Charms and Chocolate Chips: A Magical Bakery Mystery (16 page)

Stunned, I took another sip of tea, gathering my thoughts. “I noticed that you were pretty taken by those twins next door.”

She sighed, dreamy-eyed as a girl thinking about her prom date. Good heavens.

“So that has me wondering—if you like kids so much, why don’t I have any brothers or sisters? Or is it just grandkids that you want because you can send them home to their parents?”

“Oh, no. I love children. But as soon as it became so evident that you had . . . abilities, your father and I came to believe that the double whammy of hereditary hedgewitchery combined with a shamanic bloodline probably shouldn’t be repeated.”

I honestly didn’t know whether to be insulted or not, so I took another sip of tea and shelved her answer for later consideration. Luckily, my phone rang before I had to come up with a way to change the subject.

It was Quinn. “What’s this about another one of those blasted bats?” he demanded.

“Someone slipped it under my door, just like they did with Wren.”

“When did this happen?”

I looked at my watch. “About an hour ago.”

“You were home?” He sounded incredulous. “That’s ballsy. Sorry. I mean bold.”

“My mother and I were in the backyard. Mungo heard something and alerted us, but by the time we got to the door, no one was there.”

“What did you do with it?”

“Nothing. I left it right where we found it. Mungo might have nudged it with his nose—he definitely smelled something on it—but otherwise it’s still what I guess you would call ‘in situ.’”

“Don’t touch it. I’ll be right over.”

Detective Quinn arrived with a crime scene tech, asked his questions, took a bunch of pictures, and bagged the origami evidence. As he was finishing up, Lucy and Ben drove up in the Thunderbird. They got out, opened the back door, and pulled out to-go containers that smelled amazing even across the yard. Moments later Declan arrived clad in his dark uniform slacks and a light blue T-shirt with the Savannah firefighter logo on it.

“I’m sorry, Katie,” Quinn was saying as everyone trooped over to where we stood on the lawn. “There’s not a lot I can do. I’ll make sure patrol drives by more often, same as for Wren.”

My mother pulled Lucy and Ben aside, and I watched as my aunt’s eyes grew wide and a thunderous expression descended on my uncle’s face. No doubt Mama was telling them why Detective Quinn was making a house call.

“Thanks.” I wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t like I expected the police to post a guard on my house because of a piece of paper.

Declan closed the door of his truck with a
thunk
and crossed the yard to the driveway. He walked around the Bug, shaking his head as he examined the damage with a troubled expression. Then he strode over to where we stood. “Detective Quinn? Did you find the driver of the SUV?”

Quinn wagged his head no. “We’re working on it. One witness got the last two digits of the license plate, and we have reports of the vehicle being either a Porsche Cayenne or one of the BMW X series.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“He’s here because someone slipped an origami bat under my door.”

Quinn held up the evidence bag he’d tucked the folded paper into.

Declan frowned, and it occurred to me that he didn’t know anything about the bats. Since he’d been working the last forty-eight hours, our conversations had been relatively short and sweet.

Now I said, “Autumn had one of those in her hand when she died. Then someone left one for Wren—and after the hit-and-run this afternoon, we’re pretty sure it’s a threat. Right?” I asked Quinn.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” the detective said.

Mama drew in a sharp breath, and her fingers crept to her mouth as if she were trying to keep her thoughts to herself. Apparently she hadn’t taken the bat seriously before.

My boyfriend put his arm around my shoulders and drew me close. “Don’t worry, Ms. Lightfoot,” he said. “I’ll run off any evildoers.” He tried a smile but didn’t quite pull it off. His word choice bothered me. Evildoers, indeed. I glanced over to see my mother and aunt weren’t smiling, though both looked relieved that I’d have a guard.

“All night?” my mother demanded.

Declan looked uncomfortable. Quinn looked amused.

“All night,” I confirmed. I was a grown woman and I could have overnight guests if I wanted. So there.

Still, it was a good thing Mama was staying with Lucy and Ben. The day had been eventful, and by necessity we’d fast-tracked getting to know each other again—better than before, actually—but I still didn’t think I was ready to have her hang out at the carriage house with Declan and me all night.

“When will we be able to get into the Georgia Wild offices to work?” I asked Quinn. “We might need to replace some of the donation requests that were ruined after that crazy driver made us drop them.”

“We released the scene a little while ago,” he said. “You can go back anytime you want.”

Declan sighed.

“Have you heard how Wren is?” I asked my aunt.

Lucy grimaced. “She’s pretty banged up—she hit her head, and her arm is broken in two places. Mimsey took her home from the hospital—Mimsey’s home, of course—about an hour ago and is watching her like a mama bird.”

