One Potion in the Grave: A Magic Potion Mystery (17 page)

Chapter Twenty

A
half hour later, I was contemplating how I could sweet-talk Ainsley into covering the shop for me this afternoon when the door opened and a woman trudged into Potions as though she were wearing cement blocks for shoes, not flip-flops.

I’d been expecting a visit from a Perrywinkle today, but never dreamed it would be this one.

“Lyla?”

Dragging her feet, she tromped to the counter. Cutoff jean shorts accented her toned legs, and her white tee was bright against her tanned skinned. Red-rimmed eyes fixed on my face. “I’m here to get that potion you made up for Jamie Lynn.”

I held on to my locket and eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“She sent me over.”

“Why would she do that? You both told me that you don’t believe in my potions.”

“Look it here, Carly Hartwell, I’m tired. Jamie Lynn’s worse than ever. If she thinks one of your stupid-ass
concoctions will help her, then by God, I’m willin’ to try it at this point. I don’t want to lose another sister this week.”

I bit my lip to keep from being snide and saying something about how she’d lost Katie Sue a long time ago—when Lyla chased her out of town. And it was best I ignored the “stupid” comment, too, for my peace of mind.

“She’s worse?” I asked. “Is she in the hospital?”

“At home for now. If she gets worse, though, I’ll bring her to the ER. The stress of last night took its toll on her.”

By the looks of Lyla, it had taken a toll on her as well. “It was a rough night for a lot of people.”

“Yeah, well. Life’s tough.”

Lyla usually looked ready to take on the world, fists swinging. But right now, she looked nothing but deflated.

“Katie Sue dug her own grave,” she said. “That girl never knew when to walk away.”

The hairs rose at the back of my neck. I wanted to argue, but I was afraid she was right. I decided to take another track. “She did seem over her head with the Calhouns.”

“Like I said, she never knew when to walk away.”

“A family trait, I think.”

Weary eyes flicked to me. “Maybe so.”

“What were you two fighting about?” I asked.

“Money, as usual.”

I had the feeling her fatigue was the only reason she answered at all.

“I dared asked for a loan, and she turned me down flat. Couldn’t get off her high horse long enough to listen to reason.”

“A loan for what?”

“Jamie Lynn’s legs are bad off, and her arms aren’t that much better. I wanted to get her one of those electric wheelchairs, but you could not even imagine the amount of money they cost. A fortune to us. Jamie Lynn said it’s no big deal and tries to hide the pain, but I see it in every step she takes.”

I knew the pain. I’d felt it.

“I asked Katie Sue to loosen the restrictions on Jamie Lynn’s trust fund so we could take an advance.” Moisture filled her eyes but she blinked it away. “It was stupid of me to ask, but I’d do anything for Jamie Lynn. Even set my pride aside. All Katie Sue kept saying was that she’d think about it. I told her we didn’t have time for her to think about it, but she stubbornly refused to listen. It made me angry. We fought. I ended up walking away.”

It didn’t escape my notice that she was also medium height with longish brown hair. But as much as I wanted to place her as that jogger, I didn’t think she’d have had time to change into a jogging suit, either.

“I’ve got to get back to Jamie Lynn. Is that concoction ready?”

“I’ll get it.” I grabbed the velvet pouch off the counter in the potion room and put it on the counter.

Lyla opened it and peeked inside. Making a sour face, she said, “A tea bag? That’s your fancy potion? What about the bottles?” she asked, nodding to the display.

“Certain potions call for different methods of delivery. This one needs to be drunk like tea. The directions are on the tag, but basically, you let the bag steep in a cup of hot water for five minutes. Make sure she drinks it all.”

“She usually has a cup of hot tea every morning—that’s not going to interfere, is it?”

“No,” I smiled. “It won’t.”

“Good. She can’t eat much anymore because of her illness, so having the tea makes her feel a little bit like normal. Tea and toast.” She shook her head and then carefully read the tag. “She usually likes a little honey in her tea, too. Can she use it with this?”

“I wouldn’t mix it. It probably wouldn’t hurt, but the honey, especially if it’s local honey, could cause a reaction.”

“The pollens and such?”

I nodded. “Not many realize that honey is full of pollen.”

