That gets Angelo’s attention. “Like what?” he asks.
She turns off the stove and dumps the eggs from the skillet to a big bowl. “I don’t know. A special spell? Maybe he wanted to tap into a more precise or ancient kind of power? It could be anything at all, really.”
Glade takes the bowl from her and carries it to the table, while she gathers plates of toast and bacon. My stomach growls loudly, and Angelo shoots me a grin.
“How would we find out what he was up to?” I ask Angelo.
“Talk to Penley,” Glade says. “According to everyone I’ve asked, he’s the only constant in Phry’s dealings. He works - or worked - at the store, and they apparently hung out together a lot.” He turns his attention back to loading his plate.
Angelo is doing the same. “I’ll head out there after breakfast.”
“Can I come?” I ask. I’m thinking that if Penley and Guthrie were such good friends - maybe even mentor and student - he might know something about how to break my bond with Angelo.
Angelo stops chewing mid-bite and eyes me. “Could I stop you?” he asks, around a mouthful of bacon.
I get busy with my eggs. I really am starving. “You could say no.”
Mom sniffs. Angelo stares at me and shakes his head. Glade smiles, but doesn’t say a word.
“If I say no, will you listen?”
I’m not even going to answer that.
Angelo sighs and goes back to his breakfast.
“The colony is dangerous,” Mom says, pulling apart her toast. She looks at me and takes a dainty bite of the crust.
“I won’t be alone, Mom. Angelo will be with me.”
She sniffs again, but doesn’t look up.
“I’ll be careful.” Her concern is touching, and I appreciate it, but I need to know if Penley Crowder can help me, now that Guthrie is gone. Even in a situation like this, a pedestrian breakfast, my blood is humming at Angelo’s proximity. Part of my mind is always on him, and I’d really like to get my brain back.
An hour later, he’s grumbling at me while he helps me into my coat. “Are you sure you won’t just stay here and keep Bilda company?” he asks, but there isn’t any hope in his voice.
“I want to know what’s going on. Besides, you might need backup.”
He stops. “And you’re going to be my backup?”
I shrug and zip up. “Maybe, if things go south.”
“Just...stop.” He puts on his own coat and a pair of gloves.
“Stop what?”
“Talking like that. This isn’t Hawaii Five-O.”
I laugh. “You remember that TV show? I’ve never even seen it.”
He glares at me. “Just the reruns.”
I laugh and follow him out the door, waving to Mom as we go.
Twenty minutes later, I’m climbing onto the back of Flux’s borrowed four-wheeler and freezing my butt off. The machine is huge and deep red, with the JG Fire logo prominent on both front fenders. I’ve never been on one of these before, and I’m sure Angelo is trying to get me to change my mind, but I won’t do it.
Angelo hands me a helmet and puts one on himself. “You need help?” he asks, watching as I fiddle with my chin strap.
I shake my head and pull it tight. “Got it.” My voice is muffled until I remember to flip up the face plate. Angelo reaches out and flips it down again. “Let’s go,” he says.
He’s still not happy with my decision to come along, but this is important to me. After all, I could be home reading, or at the office working on those files, instead of traipsing around in the cold. Instead, I want to help figure out what happened to Guthrie, maybe find Rain, get help breaking my marriage bond, and get on with my life.
The ride to the Colony is cold, noisy, smelly and uncomfortably intimate. I have to hang on with my arms around Angelo’s waist to keep from falling off, and his hips sit perfectly between my legs. Perfectly as in, made-to-fit perfectly. In spite of the wind, my helmet is fogged up by the time he stops.
He chains the four-wheeler to a tree and pockets the keys.
“Why did you chain it up, if they need to key to start it?” I ask, curious.
“Because a few motivated guys could just pick the thing up and carry it away,” he answers.
We walk out into the snow covered park, with me sticking close to Angelo’s side. The Colony is probably safe as long as I’m with Angelo, but I still don’t like it here. Too many of the residents on this end of the island enjoy sidestepping the law.
