Once they were in the kitchen, Fung took off his suit jacket and slung it over the back of a chair. “New wallpaper,” he said, looking around.
“Not that new.”
“I dig it.” He looked up at the ceiling's exposed wood beams. “Where's all your funky plant stuff? The herbs and magical things? You usually have half a greenhouse worth of plants drying along the beams.”
“Lately I've been trying to, uh, go straight.”
“That explains your odd choice of employment.”
“Yes. Well, I've been keeping busy.”
Fung wiped some dust off an unused pepper grinder that Zinnia kept on the table. “You haven't been busy dusting.”
“Detective, are you here to tell me things I already know, or do you have actual news?”
“Depends. Do you have that tea we talked about?”
She pursed her lips and tapped a cupboard so it opened backward to reveal a secret cabinet. She pulled out a slim metal canister. While she boiled the water and sprinkled a mug with small yellow flower buds, Fung caught her up on the case. Karl had been cooperative back at the station. Too cooperative. They had to keep him isolated from the other people in the holding cells because he kept offering to join people's gangs, and every time someone commented on an article of his clothing, he gave it to them.
Zinnia found herself torn between laughing and feeling really sorry for poor Karl.
“Mr. Kormac has been cooperative enough,” Fung summarized at the end. “But the guy's more stunned than a bunny that's just been yanked out of a magician's hat.”
“Margaret Mills is the one who's responsible for that,” Zinnia said. “A confession hex always causes a confession, whether it's true or not.”
“A confession can be false for many reasons,” Fung said. “People confuse crushing anxiety with guilt. Most folks aren't in touch with their feelings enough to tell the difference.”
“Not in touch with their feelings? That sounds like our Karl.”
“It happens more often than the public would think. A person being questioned might want so badly for the horrible stress to lift that they'll say anything to shift the situation.”
“Detective Fung, I have watched my share of true crime shows.”
He gave her a tired look.
She pushed a big mug of tea toward him and took a seat at the table.
She asked, “How's Karl now? I hope you released him.”
“Not yet. He fell asleep in his private cell, and he looked so peaceful that I couldn't wake him. I'll drive him home in the morning.” He grinned. “He'll be better for it. Most people don't value their freedom until they get a taste of living without it.”
Zinnia smiled and gestured for him to taste his tea. He took a noisy slurp.
“Good tea,” he said. “Karl will be a free man in the morning. He's not even a suspect anymore. What really saved his bacon is—”
Fung was distracted by the sound of the floor creaking upstairs, then water running in the bathroom on the upper floor. He stared up at the ceiling as one hand went to his gun holster. “Someone's in the house,” he said softly.
“Yes,” she said at regular volume. “I know. I assure you, all parties present are accounted for.” She grabbed the pepper grinder and discreetly wiped the dust from the top. “Plus I've cast a sound bubble around us, so you can keep talking. Nobody's going to hear us.”
“And who is this nobody?”
She blinked twice. “How's the tea?”
He blinked right back. “What's in the tea?”
“Would you believe me if I told you?”
He relaxed and settled back in his chair, taking another sip. “Whatever you put in here, thank you. I'm feeling more energized already.”
Little did the detective know, the special tea he was slurping was nothing but plain old chamomile. The herb did have psychoactive qualities, but they were very mild and well known. Chamomile was commonly used by non-magical society. The tea would either do nothing at all, or make him slightly more relaxed and sleepy. It was for his own good.
Ethan Fung was a regular person with no magic abilities of his own. If he'd been battling Margaret in the supply closet that afternoon, he would still bear the paper cut wounds. If he insisted on staying up all night working, he'd only be tired tomorrow, and not as effective at his job. He didn't need special tea. He needed rest. Like a regular human.
The floor above them creaked again, and then the house was silent.
Fung slurped his hot tea and picked up where he left off. “What saved Karl's bacon is his new alibi came through after all. We got the security camera footage from the City Hall parking lot and also from inside the convenience store. All of Karl's time near City Hall on Monday night is accounted for. He never went into the building.”