“I do. I’m allergic to the stuff, but Jamie Lynn loves it, and hers
is
local. Supposed to help her immune system, for all the good that’s doing her.”

“Are you allergic to the pollens or the honey itself?” As a healer, allergies fascinated me.

“Honeybee allergy,” she said. “I had a bad reaction to honey as a kid. The doctor said it was related, even though not everyone who’s allergic to bees has trouble with honey.”

“Must be hard to avoid the bees in your gardens.”

“Honeybees aren’t really aggressive, and I always keep my EpiPen handy.” She tapped the pouch. “How soon would Jamie Lynn feel a difference?”

“A couple hours at most. But, Lyla, this is only to treat her symptoms. Because I don’t know what’s causing her problems, I can’t cure it. Has she ever been tested for parasites?”

She blanched. “Like what?”

I listed off a few off the top of my head, including the bug that caused Lyme disease. “Whatever she’s fighting has invaded her nervous system. There aren’t a lot of things out there that can cause problems like that.”

“Not that I know of. I’ll ask her doctor about it.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

She gave a short nod. “How much do I owe you?”

“On the house.”

“I don’t want any charity.”

“It’s not charity. It’s a gift for Jamie Lynn.”

Her mouth tightened. “Thanks,” she ground out and turned for the door.

“Lyla?”

She faced me.

“Before you go, do you know why your mama was watching Katie Sue last night?”

Her eyes flew open wide. “She was what?”

“Dinah was seen parked in the lot near the chapel. Cletus, however, was nowhere to be found.”

She shuddered. “No, I don’t know why.”

“Would they have reason to hurt Katie Sue?”

“They don’t need reasons to hurt people,” she said bitterly. “It’s in their DNA. But if you’re thinking they might have had something to do with Katie Sue’s death, I’d follow the money trail. They’d do anything for a dollar.”

It’s what I’d been thinking, too, especially in light of her missing jewelry. “Is there any chance you can ask your mama if she spoke to Katie Sue?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I can’t. I don’t speak to my
mama. Or Cletus. Haven’t for years. Not since the day they killed my husband.”

And with that, she walked out the door.

*   *   *

I immediately called Ainsley. Olive was screaming bloody murder in the background as Ainsley answered.

“Is she being torn limb from limb?” I asked.

“I’m trimmin’ the ends of her hair.”

“With a chainsaw?”

“Go, git, I’m done,” she said loudly to her daughter. The silence was immediate.

“She has a gift,” I said. “Maybe think about opera lessons?”

“Sweet baby Jesus, I need some chocolate.”

“Load up, because Lyla Perrywinkle Jameson just left the shop, and on her way out she dropped the bomb that she thinks Cletus and Dinah killed her husband.”

“Hold on, I’m going to lock myself in the bathroom.” I heard her hurried footsteps, then a door close. “Killed him? I thought it was an accident.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Working on his truck, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, and the jack failed, and the truck fell on him.”

I shuddered at the thought of it. “How could that have been murder? And why would Cletus and Dinah want him dead? Did you ever hear any gossip about it?”

“It was so long ago,” she said. “What? Nine, ten years?”

It was about that. Travis Jameson had died a year after Jamie Lynn moved in with Lyla. He’d been twenty-six years old.

“I can’t think of anything,” she said. “I just remember being sad to hear about it. I never heard a whisper of murder.”

“Me, either. But Lyla sure thinks so. Can you think of anyone who’d have more information?” I didn’t think I’d get any more out of Lyla.

“Francie might know something. It was right about that time that Lyla joined the gardening club. I’ll call her.”

“Let me know,” I said. “Oh, and Junior came by.” I gave her a quick rundown of our conversation.

“Shut the front door. You’re tellin’ me that Louisa Calhoun’s hair might fall plumb out?”

I glanced up and just happened to see Delia running across the park toward my shop, her cape flying out behind her. “Plumb.”

“I’ll be damned,” she whispered. “I sure do hope no one ever slips me one of those hexes.”

“You’d best stay on Delia’s good side, or all that hair growing you’re about to undertake might be for nothing.”

“I’m growing it out, Carly.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up just as Delia burst through the door.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Break-in,” she gasped.

I came around the counter. “Where?”

“Your house, Carly. Hurry!”

