Chapter Nine

"Good afternoon, Jo," Cal said, that thick southern accent like nails on a chalkboard. Today he wore a white linen suit that seemed a little too nice for the slum he stood in. "I'm so glad I caught you."

"Are you now?" I hadn't a clue why a vampire might want a mermaid dead, but if it was Cal, it probably had something to do with business. I'm sure I wasn't the only one he was trying to buy from, though I didn't know what Maria might've had to offer him. "Unfortunately, we aren't open yet. Been a bit of a crazy day."

"So I hear. Just positively awful what they're saying about Aimee." His words slid over his tongue like molasses. "I don't for a minute believe she was capable of what they're saying. Murder?" He tutted, as if the creature didn't subsist on human blood. "In this town? It's an absolute travesty."

His protests were starting to sound a little like guilt to me. "She's innocent."

"Of course she is," Cal said with a look that was borderline patronizing. "Can't imagine she'd have a quarrel with sweet Maria Greenfin. The mermaid was such a bright light in this community. And what a nasty way to go, too. Someone was clearly angry with her."

"Have any thoughts on who it might've been?"

"I can't say I do," he said. "You know I like to keep my ear to the ground, and I've never heard a single person say a bad word about Maria. I half expect it to be a case of the wrong place at the wrong time, you know? Maybe some fisherman uncorked the wrong bottle. These things happen."

"Big Jo outlawed that stuff on this beach," I said mildly.

"And yet, Aimee carried it around."

"So everyone says," I said. "Which is odd, because Big Jo always made such a fuss about the agreement. Why give Aimee a pass?"

"I can't presume to know what was in your grandmother's heart," he said, patting his own chest. Did vampires have hearts? "But she always had a soft spot for Aimee. Let her get away with all sorts of things." He sighed. "But I'm sure you know all that."

"Mmm." I kind of did, but I wanted him to keep talking.

"Well, I know you're busy," he said, rising slowly. "I just wanted to stop in and ask if you'd given any more thought to my offer."

"Been rather preoccupied," I said, picking up a rag from behind the bar and wiping down the wood. It wasn't dirty, but I wanted to keep my hands busy so he wouldn't see my annoyance.

"There seems to be quite the mortgage on this place," he said, looking around.

I stopped scrubbing and looked at him. "How do you know that?"

"One hears things when they're a pillar of the community, like I am," he said. "Quite the mystery, what your grandmother took it out for." He twirled a straw between his fingers. "I do have a theory, though."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Well, you aren't the first person I brought this offer to," he said. "I'd obviously asked your grandmother if she'd consider selling. It was clear keeping this up by herself was taking its toll on her, and perhaps I was right. Her poor heart just gave out, after all." He tutted. My suspicion grew. "Maybe she took out the mortgage to give herself an advance on the money she'd be getting from me."

"Why would she do that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said. "But the fact of the matter is that you've got this debt, and now the leader of the mermaids has banned a good portion of your patrons from spending their money here."

My lips pressed into a thin line. "And how do you know that?" It hadn't been more than three hours since Pinfish made his decree. Either news traveled fast underwater, or Big Dog wasn't the only supernatural who had informants on the Hollow police force.

"We've suddenly had a surge of mermaid customers on the other side of the sound," he said with a shrug. "Word gets around."

It sounded plausible, but I wasn't sure I believed it. "Mm."

"If I were you, Jo, I'd want to be rid of this place," he said, running his finger along the wood as if I hadn't cleaned it. "I'd give you cash. Can take over the place in a preliminary fashion until all the paperwork clears. Quick, painless, and you're back to Atlanta and your old life, a million and a half dollars richer. Doesn't that sound lovely?" Another fanged smile.

"It does sound lovely," I said, even though the thought of selling to Cal made me feel gross. "But I'd be remiss if I didn't keep a steady hand on things during this transition period. Daniel says it'll take a few weeks to sort it all out."

"Ah, young lawyer Page?" He chuckled. "Bright young man. Well-educated. I've sought him out a few times myself."

I highly doubted a vampire as rich as Cal Reaves had used Daniel's services. He probably had some slick lawyer who cost a thousand dollars an hour.

"My answer right now is no," I said. "But I'll be sure to let you know if that changes."