“More like a grandmamma bird. I’m glad Wren wasn’t hurt any worse and that she has Mimsey to look after her. She’s in the safest place she can be.”

I invited Detective Quinn to stay for supper, but he said he had to get going. He drove off, and the rest of us dished out the upscale comfort food Lucy and Ben had brought from Zunzi’s: simple hummus with pita bread, lasagna, meat loaf, and their Indian curry stew along with a big romaine salad. We loaded our plates in the kitchen buffet style and went into the living room to find places to settle in and eat.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I took a big bite of curry and rice and nearly moaned, it was so good. Silence fell over us all as we dug into the savory repast. Mungo lapped at the dab of hummus I’d put on a plate next to his lasagna.

Ben updated us on the bake sale for Georgia Wild. While Mama and I had been gallivanting around dentist offices and bars that afternoon, he’d had stickers made that announced the fund-raiser, picked them up, and then convinced some of the customers still hanging out at the Honeybee to help put them on the mailers that Steve and Annette had rescued from the street.

“I made it to the post office just before it closed. And as long as the print shop was making stickers, I asked the guy I work with over there to do a quick and dirty design for a flyer, which he did and then copied off a couple hundred of them for me.”

Mama looked pleased. “That’s wonderful, Ben. I was afraid we’d have to scrap the idea altogether after the . . . events this afternoon.” Her eyes cut to me.

Ben grinned. “As mellow as we Southerners sound, we’re really pretty good at getting things done down here, you know. I gave out a bunch of the flyers for customers to hand out to their friends, and Croft and Annette both posted them in their stores. I’ll e-mail the DBA members tonight and get the ball rolling there.”

“I’ll help tomorrow,” Mama said to him; then to me, “I’m going to fill in for you at the Honeybee tomorrow. That way you can sleep late.”

I finished chewing a bite of lettuce and swallowed. “I never sleep late. You know that.”

“After your day, I think you’ll sleep better than you think tonight. Either way, take it easy tomorrow. Heal up a little.”

“That’s a good idea, Mary Jane. We’re happy to have you,” Ben said.

Lucy smiled fondly at her sister. After all the hurt between them, it was an encouraging sign.

Declan looked alarmed. “Heal? Is there something I don’t know?”

I shook my head. “Just bruises, Deck. No big deal. But Mama? Are you sure you want to start your vacation by getting up at five in the morning and going to work?”

She snorted. “First off, it’s a visit, not a vacation, and it started by learning you’re involved in a murder and then watching you almost get run down in the street. Believe me, hitting the kitchen early in the morning will be a welcome change.”

I grimaced. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll take you up on it.” Not because I felt a need to rest and recuperate, but because there was a kind of bond that forms when you cook with someone, a bond that could serve to help mend my mother’s relationship with her sister.

Lucy insisted that I keep the leftovers—not that there were many—and she and Ben went out to the Thunderbird. While we were on the sidewalk that wound from the house to the street, my mother put both hands on my shoulders and held me at arm’s length, searching my eyes as if trying to read my mind.

“I’m sorry for the last year. I’m glad your grandmother—” She glanced over my shoulder to where Declan waited in the doorway. “I’m glad I decided to come.”

“I am, too,” I said quietly. “Daddy tried to explain why you kept your secrets, why you were so upset about my embracing the Craft, but I didn’t really understand until this afternoon.”

“You forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

We embraced, a nice long mother-daughter hug, and when I backed away, I saw tears in her eyes. I felt them in my own, too.

“Take care of her,” she called to Declan.

“I will,” was the deep-voiced response.

“See you tomorrow,” I said.

She got in the backseat, and Ben drove off. I looked down at Mungo, who was leaning against my ankle. “So that’s my mother. What do you think?”

Yip!

•   •   •

Declan helped me put the food away and do the dishes. There wasn’t room for a dishwasher in my modest kitchen, so we stood side by side at the sink, washing and drying. I bumped his hip with mine.
Ow
. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Mungo perched on a kitchen chair, watching us.

The very picture of domesticity. It was nice.

“You don’t seem very worried about this bat thing,” Declan said. “Should you be? Should I be more worried for you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, I don’t have anything to do with the bats or the real estate purchase personally, but who knows how someone demented enough to kill Autumn might connect me with either or both. It could be enough that I volunteer at Georgia Wild. Or maybe the maroon bats are really red herrings.”

Mungo groaned.

“Sorry,” I said. “I talked to Autumn’s ex, Skip, this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?
After
the hit-and-run?” He sounded downright scandalized.

“I needed to unwind a little. Besides, Mama was with me.”

