Hexes and X's (Z&C Mysteries, #3)

by Kane, Zoey

  “What is it?” Claire humored her.

  “A temporary tattoo.” She showed the piece of paper and then looked up to Judy. “But this one is rather cute. Look. Oh, excuse me. My name is Zoey Kane, mother to Claire here.”

  “Okay, it makes more sense now.” Judy’s lip turned up. “I apologize, Claire.”

  “My mother,” Claire cleared her throat, “likes grab bags and…” She trailed off.

  “Yes, I’ve been a regular at auctions, real estate investments and such. And it has paid off, hasn’t it, dear?” Zo said.

  “Modern day treasure hunter?” Judy smiled.

  Matilda entered the room. “Judy! Hey, lady! How are you?” She almost skipped over to her, she was so excited, and they met in an embrace.

  “I’m splendid. I’m over my flu. Debbie helped me.” She referred to the R.N. in their coven.

  “These are my friends, Zoey and Claire Kane from out of town.”

  Judy nodded and said, pointing to Claire, “I thought she was affiliated with the town council, trying to pull one over on me.”

  “Oh, no, no, no. They’re with me. I know Zoey from way back in college, and I just reunited with her on a cruise.” Matilda turned to the mother and daughter, and said, “And this is my friend Judy. She is the coven’s potion maker.” She gave a sly wink.

  Judy nodded.

  “Anywho, what brings you by?” Matilda offered Judy a seat, but she stayed standing.

  “I wanted to hang some of the signs we made up around town. Do you know where we put them?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Come with me to the library.” The two excused themselves, leaving Zo and Claire alone in the foyer.

  “Mother, what do you think of how I’m dressed?”

  “You’re my Claire,” she said sweetly, patting her on the back. “…And you are gorgeous as usual.”

  When Judy returned with an armful of poster boards that were decorated with lots of glitter and colored markers, seeming more appropriate for catching the attention of a boy band, Matilda suggested, “Make sure you put one up in front of Debbie’s house, since she lives right next to Town Hall!”

  “Of course,” Judy agreed. “I might be able to talk the diner into hanging one up in their window.”

  “Don’t forget the gas station. Slobber supports us,” Zo added.

  “Sounds like a convincing endorsement,” Judy said. “Slobber supports us!” With those words, she left.

  “Mother, what do you say we take a little drive around? See if we see Jack.”

  Matilda interjected, “Oh, I wanted to talk about the sketch more with you two, but no worries. We can discuss later.”

  SIX

  As the two drove around, Claire at the wheel, Zo hollered “Jack!” out the window at the pastures they passed by.

  “Mom, something could be terribly wrong with him.”

  “Jack is a tough guy, sweetie. Whomever kidnapped him is sure to regret it.”

  “Kidnap?”

  “Is that what I said? What were you thinking?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The worst. Decapitated, his head in a tomato crate.”

  “Whoa, wow! That is way creative. Did he have a drinking problem, a propensity to forget where he is? Did his creditors catch up with him? Is Marsha’s dad a mobster? Does he have Sundowner’s with a need to wander in the night?”

  “Maaaaybe. But, I more likely think a jilted woman came in, slit his throat and threw his head in a tomato crate.”

  “He could be passed out with too much whiskey in him behind a hay bale. Drinking his money woes away.”

  “I don’t think so,” Claire said. “I have chills at the back of my neck over this situation.”

  “You mean like you always get when something terrible is around the corner?”

  “Yes, Mom, as of late.” She was still busy eyeing the lonesome expanse of Dreary Oak Road. She joined in, yelling out the window “Jack!” as the car crept along.

  “Mother, why did we accept this invitation to Matilda’s? What were we thinking? Are we adrenaline freaks? Did we want to face danger yet again? Are we asking for trouble? Is it our fault Jack is now gone?”

  Zo tried to make Claire feel better with the truth: “Jack came by his own will. We had no idea he would follow you here.”

  “Well, he followed me to Hillgate Manor. And after I came back from the cruise, I saw he had e-mailed me a couple times.”