He nodded and swept from the bar toward his very expensive foreign car like a shadow. I took a little pride in the fact that the ground-up shells in the parking lot left a white sheen on his tires and bumper, though I was sure there was a waiting witch or demon or whatever vamps hired to keep their stuff clean.

I put down the rag and noted the time. The bar would really get hopping in a couple hours, and I hadn't even showered. I'd planned to after knocking out the checklist Danny had given me, but I was pretty sure the death certificate form was still half-finished on my computer.

Had it only been a few hours since I'd walked into the Enchanted Cat?

"Ugh." I rubbed my face. I couldn't leave the Cove without anyone here to watch it. There were coverings that came down to close the place at night, but without magic, they were as good as useless to me. I could lock the office, but I didn't have a key to get back in.

I stared at my phone. If I hurried, I could get home, shower and change, and be back before the afternoon rush. And I wasn't completely alone.

I went to the kitchen to retrieve a frozen french fry and held it up. A ha ha ha echoed from somewhere, and Jimbo swooped down to try to snap it from my fingers.

"Uh-uh," I said, pulling it away from him. "Listen up, birdbrain. I'm headed back to Big Jo's for a shower. I will be back within the hour. Don't let anyone steal booze or money, got it?"

He clapped his beak, but I wasn't sure if that was in agreement or if he was trying to get the french fry.

"I'm trusting you, because Big Jo wouldn't have kept you around if you weren't useful in some way." I tossed the potato at him and he swallowed it in a single gulp.

Then the little turd flew away.

"I'm trusting you," I repeated after his retreating back. Without any other options, I hopped in the car and sped back toward The Shack.

~~

Of course, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. When I arrived back, the front door wasn't there. The steps now led up to a solid red wall..

"Very funny," I said, tilting my head up. "I need to get back to the Cove. Can you please let me in?"

The only opening in the wall, a window, cracked open.

"Do you think I can reach that?" I said, hopping off the stairs and walking toward the window.

It was at least two feet higher than my head, and even when I jumped, I could barely get my fingers on the sill. As soon as they made purchase, they slipped off, and I landed in the sticker bushes I would've sworn hadn't been there when I'd walked over.

"Could you please let me inside?"

It creaked and groaned as if it were laughing at me.

"Fine." I marched to the back deck, pulled myself up, and tried the sliding glass door there. No such luck. I briefly considered chucking one of the wooden rocking chairs that sat to my right at the glass, but knowing The Shack, it would probably chuck it right back.

I glanced up. Maybe if I could at least grab a fresh shirt…

Big Jo's room was upstairs, and until now, I hadn't been able to bring myself to go up there. I wasn't scared or anything, but it felt like a breach of privacy. Even though she was gone, even though this place was probably mine (so Daniel would say), it wasn't mine. It was, and always would be, hers.

The stairs leading to the second floor were old and rotten, and it was with much trepidation that I tested the first step. But to my surprise, it held my weight without as much as a creak. More enchantments, perhaps, or The Shack itself doing its best to keep the stairway's integrity.

I climbed, huffing at the stupid house and its stupid games. A hotel might actually be less stressful at this point. Except that I didn't really want to spend the money on one. Not to mention, the only hotels nearby were owned by Cal Reaves, and I didn't want to chance him showing up at my door and pestering me about selling.

The stairs ended in a balcony and another sliding glass door, leading to the bedroom. To my utter surprise, the door moved when I pulled on it. Inside, Big Jo's room was cramped, with a sloped, wood-paneled ceiling that came right down to the floors. To one side, a closet had been cut out and a single bar hung inside with a suite of t-shirts and jeans. In the center of the room was a queen bed, stripped, with two bedside tables. Everything seemed a bit too neat and clean for what I remembered of my grandmother, which made me feel all the more awkward standing there.

My gaze fell on a photo on the bedside table, and it drew me closer.

It was me and my parents on the day of my high school graduation. Less than a week later, they'd be gone, and I'd become a shadow of this grinning teenager. But in this photo, we looked ecstatic, like the world was our oyster. I could hear them talking to me, congratulating me on the honors and accolades I'd received (even if they weren't magical ones), the sound of my mother crying, the loud boom of my father's voice. It was as if this photo had been enchanted to replay the moment over and over again.

Not for the first time, I wondered how my life would've turned out if they hadn't taken that ride. Would my magic have finally matured into something usable? Would I have been like Kit and Karen, staying in Eldred's Hollow instead of striking out on my own?