“So, his story checked out,” Zinnia said.
“It sure did. So that's the good news.”
Zinnia sighed. “I wish I could be relieved, but now you're no closer to finding the real killer.”
“And that's the bad news part of my good-news-bad-news offer.”
Zinnia shifted in her seat. “Didn't you promise to have this case closed by Friday?”
“Or your money back.” He nodded. “But it's only Wednesday.”
She checked the time on the stove clock. It was twenty-five minutes past eleven. “Only for another thirty-five minutes, Detective.”
He snorted. “We aren't exactly sitting around eating donuts back at the department.” There was a defensive edge to his voice. That was another reason Fung needed sleep. He got cranky when he didn't take a break.
Zinnia said gently, “I never meant to imply you weren't working hard.”
“We're chasing down some other leads right now.”
“Such as...?”
“You know I can't tell you.”
She gave him a contemplative look, her mouth pressed into a rosebud. “You know, I could make you tell me, if I wanted to.”
He squinted at her. “Did you do something to me today?”
She sniffed. She wasn't even going to dignify that with a response.
“You should head home and get some sleep now,” she said. “You can start again in the morning.”
He gave her a mischievous smile and pushed his tea toward her. Zinnia was surprised to see the mug was still full. He'd only been pretending to drink it.
“Zinnia, I know chamomile tea when I smell it.”
“And I know a man who's going to stay up all night and wear himself out when I see it.”
“Plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead.”
“When you get tired, you slip up.”
“I promise to take a power nap when I get back to the office.”
Zinnia tried to believe him. “Well, if you need something to make you drowsy, try reading Annette's book.”
“Is it that bad? One of our junior agents is reading it right now. She says it's very gripping.”
Zinnia waved a hand. “Maybe I'm not the target audience. Or maybe I don't feel right reading my dead friend's secret project, looking for clues into who might have wanted her dead. It's not exactly my cup of tea.”
“Fair enough.” He got up from the chair and pulled on his jacket. “I'll leave you to,” he glanced up at the ceiling, “whatever it was you were doing when I got here.”
She nodded and walked him to the front door without speaking.
He reached for the doorknob and paused, looking back at her. “Do you have protection on the house?”
She kept her voice low out of instinct, even though the sound bubble had rolled with them. “Protective wards? Yes. Why?”
“I didn't just see Karl on the parking lot footage. There was something else. An animal. Possibly a wolf. The footage was grainy, but something was there.”
Zinnia's voice got loud and high. “You might have thought to mention this particular detail sooner!”
He shrugged. “Now you know. Keep it to yourself, will you? It's not be
en made public. We wouldn't want citizens to panic.”
“You'd rather the wolves picked them off one by one?”
“I said it was possibly a wolf. Just one wolf. And we don't know yet.”
“I shall be on the lookout for a possible wolf.”
Fung tipped an invisible hat at her before leaving.
Zinnia locked the door, refreshed the protective ward on the entryway, and then leaned her forehead on the cool wood of the front door. A wolf? That could explain the wounds on Annette's chest. And the broken bug screen on the window in Karl's office. But who had opened the window? It was the middle of winter, and no sane person would open a window for a wolf. Not unless she knew the wolf.
Zinnia grabbed the unread sheaf of papers from the coffee table and went upstairs to get ready for bed. She brought the papers into her bedroom, where she quietly set them on her nightstand. Her bed covers shifted, but not by magic. The man who'd fallen asleep hours earlier, when she'd been sorting out the whole printer fiasco, was still there. She crawled in beside him, pleasantly surprised by the heat coming from his body. She knew spells that warmed a cold bed at night, but there was nothing quite like a man to fill it with his warmth and musky scent.
He lay on his side, facing the wall. She snuggled up behind him, her hands rolled into fists that she nestled against the small of his back.
