Witch Way To Amethyst: The Prequel (A Stacy Justice Mystery Book 0)

by Barbra Annino

  She paused, milking her audience. I humored her and edged closer to the table.

  "About a week ago, your grandfather, he come in and he say he want to talk to Mr. Entwhistle. So I get him. Ten minutes later I have question. Customer want to know where we get eggs. If the chickens are local. I say I never meet them, so I have to ask." Gladys paused and sipped her tea.

  "So I try to call on the phone and no answer. I go back to the office and I hear shouting." She raised her eyebrows and gave a little nod. I wrinkled my forehead to let her know she had my attention. "So I stop. I listen. I want to know, you know?"

  "Sure," I said. "What happened?" I reached into my back pocket for a notebook, where I usually carried one, but it wasn’t there. A napkin served as an adequate substitute and there was a pen Velcroed to the rotary phone on the wall. "May I?"

  "Sure, sure," she said. "So I hear your grandfather. He is angry at Mr. Entwhistle. He call him stubborn. Say cats have better business sense.”

  “Cats?”

  “Ya.”

  Cats?

  “Then Mr. Entwhistle yell back. He say your grandfather, he owe him. Pearl owe him."

  "They owe him?"

  Gladys nodded.

  "Was that all? Did they say anything else?"

  Gladys shook her head. "That was all I hear, then I have to go to register."

  I tapped the pen. Could they have been arguing about the War Games idea? Cats. She must mean Wildcat. But why would Roy say that Gramps and Pearl owed him?

  "Thank you, Gladys. That was very helpful," I said and rose from the table. I stuffed the napkin in my back pocket.

  I thought about Birdie's words. Nature, Knowledge, Truth. At least I had some now.

  It had stopped raining although the sky was still gray when I got to the driveway of the inn. The napkin was folded in my pocket and I pulled it out to review.

  The last words I read were: What don’t I know?

  That’s when I heard the scream.

  I dashed up the steps to the inn and rushed through the door.

  Chapter 13

  A cauldron rests on three legs. If those legs are all holding their own weight, the thing functions fine. You can throw chicken stock and herbs in it to make soup, burn some old love letters to release an old flame or fill it with water, gaze at the liquid and scry to invoke a vision.

  Cut one of those legs off and the sucker falls apart.

  That was the scenario unfolding before me.

  At the moment, I had a guy about my age, 5'9", long nose, round eyes and way too much hair gel, waving a piece of paper in my face and yapping like a terrier. "We are on our honeymoon. I asked for the Starry Night Suite. This says it’s the Secret Garden room. This is the most special day of our lives and I want the room I booked!"

  "I'm so sorry...?" I asked him, searching for a name.

  "Kyle." He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, daring me to do something about this mess.

  I flashed my best hostess smile. "Look, Kyle, I will straighten this mess out, all right? I see that my aunts have spread out some lovely petite fours and I believe I spotted a Riesling in there with your name on it. Why don’t you indulge while I fix this." I steered Kyle towards the parlor.

  Kyle eyed the silver platter and crystal glasses lining the cocktail table. "All right. Thank you. Will you please see that our bags get to the room?"

  "Certainly. Why don't you and your wife have a seat, enjoy the refreshments and I will rectify this little problem."

  Kyle's face lit with anger and his voice rose to a frequency only dogs would hear.

  Uh-oh.

  "Wife? I don't have a wife. I was told that this bed and breakfast was LGBT friendly." The other guests looked our way, waiting to take a shot at me.

  I turned back around and ushered Kyle towards the parlor. "Indeed, we are LGBT friendly. My sincere apologies. It was presumptuous of me to assume." I reached for a glass of wine and handed it to him.

  Kyle stiffened, eyebrow raised. "Yes, it was."

  "There you are." A tall man with a tan and warm eyes came around the corner chewing on a spinach tartlet. "I've been looking for you." He stopped chewing and bent to kiss Kyle's cheek. "What's wrong?"

  "I just wanted everything to be perfect." Kyle flopped into a leather chair.

  "Everything is great. This place is terrific." He rolled his eyes at me and winked. I smiled in return. "Jeremy." He offered his hand.

