"I hate to desert you," Quinn said.
"I'll be with her," the handsome vet reassured her. "Does Jed know you and Peter are seeing each other?"
"He's moved back to Buttercup," Quinn reminded him. "He probably knows what I ate for breakfast."
"Good point," Tobias said.
"If you'd like, we can leave your truck here and you can go back with me," Peter said, looking at me. "As long as you don't mind, that is."
"Of course not," I told him. "I've got a man with a tranq gun handy. Speaking of which, how fast does that thing work?"
"It isn't immediate," Tobias said, "but I don't like carrying a gun with a bullet. We'll just have to lock up and take cover if need be. I'm a pretty good shot."
"Maybe I should learn," I said.
"It's worth knowing, but let's not worry about that tonight, shall we?" he said. "More hot chocolate, Lucy?"
"No, thanks," I told him. "I'm thinking a shower—or a sponge bath, actually, since I’m still out of water—and then bed, to be honest. I smell like a smokehouse."
"I'm just glad you still have a house," Peter said. He hesitated. "I heard the ruckus at the old Ulrich house, by the way."
"It came when the storm came, didn't it?" I asked.
He nodded. "I'm not one to believe in ghosts, but..."
"Maybe it's a friendly, rain-bringing ghost," Quinn suggested. "Hey—you should check your well."
"Good idea!" I walked over to the kitchen sink and started the faucet. There was a popping sound as the air in the pipes passed through, then a brief spurt of water, then nothing.
"It may take some time for the water to filter down into the water table," Tobias pointed out as I turned off the faucet, disappointed. "Don't give up yet."
"It may be enough for bathing and drinking, but it's going to take a lot of rain to get to the point where I can use it for irrigation."
"Maybe we'll get more," he said. "If not, I'm sure we'll come up with a solution."
"Oh, I know there's a solution. It would help if I won the lottery. Think Mitch Wharton will share?"
"Good luck with that," Quinn said. "Anyway, I'm wiped."
"Me too," Peter said, standing up and stretching.
"I can't thank you enough for saving my home," I told Peter and Ethan.
"All in a day's work, ma'am," Peter said, tipping an imaginary hat. "Honestly, though, you got lucky... without that rain, I'm not sure we could have stopped it."
"Maybe, but the rain wouldn't have done it alone. Without you, the farm would be toast. Literally."
We made it to the next morning without any further disasters, thankfully. When the sun was up, Tobias and I took mugs of coffee and walked down to the burned area by the creek. My heart sank when I confirmed I'd lost four of my peach trees; their bark was blackened.
"You can replace them," Tobias reassured me as I fingered a dead branch.
"I know. It's just a little sad."
He gave me a hug, and together, we walked down to the creek.
"I still can't think why someone would want to burn my house down," I said.
"The Jed theory is a possibility," he said.
"Why burn down my farm, then? Why not vandalize Quinn's cafe?"
"I agree; it's not a really strong possibility. The only other thing I can think of is that someone knows you're looking in to what happened to Bug Wharton, and wants you to keep out of it."
"I guess that's possible," I said as we reached the creek. "How do you look for signs of arson, anyway?"
"Well," he said, "in this case, there wasn't any lightning, you're not by a road, which means it didn't happen because someone threw a cigarette butt out a window, and as far as I know, there's not any electrical wiring down by the creek."
"All true," I confirmed. "Plus, I saw someone."
"You're sure you didn't get a look at the face?"
I shook my head. "Unfortunately not. What's this?" I stooped and pointed to a blackened piece of red plastic a few feet from the creek bed."
"It looks like the remains of a lighter," Tobias said, reaching for his phone to take a picture. "I'll tell Rooster; I know they're going to investigate, but this looks kind of like a smoking gun to me, so to speak."
"So, someone did try to set fire to my place."
"I'm just glad they didn't start with the house," Tobias said.
"I guess that's a silver lining of sorts," I said. But I still felt sick inside.
