then I won’t be changing my mind about the quality of the people living here.”
Once the door shut behind him when he shuffled outside, everybody else cheered, and the entire atmosphere of the small cafe lightened. No one else dared to utter a single piece of gossip or speculated about the murder. With food orders placed, everything went back to normal, and I pushed my way through to find Earl.
I caught him smoking a cigarette before getting in his car. “You shouldn’t have come here,” I warned.
He stamped out the small butt. “I’ve been here plenty of times already, but you never caught me. At first I wanted to check out your business. But I think giving you and yours a little trouble won’t nearly make up for what you did to me.”
“And what exactly do you think we need to make up for?” I challenged.
He got a little closer. “First, you affected my livelihood. I’ll have to drive four counties away to be able to sell at another flea market because you ran your dang mouth. And second, whenever I’m near you, something always seems to happen. Glass figurines I wasn’t even close to exploded. And then the water magically tipped itself over.” Leaning in close enough I could smell the smoke on his breath, he held me in his gaze. “I’m pretty sure there’s something more about you worth looking into.”
“And I’m pretty sure I asked you to leave the premises,” interrupted Barney. “I think I’d like to see your license, please.”
“Why?” Earl whined. “I’m not the one who did anything wrong.”
The policeman refused to listen to him and insisted he take down Earl’s information. Taking advantage of the warden’s distraction, I backed away with a quick wave of my fingers at the annoying man.
“Wait for me around the corner, Ms. Jewell,” Officer Whittle instructed.
I kicked rocks and grumbled under my breath, but I didn’t think it wise to go against the policeman’s wishes. Earl drove away in a huff, his tires squealing when he hit the road’s pavement.
Barney called out my name and joined me, putting the last few details of notes in his pad. “Based on what he just told me, I don’t think you’ve been very smart. You’re gonna have to learn how to manage that temper of yours.” Leaning closer, he spoke in a low tone into my ear. “That woman ain’t the only one running her mouth. You and yours have got to keep everything on the up and up, you hear me? Don’t go making my job any harder.”
More people showed up and stood outside to wait for a table. Frowning in frustration, I nodded my head for him to follow me to the back of the former gas station. “Have you had any luck finding out more about Croy’s background based on the information Dad and I brought to you?” I asked.
“Are you gonna be more careful from here on out?” he pushed.
“Come on, Officer Whittle. That man is toxic on his best day,” I whined.
He crossed his arms. “Nothing deserves you openly using magic like that. I need to hear you promise me you’ll have better control than that. Otherwise, maybe you and I should have a conversation at the station, even if it does upset your Daddy.”
“Good,” I stated. “Then maybe I could get access to the information I’m asking about. Like did Croy have any connections to anyone who might have been with him that night?”
The warden policeman pursed his lips in agitation, refusing to answer my question until I gave him a proper response. We stood face to face, challenging each other until I backed down to move things along.
“Fine.” I held up my right hand. “I promise I will try to do better to hold my temper.”
“And?” he pressed.
A strand of hair escaped the messy bun at the nape of my neck and I blew it out of the way in a great huff. “And I will try not to use magic to get back at nasty people, even though she totally deserved what she got if not more.”
Barney considered my words for longer than I liked, and I prepared to argue with him. He held up a finger of warning and pulled out his notebook. “I’ve done a thorough background check on Croy Miller. He had a few run ins with the law throughout his life, but nothing so big that it threw any red flags. It’s been a little tougher to figure out who the red mohawk man might be, and I was starting to think he could be a figment of some little old ladies’ imagination.”
I attempted to peek at what was written on the paper until Barney caught me and closed the pad. “Looks like you actually did find something out about Mohawk Man.”
“Or heard where he could be found. Turns out if you run around with hair that stands out, people do actually take notice.” He slipped the small notebook back in his pocket. “I’d like to look into things myself, but I can’t do too much for fear that, as Earl said, it would look like I was doing your family favors. And unfortunately, Mike down at the sheriff’s department is out of town right now and Jaleesa is already busy keeping tabs on that Marshall Caine guy. All I know is, if we can’t find a plausible suspect, then your uncle remains the best one, and Deputy Caine may get his way sooner than we’d like. And that’s all I’m gonna say on the subject. Now, try to stay out of the thick of things and let those of us with the right qualifications do our jobs.”
The officer walked away after I thanked him, and I kicked some rocks around in the dirt, contemplating my next move. Barney didn’t mind giving me information, but he clearly didn’t want me to get involved. Too bad for him that he wrote in clear letters and I could read upside down. Taking out my spell phone, I made a note of the name I was able to read out of the warden’s notebook. It took me longer to type it in since I still held the pastry box in the other hand.
I’d intended to take the sticky buns back to my father and Uncle Jo to sweeten them up so I could convince them not to get rid of the crystal ball just yet. And now that Officer Whittle supported what Earl had said about not having a better candidate for the murder, we needed to use every tool we had access to in order to help solve the mystery and keep Uncle Jo safe. If I managed to thwart Deputy Caine in the process, it would be an even bigger win to celebrate.
But before I made my case and went to battle with the two most stubborn men I ever knew, I needed to talk things over with the one man in my life who always had my back and who could give me the perspective of someone on the outside, even though I hoped one day he’d be willing to take the giant leap into the middle of our family chaos with me.
Chapter Thirteen
I showed up to Luke’s place of business with the pastry box from the cafe, an extra-large cup of coffee, and a bright smile. Walter, my boyfriend’s boss, greeted me at the cash register behind the counter.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the prettiest girl in the whole county,” he flirted. “I’ll bet if you let me get gussied up and take you out dancin’, I could give your beau a run for his money.”
I set the box down right in front of him on purpose. “Walter, now I heard tell that you had a date the other night. Wouldn’t you be two-timing her if you went out with me, too?”
The old mechanic winked at me. “Oh, Charlene wouldn’t mind,” he teased
.
“But Ruby Mae’s boyfriend might,” Luke interjected from the opening to the private garage, leaning on the door frame wiping a wrench off with an oily rag.
“Oops. Caught.” Walter chuckled, eyeing the box. “Maybe if I could have one of whatever’s in there, I’ll take it and go into my office and give you two some privacy.”
I pushed the coffee in his direction and opened the box. “They’re sticky buns from Rise & Shine. Take as many as you want.”
The old guy stacked three on top of each other and uttered a quick goodbye, leaving me alone with Luke. I leaned on the counter and placed my chin in my hands. “Hey, you.”
“Hey back,” he replied, perfectly imitating my natural Southern accent. “I’m sorry I haven’t been coming over to see you.”
I drank in the sight of him as if it were the first time. His good looks always revved my engine, but his intellect and innate kindness were the qualities that fueled my heartbeats.
“Rue, did you hear me?”
“Hmm?” I asked, shaking myself out of my romantic reverie. “Oh. No, what did you say?”
Luke’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I asked if you wanted to see the reason I’ve been so busy.”
With a yes from me, he lifted the hinged counter and held out his hand to escort me to the other side. When we walked into the smaller and more private garage of the business, classical music blared through the speakers hung on the four corners of the walls. The melodious sound stood in contrast to the work area covered in oil, tools, and various parts of a car’s innards strewn across the cement flooring.
“How can you work with that playing?” I covered my ears in mock pain at the violin solo.
Luke retrieved his phone and stopped the music. “I find Vivaldi inspirational while working on this car. It’s a 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB. Isn’t she magnificent?”
Taking in the sight of the rusted metal of the unpainted shell and the engine parts in piles around the lifeless chassis, I shrugged. “Are you saying you’ve been cheating on me with a car?”
