by January Bain
“Well, well, if it isn’t the pretty catering lady.”
I turned and stared into the face of Guido Morello.
“Mr. Morello,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Bad news, this wanting to close the set. Costs everyone more money,” he said with a frown. “But maybe it would give us time to get to know one another better, sugar.” He ran a finger down my upper arm to underline his suggestion.
“What do you know about ricin?” I asked, moving away slightly.
“Ricin?” He pursed his lips. “Not much. Not the best way to take care of business. I prefer up close and personal, if you get my drift?”
I could imagine him using a knife, or a gun, or maybe even a baseball bat, but poison? Not the mob modus operandi in America. “Who do you suspect?” I asked.
He shrugged. “There’s a poison expert on set.”
“Yeah, but isn’t that a bit too convenient?”
“My money’s on someone who has the most to lose or the most to gain. Find them, you find your killer.”
But who was that—specifically? Howard didn’t appear to have had the goodwill of many on set. All I had been getting were negative vibes toward him. I ticked them off, Mimi, Felicity, Bryce, Guido, Chace. Who else was hiding in the woodwork?
“Bryce, over here,” Guido called, drawing my attention away from musing about suspects and motives, signaling the director’s assistant to join us. The man approached with reluctance, frowning at having been accosted.
“Miss McCall,” Bryce said when he joined us.
“Mr. Stanford,” I replied.
“What can I do for you, Guido? Things are a bit crazy right now, so I would appreciate your getting right to the point.”
“My, my, but things have taken a twist for you. You not worried about the ricin?”
“No, why should I be? I don’t have any enemies,” he said with a scoff. He was dressed as per usual, his shirt and pants freshly ironed, his hair slicked back and up into a perfect triangle perched on the top of his head.
“Must be nice.”
“And what is it you wanted?”
Interesting that Guido was pointing out Bryce to me. Mistrust abounded between the two men. Or maybe he just wanted to show me he had power on set? Macho thing? So not working.
“What do you intend to do about this? We can’t have the set closed down. Bad for business.”
“I’m working on it.” He shot Guido a look of frustration that suggested he’d like to do him in.
I laid my hand on Bryce’s forearm, feeling an immediate tingle. He was seething with emotion. “Will everyone be okay? My sister, Star, was she exposed?” I asked, concentrating and closing my eyes.
His thoughts cleared at the direct question and he actually patted my hand. “She’ll be fine. The culprit will be found. I think there’s little danger of anyone else being exposed.”
“But how can you know that for certain?” I pressed. Of course, he’d want to reassure everyone to keep the picture on track. It didn’t mean anything by itself.
A vision of white powder in a stoppered glass vial and wrapped in cotton batting and encased in wood entered my mind. Was it ricin? And where was it? My body wanted to fire into action, but I hung on, needing more intel. I backed up the picture in my mind to get a bigger bird’s-eye view. Yes. It was hidden under the floorboards of an RV. And I could easily identify which one. So, Bryce wasn’t worried about ricin killing anyone else because he knew where the poison was hidden! Oh my, but he was deeply involved. Did he just store the poison for someone else or had he been the one to administer it? That wasn’t clear. But just knowing about the ricin made him look guilty on some level.
Bryce jerked his arm away from my clenching fingers just as I caught him asking himself the question we all wanted answers to—who had bashed Howard’s head in? He gave me a suspicious look as if I might be the culprit. As if, you scoundrel!
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go,” he said in a clipped tone and left.
“So, did you learn anything?” Guido asked, startling the heck out of me.
“What?”
“You have the gift, right? You can see things. My cousin Maria was good at that. What did you find out? Does he have the ricin?”
Chapter Fifteen
I couldn’t have been more surprised if an actual bigfoot had come lumbering out of the forest, headed our way. There was a whole lot more to Guido Morello than I’d ever imagined.
I pressed my lips together, holding back a laugh. This was so weirdly unexpected. “Not much really. Just a few cloudy visions,” I said as a diversion. I had to let Ace know what I had just found out to stop Bryce from moving the poison to a new location.
“Are you busy for dinner, pretty lady? Seems I’m free for the foreseeable future. Perhaps you might be able to recommend a place a man might stay the night as well?” he asked, blessing me with a cheesy grin he meant to be charming.
“Sorry, all booked up. But if you do want to be of help, perhaps you’d let me take a reading of what you know about Howard’s death?”
He didn’t miss a beat but held out his hand, closing his eyes. I took it with dread, praying it wasn’t a really bad mistake.
“Okay, just let your mind relax,” I instructed.
A vision popped into my brain. Yeah, I know you like me. Move on, buster. But he seemed more surprised by Howard’s death than anything as he showed me images of the last couple of days. He was either a good masker of his intentions, or he had nothing to do with it.
“See anything you like?” he asked as I opened my eyes and caught him staring at me, waggling his eyebrows.
“Well, I didn’t see anything that incriminates you, if that’s what you mean.”
“Never thought you would. Family’s family.” He shrugged. “No one touches our family and gets away with it.” His eyes narrowed dangerously, their dark-brown gleam glittering with intent, his true nature surfacing. “And when I find out who hurt my cousin, Teresa, by killing her husband, I’m not going to let you take a reading on what’s going to happen next.”
