“Okay, then—wasn’t that worth a few bruises?”
Going home without delay was a wise decision on my part because there was a surprise waiting for me. Well, two of them, actually. Freddie was in the kitchen, and Joe was cooking dinner.
Where were you, Toots? It’s the hamburger girl again! Scruffy danced around ecstatically. The furry-faced guy is doing something fishy that smells good.
“Freddie!” I screamed in the time-honored female squeal, and we fell into a girly hug. “Am I glad to see you! But what in the world are you doing here? Joe, why didn’t you call me?” I turned to kiss Joe, who hugged me with one arm while lifting the cover from a pan of rice pilaf. I sniffed the aroma wafting from the oven appreciatively, recognizing a Greek influence on the baked bluefish—tomatoes, onions, herbs, olives.
“I did call you, sweetheart,” he protested, “but you must have left your cell phone in the car when you were—where did you say? Shopping with Heather?”
“Oh, hey, Joe, I hope you didn’t fall for that one,” Freddie said. I pinched her arm. She took the hint and launched into an excited explanation of her own presence.
“When we got that “out of order” e-mail, Cass, you sounded so desperate, I just jumped in Adam’s Lexus and started driving. Oh, don’t worry about your son—I doubt he’ll miss his car, or even me. He’s up to his cute buns in a massive program that’s just about to run for the first time. Hush-hush government stuff, too. Some military nerds are hanging around, like, with their guns flapping. You wouldn’t believe it. Was I glad to have a reason to split! And, besides, Adam and I have to keep you up and running so that we won’t have to support you in your golden years, you know what I mean?”
All this spilled out in the usual Freddie fashion, accompanied by hand gestures and grimaces by way of emphasis. Perhaps she had been in a hurry. Her hair, instead of midnight spiked with gel, was more her natural dark brown, which I liked infinitely better. She was wearing only three earrings in one ear instead of five and the usual dangling gold pentagram in the other. And no nostril ring. Her amber eyes were heavily accented with mascara and eyeliner—the Egyptian goddess look that I have to admit suited her. Instead of a micro skirt and thigh-high boots, however, she was dressed in faded jeans, a simple black sweater, and jaunty Western footwear.
“Oh,” I breathed, “do you think you really can do that? Get me up and running, I mean?” There was an open bottle of wine and three glasses on the table. I poured some wine in each glass and handed them around.
Freddie went back to the task I’d interrupted, tearing up greens for a salad. Beside her on the counter a paring knife flipped over toward her hand. She picked it up casually and began to peel a cucumber. “I sure as shit can, even if I have to rebuild the whole program. Remember that your former apprentice witch is now Iconomics’ top troubleshooter. A job for which my particular skills, and a few tricks you taught me, Cass—yes, you did, too, so don’t shake your head—keep me, like, on the inside track.”
“I don’t doubt that you’re a wonder.” Dinner being well in hand, I began to set the table.
“And when I’ve got Cass Shipton’s Earthlore Herbal Preparations back in business, I have another project in mind.” Freddie grinned wickedly. “I’d like to try my hand at tracking down that ‘mystery chef’ hacker. Maybe give him a taste of his own poison.”
I winced—that was entirely too close to the truth.
“Cass suspects a link between the dirty tricks being played on her and her friends and the Plymouth poisoner,” Joe said, taking the fragrant pan out of the oven.
Fish! Fish! Fish! Scruffy nosed his empty dog dish meaningfully.
I took the hint to spoon in some dog chow and add a chunk of the delicious bluefish, skipping the olives, stirring to cool it more quickly. “And that’s just why we have to be super careful with this vengeful kid,” I said.
“Kid! You know who it is!” Freddie’s face lit up. “All right! So Cass has zeroed in on the perp, and we’re going to zap him good. You go, girl!”
“It’s not that easy. Suspicions we have—evidence we have not. Except…I did get a frond off a plant in his grandma’s house that’s definitely poison hemlock. I took it straight to Phillipa to give to Stone.”
Joe and Freddie arranged the fish, rice, and salad on the table, and we sat down to enjoy them.
“So, was this hemlock frond something you picked up on your ‘shopping trip’ with Heather?” Joe raised his eyebrows and held my gaze with his sternest expression. “What did you do? Break in? I guess I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment without you getting into some illegal escapade.”
