“Me, neither,” Frank said. “Normal is boring.”
“Normal is a setting on the dishwasher,” I said.
All three of us nodded.
Frank said, “Zara, you didn’t tell us why you ingested a poison-sucking parasite in the first place.”
Kathy asked, “Was it a hazing ritual? Did that giant beanpole woman, Maisy Nix, make you do it?” Compared to short and sturdy Kathy, Maisy would be considered a giant beanpole.
“Maisy wasn’t there. I went to Zinnia’s house last night, and we successfully pulled Harry into a book so I could access his memories.”
Kathy frowned. “Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?”
“It’s a new thing,” I said, and I went on to explain how successful we had been. We were so close to cracking the case and letting Harry’s spirit move on. Cooperating with the police would only make things easier. Persephone Rose would follow up with the twin brother today, and soon we would have the whole thing squared away.
When I’d finished, neither Frank nor Kathy looked impressed. Kathy’s round shoulders slumped to the point of disappearing. Frank rubbed the back of his neck.
Frank said to Kathy, “I wonder if we should cancel the order on the cots. Sounds like our feature attraction may be checking out permanently.”
Kathy gave me a hopeful look. “Can you stall a few days, Zara? Harry’s doing so much good for the library.” She held up her hand in a pinching gesture. “We’re this close to solving all our budget issues.”
I gave them an extra-large frown with my extra-large mouth. “Let me get this straight,” I said flatly. “You want me to keep a tortured soul in a purgatory state, and delay finding his killer, so that you two can sell more five-dollar coffees to suckers?”
Frank and Kathy exchanged a look, then Kathy said, “Yes, that’s pretty much it.” She clutched a stack of bills possessively. “But remember, we’re not technically selling anything.”
Frank chimed in, “Five dollars is the suggested donation. For legal reasons, the coffee is free.” He winked twice. “As will be the featured overnight stays in our luxurious cots, though the suggested donation will be a hundred dollars per night.” More winking.
“You two,” I muttered, and left the staff room to see if anyone in the crowded library needed an actual librarian.
* * *
Mid-afternoon, I was woken by one of the junior staff members softly shaking me by the elbow.
“Ma’am,” she said. “You can’t sleep here.”
The staff member’s name was Nomi Lafleur, and she was smirking over having caught her supervisor napping in Harry’s Chair by Harry’s Window.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” I lied. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“You were snoring,” Nomi said.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Was I really, or are you just saying that because that’s what we’ve all been trained to say when a patron denies they were sleeping?”
Nomi mimed zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing away a key. She had a lot of sass for someone with no seniority. Frank and I were probably a bad influence.
I put my hands on the leather armrests and hoisted myself from the too-comfortable seat. I barely remembered sitting down in the first place, much less falling asleep.
Nomi, forgetting she’d locked her lips, said in a hushed tone, “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Did I say anything interesting?”
“Something about a pumpkin, and how you could fix everything if you got your magic wrench from your garage.”
“Oh, really?”
“You kept saying the magic wrench was still on the wall, with the regular tools.”
I had expected Nomi to report that I’d been sleep-talking nonsense, but as I heard my words echoed back, I remembered the dream. I had been talking to Harry Blackstone in my dream. He had apologized for causing me so much inconvenience, and then he’d explained to me how I could fix the mechanical issue with my car. All I needed was a specific wrench, from his garage.
“That’s quite the wild dream talk,” I said to Nomi. “I must be picking up weird vibes from the Goblin Hordes.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Thanks for waking me.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Nomi wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation. Her gaze was on my enlarged mouth. She touched her fingertips to her own lips, as though trying to work something out, like why my mouth was fifteen percent bigger than it had been the day before.
Could I disguise my big mouth? I tried pinching my lips together the way I did when I was doing an impression of my aunt.
Nomi jerked her head back, frowned, and looked away. “I’d, uh, better finish the patrol,” she said. “You wouldn’t think people could sleep with all the visitor noise going on, but there’s something about being indoors when it’s raining that makes people dozy.”
“Plus Kathy and Frank turned up the heat to push caffeine sales.”
Nomi’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Allegedly,” I added quickly. “I didn’t see anyone touch the thermostat. This is just between us.”
“Right,” she said, looking thrilled about being taken into my confidence. Step one of bonding with a fellow employee: Offer dirt on the other ones.
“And I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about my little nap.”
Nomi nodded. “You were only resting your eyes,” she said. “There’s nothing else to tell.”
I gave her a big, scary clown smile. It was only meant to be a small smile, but my mouth was still so big.
The poor girl fled.
* * *
At the end of the day, we three librarians performed the new closing activities that were becoming routine.
Kathy counted the big stack of money while Frank phoned in a commercial-sized order for more coffee beans and paper cups.
I didn’t tell either of them about the dream I’d had, or my plan to stop by Harry’s house after work in search of the special wrench.
I didn’t tell Frank because he would have insisted on going with me, and I couldn’t risk him getting hurt again.
I didn’t tell Kathy because she might talk me out of my mission, for fear it would lead to resolving Harry’s haunting before we’d maximized our profits.