Jesse Berman shifted in his sleep, waking up. He mumbled, “Cold hands,” and wriggled away.
“If you think those are cold, you should feel my feet.”
He whimpered. “Nooo! Not the feet!”
She chuckled. “Who's the big, strong man who's afraid of some chilly fingers?”
He took a deep breath and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms up and then over to embrace her. “Who are you calling afraid, little lady?”
She kissed Jesse's warm lips and stared into his captivating blue eyes. On a night like this, she was very glad she'd done something about her office crush.
Chapter 12
Wisteria City Hall, Permits Department
8:30 am, Thursday
When Zinnia arrived at work for the day, Karl Kormac wasn't there yet. She wondered if he'd been let out of his jail cell, as per Fung's promise. She didn't mention anything about Karl's incarceration to the others. Everyone but Margaret believed Karl had left early the day before due to sudden onset of a stomach bug. Zinnia hadn't even told Jesse about Karl's arrest. They shared a bed from time to time, but that was all they shared.
Zinnia set her purse and tea thermos on her desk. She glanced over at Annette's desk out of habit. The chair was empty. Zinnia looked away again quickly, before the bad feelings could take hold.
She went to the break room to get a clean cup for her tea. Gavin was in there, along with Margaret, Jesse, and Dawna. Gavin was preparing the first pot of coffee for the day while the others hung back, milling around the small room.
Jesse said, “Good morning, Zinnia.”
“Good morning,” she said right back.
“Your cheeks look flushed,” Jesse said. “Did you go to the gym this morning or something? You look like you've been... exerting yourself.”
He would know. Zinnia gave him a tight smile. “It's a new blush,” she said lightly. “Thanks for noticing.”
Margaret cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows.
Zinnia changed the subject. “Has anyone heard from Karl?”
Dawna, who was filing her long orange nails with an emery board, said, “Not since he left here yesterday with my Diet Coke money and then didn't come back with my Diet Coke.”
Margaret patted Dawna on the shoulder. “There is a vending machine on the third floor. I can loan you a few bucks.”
Dawna shrugged away the older woman's hand. “I don't need money. It's the principle.”
Zinnia covered for Karl, since she was partly responsible for his sudden disappearance. “Dawna, he got sick really fast. I offered to drive him home, because he was so pale and clammy, but he jumped in his car and sped away.”
Dawna's expression softened. “That's all right. Nobody should have to stay in the office if they're having disasterpants.”
Gavin said over his shoulder, “It's no wonder Karl had stomach flu yesterday. Have you seen the way he eats?”
“Be nice,” Margaret said. “He's our boss.”
Gavin turned and gave Dawna a huge smile. “He's not my real boss, Margaret. You know I only answer to the lovely Dawna Jones.”
The others groaned. Apparently, Dawna and Gavin were back together again. But of course they were. Tragedy has a way of moving relationships along their natural trajectory at a higher velocity.
Zinnia looked over at Jesse, who winked at her. Jesse had arrived at the office ten minutes before her, even though they'd shared a ride to work. Their clever tactic was for Zinnia to drop him off, then circle Pacific Spirit Park before returning. She winked back at him and quickly turned away, lest the others catch a whiff of their chemistry. Their casual arrangement was just fine how it was, thank you very much. Zinnia didn't need any external pressure to put a label on what they had.
Margaret stood on her tiptoes to peer over Gavin's shoulder as he shook out the coffee beans. She made one of her impatient rhino sounds. “What are you doing, Gavin? Counting the beans?” She elbowed him out of the way and took over the brew. Gavin was so busy making goo-goo eyes at Dawna that he barely complained.
Zinnia noticed Gavin was wearing the same trousers he'd torn on Tuesday. He must have gotten the rear seam repaired already. She knew it was the same pair because there were spots of blood—Annette's blood—near the cuff. Zinnia looked away, mildly nauseated by the sight. It wasn't like Gavin to miss a stain on his clothes. He must have seen Annette's blood and worn the trousers anyway. Zinnia didn't have the highest opinion of Gavin in the first place, but seeing his stained trousers made her opinion sink a little lower.
