“But you think the garden will…listen to me?” I asked.
“I think there’s a very good chance you’ll have the necessary bond,” Scarlet said. “The same one that Hazel had. You mentioned that random rose that bloomed.”
“But that was a coincidence,” I objected.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Scarlet nodded toward the book. “Would it hurt to try?”
“The worst that would happen is you’d feel foolish,” Patrick said.
“Well, that’s a familiar enough feeling for me,” I said. “I’m not opposed to trying.” At my age, I thought I knew everything there was to know about myself. It would be exciting to discover untapped potential. And it would be even more exciting to prove my mother wrong. She always made a mockery of anything remotely supernatural. What if my visions and strange sensations over the years actually meant that I had a gift?
“I’ll still help you, of course,” Scarlet said. “Hazel was knowledgeable about plants. She didn’t need me.”
“But I do,” I said. It wasn’t even a question. Besides, I liked Scarlet and Patrick. If I had to stay in Newberry for a year, I wouldn’t mind spending it with them.
Scarlet clapped her hands, her dark eyes shining with excitement. “We’ll start with the witch’s garden. It’s basic and manageable.”
“How do we test your theory about me?” I asked.
“We’ll monitor any changes in the gardens in the coming weeks. With spring on the horizon, it’ll be ideal timing.”
“And I will help dress you for the tasks ahead,” Patrick said. “You’ll need gardening clothes, of course.”
I bit back a smile. “Of course.”
“Hazel has all the tools you’ll need,” Scarlet said. “I can teach you how to use them.”
A thought occurred to me. “But if I can make roses bloom with the touch of a hand, do I even need tools?”
“I doubt it’s that simple. Hazel spent most of her time in the garden,” Scarlet said. “She put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place.”
I recoiled. “Well, that’s disgusting.”
Scarlet snorted. “I don’t mean literally.”
“You can never tell with you two,” I said. “Next you’ll tell me I need to order an extra supply of eye of newt.”
“I have heard it makes an excellent addition to one’s anti-aging regimen,” Patrick said.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you some kind of white wizard?”
He adjusted his feather boa. “As much as I like to think of myself as a younger, hotter Gandalf, I’m afraid my skills are limited to the spiritual realm.”
“Between us, I think we have all the bases covered,” I said.
“The power of three,” Scarlet said, smiling.
“Is that a thing?” I asked.
Scarlet nodded. “Yes, it’s very much a thing.”
“And did Aunt Hazel make a living off her skills?” I asked, thinking of Mimi’s visit.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Scarlet said.
Patrick clamped a hand on my shoulder. “All in good time, magical grasshopper.”
My stomach rumbled and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I need to get some food in me. Anyone else hungry?”
“I think we should go out to eat,” Patrick said.
Scarlet gave him a knowing look. “Gee, I can’t imagine where you’d like to go.”
I glanced from one to the other. “I’m missing something.”
“He wants to go to Largo because he thinks the owner is hot.”
Patrick lifted his chin haughtily. “And, more importantly, he’s very into me.”
“I’ll drive,” Scarlet said.
“Not until you change,” Patrick said to me. “You look like you’ve been used as a tiller in garden.”
I brushed aside loose strands of hair. “Fair enough.” I went upstairs to make myself presentable. My stomach rumbled again, prompting me to hurry.
Largo was located on the canal side of town and offered a two-tiered terrace that overlooked the water. Despite the colder temperatures, both terraces were jammed with diners.
“We’ll be lucky to get a table at all,” Scarlet said. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”
“No,” Patrick said quickly. “If Jeff knows I’m here, we’ll get a table.”
We approached the hostess stand and she broke into a smile at the sight of Patrick.
“Hey, stranger. Where’ve you been?”
“Hibernation,” he said. “But I’m slowly reengaging.”
“Jeff will be happy to see you,” she said. “He’s around somewhere.”
Patrick leaned forward. “Um, we don’t have a reservation, but is there any chance you can find us a table?”
“Yes, of course.” She swiveled to face the dining area. “We’ll get that table cleaned up for you right away.” She smiled at a young man passing by with a dishcloth. “Hector, would you please clean table ten for our guests?” She spoke slowly, enunciating each word.
Hector nodded and maneuvered through the busy room to the table.
The hostess shifted her gaze back to us. “It’ll only be a moment.”
“Take your time,” Patrick said.
We huddled in front of the hostess stand, observing the other guests.
“For a second, I thought I saw Kurt Wiggins,” Scarlet said in a hushed tone.
“Nope. Still in jail,” Patrick said. “No bail because they think he’s a flight risk.”
My mood dampened. “Poor Kurt.”
A server greeted us with an armful of menus and marched us to table ten where Hector was wiping down the table.
“Oh, please,” Patrick said. “You were thrilled when they suspected Kurt.”
At the mention of Kurt, the bus boy stopped dead and his hand came to rest on the table.
“I know, but that was before I met him and had a…feeling.”
“It’s your spidey sense,” Scarlet said.
“Or Scooby-sense.” I related more to the hungry Great Dane than the lithe superhero.