  "Hi Jeremy, I'm Stacy. Sorry about the mix-up. We'll get it taken care of."

  "No worries," said Jeremy. “It’s been a bit stressful lately for us. You know--weddings.” He put his arm around Kyle and spoke softly to him, trying to cheer him up. I took that as my cue to leave and went to look for the aunts.

  Angry voices drifted from the parlor. I darted through the pocket doors and into the room to find two young women yelling at a large middle-aged man holding a bottle of wine.

  Where were the aunts? Dealing with lunatics who did not share my bloodline was above my pay grade.

  "No way, asshole, that's for everybody," said a tiny brunette dressed for a Grateful Dead concert.

  The man clutched the bottle to his chest and shook his index finger at the woman. "Look, Missy." Breadcrumbs spewed from his mouth. He could have been a Goodfella. "This is the missus and mine's anniversary, see? We ordered the wino package, you got it? This is the wine and this is my package." He yanked at his groin and laughed.

  I could have gone a lifetime without seeing that.

  "Ewwwww," the ladies chirped in unison.

  "Excuse me, folks," I called from behind them. Everyone ignored me and the air was laced with tension.

  "Well we wanted the Wild Woman package," said a skinny blonde with a ponytail and tight jeans.

  Wild Woman package? I didn’t like the sound of that.

  She took a step toward Captain Happy Pants. "But they said they give a wine and cheese hour too. So that's for everybody."

  "Excuse me." I tried again, louder and forced my way into the room.

  "Hey," said the little brunette to the skinny blonde. "Maybe he's part of the Wild Woman weekend? Maybe we're supposed to confront him?"

  "Yeah, like assert ourselves," nodded the blonde, a twinkle in her eye.

  I so did not want to break up a brawl.

  The women exchanged glances and jumped on the guy like two piranhas attacking a whale. An older woman, whom I could only guess was the missus, started swinging her huge purse at the two young women. The honeymooners tried to break it up and Kyle got kicked in the shin. He screamed and went for the blonde's ponytail.

  I climbed on top of the piano that sat near the entryway, did a two-finger whistle and bellowed, "ENOUGH!"

  Everyone stopped. Kyle had Blondie's ponytail wrapped around his fist. The brunette was hanging from the teamster like a cape while he chugged wine straight from the bottle. The missus stood with her purse over her head, ready to swing again and Jeremy's hand clutched Kyle's shoulder. They all swiveled their heads to me, frozen in place.

  I took a deep breath and in my most authoritative tone went with this: "Everyone slowly and carefully release your hands and lower them to your sides." Kyle unclenched the ponytail. The missus lowered her purse and the teamster dropped the wine bottle. He gave me a sideways stare as it poured onto the carpet. "Pick it up and put it on the table." He did. "All of you take two steps back." Again, the group did as they were instructed.

  Orders flew from my mouth as my hands waved like a traffic cop. "Girls, park it on the green settee. Kyle, Jeremy, have a seat on the gold sofa."

  Just then Lolly wandered into the room in her bathrobe, walking backward.

  "Lolly!" Her makeup was on in full-force. That was a good sign. But she wasn't wearing a ball gown so I assumed she needed a jump start. I pointed to the cocktail table. "Take that wine, drink it and go put on your party dress." Lolly grabbed the bottle and scurried away.

  "You two,” I shouted at the older couple. "Grab the b
rocade loveseat." Everyone shuffled to their corners. "Now you will all sit there and behave while I straighten this out." Mid-shout, the front door opened and in walked Fiona and Chance. Thank the goddess. Two people with some sense who could help with this Jerry Springer audience.

  My expectations were over-shot. A dozen things were wrong with this picture but Fiona noticed only one. "Stacy, honey, you're such a pretty girl. Why don't you comb your hair?" She breezed through the parlor and went to check on the registry.

  I lifted my hands to my head and attempted to smooth my mane into place.

  Chance approached the piano, hands in his pockets, stifling a laugh.

  "You gonna sing a song?" he grinned, blue eyes dancing.

  "Funny," I said.

  He held out his arms. "In that case, let's get you down." I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he gently lowered me to the floor.