That seemed to slightly mollify him, but he still didn’t look very happy.

“Anyway, I don’t think he had anything to do with Autumn’s murder. He was awfully broken up—he’s been missing work, drinking all the time. It’s bad. I’d like to help him.” Mama had neatly sidestepped the idea of helping me with a healing spell. Perhaps tomorrow I’d approach her again—or Lucy and the spellbook club. Perhaps my mother wasn’t quite ready to cast again.

Perhaps she never would be. The thought made me sad. At least we’d had an honest conversation about why she had kept my witchy heritage a secret.

Honest conversation.

“Deck, I think there’s something you should know.”

He dried his hands on a dish towel and draped it over the edge of the old-fashioned enameled cast-iron sink. “Sounds ominous. Maybe we should go into the living room.”

After we’d arranged ourselves—him leaning against the high corner of the fainting couch at an angle and me leaning my back against his chest while classic rock played low on the stereo, I told him I’d gone to see Steve after he’d dropped by the Honeybee.

“I was simply trying to find out more about the sale of Fagen Swamp, and he had the information I needed,” I said. “Well, his dad probably has more, but I don’t think he’d tell me.”

Declan was silent, and I realized I’d misjudged my position; I couldn’t see his face, so now I didn’t know how he was reacting.

“But Steve would,” he said. “Tell you, I mean. Of course he would. He’s still in love with you.”

“That’s not true. In fact, I don’t think that he was ever in love with me. But it doesn’t matter. He asked if we could be friends, and I said yes.”

More silence, then, “Okay.”

I sat up and turned to look at him. “Okay?”

He shrugged, resignation on his face. “I can’t tell you who to see. And I have to believe you. Trust you. Otherwise, where are we?”

My arms snaked around his neck. “You’re kind of awesome, you know?”

His answer was lost as our lips met.

Mungo jumped up on the couch and wiggled between us. Declan laughed. “Sometimes I think you’re jealous, little guy.”

“No. He adores you. It’s just that he’d rather
he
was the center of attention.”

If a dog could give a withering look, I was on the receiving end of one.

Deck lifted Mungo onto his lap. “I know a guy who can fix your car. He’ll do a good job for a decent price. We can take it by the insurance adjuster’s first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Can we wait? I have a few errands to run tomorrow.”

“You don’t want me to take you?”

I sighed. “As long as I have the time off, I thought I’d stop by Georgia Wild and clean the place up a bit. It’s a real mess—fingerprint dust everywhere, and the police went through everything.”

He pressed his lips together and looked at the floor. I realized he had been hoping we could spend the next day together. Dang it. Of course I wanted to spend a whole day with my sweetie. But I also felt drawn to help Wren any way that I could, and that whole figure-out-who-killed-Autumn effort wasn’t going so well.

“Okay,” he said. “I have to catch up on laundry and errands myself. We can reconnect later in the day.”

This one’s a keeper.

•   •   •

It was dark when I woke up the next morning. Without thinking, I swung my feet to the floor and reached for my robe as usual, completely unprepared for the pain—sharp pain by my elbow, dull throbbing pain in my hip, and a thump, thump, thump in my head that nearly brought me to my knees.

How could that have happened overnight?

Four ibuprofen, three cups of coffee, two hours, and one good slathering of arnica cream later, I felt better. For a brief moment, I even considered going for a run, but that seemed doubly foolish. My poor battered body deserved a break, and running in the early-morning dark could be dangerous if there really was someone out there who meant me harm.

I checked the protections already in the carriage house: willow broom leaning in the corner by the door, the rune Algiz carved near the locks on the windows, basil in a pot on the kitchen table, a silk bag stuffed with guardian herbs and sealed with beeswax placed on the built-in bookshelf in the living room. All were in place.

I gathered four white candles and tried a little scrying with a bowl of water from the stream in back.

Divination was Mimsey’s bailiwick, but I kept trying despite the usually confusing results. This time all I perceived was a jumble of green. Green could indicate something to do with money or love, but since I had set the intention of the spell to identify whether I was in danger and from whom, neither made any sense.

I heard the sound of the shower starting and looked out the kitchen window to see the sun had crept over the horizon. My boyfriend could very well have walked in on me divining. It dawned on me as I put the bowl and candle away that I didn’t really care. The divination had turned out to be a divi-no-tion anyway, and I wondered how he would have reacted.

Did Ben ever happen upon Lucy when she was casting?

I’d brought in the paper and was flipping through it when Declan came into the kitchen, yawning and reaching for the fresh batch of French press coffee I’d made when I heard him in the shower. Mungo was in the backyard, stalking the fence line for his second morning constitutional.