“Frank?” Zinnia's mind fired a blank. She thought of the name Fred and promptly went blank again. How was it she could name any herb in existence, yet certain people's names and faces wouldn't connect in her mind?
Meanwhile, someone else was approaching the entrance of the hospital. The two women instinctively moved away from the doorway. They both stepped inside, even though Kathy had been on her way out. They carried their conversation over to an unpopulated waiting area.
“You know Frank. Our children's librarian,” Kathy explained. “An older gentleman with bright pink hair. You can't miss him.” Kathy winked a golden-brown eye behind her round glasses. It was a slow-motion wink, very controlled, which made Zinnia feel for a moment like she was making small talk with an owl.
“Yes, of course,” Zinnia said, recovering graciously. “Frank Wonder. One of my coworkers also lives at the Candy Factory, so I happened to see Frank there last week.” Had it only been last week? It felt like a hundred years ago.
“The Candy Factory.” Kathy shuddered and rubbed her arms through her puffy winter jacket. “That old building gives me the creeps. Did you know it used to be a prison for the criminally insane?”
Zinnia replied, “A polite society has to hide the crazy ones somewhere.”
“Grandma Kay always warned us kids to steer clear, because of all the ghosts.” Kathy tilted her head and snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I believe you work with my cousin, Karl Kormac.”
Zinnia was stunned. Kathy and Karl had zero family resemblance. She said, “Yes, I do work with Karl. He's an interesting man.”
“Interesting? I suppose that's one way to put it.” Kathy winked again.
“And you two are related? Cousins, you said?” Zinnia's mind spun new threads. Annette Scholem had cast Karl in her book as Lark, a grumpy troll. As far as Zinnia knew, trolls weren't real, but there were other creatures who had troll-like attributes. Was Karl one of those creatures? Was his cousin, Kathy Carmichael?
Kathy removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her narrow nose. “Karl and I share a set of grandparents, Ken and Kay. Here's a funny thing: every one of us kids was given a K name. Isn't that odd?” She chuckled. “Whooo does such a thing?” She drew out the word whooo like an owl hooting.
Zinnia kept a straight face. “That doesn't seem odd to me, but then again, we have a lot of Z names in my family.”
“Is that right?” Kathy pulled a tiny spray bottle from her purse and began cleaning her glasses thoroughly. “I'm so glad I ran into you today. The library is thinking about hiring someone with a name similar to yours. She's not from around here, but now you've got me wondering if the two of you might be related.”
“What's her name?”
“Zara Riddle.”
Zinnia took a step backward as a flash flood of premonitions nearly knocked her over like a bowling pin. Powerful magic was afoot. She tried to focus on one of the visions to catch details, but the imagery cut off as quickly as it had come on.
Kathy took a step forward, closing the space between them. “Is something wrong, Zinnia?”
“Not at all.” Zinnia forced a calm smile. “Zara Riddle is my niece. I didn't realize she was applying to work at our local library.” More questions bubbled up. Was Zara already living in Wisteria? How had Zinnia not noticed something like that? She'd been so blind to Jesse's true nature. Was she blind to everything that mattered? Was it something that happened with age?
“Your niece will have to move here if she takes the position, of course,” Kathy said.
That answered one question, at least. Zinnia nodded sagely. “Moving here would be wonderful for her, and her family.”
“Family?” Kathy blinked one golden-brown eye and then the other. “Oh, you mean her daughter.”
“And me. Since I'm her family.”
Kathy laughed. “Of course! Silly me. Well, I guess that's that. We simply have to hire her now, so you two can be reunited. I'll throw out all the other resumes.”
Zinnia couldn't tell if the other woman was joking or not.
“Oh, no,” Zinnia said. “Don't hire her simply on my account. That wouldn't be right.”
“It would be more right than wrong.” Kathy hooted happily as she returned her round glasses to her face. She grabbed Zinnia's forearm. “If she's half as fun as you, Zinnia, I'm sure she'll be a hoot!”
