Hell Hath No Fury

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Hell Hath No Fury Page 13

by Annabel Chase


  Perfect. “If you could point me in their direction, that would be great.”

  “I can point you to two of them. Another one was purchased recently and we only had one copy, so I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

  On the contrary. “What’s the name of the book?”

  “The one that was purchased?” I nodded and she reviewed the screen. “Spells and Enchantments for the Beginner.” She laughed. “I remember that one. The cover was so pretty. I think that’s the main reason I ordered it for the store.”

  “I know this is a strange request, but would you mind telling me the name of the person who bought the book?”

  Penelope hesitated. “I don’t think I can do that. It would violate their privacy.”

  I dug around my purse and produced my badge. To humans without the Sight, it read FBI.

  Penelope’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  “I’m investigating cyber fraud,” I said. “It would be helpful to have that name.”

  For a moment, I worried that Penelope would demand a warrant, but she turned back to the screen in a tizzy. “Yes, absolutely. You can count on me, ma’am.”

  “Agent Fury,” I said.

  Penelope hit a button and the printer came to life. “Her name is Rhonda Milliken.”

  Hmm. That name wasn’t familiar and Milliken wasn’t a name of any of the town founders. “Thanks. Any chance I can get an address?”

  “It’s on the printout,” she said, and handed me the sheet of paper.

  “This is really helpful. Thank you so much.”

  “Feel free to come back anytime. On Tuesdays we host a trivia night and Thursdays are open mic. Sometimes we host a poetry slam.”

  “That sounds fun.” Sort of.

  “I try to make this place more than a bookstore. I want it to be a spot for the community to gather, like the old mill used to be. I also rent out the lower floor to organizations for their meetings. A lot of book clubs like to use it.”

  “There’s a lower floor?”

  She gave me a sheepish grin. “Technically it’s the basement, but nobody likes to say they hold their meetings in a basement. It’s set up real nice with couches and a big coffee table. If you’re interested, I can give you a tour. It’s not a huge space, so it won’t take long.”

  “Maybe another time,” I said. Now that I had a lead, I didn’t want to get distracted.

  “Just make a note that you can’t have a group with more than twenty-five people because of fire safety regulations. I have a group that meets once a month and they’re at the max. I told them they can’t add anyone new or they’ll have to meet somewhere else. Apparently they used to meet at the library, but they wanted to move to a private space.”

  “Wow, that sounds like a good group if they can attract that many people on a regular basis. What kind of books do they read?”

  “History, apparently,” Penelope said. “That’s all I know. They’re funny about sharing information.” She laughed it off. “I don’t see what’s so embarrassing about history books. You’d think they were down there watching porn.”

  “Let’s hope not or I might have to make an appearance,” I teased, wiggling my badge.

  Penelope covered her mouth. “Oh, my. I can just imagine the look on Joan Worland’s face if you accused her of watching porn with a group of old men.”

  My radar pinged. “Joan Worland? She’s in this book club?”

  “Yes, do you know her? I suppose you would. She’s a fixture in this town, isn’t she? Come to think of it, lots of them are fixtures.”

  “Who else?” I asked. I had a feeling I already knew the answers, or some of them anyway.

  Penelope pursed her lips, thinking. “Patrick Smallwood, Oliver Sewall, Yolanda Lloyd, Grier Hatton. I don’t have a list of names, but those are the ones I’ve noticed heading down there. I leave Patrick a key and he locks up when they’re done.”

  “That’s very trusting of you,” I said.

  She shrugged. “He’s a small business owner. Actually, most of them do. It’s something they have in common.”

  That wasn’t the only thing they had in common. Every name she mentioned was also a descendant of a founding family. “When’s their next meeting? I know I can’t join unless someone drops out, but maybe there’s a waiting list I can be added to.”

  “You’ll have to talk to Patrick or Joan about that,” Penelope said. “They meet on the third Friday night of every month.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked the paper with Rhonda’s address into my purse. “You’ve been more helpful than you know.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I got in my car and texted Clara the information I’d learned about the monthly ‘book club’ meetings. I had a strong feeling that the only history books they read were the ones that included their families’ names.

  Clara texted back immediately. Thanks! Want to spy with me at the next meeting?

  I thought about the invisibility charm that Neville had made for me. Absolutely. Even though it wasn’t for another three weeks, I added the date to the calendar on my phone.

  I sent another text to Neville to let him know that I was following up on a lead. He sent back a Caucasian thumbs up emoji and a dog emoji. I was glad to see that he was enjoying his time with Achilles. It would be hard not to though. The pug was undeniably sweet.

  I drove to the house on Burrata Street. It was a classic colonial-style family home with a symmetrical facade and a brass knocker on the front door. The doormat was personalized with Welcome to the Millikens. Although I felt guilty standing on their name, there was nowhere else to put my feet. There was a car in the driveway, so I crossed my fingers that Rhonda was home. I rang the doorbell and waited.