  “Too bad it isn’t for love, but money,” Zo said. “What’s that?!” She pointed.

  Claire jerked her car to a stop and their necks whipped forward and backward. “What?”

  “Oh, drats. Nothing but a fox. See?” The red-haired little guy with a patch of white over his face took off, his bushy tail giving away his every move.

  “What other wild animals do you think could be out here?” Claire asked, peering across acres and acres of wild brush.

  “Oh, the worst, maybe rattlesnakes.”

  Claire shuddered. “I hate snakes.”

  “Snakes aren’t so bad. A lot of people think they are slimy, but they aren’t.”

  “It’s not slime I would be worried about,” Claire said. “Think about it.”

  “If we come across any snakes, I’ll beat them with a stick for you, sweetie, and then we can make new boots out of them.”

  “You are really upsetting PETA right now.”

  “Who’s Peter? And what’s with the English accent?”

  Claire chuckled. “Oh, nobody.”

  Rain sprinkled the window and Claire turned on the windshield wipers to their slowest swipe. The grey clouds above were gathering more, as if having a meeting over their next big shower above the small town.

  “Of course the weather won’t cooperate with us this weekend.” Claire nodded to the sky.

  After driving back and forth down the long, lonely road a few more times, they decided to head out further. The first place they saw was Slobber’s gas station.

  “Do you think he did it?” Zo asked.

  “What? What do you mean? Slobber kidnapped Jack?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Because, remember, Slobber couldn’t harm a fly. You heard that from Matilda.”

  “Yeah, we’ve known other guys we thought were good, but ended up being demented.”

  “We can’t judge Slobber by our dates.”

  “Slobber should not be ruled out. He was the only person in town other than us who knew Jack was here. Let’s go question him.”

  Claire groaned at the thought. “Mom… I just hate it when you are right.”

  “Mommy’s always right.” She patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Except for when her genius daughter is right. Hurry and pull in. I can do the dirty work if you want.”

  Claire turned her steering wheel to the left, and parked right in front of a window that said “Convenience Store.” There was one man at the pump, looking like a farmer, filling his truck.

  The man soon passed by Claire’s door on his way to the station, offering her a stained-tooth smile. Claire reciprocated with a polite smile. She tried to see through the littered-with-posters windows to the register. One of Judy’s bright green signs read, “Support Taxpayers: The Coven House Witches.”

  After quite a while, Claire glanced at her watch. She was on the edge of her Volkswagen’s seat, expecting her mother to have been doing quite the interrogation.

  “These Corn Nuts say they are on sale for $3.29.” Zo squinted her eyes. “On that big pink sale sign over there.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am, that sign is for the orthopedic foot inserts right above them,” the checkout boy said, scratching at a zit.

  “Really?” She turned back around. “Drats. How much are these?”

  “$4.99, ma’am.”

  “$4.99?! You have got to be kidding me.” She turned to the farmer in line. She thought about asking his opinion on the price, but quickly reconsidered.

  “Hi, purdy lady,” he acknowledged.

  Great, Zo
thought. Claire gets Slobber and I get Stinky.

  The bell jingled as a well-dressed man entered with white hair and a neat handlebar moustache.

  Stinky reached into his pocket and brought out a card that read, “Mac Graff’s Real Estate, Agent Darrel Conners.”

  “I thought you were a farmer.”

  “No. Jake here would be the farmer,” Darrel said, pointing to the man who just entered.

  Zo turned back to the counter boy. “Where’s Slobber? In the back?”

  “No, he ain’t here. But I am sure he would agree with me on the price. He is the one who puts the price tags on, himself.”

  “So, let’s see… peanuts and jerky, all $4.99, except for the footpads. Then there are a few boxes of cheap sodas. And that’s it. This is a ‘Convenience Store’?”

  “You don’t have to drive outta town for your Corn Nuts. How convenient is that?!”

  Zo dropped the Corn Nuts onto the counter. “I see what you mean. That’s fine. I’ll pay the price $4.99. I just wanted to talk to him. When will he be in?”

