Ghosts & Gateaux

by Sara Bourgeois

  "I'm going to go to jail," I blurted out.

  My stomach clenched with fear, and I felt acid rise in my throat. All the while, my heart started to pound, and a cold sweat broke out on my brow and back. An icy drop ran down my spine and I involuntarily shivered.

  "I have a lead," Mitch offered. "I think I know where the knife was purchased. One of the other officers remembers seeing it in a shop a while back. We can go to the store and see if the owner remembers who he sold the knife to. I doubt he has credit card receipts or anything like that, but we should ask."

  "That is something,” I said. My insides unclenched a little, and I stopped feeling like I was going to barf right there in front of Mitch.

  "Would you like to come along with me when I ask?" Mitch offered. "I wouldn't mind having a little magical backup."

  "Not that I mind you asking, but I thought you said there were witches on the force. I mean, I know there are witches on the force. What I'm asking is wouldn't you like to take someone official?" I rambled.

  "If I wanted to take one of them, I would have. I asked you because I want to take you," Mitch said.

  "Oh... yeah... okay... totally. I mean, yes. Yes, I'll go."

  Hope sprang inside of me. Not only was there a lead to follow, but Mitch was taking me along to do real police work instead of arresting me.

  Of course, it was always possible that he'd believe the shop owner would identify me. I didn't think of that at the time, though.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I left the shop in Jenny's hands and Mitch and I headed out to the antique shop. I'd briefly considered asking him to wait until after the bakery closed for the day, but we were pretty dead. Plus, Mitch didn't seem like he was in the mood to wait. With my freedom on the line, I had no choice but to go right then.

  The sign over the door just said Antiques. That was it. That was the name. It was run by a tiny old man that I was pretty sure had been alive forever. There was a good chance he was older than some, if not most, of the antiques he was selling.

  Despite his weathered face, his eyes were bright like those of a child. He also dyed his hair a radiant shade of yellow using magical dye. You just couldn't get color like that at a normal salon.

  "Good day,” he said cheerfully. "How can I help you?"

  We walked up to the counter, and Mitch pulled a photo out of his jacket. "I was wondering if you could tell me who purchased this?" he asked and slid the photo across the counter.

  "That knife was purchased anonymously," the old man said, and I felt my heart sink. "A courier arrived to pick it up about two months back and paid me in cash. The only name given was a code name for a plant."

  "Thank you," Mitch said. "Was the courier service the one that has a local branch?"

  "Indeed it was, young man."

  "Thank you for your time," Mitch said.

  He put the picture of the knife in his pocket and turned to leave the antique store. I followed him outside where he stopped on the sidewalk in front of the shop.

  "I guess I can just go back to work,” I said as I tried not to cry in frustration.

  "I think we should go to the courier company and ask there before we give up," Mitch said.

  The courier was far enough away that we had to walk back to Mitch's cruiser and then drive to the next stop. On the way there, I counted myself lucky that I was sitting in the front and not the back, but I couldn't help casting glances over my shoulder at the back seat. It made me queasy thinking of being back there with my hands cuffed.

  "I'm not going to let that happen," Mitch said as if he could read my mind.

  "Is that why you're taking me along?"

  "Officially, you're a citizen consultant," Mitch said. "But I'm bringing you along because I'm uncomfortable with the idea of taking you in for questioning. Ever since my boss mentioned that could be coming down the line soon, I've had the urge to keep you close."

  Mitch grimaced right after the words left his mouth. Obviously he hadn't wanted to let that slip. The nervous nausea in my belly was replaced with a hundred dancing butterflies. He cared about me. Mitch was trying to hide it, but he was failing.

  Neither of us said anything the rest of the ride. Me because I didn't want to ask him if he liked me like a dumb schoolgirl with a crush. Even if that was how I felt... I told myself it was a distraction. It was easier for me to dwell on a hot cop having feelings for me than it was to deal with the fact that said cop might be arresting me for murder soon. That didn't make any of it real. Besides, I knew that being protective wasn't necessarily romantic. He could have thought about me like a sister or something.

  How tragic would that have been?

  I assumed Mitch was quiet because he was thinking or because he'd already said more than he'd intended. Either way, he'd switched into full brooding mode.

  Mitch parked the car near the entrance of the courier's office. It was a small lot for a tiny building, but the front wall was all windows. So, it was obvious to everyone inside that the police had just arrived. He came around and got the door for me.

  "Thank you,” I said as I stepped out.

  We went inside and Mitch asked to speak with the boss. The young woman behind the counter nodded and left through a door behind her.

  A couple of minutes later, a middle-aged man in a blue sport coat and khaki pants reappeared with her. Mitch showed the guy his badge even though it probably wasn't necessary because his car was visible right outside the front windows.

  "How can I help you, officer?"

  "It's detective. Detective Mitch Landry. I'm here because I need to look through your records and find out who ordered a pickup at the antique shop across town around two months ago. I don't have an exact date, so I'll just need to see everything you have from that timeframe. Hopefully, you don't have too many orders specifically picking up a package from that shop. If it helps, the owner said the name given was a code name for a plant."