“I think the law is your best bet. You know, being legal,” I said. This was getting uncomfortable and I began to edge away from him. He noticed my actions and slipped back into his Lothario role. Better call Martin Scorsese. The guy should be hired as an actor for his next gangster movie—he had it down pat.
“Catch you later, sugar.”
Not if I can help it.
I hurried toward the group of people still surrounding the Mountie, sensing I was still being watched by one Guido Morello. I shivered and pushed my way to the front of the crowd. At least I didn’t pick up any ill-will toward me from the suspected mobster. He just wanted me to give him some sugar, which was never going to happen. Heck, he had a better chance of being a tourist on a spaceship to Mars than getting any ‘sugar’ off me.
Of course, Ace’s look when he spotted me was less than cheerful. His handsome mug darkened with an immediate frown, dimming his aura. “I told you to wait for me in the cruiser, Miss McCall.” His tone could have scratched a diamond.
I shrugged, scrambling for a way to share the importance of my information, but not wanting to alert anyone else to what I had just found out. “Gosh, what I’ve just learned would make the legendary Jack of Jack and the Beanstalk happy about his magic beans.” Hopefully Ace got the hint and no one else in earshot knew that ricin was made from caster beans. I couldn’t exactly tear up the floorboards myself and expose the ricin. What if spores got into the air and I breathed them in? I’d be one dead witch.
“No more questions.” Constable Ace cast his groupies to the four winds. Smart man.
He hustled over to my side. “I won’t comment on your blatant disobedience, but we’ll discuss that little matter later.” His aura flared with red streaks that would have been pretty if I hadn’t understood they meant anger. Yikes. Stay calm. “Now, tell me what you know. It just might save lives.”
I
looked around to see if anyone was watching our interaction. Bryce had vanished. Good—unless he was moving the evidence to higher ground? We’d better get a move on. “The ricin’s hidden in a trailer. Under the floorboards. I captured the image from Bryce Stanford.”
“You know which one?” Why did he not look more surprised about Bryce?
“Yes. I just need to look around to spot it.”
“Good,” he grunted. “Let’s go.”
We hot-footed it together down the logging road toward the camp. People were heading to their vehicles, thank goodness, and not into camp. I strode up and down the row of trailers, looking for the one matching my recent vision. Yes.
“There,” I said, pointing at the RV with the lawn chairs out front. It looked so homey with the large mat tucked underneath the plastic chairs and matching table. So Canadian. Who had set it up?
“Okay, good.” Ace stopped and spoke into the radio transmitter on his shoulder connecting him to the police detachment.
“HAZMAT’s on the way,” he said after the device had quit crackling and annoying every creature within fifty yards.
He gave me a steady look, making all my senses do a lovely somersault. “What?”
“Just had an anonymous tip phoned in using a burner phone, telling us to look in a trailer that fits this description.” He nodded in the direction of the sleek silver-colored caravan. “Someone wanted us to find it.”
“Who does it belong to?” I asked. It didn’t feel that it was Bryce’s. I would have expected a preciseness that was lacking. I savored my victory in having known all this before anyone else did, though I wouldn’t be saying it out loud. Bad manners to brag.
“Guido Morello.”
“No! That can’t be right,” I said, shaking my head. “Someone must have planted it.”
Ace shrugged. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. But Guido will have some explaining to do if we find it inside.”
“So, what’s next? What do you want me to do?” This was all going so splendidly. Maybe I really could have a possible career in law enforcement.
“I wanted to speak to you about Jennifer. Jennifer Morgan.”
“Uh, yeah, what about her?” I kicked at a clod of dirt, keeping my eyes averted.
“Ah, she’s going through a really rough time right now. Just broke up with her fiancé.” He didn’t look at me either, the tone of his voice edged with sympathy and something I couldn’t place. I itched to put my hands on him, to find out exactly what was going on—what he was thinking, but I resisted the urge with every fiber of my being. That was a violation of my gift. I wasn’t certain how I knew that right down to the very marrow of my bones, but it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to karma. Right?
“Yeah,” I said noncommittally, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
He cleared his throat. “She needs my support right now.”
“Of course, I totally understand. Say no more. And I should be going, you know, check on the café. Plus, I need to stop at Tuggies and make an appointment.”
“Tuggies?” he asked, giving me a quizzical glance.
“Tug’s Tire Shop. Thor needs a low tire checked out for leaks. Maybe a rotation. And I should get his brakes checked. Winter’s coming in a few months. Be here before you know it and I’ll need to have his winter boots—tires installed,” I explained. What was I doing? I sounded like a bloody idiot.
“Of course, winter’s coming.” He nodded, frowning.
“Well, catch you later.”
“Hold on, how are you getting back to town? I drove you here.”
“No problemo. Lots of people headed that way. I’ll catch a ride,” I said, walking away as fast as I could.
“Charm, what about that invite for Jennifer?” he called out, but I was already at the twenty-foot mark and moving at the speed of light. Or as close as a human who felt like the biggest fool ever could manage.