There aren’t many people out, and I assume it’s because the snow is still deep here, even in the streets. The wind off the ocean is a problem, too - it’s cold enough to steal my breath and make my whole face numb in just a few seconds. I briefly consider putting my helmet back on.
One couple is holding hands and sitting at a picnic table in the corner of the park. They look to be around my age, but the woman is very goth, dressed in deep layers of bleak gray and black clothes. The man is laughing at something she said. Both of their noses are red from the cold.
Another woman is walking alone, out on the sidewalk. She hugs her coat close and trudges with her head down. I don’t know where she’s going, but I want to tell her to go home and get out of the wind, and that wherever she’s going isn’t worth it.
Angelo takes my hand and tugs me to the right. I follow, but my eyes are still scanning the area. Part of it is simply trying to be aware of my surroundings, but another part of me, I know, is looking for Rain.
She isn’t here.
Honestly, that’s a good thing. If she was here, she’d be freezing, so I have to assume that her absence means she is snuggled up safe and sound somewhere warm.
At, least I hope so.
We kick out way through the snow to the street and then turn left, toward the proper center of the Colony. This end of Jagged Grove is laid out a lot like the other end, except that the houses are smaller and a little more run down, and there aren’t as many stores. Actually, there isn’t anything like what we call ‘downtown’. The houses are interspersed among a few shops, and there are only four streets altogether, making a perfect square about a quarter of a mile from the water’s edge. I know that the people who live here tend to avoid Jagged Grove as much as possible, and I wonder where they get their supplies.
Angelo leads me down one of the streets, past a sign that names it Shifter Way. I smile at that. The houses here are really close together, with barely enough room to walk between them. A few even have privacy fences around the edges of the lawns, so that you can’t see the house at all. The fences automatically make me wonder what they’re hiding.
We stop at a small yellow house that looks somehow even worse than the others. The paint is peeling off the wood siding in sheets, and part of the wrought iron railing that borders the small porch is gone in places. The rest of it is getting rusty. Beside the front door is what looks like a welcome mat, piled with old shoes, and when we turn up the snow covered walkway, I think I see a curtain move.
“Well, someone is home, at least,” I say quietly, sticking close to Angelo’s side.
He nods and squeezes my hand. I can barely feel it through my glove and the cold. I really need better gloves. “Probably Penley’s mom,” he says. “Rumor has it that she hardly ever leaves the house, but I don’t know if that’s true. I know that I’ve never seen her out and about.”
“Why?”
“She’s got some...issues, I think. Come on.”
We step up onto the porch, which is even smaller than it looks from the street, partly because of all the lawn ornaments. Garden gnomes, parts of what looks like a lawnmower, and even an old-fashioned lawn jockey take up most of the space. Angelo knocks on the door while I stand aside and try not to knock anything over.
The door opens, but only a crack. “What can I do for you?” a woman asks. I can’t see her, but her voice is sharp and clipped, like we’re interrupting an important part of her day. It’s also very harsh; almost deep and rough enoug
h to belong to a man.
Angelo takes a step back. “Is Penley home? I need to talk to him, Posy.”
Posy?
The door creaks open a little wider. “No. He said he was working today. Usually that means he’s gone until supper. Thank the stars.” She starts to close the door, but Angelo puts out a hand.
“Can we come in?” he asks her.
“No.”
“Come on, Posy. There is a lot of weird stuff happening around here, and I need to ask you a few questions, too.”
I don’t hear anything for a long time, but then she sighs and closes the door. I hear a chain bolt slide and then the door opens again, to reveal a woman who isn’t more than four feet, five or six inches tall, with a very round body and burning red hair. A million freckles cover every available inch of skin. Like she swallowed a hundred dollar bill and broke out in pennies, my mom would have said. Behind her, in the house, there is no light at all.
Her face is as round as the rest of her, and she’s scowling and squinting at the light of day. The lines etched in her face tells me that she’s been unhappy for a very long time. When she spots me, her eyes narrow. “Who’s she?” she asks Angelo.