Chapter Twenty-one

I
grabbed my bag and the potions I’d made, quickly locked up the store, and raced home. A break-in. I couldn’t believe it. “Is Marjie all right?”

“I think so,” Delia said, jogging alongside me. “She’s the one who called me when your shop phone was busy.”

We were halfway down my street when a sheriff’s cruiser sped down the lane, its lights flashing, its siren blaring. It angled to a stop in front of my house, and Dylan stepped out just as Delia and I reached my walkway.

He gave me an exasperated look. “Not the use of the lights and sirens I’d been hoping for.”

I tried to catch my breath. “Tell me about it.”

The front screen door opened and Marjie barked, “About damn time! How long’s it take to get the law around here?”

As Dylan passed by, he gave me another exasperated look and ran up the steps.

Delia said, “The man knows how to fill out a uniform.”

I knew. Mercy, I knew.

I glanced around—everything outside seemed perfectly normal. A serene facade to such a violation. I noted that Warren and Louisa had come out onto the porch of the Loon to gawk, and that Louisa still had all her hair.

“How long does it take for your baldness hex to take affect?”

“About twelve hours after ingestion, why?”

I quickly told her about my visit with Junior. Her eyes widened. “Louisa?
Damn.
Katie Sue had guts, I’ll give her that.”

As I climbed the steps and pushed on the porch door, I noticed a shiny red mobility scooter complete with a grocery basket parked in my driveway. It looked like a cross between a moped and a riding lawnmower. I’d never seen it and wondered where it had come from. Odd.

I waited for my witchy senses to kick in as I went inside, but all was calm in my witchy world.

At least, until I walked into my living room and saw Johnny Braxton laid out on my sofa, his big feet hanging over the arm. A damp cloth rested on his forehead. His eyes were narrowed in consternation, his cheeks were rosy, and all the rest of the skin I could see was covered in inflamed poison ivy.

I was going to need a new sofa.

Immediately.

Marjie sat on the coffee table, one leg bent, her injured leg stretched out. Her cheeks were rosy as well, but her eyes were alight with life. “Take your time,” she said. “No hurry. No big deal. I don’t mind scaring off the burglar on my own.”

I noticed that she was wearing a pair of loose capris and a tee. Her normal clothes. Either she sent someone who was allowed inside her house to fetch them, or she’d stubbornly hopped down the street herself to collect some personal items from her place.

“Hey,” Johnny protested, “I helped.”

Marjie rolled her eyes. “You helped him get away is what you did.”

Johnny scratched his arm. “Nonsense.”

“I had the guy cornered and then you—”

“What happened, Miz Marjie?” Dylan asked, interrupting their bickering.

I walked around. Peeked in the kitchen. Roly and Poly were napping atop the fridge. I kept looking for anything amiss—or missing—and saw nothing out of place. Except that my house seemed inordinately clean. That was definitely different. The dust bunnies had been evicted, kicked to the curb. My curtain sheers looked freshly laundered. The wood floors gleamed. A strong lemon scent filled the air, and I spotted the can across the room, atop a bookcase.

I was going to have to ask Aunt Marjie to move in.

“I’d just went into the kitchen to give the kitties a treat,” Marjie said, “and when I came back in here, there was a person rooting through the stuff on the coffee table.”

My gaze zipped to the piles that were once on the table. Katie Sue’s things. The stacks had been toppled.

“Looked to be searching for something specific, and didn’t seem to realize I was even here. Probably saw Carly leave and thought the house was empty. Once he found Katie Sue’s phone and purse, he turned to go.
That’s when I pounced. Good thing I’d been using Carly’s pitchfork as a cane, because I caught the bastard by surprise by threatening him with it.”

“You keep saying ‘he,’” Dylan said. “It was a man? What’d he look like?”

Her lips pursed. “Don’t know if it was a man, truth be told. Huh. I suppose it could have been a woman. The guy—the intruder—wore a ski mask along with a black sweatshirt with a hood and black sweatpants and black gloves. I couldn’t tell a gender.”

With a sinking heart, I realized I’d heard this description before.

“Was he black?” Delia asked. “Or white?”

“Definitely white. I could see the skin around the eyes. Which were blue,” she said to Dylan.

