“Try it on.” The young woman led Emily to a pair of changing rooms out the back. “You’ll see.”
“Do you mind staying here?” Emily asked quickly as it looked like Belinda was about to head back to the main shop. “Only I get claustrophobic and it helps if there’s someone outside to talk to.”
The woman stared at her with a disbelieving expression but stayed. “Sure. Whatever.”
“Thanks.” Emily pulled the curtain across and struggled to pull her T-shirt up over her head. “Have you worked here long?”
“A few months,” the bored reply came. “It’s really great.”
The deadpan delivery made Emily smile. “Are you interested in clothing or design?”
“Not really. I like denim and leather.”
Emily lost focus for a few seconds as she manoeuvred into the dress. For a horrifying second, she thought her arm had managed to tear a hole, but it was just the movement of a crossover flap held in place with Velcro.
She surveyed her reflection in the small mirror, then pulled back the curtain to examine her full-length reflection in the one outside. The garish colours caused her rosy complexion to deepen into a flush, like a practising drunkard or a woman whose blood pressure was off the charts. The placement of a yellow streak near the neckline threw a jaundiced pallor onto her chest and chin.
With a turn one way, then another, Emily kept her horror to herself. “What d’you think?”
“It’s great,” Belinda answered in the same dull monotone. “Really suits you.”
“It makes me look a hundred years old,” Emily snapped, clicking her fingers to draw the young woman’s attention. “Rather like a book I heard you had an interest in.”
“What?”
The girl stepped back but Emily matched her, holding up an accusing finger to point at Belinda’s chest. “I talked to a fence at the tavern and he said you’d been asking about a spell book that belongs to me. It was stolen from a dear friend’s house. You know anything about that?”
The young woman’s eyes opened wide, and she jerked her head around. Emily didn’t care if it was to check the owner couldn’t hear or to seek help, she grabbed Belinda’s chin and forced her head back to face her.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Who’re you working for?”
Belinda brushed Emily’s hand away, her face twisting into a snarl. “You’re talking nonsense,” she said in a furious whisper.
For a second, she didn’t know what to do. Then she smiled broadly at the girl. “What did you say to me?” she asked in a high, shocked voice. “Didn’t your manager teach you to treat customers with respect?”
The redhead’s eyes opened so wide the whites formed a complete ring around her irises. Her mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish.
“Tell me the truth,” Emily whispered, stepping closer. “Or you’ll end the day searching for another job.”
“Agnetha Salem,” Belinda spat out. “That’s who you’re looking for.”
“Oh, sorry,” Emily said in a louder voice, accompanied by a tinkling laugh. “My mistake. At my age, I’m always hearing things wrong. I’m a nightmare to watch TV with, I can tell you.”
She snapped the curtain closed, struggling back into her normal clothing and leaving the shocking dress in a strident heap of colour on the floor.
“Thanks for all your help,” Emily said as she shooed Belinda back into the main shop. “But I think I might consider a few other options before committing.”
With a mincing wave to the shop owner, she stepped outside.
It appeared all roads led back to Terrence and Agnetha. Wanda might not have been able to find the spell book in their house the night before, but Emily thought it was time to take another look.
Chapter Fifteen
As Emily was heading inside, her phone rang. A photograph of an old lawyer buddy popped up onto the screen and she smiled. It had been a long time since Gareth Fenning had looked anything like his picture.
“You don’t have the standing to challenge the order.”
Emily laughed and waved to Harvey who was sitting on the couch. “It’s lovely to speak to you, too, Gareth. I’m doing fine.”
“Eh?”
“What’s the thing about standing?”
When Gareth spoke again, he sounded on much more comfortable ground. “To contest the court order, you need to have some connection to the woman in question.”
“But Agnetha Salem doesn’t have any connection to her. How is that fair?”
“According to the documentation filed with the court, she’s the woman’s guardian. Or was, until she turned eighteen. In the absence of any other relative that trumps a stranger.”
Emily walked through to her bedroom and closed the door. “What kind of relationship would someone need for the court to pay attention?”
“A husband would be best. A sibling, parent, or child would be next on the list.”
“She doesn’t have those.” Emily pulled the puzzle box out of her bag and stared at it, tracing her fingers along its delicate lines. “What about a fiancé?”
Gareth huffed out a breath, then hummed for a few seconds. “It’s not a recognised position, usually.”
“Just a moment.” Emily closed her eyes, thinking back through everything she’d learned in the past few days. Her scar itched and numbness spread up her legs. “What if Sheryl had a falling out with her guardian before the accident? Would that change anything?”
“Who told you that?”
A dead witch. “I don’t remember. I’ve heard so much from so many people lately.”
“Unless she emancipated herself through the courts, it doesn’t change a thing.”
“What about the DNR?”
There was a cautious silence. “What’s that?”
“The hospital has a do not resuscitate order on Sheryl Hawthorne. Was that also filed through the courts?”
Another bout of humming. “It could be. More likely, the hospital had a direct conversation with the relative.”
