I got closer to the van to see if it was the same one. There was a Q in the first three letters of the license plate. That couldn't be coincidence. I wished I could remember the other two letters. But still. This was his neighborhood. It had to be his van.
I whipped out my phone to call Didi. She'd know for sure.
"What?" she said, answering the phone.
"The van is here. Well, a van that looks a lot like the van is here," I said.
"At the McDonald's?"
"I think it's his. The license plate has a Q in it. Do you have the full license plate there?" I asked.
"Shoot. I don't think so." I heard her start the car. "I'll be right there."
"I'll keep a lookout for him," I said, and we hung up.
"Lookout for who?" a man's voice asked behind me.
Oh crud.
"What?" I stalled as I turned around.
"Who are you looking for?" he asked.
"Do I know you?" Yes, it sounded like a pick-up line, but that had to be a better cover than saying, "Hey, we've been stalking you." Also, even in the cruddy, yellow-tinged McParking Lot light, he was handsome. He had that early graying hair that for some reason looked good on a younger man. I wondered if he was younger than me, or my age.
"Why were you talking to someone on the phone about my van?" he asked.
Darn. So busted.
"This van? Is this yours?" I said, pointing to it.
"Yeah, that van," he said, smiling. He had amazingly straight teeth, and his eyes were such an unusual color. They were almost violet, but maybe it was the light.
"Well," I said.
"Well, what?" he asked, still smiling.
It almost seemed like he was flirting with me. So I thought I'd push my luck. "Isn't this van a little too creepy for someone like you to be driving?"
"You mean I don't look like I'm going to put on a clown suit and lure children into the back of the van with candy?"
"Pretty much."
"My knees are weak from your compliment," he joked.
"I'm known for my charm."
"I'm in a band," he said. "I need this creepy van to take my drums to gigs."
Oooh. A drummer. Way cool. "What kind of music do you play?"
"Personally, I enjoy all kinds of music. But I play in a goth band."
"You don't look very goth," I said, noticing how nicely he filled out his crisp, black button down.
He shrugged. "It pays the bills. That, and tutoring."
"What kind of tutoring?" I asked.
"SATs, but no offense, you seem a little old for that."
"Ouch," I said. "But I could be asking for my kid."
"And you seem a little young for that," he said.
"Redeemed."
"But seriously. Who did you call to come here because of my van? Are you like a cop or something? Is someone on their way to question me?"
"No," I said, shaking my head for emphasis, "nothing like that."
Of course, as soon as I said that my sister's car came rushing into the parking lot. She pulled up right next to me. "Pal, you shouldn't be standing right there, he might see."
Gerald popped his head out from behind the van. He must've been just out of her sight line.
"You mean me?" he asked.
Utter disaster. My sister gave me a look while shaking her head. So now both my sister and the new cute guy weren't happy with me.
"Okay," I said. "You were sort of right before."
"Seriously, what's going on?" he asked, his voice no longer playful.
I glanced over to my sister. Not happy.
I had to say something. I'd really blown this. I noticed he was carrying a takeout bag. He had probably stopped here on his way home. "We're private investigators working a case. But you don't look like the person that we're trying to find, so the point is moot."
"He was driving a van a lot like yours," Didi said. "And he was last seen in this area. So we sort of hoped that it was you. But he was a lot," Didi paused, trying to think up a lie, "wider."
Didi wasn't the best liar.
"Wait. Are you pulling my leg, or are you two really private eyes?"
"Well, technically, only my sister is," I said.
"Because if you're real private investigators, I could really use your help," he continued.
"How so?" Didi asked, shutting off the engine and getting out.
"The mom of one of my students, her son just died. And she thinks there was foul play. Everyone says it's suicide. But I was pretty close with him, and I didn't get a sense of him wanting to kill himself even for a second. Are you guys like lawyers? Do you take cases pro bono? She's a really nice lady. It's a good cause."
"Typically, we charge four hundred dollars an hour," I said.
"But," Didi interjected, "we could do some basic checking for her if you like. We can't promise anything. But we can start with a consultation and do some initial digging."
"Wow! That would be great. Do you have a card or something?"
Didi pulled out the cards that I gave her when she got her investigator's license. I'd put them into a wallet holder with a badge I'd bought online. It was sort of a gag gift.
"Cool. You've got a badge and everything," he said.
"The badge in no way represents that I'm with law enforcement," Didi said.
"That's good news. The cops don't believe that it's a murder. They insist that he killed himself, because he posted a poem about death on his Facebook. They're acting like it's some sort of suicide note. He wrote death poetry every day of the week. He's a goth. They talk about death. It doesn't have an address on here," he said, looking at the card Didi gave him.
"We specialize in fieldwork," I said. "But our mother owns a tea shop in Beverly Hills. We meet clients there. Just have her call us."
"Cool. Her name's Alison March. Oh, and I'm Gerald Smith."
We did the handshaking thing, and he took his card and left.
"Now we have a client, so it's not a conflict for me to keep looking into this death," Didi said once he left.
"A client that isn't paying."
"All of this is part of Evelyn's case, remember?"