  "Thanks," I said. The guests followed Fiona into the library.

  "Anytime," he tilted his head, eyes fixated on me.

  "You're not going to ask what happened?"

  "Angel, I've learned after all these years not to question the methods of the Geraghty Girls."

  "I'm not technically a Geraghty."

  A slow smile spread across his face and he raised one eyebrow. "Oh, yes you are."

  Fiona walked over to us before I could argue with him further.

  "Well, the room situation has been straightened out and I gave the Giovannis their wine package." She put her index finger to her lip. "Now I still need some help with the credit card machine and the luggage. And of course, the girls will need a little instruction for their Wild Women weekend. Birdie usually leads that."

  "I'll take the luggage," Chance offered.

  Damn. I was gonna say that.

  He winked at me and ran to the stairs where several bags sat waiting to be carried up to their rooms. Chance grabbed two and Jeremy gestured, indicating they belonged to him.

  Fiona squeezed my arm. "Honey, I'm sorry things got out of hand. Chance had a question about the gutters on the roof of the cottage and I thought Lolly could handle everyone for a few minutes alone. But I guess it was too much for her."

  This bunch was too much for Dr. Phil. But it was odd I hadn’t noticed them out there.

  "It's fine," I said. "How about I handle the charges and you take care of the Wild Women?"

  "Well, um, I can do that for now, but I may need you at some point."

  "Why?" I said.

  "Well, sweetie, this business with your grandmother could take a while," Fiona said.

  "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of Birdie. This is all a big mistake.”

  Fiona touched her finger to my chin. "Your grandmother makes no mistakes, dear."

  Chapter 14

  It was after six by the time the guests all checked in and paid up and I headed to the kitchen to hunt for food.

  A warm hand slid down my back as I filtered through the fridge. "How about I take you out for a hot meal? You look like you could use a break," Chance said.

  I faced him. A hot meal sounded great. And I could use a lot of things, but I wasn't sure he should be the one to give them to me.

  He must have sensed my hesitation because he said, "The way I see it, you have two choices. You can come with me and I'll treat you to a free meal, a few minutes of escape and a shoulder to lean on or” --he looked around the room pointedly-- “you can stay in this house and risk it."

  Well, that settled it. If there was one thing I could depend on with Chance it was a quiet, drama-free evening. Plus it would give me an opportunity to get some information from him.

  "I do have one request, however," he said. "Can I use your shower? I haven't been home yet from working on the roof all day."

  "Sure," I said.

  "Great. I think I have some clean clothes in my truck. I'll meet you back at the cottage."

  Chance breezed through the kitchen doorway and I grabbed my jacket to head out the back.

  I stood on the stoop for a moment, watching layers of pink, gray and blue paint the sky. It smelled like more rain was coming, but the clouds were far off. I had my key in the lock just as Chance ran up behind me.

  We wiped our feet on the mat and I shook out my hair and hung the jacket on a wall hook near the door.

  "Towels and soap are in the bathroom," I said to Chance.

  "Great. I'll be with you in ten minutes." He took off his boots and headed for the shower.

  I went to hunt for some fresh clothes in the bedroom where Thor was lazily snoozing on top of the queen sized bed, Moonlight snuggled in his arms. I wondered if I should feed the dog, but then I remembered Cin hadn’t given me any food. I decided to bring him home a doggie bag from dinner if he was still here.

  The first garments in my suitcase were a red v-neck sweater and khaki pants so I changed into them. A check in the mirror showed my makeup had smeared, so I dug into my bag of tricks to touch up. Then I ran a brush through the snarls in my hair and finished with a blast of hairspray before Chance called to me.

  "Hey, Stacy? Do you have a blow dryer?"

  "Yep. Hang on." I unplugged the dryer and shuffled from the bedroom to the bathroom where Chance was standing with the door open. I stopped short. His hair was wet and he wore nothing but a white towel, slung across his hips. A trail of chest hair lead to his belly button and pointed downward. I was very familiar with that area and I was imagining what I used to do with it.

  "Can I use it?" he asked when I didn't move.