  "Do you have a warrant, detective?"

  "Not yet. I was hoping you would help me out as a professional courtesy," Mitch said.

  The look on the guy’s face told me he was about to shoot us down. "I'm sorry. Corporate policy states that we cannot give out that type of information without a warrant. There's nothing I can do."

  After that, Mitch took me home. "Would you like to come in?" I asked. "I could make us some dinner."

  "While I would really enjoy that, Fern, I need to go get started on that warrant. I know I can get one. I just have to go rattle some judges. I'll cash in a chit if I have to, but I will get a warrant."

  As he was leaving, Gumbo came sauntering down the street. He'd been off snooping or exploring, not that there was a difference with him, but he wasn't in a hurry as he made his way toward me. That meant he didn't have any juicy news for me.

  With a sigh, I went into the house. I considered flopping down on the sofa and stewing in front of the television all night, but my stomach protested loudly. Worrying must have burned off a ton of calories because I was starving.

  "What's for dinner?" Gumbo asked as he came through his cat door. "I don't smell anything cooking."

  "First of all, I've been here for two minutes."

  "Plenty of time to start something," Gumbo groused.

  "You're a butt,” I said.

  "And second of all?" Gumbo asked.

  "That was the second part. You're a butt."

  "So are you going to make dinner, then?"

  "Ugh,” I said and threw up my hands. "Fine. I'll make dinner."

  Gumbo watched with interest as I pulled two salmon fillets and a bag of baby carrots out of the refrigerator. He began to purr loudly when I got the honey out of the pantry.

  "I'm glad my choice suits you, your royal highness."

  I fried the salmon in a pan with some coconut oil and roasted the glazed carrots in the oven. Gumbo happily ate his dinner while I stared out the window and wondered how my life had gotten to that point.

  I went to bed early, but
then I just lay there in the dark. Gumbo was happily snoozing within minutes, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, my mind turned on full blast.

  The clue as to who could be the murderer was right there in the courier's office. The whole case could be solved instantly with that information, and it was just out of reach. I also worried that if Mitch and I knew about the clue, then the murderer probably knew it too. They could go after the information and make it disappear before Mitch got a warrant.

  I had to do something about it. There was no choice in the matter. If I waited, the evidence could vanish forever.

  "Get up, Gumbo. We're going to go do a little breaking and entering for the greater good,” I said.

  "Oh, jeez,” he said and tried to go back to sleep.

  I let him lay there until I'd slipped into a black shirt and jeans. I put on my black boots and tied my hair up in a bun. Over that, I slipped a black stocking cap. It was hot outside, but I wanted to cover my hair.

  Once I was dressed as a burglar or a ninja, I wasn't sure which one I'd achieved, I snatched Gumbo off the bed and headed for the car.

  "Hey!" he protested.

  "I told you to get up. I said we were going out."

  "You need help," Gumbo grumbled.

  "I do, and that's why you're coming along. You're going to help me break into the courier's office."

  He started to say something else, but I opened the passenger door to my car and put him in. Gumbo just glared at me as I slid behind the wheel. I could tell he was not happy with me, but he had a job to do.

  I pulled in behind the courier's office and then parked behind the dumpster they shared with the restaurant next door. It wasn't the stealthiest parking job, but you couldn't see the car from the front or from the street.

  "How are you going to get in?" Gumbo asked as I carried him toward the door. "Are you going to bake the door a cake?"

  "You're hilarious," I whispered. "But no, I'm not going to bake the door a cake. You're going to open it."

  "I'm not."

  "Yes, you are,” I said. "Don't forget you work for me, buster."

  "I'm not doing it," Gumbo said.

  "I'll give you the rest of the glazed carrots when we get home. There were plenty left from dinner, you know."

  "Fine,” he said and wriggled out of my arms. "Let's just get this over with. I'm tired."

  "So, what do I do?" I asked as he just sat there in front of the door.

  "Uh, I'd try the knob."

  "Don't you have to... like... do something?" I asked.

  "How long have you known me? What do you think is going to happen? Am I supposed to shoot rainbows out of my butt or something?"

  "I'll try the knob,” I said.

  Just like Gumbo said, the knob turned and the door opened. We slipped inside before anyone could see, and I closed the door behind us.

  Since you couldn't see the back room from the outside, I flipped on the light. Gumbo wandered over to an area where there were a few boxes stacked in front of a big mirror. He knocked the boxes over and sat down in front of the mirror. At first, I thought he might have been doing some sort of spell, but he actually just wanted to stare at himself in the mirror.

  There was an old computer on a metal desk on the opposite wall. It had a scanner sitting next to it, and I decided that was the best place to start.

  I booted it up and was pleased to find the filing system on the computer's desktop. It was self-explanatory, so I started going through files. I managed to narrow down five files that were plant names and was about to go over their dates when I heard Gumbo hiss. That was followed by the sound of someone coming through the front door of the courier company.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I froze in terror. I was supposed to be the only person in the courier office. Okay, I wasn't supposed to be there, but it was closed. I didn't plan on running into anyone.