  “In the morning. I’m in charge of closing tonight.” His shoulders went back with pride over that comment.

  “You searching for Slobber?” the unlikely real estate agent asked. “He just lives around the corner from here.”

  Claire tried to read her mom’s face as she got into the car and slammed the door. “What’s up?”

  “Slobber won’t be back until tomorrow morning, but Stinky gave me his home address.”

  “Stinky?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  *

  Slobber’s home lived up to their very low expectations. It was small, with a torn screen door and peeling paint. Side effects of being an entrepreneur in a po-dunk town. Right there, in the front yard, a little wire cage prevented several chickens from escaping; somehow one was loose anyway, pecking around like it owned the place.

  A bloody ax was affixed in a tree stump which doubled as a chopping block. Zo touched its handle in thought. “Where do you assume all this blood came from? You don’t think…?”

  “No, Mother.” Claire furrowed her eyebrows. “He must eat his own chickens is all.”

  “His truck isn’t here. Should we even knock?”

  The windows were dark and all they could hear was clucking from the pen. “Nah, he’s gone.”

  Surprisingly, the front door creaked open. Through the screen, they saw a shadowed figure. “What’re you doing here?” came a woman’s voice.

  Zo stepped closer. “Oh, pardon us. We thought this was Slobber’s residence. Is it not?”

  “What’s it to you?” The screen opened a crack, but all they could make out was drops of blood splattering the front porch. The mother and daughter eyed each other.

  Claire slowly said, “We just wanted to see if he ran into my friend Jack.”

  The door opened completely, and the woman stepped out. A plucked naked and headless chicken was grasped by a leg. More blood dripped. “No one by the name of Jack.” Short fuzzy hair framed a round face. Without a smudge of makeup and wearing men’s clothing, she was a sight for making sore eyes sorer.

  “Can you tell us where Slobber went off to?” Claire inquired tentatively, deciding to ignore the bizarre fact that the woman wasn’t more careful with her poultry.

  “I can tell you, but do I want to? Is your name Claire?”

  Claire’s chills up the back of her neck intensified. Apparently the woman was alone in Slobber’s home. “Is your name Pat?” she blurted.

  “I see my man has been talking about me,” she said, squinting an eye.

  “I see he has been talking about me, too. As far as I understand, you aren’t supposed to be around here.”

  “Yeah, what else did he say?”

  “That he isn’t betrothed to you.”

  Pat guffawed. “I’m just here getting my chicken is all. But have no worries, Slobber will come begging on hands and knees for me again soon. Anyway, I have no idea where he is right now. He’s always all over the place, mingling about. Good luck findin’ him!”

  SEVEN

  All Zo ended up findin’ was a porcelain coffee percolator and six matching mugs at Old Stuff Store. While talking over the price of the collector’s set, the dealer asked, “Aren’t you the mother and daughter that is staying at Coven House?”

  “Yes, that would be us,” Zo said, amazed at how fast trivial news travels in even smaller towns than their own Riverside.

  “Well, we would be wanting anything that could be found of Captain Zachariah Dread. We would pay a pretty good price… because of the legend, of course.”

  “What legend?”

  “That he was a pirate and built that old Victorian with bloody gold or pearls or something.”

  “You don’t saaay.” Zo found that so very enlightening. “Me thinks Matilda has been holding out on us, Claire dear,” she said later.

  *

  It was disappointing how their day didn’t lead to any info about where Jack might have gone. They decided to stop at Aunt Bebe’s Diner for a late dinner before closing time at nine. Everywhere else had turned out the lights for the night, including Slobber’s convenience store across the street; the two-pump gas station would remain open for self service only.

  The waitress seated them at a window booth and handed out menus. An old cowboy with a broom moustache, mud stains on the bottom of his worn jeans and beat up boots, called over the heads of those eating heartily, “Tildy is goin’ to kick butt at the hearing. That Victorian is hern.”

