by Amy Boyles
Axel shrugged. “Hard to say. She claims that the ashes are his, and according to her, Mr. Albod was paranoid.”
Garrick sighed. “All right. I am going to ask you about the ashes. How do you know about them?”
“I worked an imaging spell to see who they belonged to.”
Garrick scowled. “And I take it they didn’t belong to anyone.”
“Correct,” I said, my voice more chipper than necessary.
The sheriff sighed. “Okay, great. Now I’ve got circumstantial proof that Mr. Albod might be missing since he’s not technically in the urn, but no real evidence that he actually is missing.”
Peaches cleared his throat. “If I might make a suggestion.”
“I would love to hear it,” Garrick said flatly.
“The night Frederick locked me in the familiar holder, he was terrified. Someone had arrived. Someone he didn’t want me to see. I can’t say for certain because I was encased in the critterling, but something could’ve happened.”
“When was that?” Garrick said.
Peaches went blank.
“Peaches,” I coaxed, “before Mr. Albod locked you in the holder, was anyone else living in the house?”
“Living in the house?”
“Had Ingrid Puryear moved in?”
Peaches shook his head. “No.”
“Della Frost explained that Ingrid Puryear moved into Mr. Frederick’s house near the end. When he was unwell, if that’s even true.”
“So all you have to do is find out when Ingrid started helping out,” Axel said to Garrick. “That would give you timeline.”
“Thank you,” Garrick said, sounding annoyed. He rose, crumpled the empty Bugles bag and tossed it in the trash. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“How about the Gar case?” I asked. “How’s that going?”
Garrick scowled deeply. I grimaced. I almost felt bad for asking, but honestly I had to know. Willow Dean shouldn’t have died—not for anything, and definitely not because she was trying to help me. That was plain old wrong.
“It’s going,” Garrick said curtly. “But I don’t have anyone with a motive.”
“And you never found the murder weapon?”
His scowl deepened. “That’s none of your business.” He shot Axel a look of warning. “I’ll follow up on this information about Mr. Albod. I appreciate you bringing it to me instead of investigating on your own.”
“Is that sarcasm?” I asked.
Garrick brought his hands to his hips and tapped lightly. “No, it wasn’t. But I want to remind y’all that this is my investigation.”
I saluted him. “We’re reminded, sir.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to get around the fact that y’all borrowed Mr. Albod’s ashes, but I’ll do my best.”
I smirked. “How do you know we borrowed them?”
Garrick shot me a pointed look. “Because I know y’all.” He raised a hand to stop any of my protests. “You’ve got good intentions, I agree. Just don’t make my job harder than it needs to be.”
I rested a hand over my heart. “I promise.”
“I don’t,” Axel said.
Garrick’s face broke into an amused smile. “Which is why I like you, Reign.” Garrick donned his fedora and nodded. “Now if y’all will excuse me, I’ve got a missing person to follow up on.”
We left the police station with Peaches. Hugo had waited outside for us. He lay beside the curb, his head buried in his paws.
“We’re back, Hugo.”
When the dragon heard my voice, he sat up. His tail thumped against the ground. The spikes at the tip seemed more dangerous out in the open.
I didn’t know why I’d only just realized how dangerous Hugo’s tail could be. Probably because being in public with a dragon was a bit different than living in my house with him.
Don’t get me wrong—Hugo came outside with me all the time. It was only that he was growing up and it was finally hitting me.
My stomach tightened. What would Hugo be like as an adult? How much more would his appetite grow? Would he eat different things? Want to hunt more?
It was a possibility. One that would be facing me soon enough.
I pushed all that aside because there was something I wanted to do. “I think we should pay a visit to Ingrid and Jerome.”
Axel’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because what if it takes Garrick forever to talk to them?”
He stopped walking and folded his arms. “What if it does?”
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. Did I have to spell everything out for him? “Well, we’d lose valuable time. Time I might not have,” I said pointedly.
Axel gazed down at his chest. I swear he was blushing. “You’re right. Let’s go talk to them.”
“Are you blushing?”
He shook his head. “I’m just admiring your tenacity.”
The truth occurred to me. I scoffed. “You don’t really think I’m in danger, do you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
I jabbed my finger at him. “You didn’t have to.”
He reached for me and I shrank. “I do think you’re in danger. The urn proved it to me. I really was laughing at your tenacity.
“Sometimes”—he extended his hand, and this time I let him stroke my arm—“I don’t even know why we go to Garrick because you’ll still want to run your own investigation.”
I sniffed. “I’m not trying to run my own investigation.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No,” I snapped. Then I rolled my eyes because it was true. “Okay, so what if I do want to run my own investigation? I’m only trying to help.”
“I know. That’s what I love about you.”
His words from earlier hung in my brain. Axel stiffened, and I could tell we were thinking the same thing.
“Okay,” I said quickly to avoid talking about it, “let’s go talk to Ingrid and Jerome.”
“May I come along?” Peaches’s voice drifted up beside me. I glanced down. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he walked next to me.
“Of course.” I smiled widely. “In fact, I think you’ll be a big help.”
We dropped Hugo off at the house and headed over to Ingrid and Jerome Puryear’s. CJ offered the address up readily when I called him.