“I don’t think you’re the one who should talk,” I said tartly. “Since we were married last year, you’ve been in jail three or four times, whereas I…I have managed to stay clear of the law.”
“Cass has magic on her side,” Freddie said, “or else some really stressed-out, overworked guardian angel. You just gotta get with the program, Joe—then you too can weasel out of tight corners.”
I couldn’t get Freddie to tear herself away from my deadhead computer until long past midnight. The next day, with the resiliency of youth, she was up with the birds and back at it again. Barely taking a few sips of black coffee, she seemed to get herself energized simply by dealing with the devastation that Lee Deluca had inflicted on my computer. “I have to start from scratch,” she explained to me. “Reinstalling the program Adam designed, and cleaning out your e-mail as well. After I get through, you’re going to have, like, a born-again computer. And I’ve installed some awesome firewalls that the CIA wouldn’t think were too shabby. Speaking of which, by the way, one of those military nerds offered me a job working for the government, ha ha. As if I’d leave my honey all alone at Iconomics.”
“I’ve always worried that either the government or some gambling consortium would get you in their clutches. With your psychokinetic abilities, you’ll always need to keep a low profile. Okay, no more lectures. I guess you’re ready for breakfast, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a bite. But I’m looking forward to the real fun now—Revenge of the Super-Witches, I’m calling it.”
“Dare I ask? We’re not into the negative stuff, you know.”
“Haven’t I had that drummed into my little head! No, this is a return zinger I’m sending to the ‘mystery chef.’ Pure skill, not black magic. Hacker 101.”
“You mean shut him down?”
“His computer will be, like, turned to stone by Medusa-me.”
“And he won’t be able to send the virus back to us?”
“I’ll leave no tracks to follow, I promise. Stop worrying, Cass. But first I have to find his password, with a little help from this program.” Freddie took a disk out of her leather satchel; the buttery-soft bag looked new—Italian and expensive. Adam’s gift, I thought.
“What’s this badass into?” Freddie asked. “Also, I need his birthday, his parents’ birthdays and anniversary date, his phone number, his social security number—you know what I mean?”
“He won’t be that obvious, but I’ll find out what I can. Maybe from Deidre through Millie. Lee Deluca’s sights are set on the theater. He’s an actor, or he wants to be.” I sighed. Right now Lee’s whereabouts were unknown, but if he connected somehow with his home computer, wouldn’t he guess what had happened? Maybe that would smoke him out, though.
“If you were after his password, what would be your best guess?” Freddie asked.
“Something Shakespearean.” I felt a word skittering around the dark recesses of my mind, never quite emerging into the light. It would be better not to focus on the question, simply allow the answer to surface on its own. “If I think of anything specific, I’ll let you know. So, okay,” I said reluctantly. “Do your worst.”
“I like to think of this as my best,” Freddie said.
Instead of showing up with a search warrant and a team, Stone Stern, that gentleman detective, merely had a quiet talk with
Bianca Deluca about Lee. Amazingly, she listened without hysterics to his pitch that parting with the hemlock plant would “prevent your grandson from compounding his problems, and protect yourself, too, ma’am, from accidental poisoning.”
Then, with an elaborate Mediterranean shrug, Bianca declared that there was no poison plant in her cellar, the detective was pazzo. She offered to take Stone down to see for himself, and she allowed him to take a leaf from each of the plants. Which later proved to be Ficus lyrata, Dracaena, Dieffenbachia, and Maranta. But no poison hemlock. As far as we could determine, the lone survivor of the Craig greenhouse had disappeared with Lee Deluca. Perhaps he still cherished the notion that if he could only get rid of Wyn Peacedale, his mother Jean would inherit her share of the Craig millions and Lee’s future would be assured. Or perhaps he’d destroyed the hemlock and moved on to nicotine, so easily obtained in patches.
Motive we had, but means still eluded us. And so did Lee.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lee Deluca was a resourceful boy. When nicotine didn’t work, he moved on to another, tastier poison for Wyn’s sweet tooth. And I was a witness.
Now that Loki, a.k.a. Buster, had recovered his health—that canny survivor was leaner and meaner than ever—Patty asked me to give her a hand in getting the stubborn Maine Coon cat home. Maybe all she really needed was moral support, because Heather’s husband, Dick, personally put the struggling cat into his carrier.
