Cookies and Clairvoyance

by Bailey Cates

  “On the regular Internet. We have a guy who knows how to navigate the dark web, and he’s working on it. And of course, we’re looking for banking records. Nothing so far. The name, though, it strikes me as . . .” He reddened.

  “Something a witch might recognize.”

  “Well, yes. Do you think you could find out more about it?”

  “I’m happy to make some inquiries.” I was betting someone in the spellbook club would know, but if they didn’t I’d check in with Steve and his druid clan.

  He looked relieved, though I couldn’t tell whether it was because I agreed to help or because he’d found it difficult to ask.

  “Um.” He looked down.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’m going to ask you for another favor. You don’t have to do it, of course, and it’s not official, but I thought I’d check, and like I said—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I interrupted. “What?”

  He took a deep breath, then, “I tracked down the victim’s sister and told her that her brother had been murdered. She thanked me very much and shut the door in my face.”

  I winced. “Maybe she was too upset by the news to talk about it.”

  “I didn’t get that impression.” He looked wry. “I think she just doesn’t like cops. However . . .” He trailed off with a meaningful look.

  “However, you think she might talk to me,” I finished.

  His lips pressed together, and his eyes widened in a look of exaggerated speculation. “Could be.”

  “I’d need an excuse to go see her,” I said, thinking about that for the umpteenth time. I’d already intended to go talk to her, but there was no reason to tell Quinn that if he hadn’t guessed it already. “I’ll figure something out,” I said.

  “Thanks, Katie.” He stood and shot his cuffs to expose the perfect white shirtsleeves at his wrists and took a few steps toward the door.

  I rose to my feet as well. “Quinn?”

  He turned back.

  “It sounds like you’re really investigating all angles of this case. Does that mean Randy Post isn’t your primary suspect anymore?”

  His face was impenetrable. “I always investigate all angles of a homicide.”

  “I . . . I know,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  He relented. “There is still a long way to go on this one, and I can’t know what else we’ll find out. But right now, Mr. Post remains at the top of the suspect list. We’re still waiting on forensics, though.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Quinn. I’ll let you know if I find anything out.”

  His expression softened. “Remember the rule: be careful and don’t put yourself in a situation where you could get hurt.”

  I nodded. “Believe me. It’s one of my favorite rules to live by.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Running late, I quickly drove to Declan’s apartment only to find he’d already put together a gorgeous panzanella salad with tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, and basil from the garden at the carriage house, along with a sprinkle of savory kalamata olives. The air was redolent with the scent of the toasted sourdough bread he’d used to make the croutons.

  “That’s the perfect thing to go with Ben’s burgers. You are a saint.” I quickly kissed his cheek and flew into the bedroom to change out of my workaday skirt, T-shirt, and sneakers into a grass green sundress with tie straps at the shoulder and a full skirt. I’d been told the color complemented my hair, but more important, it was the coolest thing I owned. I added sandals with barely-there straps that I planned to ditch the second I hit the door.

  Lucy loved the rooftop garden of their town house in Ardsley Park, and Ben was grilling. It was July, but I knew she’d want to entertain outside, so I was going to be prepared for the evening heat.

  Declan drove. On the way, I barely got a word in edgewise as he raved about how terrific my dad was.

  “He just marched in there and started asking everyone questions. Then he inspected what’s already been done, and Katie, he really knows what he’s talking about. He even fired a guy!”

  “Wait, what?” I asked, alarmed. “Dad went in and fired someone who is actually working on the carriage house when we’re having trouble finding people who can get everything done before the wedding?”

  “It’s okay, hon. Really.”

  “No! It’s not okay, Deck.” Suddenly the weight of the last few days came crashing down and I could hardly breathe. “I thought Dad would help. I thought—”

  Declan reached over and took my hand. “It is okay. I promise.”

  Something about the way he said it made me pause. I took a deep breath as he pulled to the curb in front of my aunt and uncle’s. “All right.” Another deep breath. “Sorry.”

  He laughed and brushed his finger across my cheek. “No need to be. Just trust me.”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “And soon enough we’ll both be saying those words, in our own backyard, behind our new old house.”

  Chapter 10

  Pots of herbs and flowers lined the walkway to the front door and crammed into every space in the entryway. Living in a town house, Lucy didn’t have a proper yard, but as a hedgewitch, she couldn’t help but grow things. There were culinary herbs and decorative flowers, as well as plants with magical properties. Of course, all plants have magical properties of some sort. She regularly changed out the decoration on the front door and the newest was a spray of angelica planted in a half pot firmly affixed to the door at eye level. Since angelica was an herb of protection and antitheft, it was the perfect choice for the entry to their home.

  We entered without knocking. I kicked off my sandals and called out, “Hello?”

  “We’re in the kitchen,” Ben called back.

  Mungo dashed past us and into the living room, where Honeybee greeted him as if they didn’t spend almost every day together in the bakery. They touched noses, and then my familiar bounded after my aunt’s more elegant one, heading for the back of the house.

