Magical Dames and Dating Games Page 14

  Thorne nodded. “Glinda. Rose.”

  Mama settled her paper on the table. “Thorne. Is everything okay?”

  His jaw twitched. “I’m afraid not. Glinda, I need you to come with me.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I have to ask you some questions about Frankie Firewalker.”

  She rose. “Sure. Let me just get my purse.”

  “There’s no time,” he said. “I have a car waiting.”

  I squeezed his bicep. “Thorne. What’s the rush?”

  “Like I told you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Things have changed. Glinda, you need to come with me. Now. It would be better for you if you do it quickly, without haste.”

  Mama blanched and nodded dumbly. “Of course. Whatever you want, Officer.”

  Thorne escorted her down the hall. My stomach tied into knots. Once she was outside, Thorne’s deputies appeared out of nowhere and led her to the car.

  I pulled Thorne aside. “What’s going on?”

  “All I can say is that we received a tip.” He crossed his hands in the air, gesturing for me not to ask any more questions.

  “A tip?” I murmured in disbelief. “Impossible. Maybe they meant someone else.”

  Thorne didn’t respond to that. “I have to go.”

  “How long will you keep her?”

  He scowled. “Until I know the truth.”

  Thorne slid into a vehicle and didn’t look back. Mama, on the other hand, stared out her window at me and mouthed Watts.

  Right. If I was going to clear my mother’s name, I needed to get cracking, and I had to do it sooner rather than later.

  As in, now.

  Chapter 21

  “Mr. Pugh, I’m so glad you’re home.”

  Rose, Pig, Broom, Eugene and I all stood on Watts Pugh’s front porch.

  He shot me a cockeyed look full of suspicion. “Yes?”

  I cleared my throat, preparing to explain the brilliant plan we’d come up with. My nerves were at an all-time high. I could practically hear my heart thundering in my chest as I stared at the beady-eyed man.

  “Well, my great-aunt and I are putting together a memorial to help us all remember Frankie Firewalker. Since you felt so strongly about her, we thought you might want to donate.”

  Watts smoothed his hair. “How much are you looking for?”

  Rose elbowed me. “You see, Mr. Pugh, we’re not exactly looking for money. We were thinking more along the lines of actual physical objects you could donate. Things that might in an artistic fashion house the spirit of Frankie.”

  “Er,” he said, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, for instance,” Rose explained, “what if you owned a match? That might resemble Frankie in spirit. That’s just the sort of thing we’re looking for.”

  His voice dripped with skepticism. “A match?”

  She shooed him out of the way. “Sometimes it’s just best if we take a look ourselves, see what you’ve got that may or may not work. Do you mind?”

  But she was already inside. Before Watts could protest, I brushed past him and joined her in the living room. Broom and Pig joined us. Eugene was already around my neck. So, lucky me.

  Watts started to sputter. “This really isn’t a good ti—”

  Rose patted his cheek. “Now, now. Don’t you worry. We won’t be long, will we, Charming?”

  But I was already down the hall. I pointed to a red vase on a table. “What do you think of this, Rose? Does this say ‘Frankie’ to you?”

  She pretended to consider it. “Possibly. But we really need to see more personality in the memorial.” She turned to Watts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “My bedroom?” he spat. “You must be joking.” Watts flared out his arms. “Now, ladies. I appreciate what you’re doing, but this isn’t the time. I’m in mourning.”

  Rose winked at Pig. The swine bit Broom on the bristles, and Broom reared back and started chasing Pig, swatting at it.

  “Oh dear,” Rose exclaimed. “Look what’s happened now! Broom! Pig! Don’t break anything!”

  “What?” Watts whirled around to see what the commotion was all about. As soon as he laid eyes on Broom, the object threw itself at Watts and started smacking him on the rear end.

  “What—in—heaven’s—name?”

  But there was no answer to Watts’s question because at that point Broom had him running around the living room doing his best to stop the swatting.

  He shouted at Rose. “Can’t you call this thing off?”