I stomped out to the parking lot, taking a quick look around. I groaned, hardly believing my continued good luck. The only two persons left and just now getting into their vehicle were Old Charlie and Tom Ferguson, the bickering hermits that hadn’t seen eye to eye since Tom had stolen Charlie’s girlfriend decades ago at a dance. Actually, I was kind of surprised they were riding together. Maybe there was hope for humankind after all.
I fast-footed it over to the beat-up, used-to-be-red Ford truck of Tom’s, waving my arms and screaming the occupants’ names. Neither of the men could hear well since they were both subjected to a vast array of shotgun blasts without ear protection during elk and deer hunting season. It was amazing that Big Red, Tom’s old truck, was still on the road, considering the vast number of highway restrictions brought in over the past four or five decades.
“Charm, what are you doing still here?” Tom called out of the driver’s window he had rolled down, and waited while I went around and got in beside Old Charlie.
“Just need a ride back to town,” I said, buckling up my lap belt. No safety harnesses on a vehicle of this advanced age.
“My pleasure,” Tom said while Old Charlie just grunted.
“You not going home with the one that brought you either, eh?” Old Charlie said after a few minutes of silence.
Oh no. This could go south in a heartbeat. At a dance in Snowy Lake, it was only good manners for a woman to go home with the man who’d brought her. And Old Charlie’s girl had gone home with Tom that one fateful night a gazillion years ago, never to be forgotten. I’m sure he’d have it etched on his or Tom’s tombstone. Or maybe Mavis Skinner’s, if he could locate her. The woman had done the nasty then left town for parts unknown. I didn’t blame her. This pair would have tried the patience of Mother Teresa.
“Constable Collins had to stay and deal with the HAZMAT team,” I said briskly, pretending that the three of us had no idea of the undertow at play. I should have sat between them—less chance of this coming to blows. Though at their age—both men must have been in their late seventies or early eighties—the blows should be less dangerous, right? I just didn’t want to get in the middle of an altercation. Maybe a peace spell was in order? This particular thought process took some energy I suspected I should hold on to, considering what this day had already chewed up, but the immediate fix was hard to pass on, whatever the cost.
Hmm, yes. Goddess of the hearth and home, please aid these two gentlemen to find their way to peace and harmony with each other. Allow your light to guide them…
Chapter Sixteen
Tom stared at his old nemesis with the oddest of expressions on his face. I just sat there, suddenly too tired to speak, praying that the spell held. My job was done. I needed to go home. If I didn’t eat and rest before the Northern Lights Coven gathered tonight, I didn’t think I’d be able to make it, my body needing a time-out. Oh fudge, I still needed to invite Jennifer.
Tom scratched his head and started up the old Ford, forcing the standard transmission into gear with a loud thunka-thunka that didn’t bode well. I sat slumped. It would take an earthquake to get my attention in the state I was in. A giant one at that.
“You sure are quiet today, Charm,” Charlie said. Tom turned his pride and joy onto Main Street, a giant puff of exhaust smoke heralding our arrival.
“Just tired, Charlie. You coming in?” I asked, when Tom pulled up in front of the Tea & Tarot café, leaving the motor running.
“No, I’d best get home.”
“Charm, did you place a spell on me and Charlie just now?” Tom asked, turning his head my way and giving me a piercing look with his faded blue eyes. His scant gray hair was combed flat against his pink scalp, giving him the look of a cherub. A very unlikely cherub, to anyone that knew his past.
“Just a little one to make you both see sense,” I said with a shrug. A bit of thanks would be appreciated. Duh. Not going to happen.
“I don’t need no spell put on me.” Charlie puffed up with indignation at the mere suggestion. “Save that rigamarole for those that need it.
I know my own mind.”
“Okay then,” I said and crawled out of the Ford. Every bone in my body ached.
“You sure you’re all right?” Tom asked, rolling down his window and calling after me as I did a spectacular imitation of a slug creeping across the sidewalk to grasp at the door handle of the Tea & Tarot.
I waved him off and made my way inside.
“What’s the matter with you?” Tulip said, flicking me a glance from her laptop.
“Nothing,” I said, shuffling with as much dignity as I could muster across the stadium-sized floor to slump down in a booth. “I just need a quick forty winks.”
I woke up to being shaken like a rag doll. I swiped the drool from the corner of my mouth with my hand.
“What’s up?” I asked with a giant yawn. I sat back and gave Tulip a grimace. “Why’d you wake me?”
“You have company.”
“What? Who?” I wiped the sleep from my bleary eyes and looked around. Ah, perfect. “Jennifer Morgan as I live and breathe,” I said, swallowing my mortification at being caught sleeping. Why, oh why couldn’t I have an early warning system at times like these?
She stood near the door, looking fine in a pair of khaki shorts and a sleeveless white blouse. And there I sat rumpled, though the catnap had helped. I stretched my spine, grateful that the exhaustion had vanished.
“Charm, sorry for interrupting. I’ll come back later,” Jennifer said, looking to leave.
“No, that’s fine. Join me. What can I do for you?” I reached up and straightened my hair, tucking wayward strands behind my ears. I should have crawled upstairs, tired or not. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of another basic instinct.