  The living room felt spacious thanks to the vaulted ceilings that were studded with skylights. Tall windows let in even more light, giving it an airy feeling. Hanging ferns added to the atmosphere, and ivy crept up the brick wall around the fireplace. Rugs in bold, geometric patterns set off the glowing cherrywood floors, and comfortable furniture was arranged in conversational clusters.

  The pungent scents of bacon and vinegar rode the air and became even stronger when we entered the kitchen. Glass-fronted cupboards lined the walls, showing off Lucy’s collection of stoneware. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, and the big wooden table invited casual eating and long chats.

  Ben was tossing together hot bacon and green bean potato salad, and I realized I hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day. That wasn’t a shocker; since I worked in a kitchen, I tended to snack and taste test a lot. Today I hadn’t been in the kitchen enough to do even that, so now I was salivating like Pavlov’s proverbial dogs.

  Declan’s eyes widened when he saw the giant burgers piled on a platter, all ready to hit the hot grill. I didn’t blame him. Ben added plenty of Old Bay Seasoning and chopped Vidalia onions to his burgers, and he didn’t skimp on the size. In between her regular tasks at the Honeybee, Lucy had baked up a batch of fluffy buns to serve the burgers on. My dad sat at the table, carefully removing the silk from ears of corn and rewrapping the husks around them to keep them from burning while they cooked on the grill.

  His face lit up when he saw me. “Will you look at all this?” He spread his arms wide to take in the waiting feast.

  “Holy crow.” I put the bowl of panzanella on the table. “Do you think we have enough food?”

  Lucy’s eyes twinkled. “Just trying to make Skylar feel welcome. We’re grilling fresh peaches for dessert, drizzled with rosema
ry honey.”

  Beside me, Declan groaned.

  Ben stepped forward. “What can I get everyone to drink?”

  The verdict was ice-cold beer all around. Once we had that handled, Lucy directed us to grab whatever we could and take it up to the rooftop.

  “The table is already set up there,” she said.

  I’d been about to suggest we eat inside, out of the heat, but it would have been futile. Lucy saw the look on my face as I picked up the bowl of peaches. “Don’t worry. It’s nice and cool up there. Ben rigged up a little treat for us.”

  Thoroughly curious, I followed behind as everyone trooped up the stairs to the third floor, Mungo and Honeybee trailing behind. Lucy opened the door, and we walked into an oasis.

  Ben had installed retractable awnings that shaded the entire rooftop area, as well as a series of misters that were spraying their cool fog all around the patio.

  “Oh, this is lovely,” I breathed.

  My aunt gardened entirely in containers. There were at least a hundred potted plants on the roof. They ranged from the long wooden boxes that hung along the railing on the street side to ficus trees in giant planters on either side of the doorway to a flat of herb starts on the potting bench. There were subtle magical touches from spells my aunt had cast out here, just as I cast spells in a section of my own garden behind the carriage house. A tiny glass fairy peeped over the lip of a terra-cotta container, and the edge of a coin gleamed from beneath a scented geranium. I knew many of these plants were spells themselves, maturing into fruition, and some of them had items buried near the roots.

  An orange batik tablecloth covered the wrought-iron table, and soon it was loaded with all the food we’d carried up. Ben got the grill going, and the rest of us collapsed onto chairs.

  “To Sky.” Declan raised his bottle of pale ale.

  “Hear! Hear!” Lucy chimed in.

  Dad rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was pleased.

  “I started to tell Katie about what happened at the house,” Declan said. “But then I decided to leave it to you.”

  “Well, first off,” my dad said with a shrug, “I fired your stonemason.”

  I stayed calm. At least if the new fireplace in the living room didn’t get done, it wouldn’t affect the wedding. Maybe we could cover it with a tapestry or something for the reception.

  Ugh.

  “He was using substandard materials and charging you for the ones he should have been using instead. I caught it in time, though.”

  “You should have seen the guy’s face when he realized he was talking to someone who knows about construction,” Declan crowed, not minding in the least that he was admitting he knew next to nothing about being a general contractor.

  Lucy tsked.

  Ben made an approving noise, then started attacking the grill with a wire brush.

  “The good news is that I made some calls to one of the suppliers I use at the hardware store, and he recommended someone who lives in Rincon. That’s close, isn’t it?”

  “Sure,” Declan said.

  “I have a call in to him.”

  I felt my shoulders relax. “Oh, Dad. Thank you.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “And you don’t have to wait to get started on the bathroom tile, either.”

  “You know someone who can start right away?” I asked, daring to hope.

  He pointed a thumb at his chest. “Sure. I did our bathroom in the basement, and you know how picky your mother is.”

  I did know. “Really? That would be great.”

  “I’ll start tomorrow. Oh, and the fixtures that were back-ordered?”

  “Yeah. I think we have to pick out new ones if we want to get them in time for the wedding.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “I called another supplier, and they’re on the way. You just have to cancel the other order.”

  We continued to chat while Ben cooked the corn and burgers on the grill with a bit of help and advice from Declan and my dad. When they were finished, we loaded up our plates and dug in. There was silence for a full minute.

  Then I sat back in my chair. “This is so delicious.”

