twenty-four
Max came to pick me up. His jeep had automatic transmission, so I could drive it with my working right foot while he drove my truck. Ward found a bandage that Cleo used to wrap my ankle. And once I reached home I could make myself a poultice of garlic and olive oil for swelling, and then a rub of frankincense and peppermint oils for the pain.
Max and Ward helped me to the jeep. But after Ward said farewell and left to return to the house, Max remained standing at the side of the road with me, the driver’s-side door open.
“I know there’s gotta be a good reason you’re at the home of the man you were falsely accused of murdering, covered in blood, at the same time a burglary was reported at the house.”
“You heard about the stolen painting? And I’m not covered in blood. I came to apologize. It went horribly wrong.”
“I can see that.”
I hesitated before saying more. I didn’t know how sensitive the speaker system at the gate was. I had to tell Max about the ergot I’d smelled in the studio, but not here.
“Why aren’t you walking to your car?” I asked him. “I’m getting soaking wet. Again.” The rain had let up, but it was still sprinkling.
“Your friend Tobias, is he staying with you?”
“For a little while, yeah. I thought you two had bonded. You’re not jealous, are you?” I joked. Tobias was a handsome guy, but no. After what we’d been through together, he was like a little brother to me.
But Max didn’t laugh. “I know more about him now. About his … proclivities.”
“Proclivities? What’s that supposed to mean? That he likes the spiciest food of anyone you’ll ever meet—”
“That woman he married. Rosa. She was in her seventies when she died.”
“Too young, I know.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not being funny. I’m sad she died so young.”
Max shook his head. Raindrops flung from his hair, and more stuck to his long black eyelashes and ran down his face.
“Either your friend was running a scam to get her money, or—”
“Or what? He fell in love with an older woman? And would you give it a second thought if their sexes were reversed? A fifty-year-old woman with a seventy-something husband? I thought you liked Tobias and understood his grief at losing her.”
“I did. I feel like I still do. But now I know why. He’s a con man, Zoe.”
“They were married for decades, Max. Decades. That’s a really long con.”
Max took a moment before speaking. “You’re right. I don’t know what it is … but something is off about his story. How well do you know him?”
“Better than I know you,” I said, and immediately regretted it. But it was too late. The look on Max’s face showed me I’d shoved a knife into his heart. He stepped back and nodded, then slammed the car door.
When I pulled the jeep up in front of Max’s house, my green pickup truck was already parked on the street. As I turned off the engine, Max came over to help me out. Instead of lifting me to the ground, he pulled me into a hug and buried his head in my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to fight.”
“I’m sorry too. I know you were angry because you care about me and don’t want to see me get hurt. But I won’t. Not by Tobias.”
Max pulled back, but his lips hovered an inch from mine. “I don’t want to get you sick.”
“You seem well to me.”
He laughed and rested his nose on mine. “I don’t know what magic was in that soup you made me, or in Tobias’s tea, but I do feel so much better.”
“It’s not magic,” I said. “It’s old medicine we’ve forgotten. And besides, I wouldn’t care if you did get me sick.”
Max’s lips brushed mine as the rain began to fall harder, pelting nearly as hard as hail.
“We can’t get a break, can we?” he whispered.
“It’s only a few yards to the house.”
I expected him to help me limp to the house at his side, but instead he swept me up, carried me inside, and set me down on the couch.
“I’m dripping water and blood all over your white couch,” I said, trying to move.
“I don’t care,” Max said and crawled on top of me.
It was a kiss that reached every part of me. I have no idea how long it lasted, until he finally said, “As much as it pains me to say this, I should probably be the sensible one and get you some ice for your ankle. Then we can pick up where we left off.”
“And as much as it pains me,” I said when he returned with the ice pack, “I need to tell you something I couldn’t while we were at the Castle. I need you to call Detective Vega.”
“I’m sure she’s busy with the stolen painting, since it relates to the Logan Magnus case. And I’m kinda hoping she doesn’t hear you went to see Isabella. You were just being nice, not anything related to the case—”
“That’s the thing. We need to tell her there’s ergot at that house.”
“Ergot?”
“It’s a poison.”
“She already knows there are a bunch of toxic paints at the Castle. She took them for testing. The question, of course, is whether Logan killed himself or whether someone somehow forced him to swallow the paint. Which doesn’t seem likely. But that’s what Vega is working on.”
“Ergot is a poison that can cause hallucinations and leave people open to suggestion.” My throat tightened as I thought of my former friends, so quick to claim I was a witch. “It’s a way someone could have convinced Logan to swallow the paint … ”
Max swore. “How did you see it?”
“I smelled it.”
Max swore again.
“You know I’m sensitive to the scents of plants and organic matter. It’s a fungus. What? You thought I was going to say Isabella had a bottle lying about labeled ‘Ergot Poison’? Sorry. I’m not making this simple. But I know what I smelled.”
Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. You should tell her.”
“I can’t go anywhere.” I pointed to my ankle. “Can’t you just call her?”
“She needs the details from you.” Max’s cell phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” he said as he looked at the phone. He went into the kitchen to take the call. I didn’t hear most of what was said, but I heard his voice rising in frustration. After a few seconds of silence, he came back to the living room.
“As I expected,” he said, “Isabella called Luciana after your visit. But she had a crazy story about you having an old portrait you claim is new. I wonder if Isabella is taking something to dull the pain of her husband’s death.”
“Wait, who’s Luciana?”
“Detective Vega.”
“Oh. So you told her about the ergot?”
Max shook his head. “Games of telephone are a bad idea in my line of work. She’s working the case, though. She knows you hurt your ankle, so she’s going to swing by … ”
“You sounded like you were about to say something else.”
“I’m going to have a really busy week with a case I caught. So I don’t know how much I can take care of you and your ankle for the next couple of days. You’ll be okay?”
“I will, but that’s not what you were going to say.”
Max smiled. “Do you think you can take a day off from baking for Blue? Oh—it’s okay if you can’t. Never mind.”
“No. That’s not what my expression meant. I … there’s something I should tell you about that.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”
“You have?”
“I’ve suspected for a while now, but I knew it wasn’t your secret to tell. It’s his, isn’t it?”
My heart thudded in my throat. Why was Max so calm if he knew about Dorian? Was this the calm before he exploded? “Um … ”
“Your French friend. The guy who’s disfigured and doesn’t want anyone to see him. I’ve been noticing the French themes in ‘your’ baking.” Max grinned. “He’s the real chef, isn’t he? And you’re his cover.”
I smiled back at Max. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay. Like I said. I know it’s not your secret to give away. Don’t say anything. Not about that. I want you to say yes to something else. Come to a birthday dinner for my mom tomorrow night. She lives out in Astoria. It’s a few hours away and it’s easiest to stay overnight. But I need to warn you, my family is … ah … not the most normal bunch.”
“Whose is?” I know everyone says that, but with Dorian, I’m fairly certain mine makes the final cut for weirdest families.
“I didn’t want to scare you away … But I’d like for you to meet them.”
I smiled. “Detective Vega told you she brought up your family yesterday?”
“She’s good people. And she likes you. She didn’t want me messing this up.”
“I don’t either,” I said, and kissed him.