A hoot? Zinnia played it cool, even though the news, in addition to Kathy's powerful grip on her arm, was surprising. “You could do worse than hiring one of us.”
“One of you?” Kathy raised both eyebrows expectantly.
“Yes. One of us Riddle women. You should know, we Riddle women are tougher than we look.” Zinnia gently pulled her arm away from the town's head librarian and massaged her reattached thumb.
Kathy looked down at Zinnia's hand, frowned, then glanced over at the door. “Well, I suppose I should let you go see whomever it is you're here to see.”
Zinnia said nothing, even though she sensed Kathy was waiting for an explanation about her business at the hospital. It was no secret that Zinnia was friends with Ethan Fung, yet she didn't want to share that she was there to visit him. Zinnia didn't divulge personal details easily, and for good reason. Even the smallest slip-up could get a witch in trouble. That's why two witches who might be best friends in their coven could pass each other on the street without so much as a glance. Witches do well to avoid each other except when necessary. Margaret and Zinnia had been practically courting disaster by working together.
Kathy scrunched her eyes and did a little hop. “Zinnia, would you mind writing a personal recommendation letter for your niece? Just for my file. I won't tell her about our conversation.”
“A personal recommendation? Of course,” Zinnia said. Never mind that she barely knew her niece. The last time she'd seen the young woman was at Zara's mother's funeral, five years ago. But it didn't matter that they were practically strangers. Zara was a Riddle, and so Zinnia would vouch for her. She would do anything for her family.
Kathy said goodbye, reached into her yarn-filled purse for her car keys, and continued on her way outside.
Once Zinnia was alone, she allowed herself to collapse into one of the waiting area's chairs. Sitting down after big news always felt good. The witchbane she'd been fed on Saturday was no longer affecting her magic, but she hadn't quite recovered from the changes in her life. There was still the pain in her heart to contend with. Since Charlize had unfrozen her heart, she hadn't touched the special tea. She was dealing with her emotions. Taking them and feeling them all, good and bad. She would need time to find her balance. How long did she have until her niece arrived in town? She should have asked Kathy.
Zara's daughter would be turning sixteen shortly. Little Zoey. Rhys, the girl's grandfather, called the girl Zozo. Was their Zozo about to become a witch? Zoey's mother, Zara, wasn't a witch herself—not as far as Zinnia knew.
What strange things did magic have planned for the three of them?
Zinnia moved on from massaging her thumb to wringing both hands. There was so much to do. She had to talk to Margaret about everything, and warn the others in her coven. Then again, maybe it wasn't any of Maisy or Fatima's business.
She had to finish the wallpaper in the guest room so it would be perfect, in case her niece—her niece!—wanted to stay over while she looked for a suitable home. Perhaps the girls could move right in with Zinnia? Wouldn't that be something!
Zinnia suddenly clutched her hands together at her chest in girlish glee. Her family was coming to Wisteria!
* * *
Once Zinnia had recovered from the news given to her by the town's head librarian, she took the hospital's antiseptic-smelling elevator upstairs to visit her dear friend, Ethan Fung. He'd been released from wherever the DWM had him, released from whatever they'd been doing to him, and was now recovering in a regular, non-magical hospital room.
She walked into the private room to find the detective sitting up in
bed. He had a slipper on one foot and a giant cast covering the other leg, from his foot to his upper thigh. She hadn't seen him since that night in the basement, and was glad to see his face had regained its normal tan coloring, though his cheeks were gaunt. He'd lost weight since the ordeal. And his typically short black hair had grown out just enough to look messy.
But, even in hospital-issued pajamas, he was a beautiful sight for Zinnia's eyes.
By the time the medical crew from the DWM had arrived and taken over, she'd worried he was too far gone. There'd been so much blood on the concrete floor. The amiable man in charge of the crew, a doctor who called himself Dr. Bob, had promised to fix up Fung as good as new. No, that wasn't quite what he'd said. Dr. Bob had promised to make Fung “better than new.” Zinnia hadn't liked the way the doctor had made the promise, but now here Fung was. Alive. She couldn't complain.