18
The hospital was a bit of a drive from Buttercup; it was already ten by the time I pulled up in the visitors' lot. Tobias had helped me finish the morning chores before we parted ways. I had left the goats and the cows in the barn, just in case whatever had been snuffling around the night before decided to come back, before heading to visit José and drop by the Blue Onion to check in with Quinn.
"Be careful," Tobias had told me. "Let me know if you find anything out from José."
"I will. You too," I said. "And if you get a call out to the game ranch, let me know."
An older woman at the information desk gave me José Montoya's room number—he was in the Critical Care Unit—and I was glad to see Deputy Shames stationed outside.
"How's he doing?" I asked.
"He's coming in and out of consciousness," the deputy told me. "It looks like he's going to be okay."
"Was it poison?"
She nodded. "All the evidence went up in flames last night."
"What?"
"Someone torched the office at the ranch."
"You still have the samples you took, though, right?"
"We do have that," she said, looking over her shoulder. "Off the record, what Mr. Montoya drank was contaminated, so it was a good thing the sheriff took the samples. Because the rest of the physical evidence is gone."
I was right; someone had poisoned José. "Any working suspects?" I asked.
"Serafine Alexandre, of course. She was out on bail at the time it happened. If she didn't do it, it was bad luck."
"Or else someone planned it that way," I pointed out. "Someone set my place on fire last night, too."
"I heard there was a brush fire out on Dewberry Creek."
"We found a melted lighter down by the creek this morning," I said. "And I saw someone at the scene; I'm pretty sure it was arson."
"Maybe we've got a firebug."
"Or maybe someone's trying to cover their tracks," I said. "I visited Bug's ex-girlfriend in Houston... maybe someone doesn't want me poking around."
"When this guy wakes up, I'm hoping he can provide some answers."
"I'm glad you're guarding him," I said. "I was hoping to talk to him myself."
"I'll have to be in there with you," she told me.
"No problem Are you on the case?"
"A little bit," she said. "Why are you interested in it?"
"Because I think the sheriff arrested the wrong woman," I told her.
"It's not the first time," she replied.
"It certainly isn't," I told her as I walked into José's room.
The caretaker was hooked up to all kinds of wires, and was disturbingly gray. As the machines beeped around him, I turned to the deputy. "Has family been in?"
"A woman was here last night, very upset. She went home, said she had to work, but asked me to take care of him and said she'd be back this morning."
"His wife?"
"I don't know. Her English wasn't very good, and my Spanish is terrible."
"Did she have any idea why anyone would want to poison him?"
"Not that I know of." She shook her head. "I'm sure they'll interview her—hopefully someone who speaks Spanish will be around to translate."
As she stood at the door, I sat down next to his bed.
"José?" I said in a gentle voice.
He moved his head back and forth, looking agitated.
"It's okay," I reassured him, touching his hand. He seemed to relax. "You're safe now. But I wanted to know if you had any idea who did this to y
ou."
José started writhing a little bit. "Juego," he murmured.
"Juego?" I repeated.
"Juego," he said.
I turned to the deputy. She shrugged her shoulders. "He's been saying that on and off since he got here."
"Any idea what it means?"
She shook her head, looking like she was about to answer, when a woman burst into the room.
"He okay?" she asked, looking worried.
"He's fine," I said. She looked confused, and I gave her the thumbs-up. She relaxed and pulled up a chair across from José's bed, taking his hand and touching it tenderly. There was no wedding ring, but I got the impression they were a couple. Not for the first time, I wished I'd paid more attention in Spanish class.
As we sat there, he murmured "Juego" again. I looked at the woman, who was holding his hand. "Juego?" I asked.
"Juego." She said it crisply.
"Como se dice en inglés?" I asked, stretching the limit of my Spanish knowledge.
She pantomimed throwing something. I shook my head, and she repeated the word in Spanish.
"No comprendo," I said.
She sighed and tried again, this time miming pulling something down, but I wasn't understanding. "Good man," she said finally. "Help others. Why someone do this?" Her eyes filled with tears.