“If she is a relative.”
“All I can say is I haven’t seen anything about emancipation.” Gareth sighed and clicked his tongue. “Of course,” he admitted, “I didn’t actually go looking for that.”
“If we found evidence showing Agnetha was no longer Sheryl’s guardian, would that invalidate her application?”
Again the low hums and haws. “Perhaps.”
“And we could then lodge an application from her fiancé?”
“I think if there were no other relatives, it would fall on the hospital to make submissions in the patient’s best interest. They’re the experts, after all.”
Emily bit her thumbnail as she followed along the likely outcome. If the hospital acted on behalf of Sheryl, it could go either way. First do no harm might be part of the Hippocratic oath but prolonging someone’s life via machine without reasonable expectation of recovery wasn’t ideal.
Especially since the patient in question was an organ donor.
She didn’t need Wanda’s concerned presence to feel the sand slipping through the hourglass. No matter which way she turned, Sheryl was running out of time.
“Can you lodge an appeal or injunction or something against the application?”
“As I said, if you don’t have standing—”
“Not to succeed, necessarily. Just to buy us some time.”
Gareth’s voice was far brighter as he responded. “You know you can always count on a lawyer to string something out, especially for the amount I’m going to charge per hour.”
Emily laughed despite herself. “What about the friends and family discount? Don’t I qualify?”
“We’ll see. I’ll talk with a few colleagues and work out a path forward. Once we’ve sorted something out, I’ll send you the bill.”
“I look forward to it. How long do you think you can stall the decision?”
“A couple of weekdays, easy. Maybe even a few weeks
if we’re lucky and the judge reserves a decision.”
“The longer, the better.” Emily managed a weak smile for Wanda as she ended the call.
“That woman shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions for my sister. You need to watch your back around her.”
Emily realised she had no idea what the time was and turned the speech function of her watch back on. Almost noon.
“How about we tackle Terrence first? He should be due to take his lunch break from the butcher soon. If we hang about outside, I’m sure we’ll catch him.”
Peanut jumped into Emily’s lap, apparently disapproving of the plan. When Emily stood, he meowed in protest.
“I’ll be back soon enough, kitty. Go into the kitchen and try to trip my brother up again why don’t you?”
The cat mewed again. Emily could have sworn he had an expression of indignation on his face.
When Emily popped her head into the butcher’s shop, she thought her timing was off. The owner of the establishment, Jacky Ribbing, stood by himself behind the counter. A crowd in front of him suggested he’d been that way for a while.
Settling in for a long wait, Emily decided she could pick up a few lamb chops for dinner while she was there. After one quick check in her handbag to ensure she had enough cash, she joined the back of the meandering line.
Luckily, not many new people joined her and when Emily got to the front of the queue, she had the shop pretty much to herself. She placed her order, then said, “Isn’t Terrence about? I usually buy my stuff through him.”
Jacky shot her a curious glance and Emily flushed. She usually bought all her meat at the supermarket, saving herself an extra trip. At least he was good enough not to mention it.
“The lad didn’t turn up for work today. He must be sick because I left a message on his cell and still haven’t heard back.”
Emily frowned, trying to think. “He did get pretty banged up at the roller derby on Saturday.”
“Not really.” Jacky wrapped the chops in wax paper and handed them across the counter. “I was there, and I’ve seen him survive far worse and still turn up for work.”
“Has he ever been away sick before?”
“Of course.” Jacky frowned. “But that’s the thing. He’s called in sick. I’ve never known him to just not turn up.” He nodded to the man standing behind Emily and started to prepare his order. “It’s a bit of a worry, now that I think about it.”
She packed the chops in her bag and handed over the exact change. “I’m headed out his way, so I’ll drop in and see if he’s home.”
“If he is, give him a rark up from me, will you? Unless he’s in the hospital or something, I expect better.”
Apart from a few schoolkids who were probably wagging, there wasn’t anybody about on the way out to Terrence’s house. As Emily pulled up in front of the property, she frowned. The curtains were still pulled. If he was sitting inside nursing a hangover, he was about to get a shock.
“Terrence!” Emily yelled out as she slammed her hand on the door. After a minute, she moved around to the windows, hoping there’d be a crack in the curtains she could see through. No such luck.
She walked around the side of the house, stopping at a closed gate. With a few quick fumbles, Emily reached through and flicked the catch up from the wrong side. Luckily, it wasn’t locked.
The back yard was empty but at least the kitchen and dining-room windows were uncovered. Not that they revealed much of use. Emily stood, with her hands cupped to cut the overhead glare. A chair had fallen onto its side and been left there. When she strained to see further, she saw a bowl overturned on the floor.
With her heart pounding quicker, Emily knocked on the back door, no longer expecting anyone to answer. She lifted the doormat hoping to see the glint of a spare key, but there was nothing but a few woodlice, scurrying to escape the sudden burst of light.
A row of flower pots also bore no fruit, so she stood on tiptoes and felt along the top of the door jamb. Just as her fingers brushed against metal, someone pounded on the front door.