Margaret announced that the coffee would be ready in five minutes, thanks to her. Everyone murmured appreciation.
“And Carrot is coming in today,” Margaret said. Carrot was their other missing coworker. She had called in sick Tuesday morning and had not been in since. The others had been so busy with their extra workloads, plus all the murder intrigue, that the young woman's absence had barely been noticed
Gavin said, “Carrot must be Patient Zero. She got one of those forty-eight-hour bugs, and passed it on to Karl. I hope the rest of us don't get sick.”
Jesse asked the group, “Hey, has anyone talked to Carrot about... you know?”
Margaret waved a hand. “Don't worry,” she said. “Carrot knows about everything.”
“Good,” Jesse said, nodding. “It will be nice have her back. She's such a sweet girl. Plus it will be great to have the whole gang back together again.”
Gavin cleared his throat. “The whole gang? We're missing Karl and Annette. So even with Carrot, it's only part of the gang. Six out of eight. Seventy-five percent.”
Margaret frowned at Gavin. “Six out of seven. Annette's not coming back.”
Gavin stuck his nose in the air. “Excuuuuuse me for getting the math wrong.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. Heaven help anyone who tried to correct the corrector.
Zinnia bit her tongue. Margaret, like Gavin, also liked to correct people on technicalities, especially when it wasn't necessary.
Dawna said, “When Carrot and Karl return to the pack, we shall be made whole.” She furrowed her brow. “That sounded weird coming outta my mouth, didn't it? We shall be made whole.” She shook her head, the tight black coils of her hair swinging out. “It must be the book that's making me talk funny. I was up late reading it last night, and now I sound like one of Annette's characters.”
Margaret waved to get everyone's attention. “Karl's not coming in,” she said, waving her phone. “He just sent me a text message. I think he meant to send it to everyone, but he didn't hit reply-all on the chain. Typical Karl. Anyway, he's taking the rest of the wee
k off and using up some of his vacation days.”
Gavin groaned. “That's not fair. Nobody else can use their vacation days while he's away.”
Dawna said to Gavin icily, “Is there somewhere else you need to be?”
“No.” He flicked his finger against the glass coffee pot, ringing it like a bell. “It's the principle of the thing.”
“Plus, complaining about things being unfair is your favorite sport,” Dawna said.
He flicked the coffee pot again. His girlfriend was not wrong.
The main door to the office creaked, and everyone went silent, listening.
A timid female voice called out weakly, “Hello?”
Four out of six people answered in unison, like a chorus. “We're in here!”
Carrot Greyson entered the break room hesitantly, looking pale and startled—which was how she always looked, with her light skin and her big eyes.
“Hello,” she said, pulling down the sleeves of her V-neck shirt to cover her hands like mittens. “Nice to see you all again.”
The rest of the gang greeted her with equal politeness.
Carrot Greyson was the only person in the office who was universally adored by everyone. She was twenty-five, average height, and a bit too skinny. She had large blue eyes that bulged out of her head—but in a cute way, like the bugged-out eyeballs of a purebred purse dog. Carrot didn't just bear the name of a vegetable, she also had hair the color of pureed carrots. Her natural shade was somewhere between blonde and brunette, but she had been dying her medium-length, fine hair a bright orange since before Zinnia had met the young woman. In addition to the eye-catching hair, Carrot had a number of tattoos all over her body. Her appearance seemed designed to gather attention, and yet she shied away from such notice. She often looked surprised whenever people spoke to her, as though she'd come to believe she was invisible.
“Sorry I've been away,” Carrot said softly. “I guess there are a lot of permits waiting to be processed. How are we splitting Annette's docket?”
The others exchanged guilty looks. Nobody had thought about the files that had been specifically tasked to Annette Scholem. They had barely been able to get any of their own work done over the last two days.
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 72