"I don't know," I told her honestly, repeating the word juego to myself. When I got home, I was going to have to look it up. I left a few minutes later, with assurances from Deputy Shames that someone who spoke Spanish would be in to interview the woman, and took her card so I could follow up.
"I'll make sure they look in to what happened at your place," she assured me.
"Thanks," I said. "And thanks for keeping an eye on José."
She nodded, and we shook hands again before parting ways.
"How'd your night go?" I asked Quinn when I walked into the Blue Onion an hour later.
"It was good," she said. "Any more issues at the farm?"
I shook my head. "I went to visit José, though."
"Is he doing okay?"
"Not great, but he's still kicking. He had a girlfriend or a wife there... she was very upset, but I don't speak Spanish and she doesn't speak much English, so we didn't really connect. He kept saying the word 'juego,' though. Any idea what that means?"
She shook her head. "I've got a Spanish-English dictionary upstairs, though. I'll go get it."
She hurried upstairs and came down a minute later, flipping through the pages. "It looks like it means 'game,'" she said.
"She looked like she was pantomiming throwing something..."
"Maybe dice? Like in Monopoly?"
"Maybe," I said, "but I got the feeling there was something else going on. I wish I knew what to do now," I said.
"I think we should talk to Serafine," Quinn said.
"Why?" I asked. "Neither of us think she's involved."
"No," Quinn said, "but I just have... I don't know. A feeling." She untied her apron. "There's not a lot of trade right now; why don't we head over there now? I'll ask Cindy to close up."
"You sure?"
"I am," she told me. "I'll just check in with her; she's at the cash register in the front." She disappeared to the front of the cafe and came back a moment later. "We're good to go," she told me. "Her sister Sophie will be here in fifteen minutes anyway; they can handle things together. I'll catch up on the baking later. Let's go!"
Both Aimee's Kia and Serafine's truck were parked outside the Honeyed Moon Mead winery when we pulled up a few minutes later.
"We'll get both of them," Quinn said as we got out of her truck and shut the doors.
Serafine met us at the front door of her little farmhouse. "Hey, y'all. Thanks for stopping by; I meant to say thank you for the mysteries."
"Anytime," I said. "How are you doing?"
She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Why don't y'all come on in? I just brewed some mint tea."
"That sounds terrific," Quinn said as we followed her into the house. "Where's Aimee?"
"She's out tending the hives," Serafine said as she got out two more mugs and filled them with mint tea, then put a few chocolate chip cookies onto a plate. The kitchen was warm and cozy, with the woodstove burning in the corner and several Mason jars filled with dried herbs lined up on the counter.
"What are those for?" Quinn asked.
"I make teas with them, and incense," Serafine said. "And sometimes I use them for workings."
"Workings?"
"I guess you'd call them spells," she said.
"Really?"
"I told you I was a witch, didn't I?" she asked impishly.
"Please tell me you don't have eye of newt in one of those jars," Quinn said.
Serafine laughed. "No," she said. "Rose petals, some resins, sage... sage is wonderfully cleansing. In fact, I was going to use some for a working on clarity this evening."
"Clarity?"
"I wanted to ask the universe to uncover what happened to Bug Wharton," she told me.
"Speaking of Bug... I hate to ask this," I said as she put the plate on the table and handed me a mug, "but I hear you got out on bail yesterday."
"Yes," Serafine said, beaming. "That attorney you recommended is terrific."
I took a sip of tea. "This is delicious; what's in it?"
"Oh, mint and a few other herbs," she said. "I'll give you the recipe.
Quinn took a sip and groaned. "This is amazing. I'd love to serve this at the cafe."
"We might be able to work something out," Serafine said with a grin. "Now. Y'all didn't just come here for tea, did you?"
I shook my head and took another sip of the tea, which was mint laced with something earthy and sweet. "Did you hear about what happened to José Montoya?" I asked.