“Terrence,” a woman’s voice called. “You come out here, right now. I need to talk to you!”
Emily stepped down and hid her hands behind her back, her cheeks flushing with colour. The insistent knock sounded again, and she looked around her, hoping for a path to escape.
On her right side was a six-foot high fence. On her left, the gate she’d come through. The one which would lead her straight into the path of whoever was pounding on the door.
She shifted a few steps in that direction, ensuring the slats of the fence hid her body from whoever was on the other side. With her head cocked, Emily listened.
“I know you’re not at work,” the woman continued. “Come to the door right now, or you’re in trouble.”
There was another thump from the front door, this time sounding more like a kick than a hit.
Emily caught movement and shuffled to the safety of the back-door stoop before the woman could reach the gate. Another kick, then the sound of heavy breathing.
Just as Emily was eyeing the side fence and wondering if she could vault over the top, footsteps led away from the house, soon followed by the slam of a car door.
Back at the gate she peered through a gap in the slats. Although Emily’s vision wasn’t great, it was good enough to grant her a flash of colour from the driver’s seat.
Ginger curls.
The driver was Belinda Bierswack.
Although she’d found the key, the close call left Emily without any desire to venture into the house. She let herself out the gate and locked it behind her, running a hand through her hair while walking to her car.
She’d parked right out in front of the house. What had she been thinking? Belinda must have seen it and even if she didn’t know who it belonged to right now, she could easily find out.
“Why would anybody want to know who drives your little Swift?” Emily whispered. “About time you checked your ego.”
“Because you were just trying to bust into a stranger’s house?” Cynthia said, startling Emily so much her heart skipped a beat and made her glad she hadn’t yet turned on the engine.
“I was just looking in the windows. I’m a concerned citizen.”
Although Wanda joined her fellow ghost in laughter, Emily realised the words were true. From what she’d learned about Terrence, so recently turning his life around, it was a terrible sign to skip work. Especially when he didn’t seem to be at home, either.
“You don’t think something bad’s happened to him, do you?” she asked.
Wanda pulled at her bloodstained top. “If he’s the one behind the burglaries, he deserves it. You should break in and search for the spell book.”
“You can go inside and check without breaking any laws,” Emily pointed out. “I’m not sure they would have moved it somewhere more visible with another few hours up their sleeve.”
“Heads up,” Cynthia said, pointing to the nearest intersection. “Or rather, heads down, Witchy-poo. It’s your favourite leader.”
Emily wished she could duck her head out of sight as Agnetha pulled into the space in front of them. Instead, she got back out of the car and nodded to the woman.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I dropped by Terrence’s work to apologise for my behaviour yesterday. When the owner told me he wasn’t there, I came here instead, but he’s not answering the door.”
“What?”
Emily frowned and took a step back, wondering which part of her statement the woman hadn’t caught. “I went to the butcher—”
“Terrence isn’t at work?”
“He didn’t turn up and hasn’t phoned. Jacky tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail.”
Agnetha’s face turned from a reddened snarl into a pale mask of fear. “He was getting ready when I left.”
She stared at the house for a long minute, then strode up the front path. When Agnetha unlocked the door, she fumb
led with the handle.
Emily thought of Terrence’s gang involvement. His stumbles with drugs. If the rumours were true, then the sight awaiting his sister indoors wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
She hurried up the path and put a hand on Agnetha’s shoulder. “Do you want me to look first?”
The woman nodded, frozen in place as Emily passed by and let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The hallway was clear, as was the dining room and the kitchen. She crossed off room after room, feeling a sense of relief and increasing dread with each one. She hadn’t found him yet, but that just made it more likely the next door would hide him.
When the last room proved empty, she walked back outside the house. “He’s not in there. A chair and a bowl are overturned but I can’t see any other signs of a struggle.”
Agnetha pressed a hand to her abdomen, breathing in and out before she abruptly walked inside. After a few minutes, she returned to the doorway. “There’s a smear of blood on the wall of the kitchen. I’m calling the police.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sergeant Winchester’s expression fell when he saw Emily standing in the doorway. “Can’t you leave these poor folks alone for just a few days?”
“I didn’t have anything to do with what’s gone on here.” She crossed her arms and straightened her spine. “When I went by the butcher shop to apologise to Terrence for last night, he wasn’t there. I was just trying him at home when his sister pulled up.”
“What time did you leave for work this morning?” the sergeant asked, turning his attention towards Agnetha.
“Ten to eight, same as always.”
“Do you always get let out so early?”
She frowned and checked her watch. “I took a half day off to sort some stuff out in Christchurch. When I came home, I found her”—Agnetha jerked her chin at Emily—“parked right outside and no sign of Terrence.”
“Can you account for your whereabouts this morning?” Sergeant Winchester directed his gaze back to Emily who sighed.
“At the charity shop, then the tavern, then a clothes shop, then the butcher’s, then here.”
Charity Shop Haunted Mysteries Page 46