“You know, I’m a champion of acupuncture for pets,” Dick said, “and I’ve known it to work miracles with advanced arthritis. Dogs tolerate it well, and some cats, but I would never, never recommend acupuncture for Loki. Even getting medicine into him required the help of two orderlies.”
“He’s a devil, isn’t he,” Patty said proudly, peering through the barred front of the carrier. Loki spit and tried to claw her.
“Oh, cut that out, Loki,” I said. “You’ve lucked out with Patty, so treat her with love and kindness, please.” I deliberately emptied my mind and pictured my forehead pressed against Loki’s.
It’s a training matter, Tabitha. A feline can’t be too permissive. Caretakers lose respect for him.
“Oh, boloney, Loki.”
“Does Mama’s little sweetie want bologna?” Patty cooed.
“Now, now—no people food, Mrs. Peacedale,” Dick said sternly. “Loki’s tummy needs to be soothed by a bland diet. Just the dry food I’ve prescribed.”
What does this guy know about feline cuisine? Loki hissed disdainfully. I require real nourishment. Poached salmon! Braised chicken liver! Fresh beetle on the half shell!
After Dick’s final admonishments not to cater to Loki’s taste whims, I offered to take the cat carrier for Patty, placing it in the rear of my Jeep as far away from the front seat as possible. I had no intention of exposing myself to a blue streak of feline profanity all the way to the parsonage.
“Oh, he’s back, then,” Wyn said when we opened the carrier in the Peacedale kitchen.
After giving the pastor a disdainful look, Loki checked the saucer on his Lion King placemat. He turned up his nose at the dry food Dick had prescribed, gave an insolent wave of his tail, and stalked away upstairs.
“Loki does love the sunny windowsill in my office. It’s right over the radiator, and I’ve made some lovely cushions,” Patty said. “After such an ordeal, he’ll need a lot of warm and comfy catnaps.”
I thought I saw Wyn make a slight gagging motion. He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of pink juice. The label read Naturally Nice Organic Pear and Papaya.
“Wait!” Patty ordered in a surprisingly peremptory tone. “I just put that bottle in the refrigerator to chill, and I haven’t blessed it yet.” Grabbing the bottle, she placed it on the kitchen table, well away from her husband, and tried the top. “It’s been opened,” she whispered. Whipping out the Celtic cross from beneath her beige twin set, she dowsed the juice in a very competent manner, visibly slowing and calming her demeanor, despite her earlier anxiety. Fiona had taught her well.
The cross hung quietly over the bottle for several heartbeats and then began to swing in a figure-eight pattern, speeding up suddenly into an erratic zigzag. “There! See that?” Patty screamed. In a nanosecond, she was on her way to the sink to dump the juice.
I grabbed Patty’s arm. We almost lost it on the floor as we scuffled for the bottle. “No, no,” I explained. “Dowsing is all well and good, but now we have to verify that the juice is poisoned, and with what.”
Wyn couldn’t have looked more perplexed. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?” he demanded. “What the devil’s got into you two?”
At that, Patty sank into a kitchen chair and put her hands over her face. “This burden the Lord has placed on my shoulders is too much for me to bear.” Although still clueless, Wyn patted her shoulder in a comforting manner.
“Don’t blame the Lord, Patty,” I said. “Blame that sociopathic kid. Now, tell me you’re not still leaving your door unlocked!”
Instantly, she looked guilt-ridden. “To tell the truth, Cass, I don’t think we even have keys to the parsonage. Do we, Wyn?”
Wyn was staring at the Naturally Nice bottle with some dismay. “Do you mean to say that this stuff is poisoned, too? It’s that damned money!” He rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase some distressing thought from his mind. “Keys? Keys…Let’s see. I think we put them away somewhere in my study for safekeeping.”
“Wyn wouldn’t have locked up anyway while I was still out of the house. How would I have got in?” Patty said.
“Patty, find the keys. Keep the doors locked. This is the third time someone has entered your kitchen and tampered with the contents of your refrigerator. Someone who wants Wyn or both of you dead. So get real, will you!” I would have said more, but I saw that Patty was close to tears.
Gingerly, I opened the bottle. “It smells so very sweet,” I commented.
As a matter of caution, I immediately called Joe and everyone in the circle.