  I swallowed hard. “Sure.” I stretched out my arm, dangling the hair dryer by its cord.

  Chance reached for it and held onto my hand. We locked eyes for a minute and my breath caught.

  The towel slipped as he pulled me into him, lowering his lips onto mine. Tiny drops of water trickled from his freshly washed hair onto my nose like dew dripping off a morning glory. Tension was replaced with a tingling all the way to my toes as I succumbed to the sweet taste of him.

  Then he broke away and a brief look of regret crossed his face. He smiled, thanked me, grabbed the dryer and closed the door.

  My heart fluttered as I tried to conjure up one good reason why I shouldn't twist the handle. I thought about it for a minute. Then I plopped down on the couch and scolded myself.

  "Ready to go?" Chance asked after a few minutes, clean-shaven and spicy-scented.

  "Ready," I said.

  We drove to the restaurant in comfortable silence and I stole a glance at Chance’s profile, thinking of how it had changed over the years. Gone was the peach fuzz and freckles. Replaced with a perpetual tan from working in the sun and a five o’clock shadow that never quite went away. One thing that remained steadfast over time was that strong jawline. I thought of how hard it would set when he was determined. Either in the classroom, on the football field, or working out a problem like how to get your best friend to stop crying when her father died. The answer, apparently, was to kiss her.

  And boy did he know how to do that.

  We slid into a booth at Pearl’s Palace and a waitress stepped up with two menus. "Hey Chance, who's your new friend?" she asked.

  I lifted my head and the woman's eyes grew big. "Oh. My heavens," she whispered. I glanced at Chance. He shrugged his shoulders.

  "Olivia, this is Stacy."

  "You don't have to tell me who this is." She waved her hand. She had pale skin and ash-blonde hair clipped at her neck with a barrette. "Honey, you're just as pretty as your mama."

  I smiled. "Thank you." Still trying to place her.

  She must have sensed my hesitation. “Your mom and me were pals in high school. Thick as thieves. A shame what happened to her." She shook her head.

  Chance jumped in at the mention of my mother, protective as always. He never let me fight my battles and that irritated me. "Hey, Olivia, we’re undecided yet. Could you please give us a minute?"

  "Sure, honey, take your time. Something to drink?" Olivia asked, a pad of paper and a pen
in her hand.

  We ordered iced teas and Olivia started away.

  "Wait," I said.

  She tossed me a look.

  "Mrs. Malloy?" I asked. "Coach Harry Malloy's mom?"

  Olivia smiled wide. "It's Locke now, honey." She winked and walked away.

  I scanned the restaurant. "I wonder if Pearl's here."

  "I haven't seen her since your grandpa got sick," Chance said, reading the menu.

  The Palace, as it was known before Pearl bought it, hadn't changed a bit since I was a kid. It was a typical old-fashioned diner complete with a soda fountain and rotating pastry display. Booths anchored the center of the room. The kitchen sat in the back where waitresses used a turn style to place their orders and cooks barked at them to write more legibly. A Formica counter with chrome stools dressed in turquoise leather hugged the left side of the building and it always smelled like fresh brewed coffee, burger grease, and donuts.

  The door chimed as I was looking around and in walked Shea Parker. I quickly buried my head in the menu and sunk down in the booth. He'd been at me to take over as editor of the Amethyst paper since before I left for college, never understanding the word ‘no’. I didn’t feel like discussing it tonight so I pretended to be invisible.

  "What?" Chance whispered.

  "Shea Parker," I said.

  I slid further into the seat but it was too late. He spotted me like a hawk spots a field mouse. He charged over and scooted in next to Chance.

  "I thought I'd find you here. I had a hunch." Parker wrapped his long, skinny fingers around my tea and took a sip.

  "Sharp as ever." I yanked my tea away from him, removing the straw.

  "Parker, do you mind?" said Chance.

  "Not at all," he said. "Olivia, I'll have the usual." Parker yelled without turning around. He wore an orange windbreaker, white pants, and pointy shoes. He looked like a candy corn with eyeballs.

  Olivia walked over and asked, "You two ready to order?"

  I opted for a chicken Caesar salad and a fresh straw and Chance got a burger and fries.