by Ani Gonzalez
"We thought the attacks were an attempt to destroy the company," she whispered.
"But they may have been an attempt to save it," Gavin said. Then he looked at his phone and headed for the door. "See you tonight. I need to go handle a pizza emergency."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"IT'S AN attractive nuisance, Zach." Patricia's voice was kind but firm. "You need to get rid of it."
Her handsome boyfriend, Zach Franco, dragged his hand through his dark hair, then gestured toward the giant neon sign. "But it looks awesome, and it was expensive."
DeShawn tried not to laugh, but failed. "I guess it's impressive, if you like that kind of thing."
Gavin silently agreed with his deputy, at least with the "impressive" part. The large Poltergeist Pizza black-and-white ghost logo had quickly become a Banshee Creek landmark. It depicted a grinning ghost with a chainsaw, and it matched the pizzeria's horror theme perfectly. It was now a popular social media trophy, and tourists often took selfies in front of it. It therefore made sense to put it in the PRoVE scavenger hunt list.
But Zach had gone a step further. He'd commissioned a leprechaun hat, a pipe, and a shamrock to emphasize the St. Patrick's Day theme. The costume on the ghost would be short-lived, which had caused a social media frenzy. Banshee Creek fans had flocked to the town to take a coveted St. Patrick's Day selfie with the dressed-up Poltergeist Pizza logo.
Zach's mouth curved into a self-satisfied smile. "Everyone likes it."
"And that's the problem," Patricia muttered.
"We told people to take pictures from the sidewalk," Zach said. "The ghost is big enough to appear in any photograph, so they don't have to climb to the roof."
Which, of course, was exactly what the scavenger hunters were doing, with predictable results. DeShawn's team was taking a tourist with a nasty tibia break to the hospital right now.
"How are they getting up there?" Gavin asked.
DeShawn pointed toward the side of the low-slung bungalow that housed the pizzeria. "They climb up the trash bins." He turned toward Zach. "Have you asked the town whether you can move those?"
Zach shook his head. "We've never had the need before."
"Do that today," Gavin said. "Now that the close-up pics are out there, other people will want to try it. In the meantime, we could put up a sign to inform people to stay away from the roof."
DeShawn snorted. "These dudes never pay attention to signs."
Gavin scratched his head. "We have to keep them off the roof somehow. Zach, if they keep climbing, you'll have to take down the sign."
"No way," Zach said. "The scavenger hunt was Caine's idea, so it's up to him to fix this. I'll ask him to lend me some PRoVE guys to serve as guards. He has plenty of volunteers."
Patricia's eyes went wide. "You'll have to give them free pizza, and those guys can quickly eat you out of house and home."
"There's that," Zach said. "But it's still cheaper than taking down the sign." His face darkened. "As long as there is only one way up. I vaguely remember a tree in the back that could be used to climb."
Zach Franco had inherited the pizzeria from his father. He spent his teenage years amid pizza ovens and dough tables, and he knew the building like the back of his hand.
DeShawn smiled. "I'll do a run and check."
"Thanks," Zach said. "I don't relish the prospect of feeding two PRoVE guards, but I need to protect the sign."
Patricia's eyes narrowed. "You mean you need to protect the people, keep them safe."
Zach shrugged. "That too, sure."
The lunch hour had attracted a crowd to the pizzeria, and a line of scavenger hunters had formed, each person waiting to take a selfie.
Patricia would have loved to get a crowd like this for the bakery, but they flocked to the pizzeria to partake of Zach's holiday specials, a spinach Fettuccine Alfredo known as the Leprechaun Surprise, a pesto pizza called the Green Elf's Treasure, and a colorful vegetable pizza unimaginatively baptized as the Rainbow Pie. Zach was protecting his bottom line, as well as his sign.
The hunt had even attracted a Hexalife member-a handsome young man with the company's trademark green knapsack was waiting in line for his chance to take a picture. He kept looking at his phone, as if checking the time, and looking around, as if expecting someone. Presumably, more Hexalife members would arrive soon.
But hadn't Fiona said that the Hexalife group had a meeting? Flora had left to attend and hadn't returned.