“Well shucks, Miss Dunn, I’m tickled pink that you even thought of me.”
Yep, CJ was easy to probe for that sort of information.
Jerome answered on the first knock.
“Hello there, Miss Dunn. Mr. Reign. What can I do for y’all?”
I twisted my fingers together and relayed the story Axel and I had devised. “I wanted to talk to you about the critterling.”
Jerome’s eyes widened. “Come on in.”
Peaches had made himself invisible. I think he padded up behind us, but I couldn’t be sure. Anyway, I had a hard enough time keeping track of the ghostly cat when I could see him. It proved even more of a challenge to track him when he wasn’t visible, so I didn’t even try.
We passed a box of kittens in the kitchen. I leaned over to get a closer look at the roly-poly balls of fluff.
“Oh, are those the ones that Ingrid’s cat birthed?”
“The very same,” Jerome said.
I touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your familiar and his cancer.”
Jerome wiped a tear from his lash. “It’s okay. Chuck’s been a good friend.”
A box turtle lay on a bed of grass in the living room. “Is that him?”
Jerome nodded to me. “That’s good old Chuck.” He motioned for us to sit. “Now. What did y’all want to talk to me about?”
My gaze darted around the house. “I was hoping you and Ingrid could offer some advice?”
“She’s gone to the store.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “But I’ll help however I can.”
Axel propped his elbows on his knees. “Pepper says you knew that the ghost-cat lived in the familia
r vessel.”
Jerome smiled kindly. “I didn’t know until I saw the creature dash out and break the lamps in the room.”
“But I didn’t see it.” I touched a hand to my chest as if the entire thing was unbelievable. “The animal moved too fast.”
“I guess I’ve just got good eyesight for as old as I am.” Jerome’s gaze drifted from me to Axel. “I also told Pepper that now the ghost would be hers to take care of.”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “I’ve met the cat, and he raves about the craziest things. Stories you wouldn’t believe.”
Jerome crossed his arms and sank back onto the couch. “I’m sure I’d believe it. We are witches and wizards.”
“You’re right,” Axel said. “Maybe it is something he’d believe?”
I licked my lips. This was it. My moment. “The thing is—the cat is spouting off something crazy. He says that Frederick Albod isn’t dead. He swears that Albod was kidnapped.”
I shot Jerome a pointed look. “Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Jerome opened his mouth to answer.
FIFTEEN
“No.” Jerome rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know anything about Mr. Albod being kidnapped. First I heard of such a thing.”
His gaze narrowed. “Frederick had a funeral. What’s this nonsense?”
I leaned over to speak, but Axel placed a hand on my knee to silence me. “Mr. Puryear, we’ve recently uncovered information that leads us, as well as the police, to believe that Mr. Albod never died. He wasn’t cremated.”
“Say what?” The look of astonishment on Jerome’s face was honest. “You mean Mr. Albod didn’t die?”
“No, he didn’t.” Axel’s hand drifted from my knee and back to his thigh. “We understand there was one night when Mr. Albod was very shaken. It was before your wife Ingrid went to work for him. Mr. Albod believed something terrible was going happen to him. Do you recall anything like that?”
“Let me see.” Jerome rubbed his hands together. “Can I get y’all a cookie? Sometimes sugar helps me remember things better.”
“Sure,” I said.
Jerome rose and left the living room. He returned with a plate of iced ginger cookies.
“Help yourselves.”
I took one and waited to bite into it until Jerome bit first. “There was one night”—he took a bite of cookie—“when Frederick called us very distraught. He talked about the critterling. How its powers were too much. He talked on and on about the thing. Rambled, mostly. I couldn’t get too much of a coherent word out of him.”
Jerome paused.
“What happened next?” Axel gently prodded.
He scratched his head. “I tell you, I didn’t think too much about it, but the next we heard, Mr. Albod’s health had gotten bad and that’s when Ingrid became his nurse. She started taking care of him right up until the end.”
I took the last bite of my cookie and swallowed it before speaking. “And was she there when Mr. Albod died?”
“No, no, Ingrid wasn’t there. She’d gone off shopping. Ingrid’s always shopping. As you can see, since she isn’t here right now.”
“We women like to shop,” I admitted. “I love to shop. But then, you know, you’ve got to have money to shop. That’s important.”
“Yes, it is.” Jerome chuckled. “You’ve definitely got to have money to shop, that’s for sure.”
Axel shifted on the couch. “If you weren’t there when he passed, how did you find out?”
“Neville told us,” Jerome said.
Axel and I exchanged a look. “Neville?” he said.
“Yes.” Jerome dusted crumbs from his fingers. “Neville Mabury. He’s one of the members of the familiar society.”
“Neville,” I muttered, trying to place him. “Oh! He’s the one whose dog is keeping him up all night because of the barking.”
“Right,” Jerome said. “That’s Neville. He found Mr. Albod’s body. If you have any questions for him, I can give you the address.”
“Thank you.” Axel rose. “We’d love it.”
Jerome fished around for a pen and paper. He gave us the address and we left. I had no idea where Peaches was, but when we were nestled back inside the Land Rover, Peaches poked his head out of my purse.