To keep either of them from insisting on giving me a ride home, I told them I already had a ride, and offered to stay late tidying. It was only fair, since I needed to make up for arriving late for my shift.
“I’ll clock out late to make up for clocking in late,” I said.
Kathy said to me, “You know, nobody checks the timecards.”
“What?”
Frank echoed, “What?”
Kathy shrugged. “I don’t check them. I’ve asked around, and it doesn’t sound like anyone checks them.”
Frank asked, “Then why do we even use that old machine? It’s so noisy.”
“Whooo knows,” Kathy hooted. “I was told to always punch in back when I started. The head librarian at the time told me it was vitally important, so I never questioned it.”
The three of us stared at the big, metal timecard machine on the wall.
Frank spoke first. “I’m going to keep clocking in. I have a bad feeling that device is attached to something important, and if we stop punching the cards, something bad will happen.”
“Same here,” Kathy said.
They looked at me. “I don’t want to be left out,” I said. “I’m going to keep punching my timecard. Besides, I like how the machine goes KERCHUNK.”
“Me, too,” they both said, and we agreed that the KERCHUNK was very satisfying.
They thanked me for staying late to clean up, then left.
I’d rarely been inside the library all by myself, except for a few minutes here and there.
Being alone in the beautiful, book-filled space filled me with energy.
After checking three times to be sure the library was empty of people,
and that the security cameras were temporarily switched off, I got to work.
Using magic, I got three carts full of books reshelved in no time, plus I vacuumed all the floors up and down, and started watering the plants.
Thanks to my super-sized mouth, my spellcasting was stronger than ever. Not only did the plants get their water, but all of them grew new leaves, bright green and robust, right before my eyes. I had to cut the watering spell short with a cancellation, lest the library turn into a jungle.
Tidying completed, I locked up, clocked out with a satisfying KERCHUNK, and took a taxi to the Blackstone residence.
The taxi driver was curious about the house that was for sale.
How many bedrooms?
What was the list price?
How were the neighbors?
It wasn’t haunted or anything, right? Ha ha.
“You should call the listing agent,” I suggested. “I’m just the house sitter.”
I got out of the taxi, and pretended to check something on my phone until the taxi had disappeared from sight.
Then I cast a spell to detect if anyone was watching me. I caught a tug on the line, so to speak. I followed the gossamer thread up to a window on the house next to Harry’s. Someone was watching. Ambrosia Abernathy. I waved. She stepped forward, so that her face was visible, and waved back. She looked somber.
I held my finger to my lips to indicate that I was about to do some secret witch business and she shouldn’t interfere. She nodded to indicate she understood. Or that she was going to interfere immediately. Who knew? Whatever she did, I’d deal with it.
I mouthed something at the girl: See you at the coven meeting tonight?
She mouthed back: What?
I mouthed: Coven meeting. Tonight.
I used my hands to mime the shape of a pointed hat on my head, then pointed to my wrist, indicating time, as in tonight.
Ambrosia tugged on her ear and pointed at her eye.
I had no idea what she meant, but I gave her two thumbs up.
I walked through the rain—I hardly noticed it by now—and let myself in through the garage’s side door. I’d already returned the keys to the real estate agent, dropping them through the mail slot at the Moore residence, but I didn’t need a key to gain entry to Harry’s old house. Twisting a handle from the other side was the sort of bread and butter magic I did constantly.
The garage interior was neat and tidy, as it had been the day I’d toured the place with Frank and Reyna Drinkwater.
It was dim, with only a bit of light coming in through the garage door’s tiny windows, but it was enough for me to see what I needed to see.
My phone buzzed in my purse with an incoming message. Probably Zoey, asking about dinner. I didn’t check.
My phone buzzed again. This buzz didn’t have the feeling of my daughter asking about dinner. I didn’t have my aunt’s powers to get messages directly in my head moments before they were even sent, but sometimes I got a dim sensation that something was out of the ordinary.
As I reached for the phone, I scanned the wall of tools. I found the wrench that would fix my car, the one Harry had shown me in my dream.
With that business practically taken care of, I looked down to check the messages.
The first one was from Zoey: What do you want for dinner?
The second one was from Persephone Rose. Before I could read the text, a motor groaned to life over my head.
The garage door was opening.
As the light from outside filled the garage, I looked around furtively for somewhere to take cover. There was an old rain barrel I theoretically could have squeezed into. There was also the door I’d come in through. I swayed left and right, unable to decide. I felt very much like the proverbial cockroach in a cheap apartment when the lights come on.
I glanced down at my phone screen. Persephone Rose’s message contained a single word: Drinkwater.
As the garage door rose, a woman’s shoes and legs came into view. It had to be Reyna Drinkwater.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Another message came in, also from Persephone. It was a longer one, apologizing that her previous message had been accidentally truncated.
In a third message, Persephone Rose said: The brother admitted he was in town. He said the person who gave Harry the red peppers was his landlady, Reyna Drinkwater.
His landlady? How odd. She was just the real estate agent for his estate. Or was she?
The garage door finished opening and the motor ground to a halt.
