Hollywood Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective

by Rachel Graves

  “You know more than anyone else I’ve met for years, but that doesn’t mean you know everything.”

  He was right. No two ways about it. He deserved a chance to do the right thing, but God help him if hurt my baby sister. “Fair enough. And thank you for the gift. She’s beautiful.”

  In the kitchen, my mother was dicing. Jeremy and Dad went into the TV room, which left Gina flitting from the door to the kitchen counter. She was supposed to be helping us, a tactic chosen to prove to Jeremy what a good housewife she’d make some day. Instead, she kept trying to hear what the two of them were saying.

  “Gina, just stop,” Mom told her with raised eyebrows. “There’s no way you can hear them without opening the door.

  “Okay, maybe I can’t but what about you Lizzie? Can you hear anything?”

  Mom gave her a look that said there was no way I could hear from my place at the counter if she couldn’t hear by the door. But Gina wasn’t asking about my ears. She wanted to know if I could read what was going on in the other room. After a morning of reading everyone in church, I wasn’t in the mood.

  “Sorry, kid sister. I’m ever farther away from them then you are.” I went back to stirring waffle batter. Waffles, fruit salad (which Gina was supposed to be preparing), an omelet, hash browns, and toast were all on the menu. It was more breakfast than lunch. Gina had declared at least five times that we should have gone out. She said it again and Mom stopped her.

  “If Jeremy cares about you it won’t bother him that your family doesn’t go out to eat each week,” she declared. “We’re not about big dangerous gifts and dinners out.” Her pointed look out the window at the bike meant I better get a helmet double quick. “Now have a Coke and relax. Your father doesn’t bite.”

  Coke was Mom’s preferred cure-all. She’d grown up in Atlanta, and her favorite childhood moment was when her big brother had taken her to visit the Coke factory. Her kitchen was plastered in turn-of-the-century Coke ads. Her favorite line—“Have a Coke and relax”—was actually from a commercial.

  Gina didn’t relax but she did take the Coke. “I just want Dad to like him. He seemed so nervous about this, kept asking me about church, if it was okay to send stuff.”

  “The flowers were lovely,” Mom reminded Gina, as if anyone could forget the bouquet Jeremy had delivered. The thing was huge—an arrangement of roses and lilies that easily cost half my mortgage payment. “It’ll be fine.”

  “You’re supposed to be chopping,” I said, gesturing toward the melons, apples, and grapes that were still in their plastic produce bags. Gina gave me a dirty look and got started.

  Breakfast—no, brunch—was odd. Mom gave Jeremy her place and pushed a chair in next to Gina. Our family table could seat six, but the five of us were awkward. Jeremy must have thought he had a knack for getting people to talk but nothing he said worked on Dad. He tried questions about Dad’s business but plumbing and movie making didn’t have much in common. I suspected Gina was grateful for Dad’s trademarked quiet. Deep down, she probably didn’t want Jeremy thinking of her as a plumber’s daughter. After five minutes of failed attempts, Jeremy turned to my mother.

  “So, Mrs. Hicks, how does a southern belle like you end up in California?” Jeremy asked with that Hollywood smile.

  “Oh well, that’s a long story I’m sure Gina doesn’t want me to tell.”

  “No way. Mom, you never talk about it, I’d love to hear.”

  Mom really didn’t talk about moving out West. When we asked, she always gave us some verbal shorthand for don’t ask like “I needed a change” or “It was time for a fresh start.” For the first time Jeremy might come in handy.

  “Well, I guess I always thought you girls were a little young but…”

  “I’m not young.” Jeremy winked at her.

  Mom blushed and I fought the urge to kick him under the table.

  “Let’s see. My mother raised my brother and I on her own. Harry, that was my brother, got into sales in the 70s.”

  “Sales?” I asked.

  “Mmm-hmmm.” She passed the bowl of fruit salad. “He sold cocaine mostly, but pot later on, and, of course, blue.”