  Murmurs of agreement all around, then Lucy turned her attention to me and asked, “What did Quinn want to talk to you about?” Since they were hosting dinner tonight, Lucy and Ben had left the bakery while the detective and I had still been chatting.

  “You’ll never believe it,” I said. “He asked for my help.”

  “Again?” Declan asked with surprise.

  I poked him in the arm. “Yes, again. He wants me to go talk to Mr. Bosworth’s sister.”

  “Why?” Lucy asked. “I mean, you wanted to anyway, but I assume Quinn doesn’t know that.”

  “She shut the door in his face,” I said. “I don’t know that she’ll be able to tell me anything useful, but her son does stand to inherit a pile of money, plus his uncle’s paranormal collection.”

  “Oh, really?” Lucy asked.

  “Quinn found out and told me.”

  She leaned forward. “Well, Mimsey stopped by when you were out this afternoon. She heard back from her sister, who told her that she’d lost track of Florinda over the years.”

  “That’s okay. Bosworth’s secretary said she lives in Pooler and her last name is Daniels now. I got her address from Quinn.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Marcella did tell Mimsey one thing. There was absolutely no love lost between Kensington and Florinda. In fact, she absolutely hated him.”

  “Skipper Dean made it sound like Mr. Bosworth didn’t leave money to his sister as a kindness, given her gambling problem,” I said thoughtfully.

  My aunt shrugged. “Maybe they’re both right. Maybe she hated him, and he was still trying to save her from herself. What else did Detective Quinn tell you about Kensington’s money?”

  I took a sip of beer and grimaced. It had already warmed in the bottle. “Some money goes to his usual charities, but a bunch of it goes to something called the Hermetic Order of the Silver Moon. It’s a foundation that supposedly funds charities, but there’s no other information about them. Have you ever heard the name?”

  Lucy and my dad looked at each other. She shook her head, but he said, “Not exactly. I’ve heard of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, though.”

  “Pretty similar,” Declan said, and reached for more corn.

  Dad said, “Golden Dawn was a secret magical society in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It was formed by three Freemasons. They had a tradition of initiation and hierarchy like the masons, but unlike the masons, the Order admitted women on par with men. They explored and taught many aspects of the occult, like ritual magic, spell work, and tarot as well as alchemy, astrology, and astral projection. Some say much of modern Wicca is based on the teachings of the Golden Dawn. I have no doubt there are still a few active chapters around.”

  “Light magic or dark?” Lucy asked.

  My dad shrugged. “Gray, as are a lot of societies like that. Possibly self-serving in some cases.”

  Like the Dragoh druids, out for money and power. Not inherently evil, but certainly not too worried about high morality.

  “But you’ve never heard of the Silver Moon people?” I asked, looking around the table.

  They all shook their heads, even Ben, who had been looking a tad bored with our discussion.

  “Okay, I’ll see if Steve knows anything about them.”

  That was met with stony looks from Declan and Ben.

  “He might be able to help,” I protested.

  Declan pushed back from the table. “Excuse me,” he said. “I think we left that rosemary honey for the peaches downstairs.”

  When he was gone, my dad lifted one eyebrow. “Careful, Katie.”

  “Steve’s my friend,” I said. And when Lucy ga
ve me a look, I added, “And I know just how far to trust him—and how far not to.”

  I ate one last bite of juicy tomato and sat back, thoroughly sated. “So, any idea how I can get Florinda Daniels, née Bosworth, to talk to me?”

  “To offer your condolences?” Lucy said.

  “Mmm,” I said noncommittally. “Why would I, a complete stranger, come see her out of the blue to tell her how sorry I am for her loss? Because her brother was a customer at the Honeybee?”

  She made a face. “Good point.”

  Dad grinned. “Didn’t you say her son inherits that magical collection you keep talking about? Now, you couldn’t be expected to know that, right? As Bosworth’s sister, she’d be the logical one to inherit. Tell her you’ve heard of it or even seen it, and you want to buy it. Or part of it. Or you represent people who are interested in taking it off her hands.”

  “You.” I pointed at him. “Are a genius.”

  He grinned. “Tell you what, tell me some of the things that are in the collection, and I’ll come with you as the buyer.”

  “I can do better than tell you,” I said. “I can show you a video I took of part of it. Will you be able to break away tomorrow morning?”

  “Early afternoon would be better. I’m dropping Declan at the firehouse in the morning, and he’s letting me use his truck while he’s on his forty-eight-hour shift. I want to be at the carriage house when the drywaller shows up.”

  “Okay. That works,” I said.

  “I’ll pick you up at the bakery after the lunch rush. So, oneish?”

  Ben waved his hand. “Iris is working almost full-time since she’s off school for the summer. We can spare Katie whenever you want her.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there at noon,” Dad said.

  Declan came back with the rosemary honey and a container of vanilla ice cream, and Lucy and I began grilling the peaches for dessert. We were eating them when I remembered something else I’d been going to ask.

  “Does anyone know Caesar Speckman?”

  Lucy and Declan shook their heads, but Ben said, “The guy who has the magic and souvenir shop?”