  But Rose was busy walking down the hall. “Sorry, but once that broom gets started, it’s hard to stop him.”

  Broom was brilliant. The bristled end poked at Watts, keeping him cornered on one end of the living room. Whenever Watts tried to get around it, Broom went back to his beating attack, forcing Watts to cover his face.

  Which meant Watts couldn’t exactly see what we were doing.

  “Take the doors at the end of the hall,” Rose whispered to me. “I’ll stay up front and I’ll be loud so that Watts thinks we’re both together.”

  “Got it.”

  “Look at this delightful keychain with a pineapple on it,” Rose announced. “That might be good for the memorial.”

  “Take it!” Watts sounded exhausted. “You can have anything you want. Just get this broom off me.”

  At that point I was all the way on the other side of the ranch-style house. There were three doors at the end of a hall. I started at the first one and found a bathroom. Nothing of interest there.

  Then I moved on to the door beside it. I glanced back toward the living room and saw Watts had his back to me. Broom had him spread-eagled against a fake palm tree.

  “What does it want?” Watts screeched.

  “For us to find the right article,” Rose answered.

  “Well hurry. This broom is violating my physical being!”

  No time to dillydally. I turned the knob and found a nondescript guest bedroom. A picture of flying ducks sat above the bed, and a dusty chest of drawers rested against the wall.

  Quick as mercury I riffled through the drawers looking for something, anything that would lead the investigation back to Watts. Surely the man was hiding something.

  But where would I find it?

  There was simply something completely false about the depth of his mourning for Frankie. He was either a highly emotional person or simply lying about his sadness for the woman. I mean, he hardly knew her. How could he have suffered so much loss with her death?

  The drawers revealed absolutely zilch. Nothing else to pilfer in that room so I headed to the last door.

  “Take whatever you want,” Watts shouted.

  Rose picked up an antique bowl. “My mother used to have one just like this.”

  Watts glanced around Broom. “Except that. You can’t have that.”

  Broom had let up, but Pig raced between Watts’s legs. Surprised, Watts threw up his hands and landed on the floor. Broom then tried to sweep Watts up, but there was no dustpan around to sweep him into, so Broom seem satisfied to simply slap his bristles against Watts’s backside.

  Which was when I took my chance. I opened the last door, shut it quickly behind me and threw myself against it, pressing my back to the wood.

  “Would you look at that?” Eugene whistled. “Bingo!”

  The room was dark with black-out curtains drawn tight. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, which I think was too long for Eugene.

  “Don’t you see it?”

  “Don’t I see what?” I snapped. “It’s dark in here.”

  “Take me off.”

  I pulled the skull from around my neck. It hovered in the air before bursting into flames.

  “See that,” he said.

  I sucked air. “Oh wow. What in the world?”

  Two of the four walls in the room were covered top to bottom, side to side with pictures.

  Not just any pictures, but photos o
f Frankie Firewalker.

  I crossed over and placed my fingers gently on the edge of one of the glossy images. The shot was candid, with Frankie walking down the street. I didn’t recognize the background. A shop sat directly behind her, but it wasn’t a shop in Witch’s Forge.

  The next picture was similar, so was the next, and so on. In none of these pictures was Frankie smiling at the camera or even facing it.

  I quickly realized what I had before me were surveillance photos. These pics had been taken without Frankie having any idea she was being watched.

  I took a step back and surveyed the next wall. It was more of the same. There must’ve been hundreds of shots covering the space.

  An icky feeling spread through my stomach. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten lunch because if I had, it would have come right back up.

  Watts had watched Frankie—for a long time. He’d clearly been spying on her in their old town and had probably been doing the same here. I don’t know why he’d popped up as one of her possible soul mates, but to be fair Frankie had three choices and Thorne hadn’t been interested in her at all, at least not that I’d seen.

  Maybe Frankie had used up all her real soul mates in life and what was left were a few men who were possible lovers but none of them the real deal.