I don’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m Trinket Banks, the healer in Jagged Grove. I came with Angelo today because I’m looking for a girl named Rain, and I heard that she’s been hanging out with your son lately. Have you seen her?”
Angelo sighs.
Posy Crowder shakes her head. “Pen don’t bring his friends here, mostly. Haven’t met her.”
With that dismissal, she turns back to Angelo and opens the door wider. “Come on in. You ain’t gonna leave, anyway.” Then she disappears into the gloom.
Angelo steps inside and I follow - she didn’t strictly say that I wasn’t welcome. When Angelo closes the door behind us, I almost turn and beg to be let out again.
Posy Crowder is a hoarder, if I’ve ever met one. I can see immediately that the rooms are dark because all of the windows are blocked. With boxes, mostly, but there are mountains of clothes on top of those boxes, and piles of stuff all over the floor. I can barely take a step without landing on something. The whole place smells like it hasn’t gotten a whiff of fresh air for a really long time.
She leads us through what I assume is a living room to another, cleaner room - the dining room. A gorgeous cherry wood dining room suite sits front and center, with six beautifully crafted gleaming chairs. The corners of the room are just as stuffed as the other area, but that table is spotless and clear. She motions for us to sit down, then goes to the wall to flick on a light switch.
I gasp quietly when a chandelier blooms bright above our heads. It’s made of crystal and copper, and it looks incredibly expensive. It’s wonderful, and no one would ever guess it was here in the midst of all this mess.
Chapter 10
“Pretty, idn it?” she asks, smiling, and I have to smile back. Her face - all deep lines and old sorrows, lights up when she looks at that light. “It was my great-great-grandmama’s, just like the table. Angelo here went and saved it for me. All I got left of the old world.”
“It really is stunning,” I say. “I can see why you’re proud of it.”
She nods, but then her smile falters as she looks at Angelo. “What’s Pen done now?” she asks. The resignation in her voice is painful to hear.
“Maybe nothing, Posy. I just need to ask a few questions.” He smiles at her. “Did you say he went to work this morning?”
She nods. “Left about eight, and said he might not be back tonight. Something about inventory. I don’t bother keeping much track of him anymore. He does what he wants.”
“Did he say where, exactly he was working today?”
Posy smooths her hands across the cool wood of the table top. “Over at Hex, I guess. I didn’t ask.”
Angelo is shaking his head. “Sorry, Posy. He can’t be there.”
She purses her lips. “Why not? You callin’ him a liar?”
“Calm down. He can’t be there because that store has been declared a crime scene. Guthrie Phry is dead.”
Posy stares at him, and I can see shock move across her features. “Dead?”
Angelo nods. “There is a possibility that he’s been murdered.”
As she digests this information, I watch her shock slowly melt into suspicion. “And you think Pen had something to do with it?” she asks. “Course you do - why else would you be here?”
“I just want to ask him what Guthrie has been up to lately, really. Any new folks hanging around, any new magic that Phry has been playing with... You know, that sort of thing. To be honest, we don’t know what happened to the guy.”
I’m surprised when a tear rolls down Posy’s face. She’s sitting very still and looking at Angelo with a hard chill in her eyes, but then she slumps a little and starts to sniffle. “I don’t know, Angelo. I’m trying my best to raise the boy, but he’s out of control. He comes and goes as he pleases, and I can’t get him to clean his room no matter what I say.”
I bite my lip at this last bit. Also, I notice that even if more tears are rolling now, the anguish Posy is displaying doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s almost eerie, like she’s putting on the best show of her life.
I suspect she just might be doing that very thing.
“Posy, has Penley...Pen... been acting oddly in the last couple of days?” I ask, glancing at Angelo. I half expect him to shush me, but he doesn’t. “Keeping strange hours, maybe? Or talking about something new?”
She glances up at me. “Well,” she says, looking back down at her lap and waving a hand at me, “You know how kids are...I bet your own kids act pretty weird sometimes, too.”