The next day, Didi and I received a telephone call from Alison March. She agreed to come to the shop.
"So he told you that he was a tutor for the SATs," Didi said.
"And a drummer for a goth band. Maybe that's how he got these kids as clients."
"When she comes," Didi said, "remember to pretend like we didn't see anything that day, and that we don't know much about the case."
Didi grabbed her notebook, and we headed for the private tea room.
We exited the office to find Jason heading in our direction.
"I was just coming to get you. Your appointment came early. She's been nursing a cup of tea at one of the tables for twenty minutes. I didn't recognize her at first. She looks really sad."
"Does she know you recognized her?" Didi asked.
"No," he said.
"Good. None of us know who she is. So we don't know that she's early. We'll just have to wait until she comes to us."
Didi and I went into the main dining area and saw her.
Mom came up to us first.
"We have to pretend like we don't recognize her," Didi whispered.
"I knew that," Mom said. "How about I offer her a free reading. I want to know her future."
I stole a glance in Alison's direction. My stomach sunk. "I know a bit about her future," I said, noticing the light purple haze surrounding her.
"Oh no," Mom whispered.
"It's not for sure. It's kind of like..." I looked over to see if Jason was still listening--he was. I wanted to say it looked a lot like the way Jason did a few days after I saved his life. But not as bad.
"I understand," Mom said. "I'll look at her leaves, and you two will take it from there."
"We'll wait in the private tea room," Didi said. "Us whispering over here looks too suspicious."
Mom
walked away and said, "And Jason, if you could order that oolong tea, we're almost out," as if we were all discussing business. Mom was clever.
Jason nodded and headed to the kitchen. Didi and I went to wait for our appointment time.
Didi whipped out her pad as the two of us sat and waited. I realize I should've brought a pad of paper.
"I wish we could overhear what Mom was saying to Alison," I said.
"Mom will tell us."
"There's got to be a magic way to hear them." I opened up the App of Spells on my phone, taking my wand out of the inside pocket in my blazer. Yes, it was a men's blazer, but it fit nicely.
"So you're carrying that all the time now?" Didi asked.
"You never know when it'll come in handy," I said.
"Yes, whenever you need someone to come down with a bad case of acne, you'll be prepared."
I ignored my sister and typed the word "eavesdrop" into the search bar of the app. A spell called "eavesdrop" popped up. "It looks like there might be something we could try."
Didi exhaled. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Come focus with me. We haven't been practicing at all. It's all just finished driving around in borrowing Mom's magic," I said.
Didi scooted her chair closer and leaned over to look at the words. "That's it?"
"They're all like that. At least it'll be quick. Let's say it together." I grabbed my sister's hand, and she gave me a look. "Come on, take this seriously." I raised my wand in my other hand. "Okay, on the count of three, Deeds."
"I'll count," Didi said. "One, two, listen in." Didi gave me a look. "You didn't say it."
"I always forget that on three means instead of the number three."
Didi let go of my hand. "This is stupid."
"Come on, just say it."
Didi exhaled again, but I knew this time she would. I lifted my wand, and we both said, "Listen in" in unison as I pointed my wand in the direction of the main dining room.
"Oh my goodness," Didi said.
"Did you just say 'oh my goodness'?" I asked.
My sister shushed me, and I realized I could hear something in my ear.
"You've undergone a great tragedy," Mom said.
It surprised me that Mom talked that way. I hadn't heard her do a reading in years.
"Your heart is heavy, but it will heal," Mom said. "You're forever changed, but you know that already."
"I appreciate your--"
"I know. You don't believe in tea leaf readers," Mom said. "And you need more concrete help. That's why you're here to see my daughters."
Didi and I looked at each other. We weren't sure if what Mom was doing was a good idea.
"Who are your daughters?" Alison asked.
I guess Gerald hadn't relayed to her that this was Mom's tea shop.
"The private investigators, you're here to see."
"Did you read that in my tea leaves, or did your daughters tell you they were expecting me?"
"Both," Mom said. "And just so you know, they're going to find what you need them to find."
Alison laughed. "Okay, well I hope so."
"They're waiting for you in the private tea room in the back."
"Are they like you?" Alison asked.
"They would say no," Mom said.
"Turn it off," Didi said. "They're coming."
I looked back down at my phone. "It doesn't say anything about turning it off."
"Here they are!" Mom said as she came in.
I winced at how loud it was. Mom's voice doubled in my ears--once in my ear and the other in the room. And it didn't help that our mother's voice was already sort of loud and a little high-pitched.
"I'll let you three get to business," Mom said. "I have an appointment I have to get to."
"Your Mom's nice," Alison said. Her voice stereo-ed into my ear.
I knew this had to be driving my sister crazy. It was loud even for me.
Didi and I stood and introduced ourselves as if nothing weird was happening, and Alison took a seat.
"Gerald said that you met at a McDonald's near his house," she said.
"We were on another case," I said.
"Nice to see you again!" Mom's voice boomed into my ear. It startled me. I'd forgotten about the spell. I glanced over to my sister. She frowned back at me.