Gavin scanned the crowd, searching for the missing Hart girl, but drew a blank. No Flora and no other Hexalife members, except for Leslie, who was now joining Tristan in line. The gentleman did not seem pleased.
"That's good news," Zach said, glancing their way. "There may be a silver lining in this mess, at least for me."
"What good news?" Gavin asked.
Zach grinned. "I may get a new waitress. Leslie put out some feelers about a new job a few weeks ago, and she may be ready to sign on the dotted line now that her worst fears are coming true."
Patricia gave him a reproachful glance. "Oh, Zach. You know Caine wants her back."
Zach spread out his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Hey, finders keepers. Good help is hard to find, and Les is a first-rate waitress."
Gavin's brows went up. "She was looking for a job weeks ago?"
Zach nodded. "She'd heard some disturbing rumors about Hexalife and wanted to have options if her business fell through." He rubbed his hands together. "This may be my lucky day."
Gavin considered the pizzeria owner's words with mounting frustration. He kept getting hints about trouble at Hexalife, but had few facts to go with the hints.
"Zach, you're acting like a bad Bond villain," Patricia said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I don't think Leslie is here to fill out an application. She dropped by the bakery an hour ago with Emma in tow. They were looking for the Hexalife fortune-teller. Apparently, the group had an impromptu meeting today and Stella didn't show up."
"But didn't Stella leave earlier today?" Gavin asked. "I think Fiona mentioned something like that."
Patricia shrugged. "Maybe, but she was supposed to give something to Emma. That's why they're so upset."
That was an understatement. Leslie poked a finger into Tristan's chest, and he backed away. Leslie stepped forward, her face flushed in anger. Tristan tried to push back, but Leslie stood her ground, practically shaking with rage.
Zach's eyes narrowed. "Hey, that's my future employee he's manhandling."
Patricia laughed. "Leslie doesn't need your help. She can take that guy."
And it did indeed look like Leslie—who stood with fists clenched, breathing hard—would do that. However, the spectacle was interrupted by a serious-looking DeShawn walking toward them.
Gavin tensed. He knew DeShawn's expression all too well. It meant bad news.
"You're going to want to look at this, boss," said DeShawn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LUANNE BURST into the candle shop, scarves flying everywhere like a be-shawled and be-ribboned shooting star.
"Have you seen Stella?" she asked, scanning the store frantically, as if expecting her fellow fortune-teller to leap out of the woodwork.
But the store was tragically empty, save for Fiona. The last scavenger hunter had left a few minutes before, having purchased nothing, and Fiona had spent the last half-hour bent over her tablet, brainstorming Spring marketing ideas with grim determination.
Caine was planning an Easter egg hunt, and this time Wicked Wicks would not be caught flat-footed. The store would have so many bunnies it would look like a pet shop.
"No," Fiona said, putting aside a draft of a recipe for a daffodil candle. "I saw her telling Tristan she was leaving town."
"Leaving?" Luanne's eyes widened in shock. "She can't leave. That wasn't in my cards."
Fiona pursed her lips, pulling up a search engine window on her tablet, and typing in "daffodil extract for sale.' "Maybe not everything is in your cards, Lu
anne."
The fortune-teller snorted. "Don't be silly. My oracles are always correct." She pressed a finger to her temple, thinking. "Maybe the big misfortune I saw has to do with her leaving early?"
"I don't see how leaving early could cause a catastrophe," Fiona mused, scrolling down the list of offerings. Why were the prices so high? Daffodil was a common plant, almost a weed. It should be cheap, but it wasn't. Maybe it was because of all the poison warnings? But those were just aimed at dog owners because the pups enjoyed eating the bulbs. They should not affect the price of a scent extract.
The thought triggered a dim memory. Bulbs? Dogs?
But then it was gone. She stared at the price list on her tablet. Maybe she should try primrose instead? That was a spring flower too.
But it just wasn't as emblematic of spring as the daffodil. She typed in the generic name, narcissus, to check if the price went down. Technically, a daffodil was just a yellow narcissus.