“All the evidence points to Kurt,” Patrick said.
My gaze was on the bus boy who had slowly resumed wiping the table. He tossed the white cloth over his shoulder and lifted the container stacked with soiled plates.
“Kurt a good man,” Hector said in broken English.
I peered at him. “You know Kurt Wiggins?”
He seemed to regret his statement and hurried away with the container, nearly colliding with a server in his haste to escape to the kitchen.
We took our seats, staring after him.
“That was bizarre,” Patrick said.
“He knows something,” I said.
“Because he knows Kurt or because he knows who really killed Gladys?” Scarlet whispered.
I drummed my fingers on the table. “I’ll be honest. Random bus boy was not on my murder bingo card.” I started to rise, but Patrick grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back into the chair.
“You can’t go back there,” Patrick said. “What if he’s the murderer?”
“He’s not going to kill me in a busy restaurant. Besides, if this guy knows something, I owe it to Kurt to talk to him.”
“You don’t owe anything to Kurt,” Patrick said.
Okay, maybe not, but I still felt compelled to take action. I grabbed my phone.
“I’ll text if I need backup. Oh, and order me the fish tacos and an iced tea.” I loved the experience of returning to a table and having the food be there.
I walked back to the kitchen. “Hector?” I yelled into the noisy room.
One of the servers exited the kitchen with a tray. “You’re looking for Hector Garcia?”
I nodded.
“He just went outside for a quick break.” She inclined her head toward a back exit.
“Thanks.” I slipped outside into a quiet alleyway where Hector was smoking a cigarette by the dumpster. I immediately stopped breathing through
my nose because I hated the stench of cigarette smoke.
Hector lowered his hand when he noticed me, letting the ash fall from the tip.
“Hi Hector. My name is Mia Thorne. I’d like to talk to you about Kurt.”
“Cop?” he asked, eyeing me warily.
I held up my hands, still clutching my phone. “No, I’m not a cop. The woman who died, Kurt’s aunt…She was found in my yard, but I don’t think Kurt killed her.”
Hector drew the cigarette back to his lips in a nervous gesture. Upon closer inspection, he couldn’t have been older than twenty.
“Kurt teach me English,” he said. “He work at the library.”
“Yes, that’s right. I met him there.” I hesitated, not wanting to say anything that scared him away. “You know something, don’t you, Hector? Something that would help Kurt?”
Hector averted his gaze and puffed away on his cigarette. “No.”
I’d lived in the city long enough to recognize when a person was dodging the police. Someone like Hector who was young, working in a restaurant, learning English…
I blinked at the bus boy. “You’re his alibi,” I said quietly.
Hector’s brow creased and I realized he didn’t understand the word.
“Kurt was helping you with English at the time of his aunt’s death, wasn’t he?” This explained why Kurt had acted like he was hiding something. He was hiding something all right, but it wasn’t murder.
Hector refused to meet my gaze.
“You’re afraid that if you go to the police, they’ll find out you’re an undocumented immigrant.” Talk about self-sacrifice. Kurt was more concerned with protecting Hector than himself.
“My sisters. They live with me.”
He looked directly at me this time and the fear in his eyes rattled me to my core. Hector was terrified of being deported. If Kurt knew more about Hector’s story, it made sense that he would feel compelled to protect his tutee.
“Hector, listen. We’ll figure something out. Something that helps Kurt without hurting you.”
Wordlessly, Hector tossed his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with the heel of his shoe.
And here I thought my exile to Newberry for a year was bad. Kurt’s plight certainly put that into perspective. If we didn’t figure out a solution, an innocent man was going away to prison for the rest of his life, leaving the murderer to escape justice.
There had to be a way to fix this.
Chapter Seventeen
I barely slept again, but at least this time it wasn’t due to nightmares. I couldn’t wait until morning arrived so that I could pay a visit to the one person I knew could offer advice on the Hector situation.
“Hi Dane.” I hovered in the doorway of his office. We hadn’t been in contact since our date and I wasn’t sure how he would respond to seeing me after my awkward behavior.
Thankfully, he glanced up from his desk and smiled. “Mia. What a nice surprise.”
“I hate to spring this on you, but I need to talk to you about a legal matter and it’s pretty urgent.”
His expression turned solemn and he motioned to the chair. “I have a few minutes. Take a seat.”
As I sat, my stomach felt like a miniature zoo for hopping insects.
“Hypothetically, if a murder suspect has an alibi, but they don’t want to admit it because it would get the alibi in trouble, is there anything a lawyer can do?”
Dane frowned. “I’m afraid I need a little more information. What kind of trouble?”
I tried to come up with a comparable situation. “Okay, say I found out that Kurt was with a prostitute during the time of the murder, which means he couldn’t have done it.”
“But the prostitute doesn’t want to get arrested so she stays quiet and Kurt doesn’t want to get her or himself in trouble either, so they both stay quiet.”
“Exactly.”
Dane whistled. “Seems like an unfair trade. Nobody’s looking at life in prison because of prostitution.”