"He said it was such a crazy coincidence," Alison continued. "Like I mentioned on the phone, I honestly can't afford to pay you."
"I've been busy watching my grandson," Mom's client said in my ear. "My son and his wife went to Aruba."
"We understand," Didi said, her smile forced. Didi was very sensitive to sound. "We've only just opened our agency. I used to work for Gellar and Hampton in Glendale. So if it turns out that we do a good job, we'd love to have a recommendation."
"I can definitely do that," she said. "It's not like everyone doesn't know. It's all over the news."
"It's hard being taken seriously as a private investigator when you're women," I said.
"I really shouldn't be having sugar or the cookies," Mom's client prattled on. I hoped the cookies would keep her quiet for a few minutes.
"I don't know if you're old enough to remember, but there was a show called Remington Steele that had a similar premise," Alison said. "The female investigator used a man's name for their firm to make people take her seriously."
"I think I remember that," Didi said, giving me a look.
Didi knew that was where I got the idea to say that. I loved Pierce Brosnan in re-runs as a kid.
"We can't make any promises, but we can definitely look into the situation. Were there any recent changes in your son's life?" Didi asked. "Oh, and can I get his full name?"
"Damien Richard March," she said.
"Birth date?"
"Shortbread are my favorite!" Mom's client said.
"July 13, 2001," our client answered.
"Did he have a driver's license?" Didi asked. I was impressed by how well she was keeping it together.
"A learner's permit," Alison said. "But I don't know his driver's license number."
"Was it registered to your home address?" Didi asked.
"Not our current address. We just got divorced recently, and he'd gotten his learner's permit when he lived with his father here in Beverly Hills."
"We'll need both of those addresses, if you could write those down for us," Didi said, reaching for a piece of paper to tear off.
"I have something," Alison said, pulling a pen and an index card from her purse.
"Do you know his social media account passwords?" Didi asked.
"The police asked the same thing," Alison said. "I brought them here for you as well. " She held up the index card. "I'll write the addresses on the back."
I noticed she had very neat handwriting.
"How did he take the divorce?" Didi asked.
"I know what you're thinking. You think it was suicide," Alison said.
"No good investigator closes their mind to possibilities at this early stage," Didi said.
"The police sure seemed to," Alison said.
"Well, if the police did their jobs, people probably wouldn't hire someone like us," Didi said.
"I guess you're right about that," Alison said. "Well, he didn't take the divorce well. He changed completely. Started hanging out with a different crowd. Started wearing black and all this crazy makeup. They call themselves goths."
"Gerald told us he was in a goth band," I said.
"Damien had actually recommended him for that," he said. "He and his friends really liked Gerald. They looked up to him because he was a musician. He tutored them for SATs, but I suspect he was also selling them marijuana."
"Do you know that for sure?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I was a teenager once, but it's not like I could stop them. And frankly, things weren't going well between Damien and me. He resented the divorce, and he was closed off. We'd been so close before that. The only thing that seemed to improve was his SAT practi
ce scores. I felt I might as well keep up the tutoring. You probably think I'm a horrible mother."
"We don't," I said.
"We're not here to judge you," Didi added.
"I've been having the most terrible stomach pains," Mom's client complained in my ear.
"I'll make sure to give you a special tea to help you," Mom said.
"Well, I guess that's one expense that I don't have to worry about," Alison continued. "I can't believe I just said that. Don't think I'm a horrible mother."
Didi stopped her. "It's totally understandable. After a divorce, bills can really pile up."
"I think it might be constipation," the client complained. "Will it help me with that?"
"Have you been divorced?" Alison asked.
"Yes, but no kids," Didi said. "I can only imagine it's so much harder with children."
"I have two," Alison said. "I mean, I had two."
"It'll definitely help, but I suggest you drink it when you'll be near a restroom," Mom said.
Alison quieted. Had I missed something?
"Would you like some tea?" I offered.
"Will it give me a major colon blow out, or will it be more gentle?" Mom's client asked.
"I had some already. I'm not really a big tea drinker," Alison said.
This was getting confusing. I needed to shut this down.
"Me neither," I said. "I'm going to grab a diet soda. Did you want one of those? Maybe a sandwich?"
"A diet soda would be great," she said. I got up.
"It can go either way," Mom said to the client.
"You mean out either end?" the client asked.
My sister glared at me. I mouthed that I was sorry and headed out of the room to try and figure out how to make the stupid spell stop.
"I'm going to kill you," Didi said when we got back to The Cove.
"It turned out okay."
"Do you think that was worth it?" she asked.
"We've got to keep trying our magic."
"I was conducting a sensitive interview about a murder case with a grieving mother, and I have to listen to Gladys Kravitz go on and on about her bowels."
"How did you know the client's name?" I asked.
"It's the neighbor from Bewitched," Didi replied.
I can't believe I forgot that. "I eventually got it to stop."
"It was so hard to take my notes," Didi said, looking over her notebook.
Potions Eleven: A Paranormal Witch Cozy (Fair Witch Sisters Mysteries Book 2) Page 9