Bingo, these prices she could handle. Narcissi came in tons of colors—white, yellow, pink, purple—so she could do candles in a variety of pastel shades.
A metaphorical lightbulb went off in her head. She could do a narcissus-scented rainbow candle. Now, that would be a best-seller.
"Leaving could lead to catastrophe," Luanne mused. "If, for example, her sudden departure made her look guilty."
Fiona's head jerked up. Now, that was more interesting than expensive candle-making materials.
"Is that what the cards said?" she asked, mouth agape.
Luanne's fortunetelling skills were legendary. If she said someone was guilty, that meant...actually, it could mean several things. Her skills were legend, but her interpretations were quirky.
Luanne thought for a second, head tilted to the side, then shook her head. "No, they just said something bad would happen." She shrugged. "But I didn't ask if she was guilty, so that's not conclusive."
Fiona's eyes narrowed. "What did you ask, exactly?"
"I asked if Stella was in trouble." Luanne paused, then leaned forward, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper. "And I got the Ten of Swords, the Five of Pentacles and the Tower." She then leaned back and stared, gauging Fiona's reaction to her bombshell statement.
Fiona stood behind the counter, completely confused. She didn't know what those cards meant exactly, as she had only a rudimentary knowledge of tarot, but she'd heard Luanne mention those card suits before, so she knew enough to be wary. Swords usually had to do with conflict, pentacles had to do with money, and the Tower was about people falling and crashing into rocks.
"Are those bad?" she asked, treading with caution.
"The worst," Luanne snapped.
Fiona felt a sudden chill. Luanne was talking about catastrophe, one affecting Hexalife, and Stella wasn't the only Hexalife member who was missing.
She glanced at the clock on her tablet and winced. Was it really that late? Flora had been gone a long time. How long could a Hexalife meeting take?
Fiona ran her finger down the tablet which still showed her daffodil extract search results, including one instructing the reader on how to create your own extract. It had a big poison warning.
"The tower is particularly ominous," Luanne continued. "It's usually a sign that fate is at work, and you are unaware of the disaster ahead of you."
Not surprising, as creating your own extracts carried some risks. People still did it, though.
Flora, in particular, was a fan of extracting and distilling. Her childhood room had been full of pipes, baskets and condensers, and she'd subjected practically every single plant in their backyard—tulips, roses, even dandelions—to the process. Some experiments went well, but others were disastrous. A particularly nasty concoction made from poison ivy, for instance, was etched into Fiona's memory for all eternity. Poison ivy was definitely something that should never be burnt. The thought alone made Fiona's eyes water.
Flora liked to experiment, and liked to do things herself. That could be a dangerous combination.
Could it also be a deadly one?
Luanne raised a hand in a self-deprecating gesture. "I admit it. I'm not sure how that applies to Hexalife, but the point is that it's bad."
"What was it you said about hubris?" Fiona asked, glancing at the Hexalife oleander candle.
"Pride goeth before a fall," Luanne explained, cryptic as always. "You bite off more than you can chew, or you ignore obvious dangers. The Tower could mean any of those things."
Fiona considered her friend's words. Had Flora done the extracts herself?
The poison warning on the daffodil extract only applied in case of ingestion. The smoke from burnt daffodils was not dangerous at all.
Oleander was a different matter, as its smoke could be toxic. A little spiral of oleander extract in a candle wouldn't hurt anyone, even if Flora had drawn the extract all by her lonesome.
Gavin had dismissed the oleander candle, but Fiona wasn't too sure.
After all, Flora was still missing.
"You've been running around town looking for Stella, no?" she asked. "Did you see Flora anywhere? She ditched me in the library for a Hexalife meeting, and I haven't seen her since."
Luanne paused for a second, then closed her eyes and placed her hand against her forehead. "I see her...I see her...red...all is red..."
Flora gasped.
Luanne opened an eye and broke into giggles. "I'm kidding. I saw her walking toward the pizzeria. Get it? The red stuff is tomato sauce."
"That's not funny!" Fiona exclaimed.