  I only had to wait about ten seconds for the door to open a crack. A middle-aged woman was partially visible. With rosy cheeks and a soft body, she was what my father would describe as ‘pleasantly plump.’ Of course he would then go a step further and say that she’d be pretty if she lost twenty pounds, prompting Anton and I to chastise him for his insensitive remark. He’d act like we were being ridiculous and accuse our generation of being ‘too soft.’ Even in an imaginary conversation, my father managed to irritate me.

  “Hi. Are you Rhonda Milliken?” I asked.

  The woman seemed slightly taken off-guard. “I am. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “My name is Eden Fury. I understand you purchased a book earlier this week,” I said.

  She frowned. “A book?”

  “It’s called Spells and Enchantments for the Beginner,” I said.

  She shook her head. “I haven’t bought any books since I moved here, and I certainly wouldn’t buy one with that title.”

  “Is it possible that someone stole your credit card?” I retrieved the paper from my purse. “The one that ends in 6524?”

  “Hold on and I’ll check,” she said. She opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

  I wiped my feet and stepped into the foyer.

  “Apologies for the boxes, but it’s taking me forever to unpack.”

  “Did you move locally?” I asked. I followed her into the bright white kitchen. “I love your subway tiles.” The backsplash was comprised of dark grey herringbone tiles that were in stark contrast to the white cabinets. It was wonderfully dramatic.

  “Thank you. I wish I could claim responsibility, but the kitchen was like this when we moved in.” She rooted through her purse and pulled out her wallet. She snapped it open and smiled with relief. “The credit card is right here. I guess it’s possible someone could’ve used the number without the card. Which bookstore? I should probably give them a call.”

  “Is there no one else with access to the card?” I asked. She’d said ‘we moved in.’ “What about your husband?”

  “He has his own AmEx,” she said. “It’s possible my daughter used it. She’s been going into town after school on her own.”

  “How ol
d is your daughter?” I asked.

  “Ava is sixteen,” Rhonda replied. “She knows better than to take the card without asking, but she’s been known to break the rules more than I’d like.” She smiled as if to say ‘typical teen,’ but my mind was still stuck on the name.

  “Ava?” I repeated. The image of the teenager with the oversized glasses flashed in my mind.

  “Yes, that’s right. She’s just started the high school as a junior.”

  “I’ve met her. She’s friends with Meg, my cousin.”

  Rhonda broke into a wide smile. “Yes, of course. Meg is wonderful. Ava’s been so much happier since she made a friend. The teen years can be so challenging.”

  “Ava mentioned that you moved for her father’s work.”

  “Yes,” she said, but something in her expression told me there was more to the story. “It’s not an ideal time to move. I know it would be easier on Ava if we stayed in one place, but it isn’t always possible.”

  “What time does Ava get home from school?” I asked.

  Rhonda appeared thoughtful. “She doesn’t have any after-school activities today, so around three o’clock.”

  “Hmm. I’m short on time and I can really use that book. Is there any chance I could look for it now?”

  Rhonda bit her lip, seemingly uncertain. “Is there only one copy in existence? Not to be rude, but why is her particular book so important?”

  How could I say more without saying too much? “I’d like to know what Ava intends to do with a book like that.”

  Rhonda barked a short laugh. “Not much. It’s something about enchantments for Pete’s sake. What do you think she’s going to do? Cast a spell?” She laughed dismissively.

  “Okay, I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” I said, and produced my badge.

  She gasped. “FBI. Why on earth would you need Ava’s book?”

  “It’s not really about the book,” I lied. “I have reason to believe she’s storing something inside it.” Ugh. I hated to do this to Ava, but time was of the essence. If she was responsible for the chief’s condition, I couldn’t risk her getting to the book first and destroying evidence. I’d fix the situation with Ava’s family later.

  Rhonda pressed her hand to her chest. “Is it drugs? Please tell me it’s not drugs.” She moaned. “I knew trouble would find us again. This always happens. If we could just make it to college…”

  Again? “What do you mean?”

  Rhonda splayed her hands on the gleaming marble countertop. “That’s the real reason we keep moving,” she admitted. “No matter where we go, there seems to be trouble. My family blames me, of course.”

  “Blames you for what?” Could Rhonda be involved somehow?

  “They warned me not to adopt a child. That they always came with unknown baggage, but my husband and I couldn’t have a child of our own and we really wanted to be parents.”

  “People come with all sorts of baggage,” I said. “Adopted or not.”

  Tears welled in Rhonda’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. That must sound awful. I don’t mean to suggest we don’t love Ava. We love her beyond all reason.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I said. “I understand. Family is complicated.” I knew that better than anyone.

  “Is she in trouble?” Rhonda asked.

  “I’ll let you know once I’ve seen the book.”

  Rhonda crooked a finger. “Follow me.” She took me to a door. “She spends her free time in the basement. My husband and I don’t go down there. We try to respect her privacy, especially at this age.”

  “That’s commendable.”

  “I’m not so sure. Maybe if I had stricter rules, we wouldn’t keep having problems.”

  I lingered at the top of the steps. “What kind of problems do you mean?”

  Rhonda licked her lips, appearing to debate how much to reveal. “How about a cup of coffee? I have gingerbread cookies too. They’re Ava’s favorite.”

