5 Beewitched (10 page)

Eight

There was a very good reason why I didn’t protest
when Johnny demanded that I get into his squad car for a “little ride down to the station.” The most convincing argument in favor of complying was his threat to go public with his “request.” We’d gone viral in the past, and it never was pretty. If we faced off, my mother would find out, and that was unacceptable considering my efforts to stay on her good side. So would Hunter, who needed a few hours of shut-eye and tended to become snarky when overtired. Plus, I never win those rounds with the chief, so what was the use? I’ve learned to pick my battles.

Another important reason I capitulated is because I hate wearing handcuffs. Been there, done that, and Johnny promised I could go accessory free if I didn’t put up what he called “a stink.”

He opened the back passenger door. “I want to ride in the front,” I demanded.

“Just shut up and get in,” Johnny said, “before one of the local snoops notices and you draw all that unwanted attention that gets you in trouble with your friends and family.”

“Fine!”

But before I could move, Holly pulled in front of Johnny’s car. My sister’s Jag literally purred, and she had the top down. I envisioned her leaping over the top of the driver’s door, but she opened it before pounding her way over to Johnny.

“Relax,” I said to her. “It’s voluntary on my part.”

She stopped abruptly and gaped at me. “Did he drug you?”

“You two sisters crack me up,” Johnny said. “Now make like a roadrunner and vamoose before I ticket your piece of junk vehicle.”

“Don’t tell Mom,” I said, trying to keep the begging tone out of my voice. “And you need to help out inside. Tell them I’ll be back in an hour.”

Holly didn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth. She glared at Johnny, who grinned back at her. I could tell she was psyching herself up for a wrestling match, so I saved her from having to ride to the station with me by saying, “DeeDee was in the store. Stanley had her in his sights but he needs you.”

That did the trick. Sure, I’d failed to mention that our most notorious local shoplifter was long gone by now, but Holly would find that out soon enough.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked me, hesitating, but I could tell her interest had been piqued.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

With that, she marched off, heading for the store.

I got in the back but crossed my arms with enough melodrama that he couldn’t miss the fact that I was a hostile witness.

It appeared that the only way to handle the chief was with a whole lot of confrontational attitude. He’d backed off last night when Lucinda stood up to him. I’d try the same technique with him today.

On the way to the police station, I considered my options and responses. First of all, I took a moment to mentally forgive Hunter for including Johnny Jay in his investigation. Since Hunter hadn’t come home last night, I hadn’t had a chance to share with him what had happened over at our new neighbor’s house. If he’d known, he’d have made sure Johnny and I stayed as far away from each other as possible. But he didn’t, so he couldn’t be blamed. Secondly, Hunter might have been trying to set an example for Johnny Jay, one of collaboration, teaching him how to be a team player. Too bad Hunter apparently didn’t realize it was wasted effort, because the chief would never, ever get it.

We arrived and soon entered the same interrogation room where Johnny Jay always harasses and grills me. It was windowless and totally bare apart from a table, four chairs, and a heavy wood door with an unpickable lock (tried that once). This time it had a new feature, a mirror on the inside wall, and I had no doubt that there was an observation area behind it.

“I’m holding you,” he announced when the door banged shut behind us.

“You’re arresting me? For what?” I had my back against the mirror and my arms crossed in classic defiance.

“I didn’t say that, now did I?” Johnny Jay threw my clothes on the table and sat down, swinging his feet up next to them. “I said I’m
holding
you. There’s a difference. Legally I can hold you for forty-eight hours without charging you, which I intend to do. After that, we’ll see what happens based on how cooperative you become.”

“You can’t do this!”

“Pretend you’re back in high school,” Johnny gloated. “Remember all those detentions you used to rack up? This will be pretty much the same thing, only with fewer amenities.”

I gave up my stance at the mirrored wall and slumped down into a chair but kept my back to the mirror just in case someone was observing. This wasn’t starting like usual. Normally Johnny charges in like the bull he is, wildly flinging accusations. Meanwhile, I wave my red flag to get him snorting mad before deftly stepping aside at the last minute. Dazed, he then regroups, redirects, and comes at me again.

Had the bull left the ring?

My eyes slid to the heap of clothes on the table.

“Recognize them?” he said when I shifted my attention back to him.

“Should I?” Dodging was our game, after all.

“You left a big clue behind. Imagine my surprise when all those naked women got dressed and . . . what do you know? . . . there was an extra pile of women’s apparel on the ground.”

“So what? You’re implying what?”

“There were Queen Bee Honey business cards in one of the pockets.”

“So?”

“And flip-flops on the ground, too.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Fischer,” he said with a heavy sigh. “They ratted you out, so you might as well come clean.”

Figures. If it isn’t Patti snitching on me, it’s somebody just like her. Couldn’t the witches have covered for me? Although I guess I hadn’t exactly endeared myself to them, had I?

Johnny really did look exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, tired lines around his mouth. So, in a weak moment of compassion and patriotic duty, I came clean.

“I only went over there because I was worried about Aurora. I’m the one who suggested her as an alternate to number thirteen and didn’t consider at the time that those women could be evil witches and might sacrifice Aurora in some kind of cult ritual. When I got concerned, I went to get her.”