No. Leaving had always been my path, no matter what. I'd felt constricted by the small town and the people in it. Hadn't loved that everyone knew my name and my history. I'd wanted a fresh start in a new place—and I'd gotten it.

But as much as I'd fought to leave this place, being back here didn't feel as suffocating as I'd always feared.

I put the photo down and turned back to the closet, grabbing one of the Witch's Cove t-shirts from the rack and carrying it downstairs. When I reached the last step, the downstairs sliding glass door was open for me, and from the sounds of it, the shower was on.

"Temperamental little…" I muttered, glaring at the building as I marched inside.

~~

Freshly showered, and with Big Jo's shirt on and her wand stuck under the back clip of my bra, I returned to the Cove to find a few cars in the parking lot. I internally winced—who wanted a drink at four o'clock in the afternoon? Then I remembered it was Friday, and this place was a vacation town.

Silly me.

I ran but almost immediately skidded to a halt. Aimee was behind the bar, pouring drinks and laughing as if there wasn't a problem in the world. Jimbo was perched on the Witchwhacker machine, eyeing a plate of fries.

Aimee spotted me, and her expression darkened significantly.

"You're…back?" I said, walking up to the bar. "What in the world—"

"I made bond, obviously," she said. "And good thing I did. The bar was completely unattended."

I forced a smile. "I was gone maybe forty-five minutes."

"And there were people waiting half an hour," she said, nodding at a pair of suntanned men who were drinking beers. "Luckily, Sam and Ted are regulars and can help themselves. You didn't even lock the place up."

I bit my tongue instead of responding the way I wanted to. "I'm glad you're back. Do you need me to hang around, or…?"

"Stay out of the way. Or better yet, go home."

"You're out on bond," I said, pointedly, as she breezed by me. "There's a not-small chance you could be in jail at the bottom of the sea soon. Maybe I should hang out here and learn how to sling drinks."

"I've got it covered," she said. "Go home."

"I'm sure you do, but if they find you guilty—"

"They won't."

"Did you hear that Pinfish told the mermaids they weren't allowed to come here anymore?" I asked, following her into the back storage area. I was quite sure she could've summoned the objects she needed, but she was trying to get away from me.

"I did."

"And?"

"And we'll figure it out."

"Why are you being such a…" I swallowed the word I wanted to say. "I'm here to help, Aimee. I'm not trying to change anything—"

"Then why were you talking with Cal Reaves?" She spun around to glare at me.

"He showed up to ask me to sell him the bar again," I replied evenly.

"And?"

"I told him no." I gestured toward the marina. "Not until we figure out what the heck is going on here. And not until we find that half a million dollars."

"Say you find it. Then what?"

"One step at a time," I said, after a moment. "And I'm here. Teach me what you know so I can keep this place going if the worst should happen."

She sighed, turning to me fully. Her gaze fell to my shirt. "Did you steal that out of your grandmother's closet?"

I thumbed the hem. "Yeah. The Shack wouldn't let me inside until I took it."

Aimee snorted. "You know, Big Jo never did quite figure out what she did to that place to make it so ornery. She thought for a while she might've awoken a ghost, or maybe it was the combination of spells she used to ensure that her needs were taken care of. But good to know it's keeping the fun alive after her passing."

"Fun. Yeah." I still had brambles in my jeans. "What did Daniel say about that vial?"

She made a face. "It's got my magic on it, but Daniel says the vial is circumstantial evidence." She waved her hand like it was nonsense. "It's possible I left my magical signature doing the usual bookkeeping. He thinks that, and maybe pushing the police to compare my potion to the one used on Maria, might give me a good shot of getting off."

"When's your court date?"

"They're figuring all that out. Wouldn't be here though. Daniel says all the criminal stuff for the supernaturals gets funneled to a single court in New Orleans, so there's a backlog. Might be next year before they bring me up on charges."

"Good," I said. "Plenty of time for us to figure out who really did it."

She turned to me, brows raised as she finally retrieved the bottle she was looking for. "You… I think Vinnie can handle that, don't you?"

"I think he wants Pinfish off his tail, pun intended," I said, following her out to the bar and sidling up next to her.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" she asked. "Did you ever work the bar when you were younger?" She paused. "No, of course not. You were only eighteen."

"I'm a quick study." After all, I learned clients' content management systems every day. How difficult could tending bar be?