  There was some agreement voiced while a little old woman protested, “It is a valued historical property that should belong to the town for everyone, not a crackpot bunch of witches! Who knows what goes on there? It’s probably being destroyed, all painted up black on the inside.”

  Three women were about to take a table across from Zo and Claire. One paused, facing them before sitting. She was gorgeous, her winter-blond hair folding around her face at the shoulder. Her pale blue eyes set on the mother and daughter like the edge of a razor.

  Zo slid out of the booth, and stood up face-to-face with the Psycho Witch. “You must be Cynthia.”

  The witch looked a little taken back. “Yes. You dare speak to me. Which proves you are an out-of-towner,” she said coolly.

  “Definitely. This by interpretation means I am not given to small-town legends or reputations.”

  Cynthia looked around to the others in the diner. “I suppose you mean you do not fear me.”

  “That would be correct, dear.”

  “I am not your DEAR,” she hissed.

  “Under the First Amendment, you are. I presume you are an American.”

  “Of course I am an American, you idiot!” Cynthia sputtered.

  “Are you putting in a claim for Coven House?”

  “Maybe I should, and hex everyone that goes against me. Yes. I have decided just now to do that.”

  “Good. We will see you at the hearing. I know we are going to be the best of friends.” Of course, Zo didn’t believe that at all, but she was certain those words would disarm and shake up someone irascible.

  “You are nuts! I’m going to brew something up real special for you, Zoey Kane.”

  “Excellent! Let’s do lunch sometime.”

  “Come on, ladies! I have lost my appetite.” As the last lady walked by Zo, she said, “You are in for it now.” She added, “I know she’s got something for Matilda too, for bringing you Kanes into town.”

  “No need to thank us,” Claire interjected.

  “You got that wrong.” The disagreeable, round woman headed out the door behind Cynthia. It made complete sense now that Pat would be friends with her.

  The waitress, in her black apron and frilly matching headband, came right over to take their orders. “Here’s a full shaker of salt. You might want to throw some over your shoulder.”

  “Thank you for your offer. I am not worried,” Claire assured.

  “Okay, I will worry
for you.” She threw some salt over Zo’s shoulder. “My life is a little boring right now anyway. What would you ladies like to order?”

  “Give me tomato soup and a cob salad,” said Claire.

  “I will have the beef pot pie and orange juice,” Zo ordered.

  One could soon hear the waitress calling the order in the background. “Red and green, and moo-pot with strangled oranges.”

  “I would say our day has been revealing and interesting, Mom. It’s just too bad we couldn’t find Jack.”

  They were well into their dinner when suddenly a deafening boom was accompanied by massive pressure that could be felt in the head, ears, and sinuses. Tiny beads of glass pelted against, and stung, their skin. Claire thought she got hit by a car that went through the wall. Zo thought she had been murdered, probably by Cynthia. They were both surprised to find that they were each still alive and glass was all over the table from what used to be a window.

  Slobber’s gas station was ablaze.

  People were standing up, some screaming. It was hard to hear. Claire spoke first. “Mom, you okay? You have little blood spots on your face and neck. You okay?!”

  Children were crying. Somebody yelled out, “Call an ambulance!”

  “Claire, honey,” Zo shouted, “you have a bloody nose. How’s your hearing?”

  “Oddly, it seems fine. How about you?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Only I don’t know if I can move yet.”

  Claire braced herself against the table and stood. Her knees were shaky, but other than that she seemed fine. She got out of the booth and took hold of her mother and helped her up.

  “Thanks, honey. I feel a little bandy-kneed, but I am standing. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

  They made their way through the loud and confused crowd. “Thank God that station was closed so nobody could be hurt in there,” Zo said out loud, mostly to herself.

  People started pushing their way out the door to the front to see the station. It looked like a plane had flown over and dropped ordnance. All they could see were collapsed metal beams and tall licking flames. Two sheriff units arrived first, followed up by two fire engines and then an ambulance.

  A fireman yelled to everyone, “Alright, people! You must clear out now and take the side road, here, home. It is not safe. Do not run, but walk—fast. Those pumps have not exploded, yet. Move it!