  There was no reason for anyone else to be poking around the dark office. That had to mean it was someone up to no good. Or it was the killer. They might have actually figured out that Mitch and I had been there that day, and they'd come to cover their tracks.

  I decided to print the paper with the names on it before I fled. The only problem was that the printer made a huge noise when it came to life. Okay, that wasn't the only problem. The other problem was that apparently, the only printer in the place was up front.

  The stranger started moving toward the noisy printer, and I decided to make a run for it while they were distracted. As I moved toward the back door, I could feel a surge of malevolent magic in the air. I hit the lights to give us more cover and swung the back door open.

  I was about to step out, but there was a barrier charm pin sitting on the bottom doorframe. Gumbo started hissing and spitting like a fury and knocked it out of the way with one claw-extended foot.

  There were footsteps behind us in the dark getting closer, so I scooped up Gumbo and ran for the car. I didn't look back as I tossed him in and jumped behind the driver's seat.

  I put the pedal to the metal and peeled out down the alley behind the courier's office. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure Gumbo could hear it.

  It was horrifying how close of a call we'd had, and I was afraid the malevolent magic I'd felt had marked me for danger. The feeling intensified when I saw the death talisman hanging from my rearview mirror. I didn't even see it until we were back out on the road.

  “Don’t touch it,” Gumbo said.

  “I’m going to Aunt Emma’s place,” I said.

  “Good plan,” Gumbo said. “I can help her remove the talisman.”

  “What if the curse in that thing can affect my friends and family too?” I said as I let off the gas. “Maybe I shouldn’t be around anyone I love.”

  “Emma-Sue can handle it,” Gumbo said. “We should go there.”

  A chill ran down my back and made me shiver. It wasn’t Gumbo’s words that set off my fear, it was the tone of his voice. I picked up on some anxiety in his voice too, and I didn’t think Gumbo got scared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I arrived at Aunt Emma's house, she was already in bed, but even half asleep, she took care of the death talisman. I spent the night curled up on her sofa with Gumbo right at my side. He refused to let me out of his sight. I was a little embarrassed when he insisted on following me into the bathroom in the middle of the night when I had to pee.

  "This is embarrassing,” I said.

  "I've got my back turned,” he responded.

  "Still,” I said.

  "You're vulnerable in here, so I'm doing my job."

  "Oh, now you're doing your job."

  He just sort of chirped at me at that point, so I finished up, washed my hands, and went back to the sofa. In the morning, I woke up with him stretched out with his back against my stomach. I reached for my phone and almost got a picture of him sleeping like that, but he woke up before I could hit the button.

  "What are you doing?" he asked as he jumped off the sofa onto the coffee table to glare at me.

  "Nothing. Just getting a picture of us together."

  "Are you insane?"

  "Maybe a little. What's gotten into you?" I asked.

  "Do you not remember why you're at your aunt's house? Did you forget last night?"

  I set my phone down and rubbed my eyes with the backs of my fists. It all came flooding back to me. I'd been stuck in that place when you first wake up and you totally forget everything wrong with your life.

  "Thanks for reminding me,” I said and swung my legs over the side of the sofa to sit up.

  I pulled my hair into a bun and fastened it with a scrunchie from my purse. Then, I picked my phone back up and called Mitch.

  "What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he answered.

  "How did you know something was wrong?"

  "Because it's seven in the morning, you're not at the bakery, and you're calling me."

  I looked at the phone and my heart sank. I'd slept through opening the s
hop.

  "Please tell me Jenny was there,” I said.

  "She was, but you should call her. I'm surprised she hasn't blown up your phone or knocked down your door,” he said.

  "I'm not at home. I'm at my Aunt Emma's,” I said.

  "What are you doing there? What's going on? he asked.

  "I have something I need to tell you, but I don't want you to be mad,” I said.

  "I'll be right over,” he said and hung up the phone.

  After I got off the phone with him, I called Jenny Mae.

  "Where the heck are you? Why aren't you answering your phone? Are you dead?"

  "If I was dead, I wouldn't be calling you,” I said.

  "I'm not so sure about that,” she said and I could hear her eyes narrowing. "What is going on?"

  I told her everything that had happened the night before. She was mostly mad that I hadn't taken her with me to break into the courier's office.

  "Thank you for opening the bakery today. I slept right through my alarm. Or, my phone is on silent. I'm not quite sure. Either way, that's why I didn't get your calls either."

  "I've got the shop under control for now, but if you're not coming in, then I'm calling Newman."

  "I haven't hired him yet, Jenny."

  "You just worry about taking care of you. I've got things here. Where are you? You're not home alone, right?"

  "I'm at Aunt Emma's. Mitch is coming over too."

  "Good. Okay, I have to go. I've got a line forming. I'll call you later. Turn your ringer back on."

  "Okay..." But she'd hung up too.

  I felt terrible leaving her alone like that, but she was in more danger if I went into the shop. Without me, she was just going to have a busy day. With me, she might die.

  Aunt Emma came down the hall dressed in a pink fuzzy robe and bunny slippers. "I'm going to make coffee and grits. Cheese grits. With bacon."

  "Sounds good,” I said. "But Mitch Landry is on his way here. You might want to put on something else."