Luanne tilted her head to the side and grinned. "C'mon. It's a little bit—"
But she then broke off, and her face darkened. "No, you're right," Luanne whispered. "It's not funny at all."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"BLOW TO the head," Gavin explained to the sheriff. "DeShawn is taking her to the hospital, but it doesn't look good."
Sean nodded, his eyes inspecting the alley behind the pizzeria. The Banshee Creek Sheriff did not indulge in the expected "bet she didn't see that coming" joke. As the boyfriend of a fortune-teller himself, he wouldn't have found it amusing.
But, clearly, the Hexalife fortune-teller had been taken completely by surprise.
The alley was as boring a place as one could get—concrete driveway, brick walls, and a large trash dumpster with a sign that warned "For Pizzeria Only...Yes, Caine, this means you." The rookie doing the perimeter sweep was the alley's only prominent feature. Sean, however, at that point regarded it as if it were the most fascinating place he had ever seen.
"But she was still alive?" Sean asked, eyes narrowed as he followed the rookie's actions.
"Yes, but weak vitals," Gavin replied. "Head trauma can be tricky."
He was echoing DeShawn's concerns, but he hoped his EMT was being his usual pessimistic self. DeShawn's team was highly competent, so Stella was in good hands as they rushed her to the hospital.
"I don't see an obvious weapon," Sean noted.
"She could have fallen and hit something," Gavin replied.
Sean nodded, his face grim. "But what? It could be anything."
"Maybe the dumpster?" Gavin pointed toward the large trash receptacle. "Check out the rim."
Sean walked over and peered at the metal structure. "That's a lot of...red stuff."
Gavin smiled, noting that Sean had refused to identify the substance. "Sure is."
Sean stretched to examine the top of the dumpster. "Looks sticky...and it goes all around the edge..."
Gavin nodded. Red, sticky, and all over the dumpster. Definitely suspicious.
But then Sean frowned. "That's too much, even for a head wound, and it's too thick, almost like—" He stopped, glanced at the pizzeria building, and ventured a guess. "Tomato sauce?"
Gavin grinned. "Bingo."
He didn't confess that he'd leapt to the same wrong conclusion when he'd seen the red residue. DeShawn, however, had quickly figured it out. There was some healthy competition between the sheriff's a
nd Fire and Rescue teams, and Gavin wanted any advantage. One point for Fire and Rescue.
Sean glared at him. "That's not very helpful, is it? Zach probably throws away tons of cans of tomato sauce every day. It's bound to splash—" His eyes widened. "Wait a minute."
Sean leaned forward and inspected the stains. Gavin followed his lead, but he saw nothing but dried tomato sauce on dark gray paint.
Sean pointed to a gray spot, taking care not to disturb anything. "What do you see?
Gavin squinted at the spot. "Nothing."
Sean grinned. "Exactly. There's nothing there, and there should be."
Gavin scratched his head. "Pardon?"
Sean stepped back. "Look at the splash pattern. The sauce should be covering that spot, but it isn't. Something scraped it away."
"I see," Gavin said. He made some quick mental calculations. "Something the size of a skull, you mean." Point for the sheriff's department.
"But the dumpster is here," Sean said and pointed down. "And the body was there."
"If she had been standing close to the dumpster, she could have fallen back and hit her head."
Sean nodded. "Or if she was pushed." He took a few steps back, considering the scene with arms crossed in front of his chest. "But that would make it an accident, and the other incidents were deliberate. They were coldly calculated." His eyes narrowed. "This seems impulsive. It doesn't fit."
"Boss!" Olivia ran into the alley, breathing hard. "We have a 10-15 in front. It's contained, but active and escalating."
That was the police code for a civil disturbance; one that was worsening. Years of training kicked in. Adrenaline shot through Gavin's body, and he sprinted with Sean out of the alley, his boots crunching on the parking lot gravel.
A group had formed in front of the pizzeria. Gavin recognized Zach's familiar visage. The pizzeria owner stood in the middle of the crowd, arguing with someone whose identity Gavin couldn't quite make out.
A tall man disentangled from the group, holding his hand to his jaw. It was Hexalife Tristan, and he was heading straight for Sean and Gavin, stumbling as he walked, his eyes wide with shock.