  My jaw dropped open and I didn’t know what to say. Uncle Harry was a drug dealer? Mom had hinted at it, of course, but had never come right out and said it. Gina looked equally shocked. Dad buttered his toast.

  “Wow,” was all Jeremy could come up with. “But in 1970, it wasn’t really illegal. I mean, it was like a speeding ticket.”

  “Exactly. We had a row house in Atlanta filled with people coming and going. There was money everywhere but when the police stopped by, it was usually to pick something up, not to cause any trouble. But then, the war on drugs started and everything changed.”

  “When was that?” I tried to imagine a time when drug use was okay.

  “1971. At least that’s when Nixon got into things,” Jeremy supplied smoothly. He turned back to Mom, “but that’s not when you came out here.”

  “No, things were still fine for a while when I was younger. Then the business got ugly. Harry was carrying guns, people were nervous all the time. My mother died in ’87—by then half of Harry’s friends ended up in jail.” Now Mom paused to look directly at me. I knew the part she was editing for Gina’s protection. Her mom, my grandma, had died of a drug overdose. “There’s always a price to pay. You don’t just make garbage bags full of money and party all the time. Eventually there’s a reckoning.”

  At the end of the table, my Dad put down his fork and patted her hand. She glanced down with a smile and squeezed his fingertips.

  “When it came, Harry was dead and the house was sold. I took the money and came out here. I was looking for a fresh start. I met the man of my dreams and lived the life every girl wanted.”

  “Every girl in the 50s, maybe, but in the 80s, they were all feminist. Why didn’t you go to college?” Jeremy said feminist like it was a dirty word.

  “Oh, I went. I was going when I met Michael, but all of my classmates were kids. They’d never had any real problems to deal with. College was a fantasy world, and I was ready for real life.” She was quiet for a second, probably thinking about it, but then switched back into mom-mode. “Times were different then—a girl didn’t need an education. Being a housewife was perfectly acceptable. That’s not true now.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It all depends on the girl, if she wants to be a housewife I’m sure she’ll be a happy one.” Jeremy turned on the charm and looked at Gina.

  “Education gives someone options. That’s never a bad thing,” Dad declared, ending the topic.

  “What about your family, Jeremy? Where are Mr. and Mrs. Steel?” Mom’s sunny hostess question didn’t change the expression on his face, but I felt the sadness come from him without really trying.

  “They died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mom responded.

  “Thanks, but it was a long time ago. I made a fresh start, too.” And he was back to smiling.

  “Fresh starts are important. They help us get away from ugly things we can’t face anymore.” I stared at Jeremy, hoping he’d revel something. Instead I got a kick under the table from Gina.

  “Can I take your plate, Jeremy?” she asked, not giving him any chance to respond to what I’d said.

  “You’re doing the dishes?” I didn’t bother to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  “Lizzie! Don’t embarrass your sister.” Mom shook her head. “Sometimes, Jeremy, it’s like they’re still seven and twelve.” She switched back to me. “Why don’t you girls go watch Dad’s news shows with him? I’d like a little time alone with our movie star.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want to be a movie star here.” That took the smile off his face. “I just want to be Jeremy.”

  “In that case, Jeremy, you get to wash the dishes.” Mom told him. They both laughed but Gina looked conflicted.

  A second later, she’d found a strategy. “Sorry, Mom. If I don’t do the dishes on my
day, Lizzie’ll never let me forget it.” Her smile to Mom and Jeremy was sweet as pie but Gina was famous for getting out of chores. Knowing I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to her about what she’d asked last night, or what I knew about Jeremy, I just followed Dad into the other room.

  The TV was on but neither of us watched. It provided a nice curtain of sound but no entertainment.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked Dad as Gina, Mom, and the ever-gallant Jeremy washed and dried.

  “Humph.” Dad’s reply was more of a noise than a word. Typical Dad. Today, I wanted more so I kept my mouth shut. Eventually, he went on. “There’s more to him than she sees. He knows too much of some things and not enough about others. And he’s too old for my daughter.”

  It was the longest judgment of his life.