He wrote it in a small notebook. That new detail didn’t help much. Seemed everyone involved in Katie Sue’s case had blue eyes.

“What happened next?” Dylan asked.

“Bugger gripped Katie Sue’s purse for dear life and turned to run. I lunged forward and forked him in the ass.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“Forked him,” she repeated, making a jabbing motion as though she were an expert fencer. “Right in the patootie!”

“You’re my hero, Miss Marjie,” Delia whispered, her voice full of awe.

“He squealed like a stuck pig and fell over,” Marjie said, a gleam in her eye. “I had him good and cornered. Until . . .”

“Until what?” Dylan asked.

Marjie twisted to give Johnny a death stare.

“I knocked on the door,” Johnny said, glaring right back at her. He scratched his neck.

I winced and went to find some calamine.

“The distraction,” Marjie said, “was just what the intruder needed to scramble away. I yelled for Johnny to stop him, but one swipe of the burglar’s leg and Johnny was flat on
his
ass. The bastard got away.” She let out a weary sigh.

“With Katie Sue’s purse?” I asked, bringing the calamine from the powder room. I handed it to Johnny.

“’Fraid so,” she said.

“Which way did he go?” Dylan asked.

“Didn’t see,” Marjie said. “I was too busy tending to this one.” She jerked her head to Johnny.

Johnny frowned while spreading pink goo on his arms. “And here I was just trying to help by bringing you that scooter. It’s the least I could do since it was my idea to go on that hike.”

I almost laughed aloud. Marjie use a scooter? That’d be the day. The woman wouldn’t even use crutches unless it came in pitchfork form. And really, after hearing about his “stomach bug” and seeing his case of poison ivy, I think he’d more than paid for his suggestion.

“I don’t need no scooter,” Marjie said, crossing her arms.

“Well, I’m not taking it back,” he said, sputtering as he tried to sit up.

“You will, too!”

“She’ll take it,” I cut in.

“Stay out of this, Carly Bell,” Marjie said sternly.

I raised my voice. “She’s keeping it. End of story.” I
walked over and grabbed the pitchfork from against the wall. I shoved it in Dylan’s direction. “I’m sure there’s DNA on that. I want it back, though.”

Everyone stared at me. I set my hands on my hips and dared someone to say something.

Dylan opened his mouth, then snapped it closed again, before turning his attention to the coffee table. He poked through Katie Sue’s belongings. “You should have told me you had Katie Sue’s things here.”

I shrugged. “I forgot.”

“Doesn’t look like much.”

I looked at the fallen clothing. “She had packed for only a couple of days.”

“What was in the purse?” he asked.

“The usual. A wallet, some makeup. Nothing incriminating at all.”

“Bastard broke in for nothing,” Marjie said. “But he now has a hiney full of holes, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find him. You should get to lookin’.”

“Yeah, Dylan,” I said, teasing. “Does Marjie have to do
everything
?”

She hopped over, patted my face, and said, “You’re forgiven for the squatter comment earlier.” She turned to Dylan. “Start by lookin’ at those Calhouns. They’re all kinds of shady.”

“Better get going then,” he said, trying not to smile. “Call if you remember anything else, Miz Marjie.”

“You want backup?” Johnny asked, standing up.

If he could see a mirror right now, he’d never ask such a thing.

Marjie jabbed a finger in his chest. “Dylan’s right capable. You sit. I’ll bring you some sweet tea.”

For a second, just a flash, I saw his eyes soften as he gazed at her. Then it was gone. “If the sergeant needs assistance, I aim to help.”

Dylan’s shoulder radio crackled to life. A male voice came across the line, speaking a code I couldn’t decipher. Dylan said to us, “I’ll be right back.” He stepped into the kitchen.

Marjie glared at Johnny. He sat.

Delia said, “I want Marjie to adopt me.”

I fished in my bag for Marjie’s potion and handed it to her. “I can help you out as well, Mr. Braxton, with that poison ivy.”

“I’m done with your potions. I haven’t adjusted to your last one.” Lifting an eyebrow at Marjie, he frowned.

I shrugged. “It’s your skin.”

Dylan suddenly rushed back into the living room and paused long enough to say, “The temporary mail carrier filling in for Earl was just attacked.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Next door.”