"No," she said. "Who is he?"
"He worked for Bug at the exotic game ranch. Someone poisoned him yesterday; I just got back from visiting him in the hospital."
"What?" She put down her mug. "There's something going on over there."
"That's what I think," I agreed. "I just don't know what."
"What brought you here?" Serafine asked again.
"I had a feeling," Quinn admitted. "I just felt like this was the right place to come."
Serafine nodded. "Maybe we should do the working now," she said. "But I think we should also consult the cards."
I shuddered, thinking of the death card Aimee had pulled for Peter just before Bug died. "Have you talked with Aimee at all, by the way?"
Serafine shot me a knowing look. "We talked, yes. I know about what was going on with Mitch Wharton. I've known it for a while."
"She was afraid you'd be angry with her," I said.
"Not angry with her... worried for her, really. I didn't think it was a good choice for her. But I feel like we need to do a reading now. Hold on a moment; let me get my deck."
I reached for another chocolate chip cookie as she left the kitchen.
"I knew we were supposed to come here," Quinn whispered to me.
"You really think we're going to find out something from tarot cards?" I murmured back.
"Have an open mind," Quinn chided me. "You have any other ideas?"
She had a point, I thought as Serafine returned, unwrapping a deck of cards from a piece of turquoise silk.
"I'm going to have you ask the question," she said, handing me the cards. They were large, and there seemed to be an awful lot of them compared to a normal deck.
"Why me?"
"It feels right," she said. "Shuffle them as you ask your question, and hand them to me when you feel like you're done."
"What should I ask?"
"Whatever you want to know about what happened to Bug Wharton, is what I'd recommend. Follow your instincts."
"Okay." I shuffled the unwieldy cards and said, "Who killed Bug Wharton?"
Serafine nodded as I handed her the deck, and I watched quietly as she laid out the cards and studied them.
"So, what
do I do with this?" I asked when she put down the deck.
"There's a game of chance involved in this," she said, pointing to the card labeled wheel of fortune.
"Game," I said. "That's the word José said." I thought about what I'd seen in the trailer. "There were casino receipts there, at the ranch. Do you think that might be related?"
"Maybe. Also, Mitch Wharton won the lottery," Quinn pointed out. "Do you think that's it?"
"I have a sense that that's part of it," Serafine said, "but that there's more to it. Something more recent. And this woman is involved, too," she said, pointing a finger at the queen of cups. "Light hair, older."
"Evelyn?" I asked.
"Who's Evelyn?"
"Bug's ex-girlfriend," I said. "I talked to her in Houston."
"It might be worth it to talk to her again," Serafine said. "There is chance involved in this... games of chance. Games of chance gone wrong, and addiction, I think," she said, touching the devil card.
"Addiction? Like drugs or something?"
"Maybe," she said. "It's not completely clear... I think it's tied up with the games."
As she spoke, Aimee walked in. "Serafine, I..." She stopped short when she saw us. "Oh. What are you doing here?"
"We're doing a reading about what happened to Bug," Serafine said. "What do you make of the cards?"
Aimee walked over. "Deception, for sure," she said, pointing to a card labeled the five of swords. "Particularly with this card," she added, pointing to an eerie-looking moon card. "Who's this?" she asked, pointing to the queen of cups.
"I don't know," Serafine said. "Any ideas?"
"Bug's ex-girlfriend," Aimee said.
"That's what I thought," I agreed. "Does that mean she's involved?"
"Maybe... or she's relevant somehow."
"I haven't Googled her," I said.
"Maybe we should," Quinn said.
"I have my laptop over here," Serafine said. "I was doing some online PR... I'll grab it and we'll look her up. What's her name?" she asked as she put the laptop on the table next to the tarot cards. The combination of technology and magic made me grin: nothing like a little twenty-first century divination.
"Evelyn Crowley," I told her, and she typed it in.
"Does she live in Illinois?"
Deadly Brew (Dewberry Farm Mysteries Book 3) Page 16