  “When I asked you about joining the Army, you said it might work out for me. Gina’s guy gets all that, but you’re not going to say anything to her?”

  “Not unless she asks me.” Dad looked over at the door. I’d conveniently let the carpet roll up so it couldn’t close. We spent a minute watching the pair cavort by the sink.

  I couldn’t let it go. “Don’t you think she wants to know?”

  Dad looked at me, then at them, then back to me. “There are things you and I don’t talk about. Things we both know but we don’t discuss.”

  I wondered which things he was talking about—my relationship with Ted or something more? Dad had found me high on blue once and told me to eat. That was great advice, the kind someone who knew the supernatural drug might give. Definitely the kind you’d get from a witch who’d had the misfortune of feeling blue burn through the sugar in their system. The next morning there’d been a bottle of water by my bed. Knowing blue made someone thirsty as all hell the next day took personal experience. They didn’t cover that in high school health classes.

  “We could discuss them,” I offered.

  “We could if you ever wanted to, but you haven’t.” Dad looked at me with a gaze that pierced my soul. “Sometimes, even though you know things, you don’t have to pass them along, Lizzie. Sometimes it’s all right to let people find out for themselves.”

  I swallowed hard. We weren’t talking about Gina’s boyfriend any more. No, we were talking about me being a spirit witch, and maybe Dad had just admitted to being one, too. Maybe… “You’re not going to tell Gina everything you know?”

  “No, and you shouldn’t either. If she’s in danger, that’s one thing, but you don’t know that, Lizzie. Let her live her life.”

  “Dad—” The noise from the kitchen cut me off. They’d all be in the TV room in a second and Dad would go back to being as silent as a stone. “Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything you want to ask?”

  “Well…” He paused, looked at Gina laughing by the sink. “There was this time when something happened with Gina. I did my best to support her, even though she never wanted to say anything about it. You were gone then, and I’ll bet it never comes up, but if it does, let her know that I think she did the right thing.”

  “What’s the right thing?” Gina demanded, coming into the room holding Jeremy’s hand.

  “Nothing important.” Dad waved her off, then waited a half second for Mom to take over the conversation. She did, and he sat without talking.

  Gina spoke. Jeremy did. I even chimed in when it seemed like I should, but for the rest of the afternoon, Dad didn’t say anywhere near as much as he had in the five—maybe ten—minutes we’d spoken. I watched him though, and tried to get a read on the room. It was hard for me to pick up subtle emotions without touching anyone. That effort and trying to see if Dad reacted to any of those unspoken emotions was draining.

  I ended up at home, exhausted, before the sun set. I thought about checking in with Ted but in the end sleep won.

  25

  Photographic printers could turn digital photos into glossy evidence for pennies. I didn’t have one. Good thing the local convenience store only charged ten cents. I pushed a flash drive into the machine and chose three dozen action shots, each separated by less than a second. The pictures the machine spat out could make a pornographic flip book. I was glad no one in town came up behind me while they printed.

  In fact, I wanted the whole morning meeting to be over. My client was due to arrive in another half an hour. I said a small prayer that she’d take it well and not break down.

  Afterward, I planned on asking Jo to set up an appointment with her mother. Sure, church and brunch with Jeremy had been wonderful. I loved the bike. Riding it to get the photos printed had been almost as calming as a swim. But Jeremy still hadn’t given me any answers, worse he’d slipped into my family too smoothly. Maybe Jo’s Mom could get the truth out of him. She didn’t have to kill him, just make him take off his mask and stop being an actor long enough to give us the facts that would keep Gina safe.

  Sometime after setting up Gina’s boyfriend for what could be an epic beating—if not plain out getting him killed—I would find Ted and force him to see sense. He needed to look up Ruby and get her talking. He excelled at getting people to talk, and while I didn’t exactly want Ruby to end up looking like raw meat, I wanted the danger—for Gina and Ted—to come to an end. If he didn’t want to talk to Ruby, I was going to find her myself. With my case over, I would have plenty of time.