  After all, Frankie had made a job of marrying men. But back to the point—Watts showed a real obsession with Frankie, an obsession that could have turned lethal.

  Was it possible she’d rejected him? Not that I’d seen. Or was Watts afraid that she would eventually reject him, and to stop her from doing that, he killed her preemptively?

  Now I was no detective, but I’d watched my share of crime shows, enough to know that was a plausible theory—at least to me, and I was what mattered here.

  Ha ha. Not really. Mama mattered and the truth about what happened to Frankie mattered.

  And the truth was—Watts Pugh had serious issues.

  “I think I’ve seen enough,” I whispered.

  “I don’t see myself in any of these pictures,” Eugene grumbled. “You would think he would have gotten at least one shot of me. So sad.”

  I motioned him toward the door. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

  Luckily we sneaked from the room and back into the hall without being noticed. Broom had Watts by the front door when we reached the living room. I snagged the pineapple keychain from a hook and jingled it.

  “I think this would be great for the memorial.”

  Rose stood on her tiptoes going over shelves. “Oh? You think so?”

  Broom patted Watts’s back.

  “Broom,” I commanded. “Come here.”

  Broom obeyed. Watts eyed me nervously. “I didn’t see you for a while.”

  I nodded. “You have a very big hallway. Don’t worry, I didn’t go into any of the rooms, but boy, your hall is big.”

  His eyes narrowed. The hair on the back of my neck soldiered to attention. I hooked my hand around Rose’s arm.

  “Well, I think we have everything we need here. Thank you so much for allowing us to take a look at all your things. This keychain will be perfect, and it doesn’t even have keys on it.”

  Watts opened the door wide for us. He glared at me the entire time, sending a shot of fear straight to my core. I shrugged it off and yanked Rose outside.

  “Well, did you find anything?” she asked once we were well on our way down the street.

  “Boy, did we ever.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw Watts peeking out his blinds and watching us. I moved faster, practically dragging Rose as quickly as I could.

  “Well, what did you find?”

  “First of all, I think Watts is on to us. He’s watching. Oh, that guy gives me the creeps.”

  “I think he’s a bit eccentric but not strange.”

  “Then you should’ve been in his bedroom,” Eugene chirped. “Guy had a real thing for Frankie.”

  Rose gasped with excitement. “Did he? How so?”

  “He was taking pictures of her. Following her wherever she went. In fact, I think he followed her here.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes. “These weren’t nude photos were they?”

  “Heavens, no,” I said. “Not nudes. Sheesh. But it was obvious Frankie didn’t know anything about them.”

  When we reached my car, all creatures great and small piled in. Oh, and so did Rose and me. When we were all settled, I switched on the engine and pulled out of my spot.

  “What are you going to do?” Rose said.

  “Thorne has to know about this. The man had a real obsession with Frankie.”

  Rose patted Pig’s head. The pig sat on her lap, of course. No way was Rose going to let Pig stray far.

  “So are we going to see Thorne now?” she asked.

  “Yep. Right now.” I narrowed my eyes and felt confidence seeping into me. We had a real suspect here, someone who may have moved past the watching phase of his interest in Frankie to the killing phase.

  I turned down the street and headed for the Flying Hickory Stick, Witch’s Forge’s bar and jail.

  Chapter 22

  But Peek wouldn’t let me see Thorne.

  “I demand to see him.” I laid my hand flat on top of a sticky bar table. I quickly removed it and grimaced. “Now.”

  Peek shook his head. A nasty sneer was smeared over his face. “Sorry but he’s asked for no visitors.” The deputy took a menacing step forward. “Especially not from you.”

  My face flushed. Not one to be intimidated, I crossed my arms and glared at the nasty bloodsucker. “Did he actually say he didn’t want to see me or are you making that up?”

  Peek enunciated every word that dripped from his mouth. “No, Charming. Those were his exact words.”

  I glowered.

  He gestured toward the back of the bar/jail. “Would you like to go down and see for yourself?”

