“Oh, geez.” I pressed my eyes shut. “I’m pretty sure I brought this on myself, so I can’t even blame anyone else.”
“I’m sure that won’t stop you,” Braden said.
“Good point.” I turned my expectant eyes to Cillian. “What do you have?”
“An urge to watch the video you two made,” Cillian said.
“Aidan and Jerry are uploading it to YouTube right now,” Braden said. “I’m sure it will be a big hit. It’s called ‘Cops get creamed.’”
Cillian barked out a laugh. “Nice!”
“Get to the point, Cillian,” Dad ordered, shooting Braden a warning look should he interrupt again. “What do you have on this Dauphine?”
“From what I can tell, she seems to be the real deal,” Cillian replied, sobering. “Griffin is still trying to track her name, but she’s shown up in a few reports between here and New Orleans. Always under the name Madame Dauphine, though.”
“New Orleans?”
“Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” Cillian said. “Whoever she is, Madame Dauphine keeps telling people she was born there. And she seems to have spent a lot of time there.”
“That makes sense,” I said. “She’s trying to make a living off the Marie Laveau mystique. How long ago did Madame Dauphine come into existence?”
“About five years ago.”
“And we have no idea who she was before that?”
“Not yet, but Griffin is still searching,” Cillian answered. “She has a few complaints filed against her. None of them are serious, but all seem to revolve around this curse thing she does.”
“Curse thing?” Dad leaned forward. “Does she put curses on people for money?”
“In the interviews she’s done with police in various towns, she claims no,” Cillian said. “She claims that she removes curses from people.”
“Who puts them there?” I asked.
“It doesn’t say, but she denies it’s her.”
“So she makes a living removing curses?” Dad slid me a sidelong glance. “Perhaps she’s smart enough to put the curses in place long before she enacts them. Maybe she knew who you were when you entered her store because she’s been watching you longer than we realize.”
“Or maybe Angelina put a curse on me and Madame Dauphine let her because she knew I’d pay to have it removed,” I suggested.
“I guess that’s a possibility, too.” Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what to make of all this. Are you sure Madame Dauphine has never been arrested?”
“I’m sure she hasn’t been arrested under that name,” Cillian clarified. “We don’t know her real name.”
“And until we do, we’re operating in the dark.” Dad slouched on the couch. “This continues to grow stranger.”
“What was your first clue?” I asked.
Dad shrugged. “The fact that you keep swearing that zombies are coming for us.”
“I haven’t been proved wrong on that.”
“Let it go,” Dad muttered, rubbing his forehead. He looked tired, which caused me to be sympathetic.
“Do you know what will make you feel better?”
“What?”
“We have more balloons. I was thinking that we could toss in some pickle juice from the jars in the refrigerator to really make the cars stink.”
“I’ve had worse offers.”
“Does that mean you want to play?”
“I guess, but Cillian has to play, too. We need to make it a family affair.”
“That’s how we get our best ideas,” I reminded him. “Come on. We found the perfect spot.”
19
NINETEEN
Once we warmed up from our second bout of cop torture, we settled in Dad’s office to pretend we were conducting research. Okay, Dad and Cillian were really conducting research. The rest of us are often useless when it comes to books and computers, though, so we drank hot chocolate and ate doughnuts while whispering.
“You’re driving me nuts,” Dad snapped. “You know what happens when you drive me nuts.”
“Not one more word!” My brothers and I did our best imitation of Dad at the same time, wagging our fingers and bellowing into the room.
“If you do, you’ll be crapping leather from my boots for the rest of your lives,” Redmond added, causing me to smirk.
Dad pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, geez. I forgot how much I hated snow days when you were younger.”
“We loved them,” Aidan said. “We got to have snowball fights and build igloos.”
“And make snow angels,” Jerry added, wandering into the room.
“Where have you been?” I asked, looking him up and down. He’d disappeared not long after we entered the house.
“I had to check in with the bakery,” Jerry replied. “I left Nadia in charge. You know what an iffy proposition that is. She likes to add vodka to every recipe.”
“That’s kind of a nasty stereotype,” I pointed out. “She’s Russian. That doesn’t mean she’s a drunk.”
“She’s not Russian, and she is a drunk.”
“Oh.” Hmm. I always thought she was Russian. “What’s with her accent?”
“She’s pretentious.”
“Oh, that’s why you hired her.” I nodded knowingly. “She’s very pretty.”
“Yeah. She’s okay. The straight male customers seem to like her. All two of them.”
I smirked until I realized Jerry looked distracted. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Well, some very interesting information fell into my lap, but I’m not sure I should tell you,” Jerry admitted. “On one hand, I think you’d want to know. On the other, you’re probably going to do something stupid if I tell you.”
“Then you should definitely tell me.”
“Don’t tell her,” Dad ordered.
Jerry pursed his lips as I batted my eyes in his direction. “Your father says I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Since when do you listen to him?” I challenged. “He once said you couldn’t pull off the color peach without looking like a walking vagina. Do you remember that? I happen to think you look dapper in peach.”
“Don’t do that,” Dad warned. “I didn’t say he couldn’t pull off peach. I simply asked him why he’d want to pull it off.”