Hmm. Not the best comparison then because the fear in Hector’s eyes suggested deportation could be a life sentence for Hector and his sisters. If I wanted the best advice, I was going to have to come clean.
“If I tell you something, you have to keep it secret, right?”
Dane studied me. “Unfortunately, I get the feeling it isn’t your secret you want to share.”
“I know something that can exonerate Kurt. He has an alibi.”
“I take it she’s not a hooker.”
I shook my head. “He’s an undocumented immigrant and so are his two sisters who live with him.”
Dane blew out a breath. “Got it.”
“What are the options?”
He gave me a curious look. “Why do you care?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I mean you’re off the hook. There’s a suspect in custody. You don’t know Kurt or his alibi. Why put yourself in a difficult situation that has nothing to do with you?”
“I would think you’d understand. Isn’t that your job?”
“Exactly my point. It’s my job. It’s my brother’s job. But not yours. And you have no personal stake in the matter.”
“I’m not allowed to have an interest in justice and fairness?”
“Of course you are. I didn’t mean to suggest…”
“I know Kurt is innocent and now I have the evidence to prove it. What kind of person would I be if I ignored that?”
Dane stared at me for a long moment. “Here’s the thing you might not realize about us, Mia. Newberry is a small town. Local law enforcement isn’t going to hand over a cooperative witness to the feds for deportation.”
“But won’t the police be obligated to arrest Hector if they know about him?”
He splayed his hands. “Not at all. Being here unlawfully isn’t a criminal offense. It’s a civil one.”
I sat up straighter. “Then we can help Kurt!”
Dane’s smile was like a flash of sunlight that forced me to squint. “I believe we can. Why don’t we call my brother together and you can tell him what you know?”
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure if it was the whole lawyer vibe, but I felt safe in Dane’s hands.
I listened as Dane explained the situation to the detective and then put him on speaker so that I could be a part of the conversation.
“Mia came to you first?” Detective Fairfax sounded aggrieved.
“I wanted a confidential opinion,” I said, leaning closer to the desk.
“I’ll speak to this Hector Garcia,” Detective Fairfax said.
“And then you’ll release Kurt?” I asked.
“Assuming the information checks out.”
I clapped my hands together. “That’s terrific news. Thank you so much.”
“Wait until it’s a done deal,” the detective warned. “And then you can thank me by agreeing to dinner.”
My brow lifted and I met Dane’s surprised gaze. He grabbed a sheet of paper and crumpled it in front of the receiver.
“I think it’s a bad connection,” he said and quickly hung up the phone.
I glanced down at my lap, frowning.
“I’m sorry,” Dane said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure he just did it to annoy you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Mia. He’d be lucky to have you.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“So what’s wrong?”
“This means the police are back to square one.” I thought back to the other suspects I’d spoken to. Maybe it was time to revisit the murder board.
“The key word in that sentence is police,” Dane said. He seemed to be reading my mind.
“Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”
He fixed those Caribbean eyes on me and I nearly melted into the seat. “I’m sorry I haven’t called since our date. I got busy with work.”
“Yes, your brother mentioned that you can be pretty
focused.”
Dane’s phone rang and he scowled at the sound. “I’m sorry, but I have to get that.”
“I totally understand.” I rose to my feet.
“Before you go, I wanted to ask—would you be interested in going out again soon?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Seriously?”
“If you don’t want to, I understand. You’re new in town and probably want to…explore all your options.”
The only options I wanted to explore were right in front of me, but I couldn’t say that.
“I’d love to go out again,” I said. “Text me when you have time.”
He picked up the phone with a grin on his face. “For you, I’ll make time.”
I arrived home feeling a blend of satisfaction and concern. Kurt would be released and the investigation would continue. I hoped that didn’t mean more cops in the yard. I had my own work to do.
I wandered into the study and nearly backtracked when I spotted Ophelia sprawled across a rug, luxuriating in a patch of sunlight. I tiptoed toward the desk where my laptop was already open, keeping one wary eye pinned on the temperamental cat.
“I can take the laptop into the kitchen if you’d rather be alone,” I said, sliding into the chair.
Ophelia barely registered my presence, which I took as a sign to stay. I navigated to my bank’s website and logged in, squeezing my eyes closed before I could glimpse the current number. Although I hadn’t been spending much money since I left New York City, I knew that number would dwindle quickly if I wasn’t careful. It was all well and good being the recipient of a house, but it still required funds to pay the bills associated with it.
I peeked one eye open and forced myself to look at the account balance. It wasn’t dire. Yet. As long as I stayed home, ate only what I grew in the garden, kept off all the lights, and never socialized with another human being again, I’d manage.
My thoughts turned back to my conversation with Scarlet and Patrick. If I really was some kind of witchy psychic like Aunt Hazel, then maybe I could make a living from it. Was the idea so outlandish?
Yes. Yes, it was.
How could I claim to be an expert in an area I knew nothing about? Okay, maybe a smattering of my childhood memories revolved around strange occurrences that my mother quickly dismissed the same way she dismissed the absurdity of wearing turtlenecks in April that were not-so-cleverly designed to hide her facelift.
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