I open my mouth to tell her that I don’t have kids, but Angelo gives me a slight shake of his head.
“Pen has always had a wild side. You know that as well as anybody, Angelo,” she continues. “Here lately, he’s been...I don’t know how to say it...overexcited? All jumpy, and being even more secretive than usual. Complains about everything - the weather, his job, this house.” She meets my eyes. “Can you believe he wanted to start a big fire the other night? ‘Just burn it all and start over,’ he said.” She shakes her head. “Boy don’t know how good he’s got it.”
“Kids can...be...ungrateful, I guess.” I stumble a little over the words, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Said he was ashamed to bring anybody here to visit.” She snorts. “Half his friends live in the old mansion, without electric or nothin’.”
Angelo perks up. “You mean Dravo’s mansion?”
I’m on my feet, ready to go, but Angelo shoots me a look. I hesitate, then sit back down. What is he waiting for? It’s the first lead we’ve had on Rain so far. “Could he be there?” I ask.
Posy’s head comes up, her eyes flashing. “Now, you listen, lady. My Pen wouldn’t hurt a girl, no matter what else he’s done. Your daughter’s safe as houses, if she’s with him.” A pause. “Not saying she is, or anything.”
My daughter? Didn’t I tell her that Rain was just a friend? I can’t remember, and it’s apparently not important, or Angelo would correct her. “I’m sure she is. I’m just, you know, worried about her. She hasn’t been home for a while,” I say quietly.
Posy laughs, but it sounds more like a bark. “Be glad you didn’t have a boy. Pen is about the orneriest creature I’ve ever met.”
When she looks at me now, her smile is a lot warmer, and I see Angelo’s tactic. Posy is bonding with me, mother to mother. I feel like a fraud.
“And they run off at the drop of a hat,” I say, shaking my head like I can’t believe the nerve of some kids. “Rain is always getting into some trouble or another.”
Posy nods. “I know - just last week, I asked Pen where he was going and he yelled at me. Yelled! Then he lied and said he was going to the mainland. How crazy is that?”
My heartbeat sped up, but I just smiled. “Did you ask him how he planned to get there?”
>
She laughed again and slapped her hand on the table, making me jump. “Said he had a secret entrance. Secret! Like Angelo doesn’t know every little thing that goes on around here. Isn’t that right, Angelo? If there was a way to get to the mainland, you’d already know about it, wouldn’t ya?”
I look at Angelo, who is paying close attention but pretending he’s not. “Oh, probably,” he says. “But you never know. Kids can be pretty darn smart when they want something.”
“Well, if he knows about a secret entrance, it’s have to be on your end of the island. No place over here to hide one.” She laughs, as if the whole idea is a big joke.
I can’t help but think about the results of our scrying attempts. Is it possible that they do have a secret portal to the mainland? If so, how are they keeping that information a secret? It seems impossible, but if there is even a slight chance...
“Well, Posy,” Angelo says, standing up from the table. “Thank you for talking to us, and I hope you get things worked out with Pen real soon.”
“You leavin?” she asks, looking a little hurt. For a woman who didn’t want us to come in, she seems sorry to see us go.
“I’m afraid so,” Angelo says. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today. If Pen comes home, have him look us up, all right?”
She nods, still looking disappointed. “Course I will. Don’t you be arresting my boy, though. He didn’t hurt nobody.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Angelo says. He takes my hand and pulls me through the mess to the front door. Posy sees us out, and I hear locks clicking behind us.
“That was, uh, odd,” I say.
“Posy is just doing the best she can,” Angelo says. Then he changes the subject. “What do you think the kids are doing in your dad’s mansion?”
“I have no idea.” It’s true. The place is massive and impersonal, and it seems more suited to a haunted house than a clubhouse. “Maybe it’s a harmless thing - you know, a place to get away from the parents for a little while.”
He glances at me as we walk. “Do you believe that?”
I think about it, and realize that, no, I don’t. “I have no reason not to believe it, but...you think we should check it out?”
Addicted Witch: A Jagged Grove Mystery Page 7