“Ah!” I threw the bag against the dashboard. Peaches didn’t go anywhere, of course. The cat sat firmly on my lap.
“You scared the heck out of me! Don’t do that again.”
“Sorry.” Peaches sniffed. “I heard what that man said about Neville. Neville’s always been an awkward one.”
“We were planning on talking to him.” Doubting myself, I bit my lower lip and gazed at Axel. “Right? We were going to talk to him, weren’t we?”
“Yes, tomorrow.” He stared into the horizon. The sun burned down the sky.
“I’ll need to have Betty cover for me at Familiar Place.”
He smirked. “I’m sure she’d love that. It would give her a chance to question men about being her secret admirer.”
I laughed so hard I knuckled tears from my eyes. “I know.”
Axel fired up the engine. “But there’s no need to bring in Betty. We’ll go after you’re off. I have some things to take care of in the morning anyway.”
I quirked a brow. “Things? What things?”
“Nothing important.”
“If it’s not important, then you should be able to tell me.” I smiled brightly and batted my eyelashes.
“No go,” he said. “It’s just some things.”
I kept the smile on my face, but at the same time my stomach knotted. Axel usually shared with me. We didn’t keep secrets from one another.
“It’s another case,” he said. “It’s outside Magnolia Cove, so I won’t be around during the day.”
“Oh.” That lifted my spirits.
“And here I thought he had another girlfriend,” Peaches said.
If he’d been flesh and blood, I would’ve given the cat’s ear a good solid tug. But seeing as I don’t believe in cruelty to animals, plus the fact that the feline was transparent, I had no recourse other than a long evil look.
Peaches sniffed. “Don’t tell me the thought didn’t occur to you, too.”
My words ejected through gritted teeth. “It didn’t. Thank you.”
Axel chuckled. “Pepper, trust me. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried.” I shot the cat another dark look. “I was never worried. Anyway, can we stop talking about this and head back? I’m starving and hopefully Betty’s created one heck of a good dinner.”
“Sounds good to me,” Axel said.
“Betty, is it okay if Axel stays for dinner?”
Betty laid a finger against her nose. A fine stream of magic curled from her open nostril and floated below the cauldron simmering in the fireplace.
“Of course, there’s plenty of roast beef for him. I’m just finishing up the peach cobbler and dinner will be ready.”
“Great.” I motioned for Axel to sit, and I slipped into the kitchen to grab table settings.
After taking a handful of plates, cutlery and napkins from a cabinet, I made my way back to the kitchen just as Cordelia and Amelia arrived home.
“Boy, what a day.” Amelia kicked off her shoes and rubbed her feet. “I don’t think I’ve ever walked so much just to find an object that decided to play hide-and-seek.”
“What?” I draped a napkin over a white plate. “An object hid from you?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh yeah, they do that sometimes. They think it’s fun to force us to look for them. You should see how cluttered it gets because one object will recruit a whole bunch of others to help.”
Cordelia walked to the cauldron, inhaled the peach cobbler aroma and smiled. “How do they do that?”
“For one, the objects sometimes create a barrier to stop us, so we can’t get into another room. Or they’ll try to tickle us or whizz by our heads really fas
t and pester us.”
My grandmother wiped her hands on her apron that read Witches Do It Better. “Sounds like they have a sense of humor.”
Betty clapped her hands, and the cauldron rose from the fire and zipped over to the table. I scattered a couple of pot holders on the wooden surface just before the cast-iron monstrosity settled down.
Betty had already laid out the other dishes, which included pot roast, fried okra, butter beans and cornbread.
The four of us tucked in, ready to eat.
“Ah, supper of champions,” Cordelia said.
Betty extended her hands on the table palms up. “Aren’t we forgetting to say the blessing?”
“We never say the blessing,” Amelia said.
Betty frowned. “We do now.”
Amelia cocked her head. “Why are you suddenly so interested in saying the blessing? Does this have to do with your secret admirer?”
Betty snorted. “No, it does not.”
Cordelia studied Betty. “I think it does. I think Betty wants to have all her bases covered for when this guy shows up. If he says the blessing, she wants to be five steps ahead and not be taken by surprise.”
“This has nothing to do with that,” Betty griped.
“If you ask me,” Axel said, “if this man already likes you, then it won’t matter to him whether or not you say the blessing.” Betty shot daggers at him. “But I think,” he added quickly, “it’s always a good idea to give thanks.”
Betty eyed us all like we were criminals. “Unless anyone else wants to gripe about it, let’s say grace.”
No one argued as we held hands and Betty prayed. “Dear Lord, thank you for this food we’re about to receive. We thank you for the many blessings you bestow on us. We also thank you for the important people in our lives—those we don’t know and those we do.”
Amelia snorted.
Someone kicked her under the table.
“Ow,” Amelia said.
“In God’s name we pray, Amen,” Betty finished.
We all said, “Amen,” and Betty passed around the dishes. “What magical object decided to play hide-and-seek this time?”
“It was a pen that can write your future.” Amelia scraped okra onto her plate. “It usually stays locked up because it has a bad habit of wanting to tell folks their bad futures.”