  I hesitated. Peek noticed and chuckled. He leaned in so close I could smell his aftershave. It was sweet, sickly so.

  “A word of advice, witch. When a vampire makes a declaration, like one where he doesn’t want to see you, I would take it seriously and not test those boundaries.”

  I fisted my hands. I wanted to punch Peek right in the face, but I knew I’d be on the losing end of a physical bout against the vamp. He’d probably catch my fist midair, before I even had a chance to come close to jabbing him in the nose.

  It was too bad, really.

  I could use the stress release. But seeing as there was diddly squat I could do about the stupid situation, I hoisted my purse higher on my shoulder and clicked my tongue.

  “Tell him I stopped by, will you? There’s something important he needs to know.”

  Peek smirked. “Sure.”

  Which meant he wouldn’t tell Thorne anything, which also meant I was on my own when it came to figuring out a way to get Watts to admit to the fact that I’m pretty sure he’d killed Frankie.

  I had two choices—I could wait outside until Thorne left the jail and I could ambush him, or I could figure out how to get inside Watts’s head.

  Seeing as I had absolutely no expertise in the latter, the first idea seemed the best. But I also didn’t know how long Thorne would be interrogating my mother—an innocent woman.

  So, Watts it was. For this, I would need Rose’s help. I arrived back at the house and found Rose impatiently waiting for me in the living room.

  “So?” she said hopefully.

  I shook my head. “He won’t see me.”

  She cringed. “That is a problem. Did you consider stalking him until he leaves the jail?”

  “I don’t even know if he’s there. They drove Mama off somewhere, could have been anywhere, not necessarily the jail since it’s so close by. All Thorne’s deputy told me was that under no circumstances am I allowed to see him—at least not right now.”

  Rose wrung her hands. “I know! Call Thorne and tell him you’re trapped inside Watts’s house, that you need help. He’ll have t
o go there to rescue you. It’s the alpha vampire in him.”

  As much as that idea sounded amazing—and I’m joking when I say that—I passed on it.

  “Rose, I just don’t think that’s a good idea. Watts was on to us today. He stared at us out his window, and the whole thing with Broom hitting him was so transparent, I’m surprised the police haven’t arrived at our door to question us about possible assault charges.”

  Rose dismissed my concern with a wave. “You’re being melodramatic. Broom barely tapped him. It was a minor inconvenience for Watts, I’ll grant you that. But to be honest,” she lowered her voice, “I think he kind of liked getting the beating.”

  I cocked an eyebrow in skepticism.

  “Oh, I’m not kidding,” she said. “You should have seen the look of guilty pleasure that crossed his face. I saw it in his eyes. He enjoyed it.”

  “I didn’t see any whips or chains in his bedroom, so I’m going to have to disagree. Anyway, let’s figure out a plan. There’s got to be something we can do.”

  I nodded. “Have any chocolate around? That might help me think.”

  Any calories would have helped, but why take a chicken breast when I could have chocolate? I mean, was that even a real question? I would take chocolate over a steak dinner some nights.

  Or days. Or weekends. Or minutes.

  Rose smiled so widely light glinted off her teeth. “In fact, I do. I’d just given Pig a handful. Maybe she didn’t eat it all. Perhaps there’s some in her bowl.”

  I stared at Rose in disbelief. “Um. Her bowl? Like, her bowl as in what she eats out of?”

  Rose nodded. “Yes.”

  My mouth turned down into a grimace that I didn’t bother to hide. “So are you saying that if there’s chocolate left in Pig’s food bowl, that I can have it?”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So you want me to eat after a pig?”

  Rose slapped her thigh and scoffed. “Honestly, Charming, it’s not as if she has herpes or anything. Pigs can’t get herpes.” She tapped her chin in thought. “At least, I don’t think they can. Actually, I’ve never even thought about it.”

  Rose’s hand flew to her mouth. “I eat after Pig all the time. What if I catch herpes?”