  “Sounds nice,” I said. The more I could learn about Ava, the better. I began to worry that Meg might have befriended the wrong sort of girl. She usually had better radar when it came to people.

  We returned to the kitchen and Rhonda added a fresh filter and grounds to the coffee pot. She switched on the button. “We left our last town because of a fire.”

  My heart began to race. “You think Ava started it?”

  “She swears she didn’t. No one was hurt, fortunately. Our kitchen was toast, but the insurance covered it.”

  “Why move then?” I asked.

  “Because people started to talk.” She heaved a sigh. “They always talk.”

  “What did they say?”

  “That Ava started it so that she could murder us and take our money. All kinds of horrible accusations. We knew none of it was true, but once those rumors take off, it’s almost impossible to stop them. It impacted her grades and social network. It was awful.”

  I didn’t argue with that. My family had been the subject of many unkind rumors when I was in school. Of course, in my case, the truth was much, much worse.

  “When my husband accepted the job in Baltimore, I tried to encourage Ava to move to a city. We could hide better in a busy place, but when we came here, she said she felt more at home than she ever did before. I took it as a sign.”

  A sign that Ava was likely supernatural. She was probably drawn to the supernatural energy here. “What other issues have you had?”

  Rhonda filled two mugs with coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She spooned in sugar and stirred. “The town before that there was an incident with some kids at school.” She stopped with one hand on the refrigerator door and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment.

  “What kind of incident? Was anyone hurt?” I prompted. I was five seconds away from texting Meg to stay far away from Ava Milliken.

  She pulled open the door and retrieved the cream. “Only their pride. There was a group of boys who’d apparently been picking on Ava, calling her names. She didn’t tell us until after the incident.” Rhonda crossed the kitchen and poured cream into both mugs. She handed one to me. “There were three boys involved. They all lost their hair.”

  “Lost their hair?”

  Rhonda took a sip of coffee. “They woke up one morning and they were all bald. Not shaved. Not bleached. Just…gone.”

  “And they blamed Ava?”

  “Not just the boys. The school expelled her,” Rhonda said. “They said they couldn’t prove it, but that Ava had to have been involved given the situation.”

  “That’s not right,” I said. “They had no evidence.”

  “We considered hiring a lawyer, but decided that the damage was done, so we decided to move. Ava didn’t want to stay and she’s our priority.”

  “What do you think happened?” I asked. I sucked down a mouthful of coffee. Would it be rude to remind her about the promise of gingerbread cookies? Probably.

  “I honestly don’t know. My husband and I discussed the possibility that the boys had done it to themselves and blamed Ava to further torment her.”

  “Why did they pick on her?”

  “Why do kids ever pick on each other?” Rhonda asked. “She seemed different to them. Nobody likes different at that age. I still remember being teased for being overweight in fifth grade. It was a horrible time. The school nurse would weigh us and I’d hear the kids behind me in line making jokes about sinking the boat and whale watching.” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “People say it’s just kids being kids, but that doesn’t make it okay. We need to teach our kids compassion and kindness.”

  I didn’t disagree. “If it’s any consolation, Mrs. Milliken, kids can grow up to be better people. I’ve seen it happen.” Sassy had been quick with a putdown and happy to make others feel inferior in high school, but she wasn’t that girl anymore.

  “I was never like that and neither was Ava,” Rhonda said. “She’s a sweet girl. I’ll h
ate it if she’s gotten mixed up in drugs at this point. I would’ve thought she would’ve already been through that phase.”

  I felt terrible for misleading Rhonda, but it was too late now. I just had to press ahead and find the book, as well as any other secrets Ava might be hiding.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all that,” I said. “It sounds like it’s been rough for Ava.” I never would’ve guessed.

  “She’s settled in nicely here,” Rhonda said. “I’d really like to make this work. My husband’s lucky he has marketable skills.” She frowned. “If you find any drugs in the basement, what happens next?”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?” Because there was no way I’d find drugs in the basement. Herbs for spells maybe, but no drugs. I took another sip of coffee and left the mug on the counter. Knowing me, I’d spill it all over the basement carpet so probably best to leave it upstairs.

  I flicked on the light switch and continued down the steps. The first thing I noticed when I reached the bottom was a framed poster of Wicked on the wall. So Ava liked musicals about witches and fairies. Nice.

  On one side of the room was a pool table and a dartboard on the wall. Across the room was a loveseat and a recliner facing a large flat screen TV affixed to the wall. It was only when I maneuvered past the loveseat that I saw the altar. The book rested on top, as well as a candle and a few other small objects.

  Like a pocket watch.

  I dropped to my knees to investigate. I flipped to double-check the title of the book. Sure enough, it was the one purchased from the bookshop. I paged through it. For a beginner’s book, the spells seemed incredibly complicated. Some of them weren’t even written in English.

  “What are you doing down here?”

  My head jerked up and I saw Ava standing at the base of the steps. Her pale face matched the fear in her voice.

  “Looking for this.” I held up the book. “I understand you used your mom’s credit card to make a purchase at the local bookshop.”

  She hugged herself. “That’s right. So what?”

 

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