“I happen to think it makes me look approachable,” Jerry supplied.
“At least you have a reason.”
I exhaled heavily as I glanced between Dad and Jerry. I was bored, a dangerous proposition, and I wanted something to do with my afternoon. I had a feeling whatever gossipy tidbit Jerry stumbled over while talking to Nadia would involve an outing. I desperately needed an outing.
“I’ll spend an entire Saturday letting you try out different wedding hairstyles if you tell me,” I offered.
“You can’t bribe him with hairstyles,” Dad argued.
“Yes, she can.” Jerry smiled. “I’m thinking something up, hair off your neck, and a tiara.”
That sounded terrible. “I’m looking forward to your ideas.”
“Great. As for what I learned, Nadia says that Kristin Nelson came in and she happened to mention that Angelina is at the Rochester day spa … and she’s getting the works, so she’ll be there the entire afternoon.”
Ding, ding, ding. We have an excursion winner. “Dad … .”
“Absolutely not.” Dad was firm, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Angelina might know something,” I reminded him. “We know where she is. She’s at the spa, which means she put her purse in a locker while she’s getting the works. If Jerry and I were to, I don’t know, splurge on a spa day we’d have access to that locker.”
Dad slowly lifted his eyes until they locked with mine. “No.”
“A spa day would make me feel better,” I added. “A nice massage would relieve the tension I’m carrying in my shoulders, and a facial would clear up this problem area on the side of my nose. That breakout is also from stress.”
/> Dad shook his head. “No. You’ve spent weeks telling me you feel fine. You can’t go back on it.”
Oh, well, if he was going to be a hard-ass, I’d have to bring out the big guns. “If we’re at the spa we won’t be able to play a rousing game of ‘How Long Until Dad Cracks Under the Pressure?’”
Dad growled, resigned. “Fine. You’re not going alone, though.”
“I know. Jerry is going with me.”
“And you’re taking Aidan, Braden and Redmond.”
I stilled. They weren’t my first choice of partners for a spa day. “We should compromise. We’ll take Aidan. You can keep Braden and Redmond.”
“Hey!” Redmond glared at me. “I like a spa day as much as the next heterosexual guy who is in touch with his softer side.”
“Awesome.” I flashed him a sarcastic thumbs-up. “We’ll take Redmond, too. You can keep Braden.”
“I don’t want to go anyway,” Braden huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re not hurting my feelings.”
“That’s too bad. If anyone needs help with a unibrow, it’s you.”
Braden scowled. “I do not have a unibrow.”
“That’s right,” Aidan said. “He gets it waxed every two weeks.
“Secretly,” Braden hissed, slapping Aidan’s arm. “That was a secret.”
“No one in this family can keep secrets,” Dad said. “If you want to go the spa, all five of you must go together. That’s non-negotiable.”
“And this is in no way an opportunity for you to rid yourself of your most annoying child for the afternoon, right?” I pressed. “It’s all a way to protect me.”
“Who is my most annoying child?”
“Braden,” I answered automatically.
“Aisling,” Braden said at the same time.
“Well, look at that.” Dad flashed a bright smile as he dug in his pocket for his wallet. “It seems I’m going to get rid of my two most annoying children. How lucky is that?”
I accepted the credit card he relinquished. “I’m going to spend so much this thing will look tired when I give it back.”
“I expect nothing less.”
“I THINK DAD WAS talking about Redmond and Braden when he said his two most annoying children were heading to the spa today,” I announced as we walked into the spa lobby. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Yeah. That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Redmond deadpanned. “It couldn’t possibly be you.”
“I’m his favorite.”
“No, you’re the one he’s coddled for the past two months because of what happened,” Braden corrected. “I’m pretty sure he’s over that. It won’t work any longer.”
“I’ve got a hundred bucks that says I can get a cake bar out of him tomorrow night.”
“Bring it on.”
I flashed a smile for the woman behind the counter, a milquetoast blonde with a forgettable face and hair so shiny I could’ve sworn it glittered. “We need the entire works.”
The woman ̶ her nametag read “Carrie” ̶ pressed her lips together. “Do you have appointments?”
“No.”
“We generally prefer appointments.”
I slapped Dad’s credit card on the counter. The black MasterCard caused Carrie’s eyebrows to fly up her forehead. “We need the works.”
“Absolutely.” Carrie’s demeanor changed almost instantaneously, and the smile she flashed Redmond was straight out of the “I’ve Lost My Panties” playbook. “What can I do for you?”
“I want a facial and an hour-long hot stone massage.”
“That’s what I want, too,” Jerry said. “I also want a pedicure.”
“I’ll take all three of those,” Aidan said.
“Braden here needs an eyebrow wax, a back wax, a bikini wax and a stick removal for his bad attitude,” I added.
“I’ll take a massage,” Braden corrected, scorching me with a dark look before leaning closer. “I’ll take a facial and eyebrow shaping, too.”
I manage to swallow my laughter before turning my attention to the long hallway that led to the back of the spa. “Are we the only ones here today?”