My actions sounded sort of lame when expressed in words. Why is it that things seem so much more rational in your head than when you make your thoughts verbal? The act of talking about my motive brought on some pretty strong emotions—guilt and regret. A woman really had been murdered. If only I could have known and helped Rosina.

“So,” Johnny said, removing his feet from the table and leaning in, “why did you decide to get naked?”

“Oh, that.” I waved it off. “Only so I’d blend in.”

“Let’s hear the whole story.”

Then an important fact struck me. Hunter was head investigator and would
not
be happy if Johnny Jay had information regarding the case before he did. Especially if it came from his live-in lover, who possibly could become his ex-live-in if she didn’t handle this delicate situation with kid gloves. “I’d like Hunter to hear this, too.”

“Hunter’s not available,” Johnny Jay had the nerve to say. I knew very well he’d be available if I asked.

“I demand Hunter Wallace be present,” I said.

“You can demand all you want.”

“I demand an attorney!”

“Tough luck.”

What? This wasn’t going well. Now I knew what it felt like to be caught between a rock and a hard place, or more accurately between Johnny Jay and Hunter. Let’s see, what to do? What a no-brainer. Hunter trumped Jay anytime. “I’m not saying another word until Hunter is here,” I announced, thinking my man would be so proud of me if he could just see me this very minute, going way out of my comfort zone to protect his position, even risking incarceration.

“Suit yourself.” Johnny stood up and towered for effect.

“I want my phone call.”

“Thanks for reminding me. Hand over the cell phone.”

“No.” Realization dawned—the phone had been in my pocket the whole time. I should have called Hunter from the police car when I had the chance. Or at least shot him a text message. Maybe Holly would become suspicious when I didn’t return. Although I’d been so convincing.

This wasn’t the first time Johnny Jay had pulled a stunt once he had me in lockdown. How many times before I learned? Apparently several. “You don’t get my phone,” I announced obstinately.

It made me feel slightly better to see how he was trying to control his temper. “I’ll cuff you and leave you cuffed,” he threatened. “Better yet, I’ll get backup in here and physically remove the phone and anything else you might have on you that could be used as a weapon.”

I handed over my only link to civilization.

“I want an attorney,” I said again.

“You haven’t been charged with a crime, so you have no rights.” Johnny picked up my clothes from the table. A bit of panty lace peeked out.

Time for one final stance. “I have the right to contact Hunter, and I
demand
an attorney. And those clothes belong to me and I want them back. You’re walking all over my rights as a citizen.”

Which wouldn’t be the first time.

Johnny rapped on the door, it swung open, and he and my clothes left the room.

Silence after that. I kept my back to Johnny’s stupid mirror in case he was on the other side. After a certain amount of time (how much? I didn’t know), a random idea struck me, one born of sheer desperation. Assuming that thinking bad thoughts about Johnny Jay earlier had actually conjured his control-freak presence at the store, why couldn’t the same work to my advantage here? The chief isn’t even the sensitive type, isn’t attuned to what’s happening in the universe, and still he’d appeared right in front of my store.

I bet witches are
really
tuned in.

Not that I necessarily believed in all that hocus-pocus, but what else did I have to do with my time? There was no TV to watch or magazines to read; not even a toilet, which was going to become a problem very soon. Johnny was once again positioning himself to go down for abusing a prisoner. Wait until Patti got hold of this story.

Anyway, with my brain fired up for action combined with a positive attitude, plus total concentration, I sent out my appeal.

“Help,” went my telepathic signal. “I’ve been detained at the police station. Get me the hell out of here!” I inserted
hell
for maximum effect.

After sending my plea into space over and over until my brain felt fried, I lowered my head on the table in defeat. This crapola didn’t work, not one bit. My suspicions were confirmed. Call it what you want—ESP, clairvoyance, mind reading, whatever—if a bona fide witch couldn’t pick up the signal, who could?

Just when I was seriously considering banging on the door in utter defeat, preparing to deal with more of Johnny Jay’s gloating, just to have the opportunity to visit the little girl’s room, came the sweet sound of a metal key clinking in the lock, the magical thud of the bolt releasing, the knob turning, the door swinging open slowly, a creak or two, and . . . the unbelievable happened.

One of the chief’s deputies stepped through the doorway.

Right behind him, Lucinda Lighthouse walked into the room, holding my clothes and flip-flops.

“You’re free to go,” the deputy said.

My jaw slammed open.

Nine

“Really?”

“Really,” Lucinda said, without a bit of friendliness, either fake or real. She tossed me my stuff.

Unbelievable! What was she doing here and what gave her so much power and authority?

My gaze shot past her to the open door. No police chief trailing in the ashes of his defeat. Just the witch. Then I recalled Lucinda telling Johnny Jay that she was an attorney. I smiled at the mirror. Johnny Jay wasn’t anywhere in sight out front, either, when the deputy handed me my cell phone. What a coward.

Neither Lucinda nor I said a single unnecessary word to anyone or to each other until we walked out of the police station and she directed me to get into the coven van. Then, as we pulled away, I had lots of questions.

“You heard me calling for help?” I had to ask, thinking this appealing-into-space thing really was something I could see myself getting a handle on.