“Don’t ask any questions now, Joe,” I’d ordered. “I’ll explain later. Just don’t drink anything from open cartons or bottles in the fridge. And for Goddess’s sake, warn Freddie, too. How’s she doing?”
“She’s chortling to herself in your office, that’s how she’s doing. It’s unsettling that one so young can sound so wicked.”
“Good. She’s making progress, then. Gotta go call everyone.”
“Okay. Wouldn’t it be easier if you installed some kind of permanent conference-call arrangement on your cell phones?”
I made believe I hadn’t heard that, hung up, and punched the next number on my speed dial.
“Hey, getting into this place would be like trying to penetrate an active missile site,” Phillipa said. “Stone has installed a state-of-the-art alarm system that gives us barely three minutes to punch in the code before it blows its top. Twice my dear husband himself has messed up the number sequence, and squad cars have come squealing into our driveway, much to his chagrin.”
“Phil, I do want you to explain this whole alarm-system idea to Patty at another time—it’s exactly what she needs. But right now I’ve got to call the others.”
“Well, let’s phone-tree then. Who do you want me to call?”
“Great. You get in touch with Heather and Fiona. I’ll call Dee.” I was glad to assign my friend to those most liable to go ballistic at hearing this new twist.
But as it turned out, the real uproar was at the Ryan house. “He was here!” Deidre screamed in my ear. “Can you imagine the nerve? If Will hadn’t been so groggy from fatigue, we’d have had the little bastard. But I just couldn’t hold him by myself. I guess I did mark him—just a scratch, though.”
“A scratch where?”
“Where? Oh, on his cheek. It was an accident.”
“Did it bleed?”
“Well, yes, I guess I took off a layer of skin. Maybe it was more of a gouge than a scratch. Welled up red, and dro
ps of blood ran down his cheek. Surprising. I mean, I keep my nails cut short.”
“He’ll probably accuse you of child battery. Did you call the cops?”
“You bet. But he’s not exactly a wanted criminal, you know, just a missing kid, and by the time they moseyed over here, Lee was long gone.”
I worried about Jean having her usual maniac response to an attack on her son. Perhaps those displays were fueled by guilt at abandoning him as an infant. At any rate, I decided not to lay that worry on Deidre right then. “What was Lee after? Have you any idea? Do you want me to come over?”
“Yes. I could use some protective vibes right now. I’ll save my story until you get here.”
“Okay. I’ll bring sage for smudging,” I said. I packed up a Wiccan emergency kit: dried sage and rosemary, sandlewood incense, sea salt, kava tea. I also tucked the suspect bottle of juice in my car and raced over to the Ryan place. Glancing at my watch, I was truly surprised. I felt as if I’d lived a century already that day, and here it was only eleven. I still had lots of morning left to soothe Deidre and drop the juice off at Phillipa’s on my way home for lunch.
Jenny answered the door. “Mom is lying in the living room with a cloth over her head. Daddy’s gone to the police station. I’m taking care of everything,” Deidre’s oldest greeted me with grown-up aplomb, her brown braids swinging officiously as she led the way to the jonquil yellow kitchen.
Instantly, Deidre appeared in the kitchen door, a wet washcloth in one hand and little Annie in the other. “Jenny, you go upstairs now, dear, and keep Willie and Bobby out of trouble in the playroom while Aunt Cass and I have a quiet cup of coffee.”
“Let me make the coffee,” I offered, “and you talk.”
After installing Annie in her bouncing chair, Deidre sank into one of the kitchen chairs and gazed out the window at the cheerless backyard—drifts of frozen mud, patches of dirty snow, a deserted jungle gym. The brilliant winter sunlight served only to emphasize the scene’s bleakness. Deidre’s usual cheery mien was now a cold mask of anger, and her pale blue eyes were icy. “Will had just woken up—some big fire in Carver last night—so I took the opportunity to run to Angelo’s for a few things. Guess I got home just in time. Lee Deluca was at the door talking to Jenny. Apparently Will had flopped on the living room sofa, turned on the ESPN channel, and fallen back to sleep. That evil boy was dressed in some kind of white uniform, holding a wire sixpack of bottles. He was offering one of them, a cherry-colored stuff, to Jenny.”
Ladies Courting Trouble Page 24