Fung didn't hear Zinnia enter the room. He was busy flicking through channels on his tiny television.
“Catching up on your soap operas?” Zinnia asked. “I understand they're easier to follow if you stay on the channel more than five seconds.”
Fung gave her a wry smile and waved the remote control in his hand. “I'm trying to find the station that's playing old episodes of Wicked Wives. I heard it playing in someone else's room. Do you know which channel I'd find that on?”
Zinnia blinked rapidly. “Why would I watch a show about housewife witches?”
Fung snorted.
Zinnia took a seat in one of the visitor's chairs. Her mind was still buzzing from her conversation with Kathy, but she kept the big news to herself. Fung had enough to worry about.
She asked politely, “How's the leg?”
“Itchy under the cast, but I think they put me back together the right way around.”
Zinnia eyed the angle of his toes compared to his body. “It's a better job than I might have done.” She rubbed her thumb self-consciously. Fung didn't know about her thumb, or the drastic measures she'd taken. Perhaps it was for the best. He'd endured enough horror.
Fung turned off the television and pulled himself upright on the bed. “I should be getting out of this place in a couple days. I'm only here now because they were worried about my blood tests. They detected high levels of strange chemical compounds they couldn't identify.”
“Oh, really?” Zinnia feigned surprise.
“You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”
The compounds were probably the potion she gave him that night for his pain, but then again, it might have been the work of Dr. Bob.
She answered, “No, I wouldn't know anything about strange chemical compounds, but it does sound very interesting.” On that note, she pulled her trusty tea thermos from her purse and set it on his side table. “You'll want to sip this between meals.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “More of your trickery? I know what chamomile tea smells like.”
“No chamomile in there today,” she said. “Just the good stuff.”
“Thanks. I think.” He opened the thermos and sniffed the tea. “That smells nice, actually.”
She smiled. She knew he would say that.
He rolled his blanket up and then smoothed it down. The room was quiet. Someone in the hallway pushed a cart with two squeaky wheels off into the distance. An elevator dinged. The scent of disinfectant tickled Zinnia's sensitive nostrils.
Fung asked, “And how are you doing, Zinnia?”
“Great,” she said. “Never been better.”
“No, I mean, how are you doing? How are you feeling?”
She shrugged. “I'm feeling however it is you think I ought to be feeling.”
“That's not much of an answer. Jesse was your boyfriend, and now he's dead.”
“These things happen.”
“He poisoned you. He choked you. He left us both to die.”
“He only left you to die. He left me to watch you die.”
Fung's eye twitched. “I stand corrected.”
“These things happen,” she repeated.
Fung closed his eyes and rubbed them. “Zinnia, you're going to have to start letting people in some day.”
“I will if you will.”
He stretched out his arms. “Me? I'm an open book!”
She raised her hand and wiggled her thumb. “Look at this thumb. You'd never guess it was completely detached last Saturday night.”
Fung's jaw dropped open. “It was?” He looked horrified. She instantly regretted her decision to tell him about her method of escape, but, on the other hand—pardon the pun—she had successfully changed the topic of conversation.
They talked about her thumb for a while, and she shared with Fung how she'd been able to slip out of the handcuffs and then out of the duct tape thanks to her loose-fitting, long-sleeved blouse.
After a while, the conversation died down peacefully, like a campfire. They were two old friends enjoying the flickering embers of what remained.
Fung said, “I'm going to be out of commission for a while. Maybe I'll take a vacation with all those days I have stockpiled. The department will be bringing in someone new as my replacement.”
“They could never replace you.”
“I'll say. It'll be some poor schlub who doesn't know anything about magic.”
“It's so cruel to do that to someone. Why do they do that?”
“They do that because only the people who've recently had their minds blown become the most creative problem solvers. Whoever they hire, that man or woman will become an incredible detective, assuming they survive the trial by fire.”