Reyna stepped in, then shrieked and dropped her briefcase when she saw me standing in the gloom, staring back at her.
Chapter 35
I held my hands out, still holding my phone in one.
“It’s just me,” I said to the real estate agent. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Reyna Drinkwater flinched and took an awkward step backward, nearly tripping over her dropped briefcase. She held her hands to her chest in a protective gesture. She looked genuinely startled. If the woman had any supernatural powers, she was doing a fine job of not revealing them.
The thirty-something Realtor was dressed the same as when I’d seen her previously, in a conservative skirt and matching blazer, topped by a trench coat. Her shoulder-length auburn hair had been partially pulled back with a clip. Her face was still pretty, from her bright green eyes to her button nose, but she didn’t look well. Her skin had a yellow cast that showed through her makeup.
If Persephone Rose was right about Reyna Drinkwater being the one who’d supplied Harry with his genetically altered peppers, then Reyna’s apparent liver problems could be explained by her exposure to the poison. She had become ill solely from handling the deadly nightshades, yet it had taken repeat exposures for Harry Blackstone to succumb. Was it a protective feature of his supernatural abilities? No. It must have been Dr. Ankh’s special formula. The same serum that was healing Harry’s occupational damage must have been dampening the effects of the poison. The elixir had been saving his life, until it wasn’t. Reyna killed Harry.
And now I was standing face to face with her.
The Realtor ducked her head in recognition. “Zara? Zara Riddle?”
“You caught me,” I said, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “Please don’t call the cops. It’s not breaking and entering if the door’s unlocked. Ha ha ha.” My laugh sounded so fake, but I had to try.
Reyna stammered as her hands opened and closed on nothing. “Wha-what are you doing here?”
“Funny story,” I said. “You know how sometimes you get that feeling you left the stove on at home?”
“Uh, sure.”
I gestured with my phone loosely as I made up a story. “Well, as you’ll probably remember, you asked me to lock up here last week, after I showed my friend Frank Wonder around the property. I thought I did lock up, but then today at work I suddenly remembered I forgot to lock the garage. So, long story short, rather than bother you, since I know you’re busy, I figured I’d swing by here after work and lock up by twisting the handle from the inside, assuming it was that kind of lock, which it is.”
“Oh?” Her frown told me she wasn’t buying my story. Her gaze kept flicking between me and the tools on the wall.
Did she think I’d broken in to steal tools? That was... technically exactly what I had done. Smart girl, Reyna.
She said, “So, you came by to lock up? Why were you standing here in the dark?”
“I guess I’m just crazy about real estate!” I offered a big you-caught-me shrug. “I’ve been thinking about picking up an investment property. I figured I’d take one more look around the place, since I was here anyway.”
Her eyes weren’t trusting me, but the lower part of her face contorted into a fake smile. “Perfectly understandable,” she said with professional smoothness. “It’s a solid home with excellent potential. Don’t delay. We’ve had some interest, and not just from those out-of-towners you warned me about.” She reached into her pocket and p
ulled out an object. It was a round ball, and it glittered, like a spell.
She was onto me!
I braced myself for battle. The woman didn’t know what she was up against. My lips and tongue were still bigger than their size, and even at Regular Zara Strength, my mouth could house a massive arsenal.
“What’s that in your hand?” I asked, my voice squeaky.
“Something magical,” she said.
“You don’t say. How magical, exactly?”
“See for yourself,” Reyna said, walking toward me in the calm manner of someone who was not about to unleash a magical offense. Despite her jaundiced skin, there was still plenty of life in her perky step and her bright green eyes.
I held my fire.
Reyna set the round, glittering object on the workbench between us. It appeared to be a battery-powered automatic air freshener. Or was it? Appearances could be deceiving.
A green light came on, and the object let out a puff of scent.
Lilac.
Reyna said, “I prefer floral scents in all the rooms, except for the kitchen, where I prefer fresh baked goods. I try to get apple pie for open houses, but, in a pinch, some potpourri tossed in the oven works great.” She gave me a knowing look. “As long as you don’t turn up the temperature too high.”
“Right, I said, and forced out a fake laugh as I looked into her eyes. Why did you kill Harry Blackstone, you psycho?
She looked back at me. Her eyes seemed to ask a question back: Why are you in Harry’s garage, you psycho?
She could wonder all she wanted. I was the one with the magic, so I would be the one getting the answers today, not her.
I cast the bluffing spell that would get her to open up, and possibly confess to murder—as long as I didn’t overplay my hand.
The spell cast flawlessly, thanks to plenty of practice, plus my slightly larger-than-usual mouth.
But something was wrong.
Usually, the air would sparkle after I cast the spell, letting me know it was working, in case it wasn’t obvious enough by the fact I was getting exactly what I wanted from the spell’s subject.
But this time, the air didn’t sparkle. All I detected in the air was the scent of fake lilac coming from the little air freshener. As seconds ticked by, the scent reminded me less and less of lilac and more of something less pleasant. My eyes started to water, blurring my vision before I blinked the moisture away.
Wishful Wisteria (Wisteria Witches Mysteries - Daybreak Book 3) Page 20