Carrie, who couldn’t take her eyes off Redmond, merely shook her head. “We have a few other guests. You picked a good day for an impulse stop.”
“Great.” I’d been to this day spa a time or two – it wasn’t a favorite, but it wasn’t terrible – so I was familiar with the setup. “I want to start with my facial and then end with my massage.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Carrie absently waved her hand. “Whatever you want.”
“Great.” I grabbed Jerry’s arm and dragged him toward the dressing room. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
THE PLAN WAS to go through Angelina’s locker before getting our facials. We were interrupted by a guest we didn’t recognize, so instead we found ourselves being steamed and plucked to within an inch of our lives before popping back into the locker room while we waited for massage rooms to open.
“Watch the door,” I ordered, opening the nearest locker. It was empty. “It shouldn’t take me long to find her stuff and go through it.”
“Why must I always be the lookout?” Jerry groused, cracking the door and pressing his eyes close so he could stare in every direction. He made a terrible spy, but he was always entertaining, so things evened out. “I should be the one going through her stuff. You probably won’t even recognize half of the things in there.”
I was pretty sure that was an insult. I riffled through five empty lockers before finding one with a purse inside. The bag was Kate Spade – obviously a knockoff – and featured pink flowers. “This has to be hers.”
Jerry glanced over a shoulder, wrinkling his nose at the purse. “That’s fake.”
“Even I know that,” I said. “It’s pleather.”
“Ugh. I’m glad you’re the one doing that then. I’m allergic to pleather.”
“Who isn’t?” I searched through the purse, yanking out a large plastic bag and widening my eyes when I saw the myriad prescription bottles inside. “Look at this. There’s like … eight bottles of stuff in here.”
Jerry pursed his lips. “What is it?”
“It’s probably for early onset menopause,” I replied. “When we saw her the other day I noticed some hairs sprouting from her chin.”
“That seems like a lot of medication for menopause,” Jerry noted dubiously. “Are those all hormone pills?”
That was a good question. “I have no idea.” I yanked my phone out of my locker and snapped photographs of the labels. It was none of my business, yet I couldn’t stop myself from being a busybody. It was Angelina, after all. She deserved it.
Once finished, I placed the medication on the bench and continued my search. Sadly, everything in Angelina’s purse was utterly useless. “Who needs this much lipstick?” I held up three tubes as I made a face.
“That’s Urban Decay, Sephora and Marc Jacobs,” Jerry said. “They’re all good choices.”
I slanted my eyes in his direction, irritated. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course, but you have terrible taste in makeup. Wet n Wild stopped being an option when we were ten.”
“Whatever.” I let loose with a growl. “There’s nothing in here other than makeup and medicine.”
“What did you think would be in there?” Jerry asked. “Did you think she was carrying around a confession? Perhaps a curse with your name on it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. More than this. I … .” I didn’t get a chance to finish because the door behind Jerry – the door he conveniently stopped watching three minutes earlier – popped open to allow Angelina entry. She looked wiped, her face devoid of makeup, and it took her a moment to realize who she was dealing with and exactly what we were doing.
“What the … ?” Angelina took a step in our direction. “Are you going through my purse?”
Whoops. This wouldn’t end well. “Absolutely
not,” I lied.
“What is that?” Angelina pointed toward the pink bag.
“That is a knockoff.”
“It’s the real thing,” Angelina hissed. “I don’t buy knockoffs.”
“It’s pleather.”
“It is not. It’s just … a new kind of leather. It feels different.”
“Like pleather? You know pleather has a distinctive texture, right?”
“I am not having this conversation with you,” Angelina screeched. “You’re evil and you’re breaking the law. I’m calling the police.”
Oh, well, this was an interesting development. “You know what? I’ll bet there’s an unmarked car on the corner with a bit of pink froth on the hood. There are cops in there. In fact … yeah. You should tell them what you caught me doing.”
“And why would you suggest that?” Angelina was understandably suspicious. “This sounds like another elaborate prank on your part.” Angelina jerked the purse away from me. “I don’t trust you.” She stalked toward the door, leaving the medication behind as she hoarded fury like a Keebler elf during a cookie shortage.
As much as I disliked Angelina – and that scale had absolutely no limits – the medication was probably expensive, so I tightened the sash around my robe and grabbed the bag before following. Angelina was already at the front door, refusing to change her clothes and instead bellowing a variety of insults in Carrie’s direction. Redmond was still at the front desk whispering sweet nothings in her ear, so Carrie barely lifted her hand to wave. It was more of a half-hearted finger shift than anything else.
“Have a nice day.”
“Oh, stuff it,” Angelina hissed.
Redmond caught my gaze as I chased after Angelina. “What did you do?”
“She caught me going through her knockoff purse. I need to give this medication back to her even though she’s evil. It wouldn’t be fair not to do it.”
“Oh, well, don’t let her get close enough to grab your hair.”
“I’m not new.”
I forgot to put on shoes, swearing under my breath when my bare feet hit the cold cement of the sidewalk. Angelina was halfway down the block – walking in a robe and high heels – when I called out.
“Angelina!”
Grim Rising (Aisling Grimlock Book 7) Page 19