  My client was going to be late. She had the decency to call and let me know about the traffic but that didn’t give me anything to occupy my mind. I paced, reviewing what I knew about Jeremy. I checked my email but flipping through the pictures didn’t help much. They were definitely Jeremy. All that established was that he was old and didn’t age. Not that he was evil. Still, when I thought about him holding hands with Gina in front of my parents or laughing with my mom over some stupid joke, I fumed. He had a secret—something bad enough that a private police force kept him away from women.

  Spell work, ancient demon, or fairy creature, whatever the hell he was, whatever he suffered from, I didn’t like the way he ingratiated himself into my family. Ted and LaRue had used different words to ask me the same question about him—did I want him to die?

  It was a good question. I liked Jeremy. Without the mystery I’d never think twice about Gina dating him. If he came clean and told me everything so I could judge what the next step was I’d be fine. If he needed help, I’d be happy to give it. But that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t trust me so I wasn’t going to trust him. Dad’s sage advice about letting Gina live her own life didn’t come into play. If Dad had seen the way Samuel had looked he wouldn’t have been so cavalier. No, I’d given Jeremy a chance to tell me everything and instead he’d given me vague reassurances that he would keep Gina safe. It wasn’t good enough.

  I expected to leave Jo a message but instead she picked up, sounding as normal as ever even though it was around nine in the morning. Instead of hello, I said, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

  “Well, I could be, if I wanted to, but thanks to my wonderful friend Elisabeth, I know I don’t have to be.” She sighed, a contented sound that reminded me of renaissance paintings, angels, and the wings of a white bird. “I watched the sunrise this morning. Did you see it?”

  “Uh…” I hadn’t bothered to stop and watch a sunrise in a long time. “It was in the east, right? Yellow ball of light?”

  “Pink, light fluffy pink and then red, with orange light finally. Amazing. Utterly fantastic and beautiful. Completely worth staying up for.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” She made me feel guilty for taking the sunrise for granted. “Before you turn in, what’s the chance your mom is still awake?”

  “Maman doesn’t fear the sun, ever. If she’s asleep, it’s only because she wants to be,” Jo answered me from some wonderfully philosophical place.

  Unfortunately, I was looking for a more concrete answer. “I was kinda hoping you could set up a meeting between her and me. I mean, I’d like it better if you were there, but you don’t have to be.
Maybe we could do it tonight.”

  “What’s going on?” Jo’s voice went back to sounding like Jo. It seemed the dreamy calm of sunrise evaporated when you mentioned seeing her mother.

  I told her about Sunday as quickly then summarized. “So Jeremy spent the whole afternoon making my mother adore him, and while Dad’s got his reservations, I could see him thawing which means I’m the only one left who can see reason.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He wouldn’t be hiding something if it wasn’t bad. I don’t want Gina to get hurt because of his problems. I was hoping Marie could talk with her or maybe help me out somehow.”

  “You’re hoping she kills Jeremy,” Jo corrected, her voice flat.

  “No, of course not.” I only wanted the truth, I wasn’t demanding a death sentence. “I mean, I know it could happen but I’m not asking for that. I just want him away from Gina so she’ll be safe.”

  “But you know my mother. Her idea of keeping people safe is to lock them up in very pretty, soft cages.” Jo had been locked up in a cage, one that looked like an apartment, not that long ago. Her mother had controlled every aspect of her life, from keeping her away from the man she loved to declaring Jo couldn’t own a TV. I wasn’t surprised my friend’s voice was bitter.

  “Look, I know this sounds sneaky and underhanded but I want Gina to be safe.”

  “And you’re jealous.”

  “What?”

  “You sat in the living room yesterday feeling distant and out of place, the way you always do around your family since the war, and you watched Jeremy fit right in. He probably got your mom to laugh the way you never had or got your dad to talk or something. He found the perfect present for you, even though no one else has since you left for the Army. He fits in, you don’t. You were jealous.”

  “How the hell did you come up with that?” I wasn’t even willing to discuss whether she was right or not.