Zinnia nodded slowly. “Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.”
Fung gestured at his cast. “Stronger, but with a limp.”
Zinnia's mind went back to the idea of Fung being replaced. She asked, “How many of these vacation days do you have saved up, anyway?”
He answered immediately. “A year's worth.” He'd been anticipating her question. “Some people would call that a sabbatical.”
“Where will you go?”
“What makes you think I'd go somewhere?”
“We both know you're not going to putter around the house while some other detective takes care of your town. For one thing, your mother wouldn't allow it.”
“She's probably lining up blind dates for me at this very minute. And I'll be on crutches, so I can't get away as easily.”
Zinnia giggled. She had a mental image of Fung on crutches, being chased by his dear mother and a dozen eligible women.
“Which is all the more reason why I need to leave town,” he said. “Any ideas?”
“Venice,” she said without hesitation.
He did a double take. “You sound sure about that.”
“You should go to Venice,” she said.
“Maybe I will.”
A nurse came in to check on the patient. Zinnia excused herself and quietly left to give them some privacy.
If she had known how long it would be until she saw her friend again, she might have stayed. But she didn't know, and so she made her way out of the hospital and then home.
Chapter 30
7:30 pm
Zinnia got home that Saturday evening to find Charlize Wakeful sitting on her porch. The pretty gorgon wasn't in a silver sci-fi jumpsuit this time, but she was wearing shiny silver pants. She'd paired them with pink sneakers and a puffy white ski jacket. The day had been warm for late January, so even though the sun had set an hour ago, her jacket was unzipped, revealing a T-shirt with gray and white stripes.
Zinnia's thumb throbbed. She switched her bag of takeout dinner to her other hand. She maintained steady, confident eye contact with the blonde as she approached the porch.
Charlize was nibbling on a fingernail and reading on her phone.
Zinnia should have said hello, but what came out was, “You knew.” Her voice was raspy. Angry. Nearly as hoarse as it had been one week ago, when she'd been screaming in the basement of the Berman h
ouse. “You knew,” she repeated. “You knew about everything.”
Charlize looked up from her phone. “Me?” She blinked her light eyelashes innocently. “I suppose I had my own theories, but I didn't know for sure.”
“Do you expect me to believe that you, of all people, didn't know what Jesse was?”
She blinked again. “That sort of information is kept under tight wraps. Top level eyes only.” Another evasion.
Zinnia tried another direction. “What does Special Buildings do?” That was the permits division that had been run solely by Jesse Berman.
Charlize replied airily, “Just what the name says. Issue permits for special buildings.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the facility you insisted we rush your friend Ethan Fung to. The facility you were so happy existed, when you needed it.”
Zinnia jerked her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She wasn't going to let herself be distracted. She pressed on. “So that means Jesse knew all about everything going on in this town.”
Charlize smirked. “Not everything, Ms. Riddle. Nobody knows everything.”
“But he was working for your people the whole time.”
“Just on the building projects.” Charlize looked down at the ground briefly. “The other incident had nothing to do with the DWM.”
The other incident. She meant Annette's murder. If Charlize had stopped by to make friends, she was doing a lousy job of it.
“You knew,” Zinnia said.
“We didn't know about what he did to your friend,” Charlize said. “We didn't put it together until after the cougar attack in the swamp.”
“But you do know how his kind feels about my kind.” Zinnia stepped closer. Charlize was still sitting on the step, so Zinnia towered over her. Zinnia was feeling a storm inside again, like what she'd felt when Annette's spirit had manifested in the basement. She spat out her words. “You knew what Jesse was, and how he felt about my kind, and you didn't even try to warn me.”
Charlize leaned back before snaking her way up to stand. She was on the porch, so now she had the higher ground and towered over Zinnia. “That's not true,” Charlize said coolly. “I did warn you. I came here in person, on my own time, and I warned you.”
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 89