It seemed like a lifetime since I’d seen my own front door, but it was just before five o’clock when Lucy pulled to the curb in front of the carriage house. Iris and Ben would be sweeping up and cleaning out the espresso maker before locking up the Honeybee for the evening. I hoped Iris had remembered to mix the sourdough to rise overnight. And who knew what kind of prep work we’d need to catch up on the next morning?
Mungo jumped from my lap, doing his business without ceremony and heading straight to the porch to lie down and wait for us. I wasn’t the only one about to drop.
Inside, Lucy shooed me toward the bedroom. “You go lie down right this instant, honey. Take Mungo with you. I’ll be in soon with a nice, cool drink.”
“Shower first,” I muttered. “I can’t stand smelling like this.”
A quick nod. “Of course. Scoot on in there and clean up. Tea?”
I bobbed my head and made my woozy way to the bathroom. “Sorry, little guy. I don’t think I can manage a bath for you right now. I know you want the stink of the fire out of your fur. Give me a few hours?”
Yip!
With the plastic bag Lucy brought me wrapped around my bandage, I washed my hair three times, slathered on rosemary conditioner, and scrubbed my whole body with a loofah imbued with lavender and tea tree soap. Carefully, I toweled off and climbed into yoga shorts and a tank. Back in the bedroom, Lucy had pulled the covers back, plumped my pillow, and placed a glass of lemon-infused herbal tea on the side table. One sip revealed the flavors of sage and oregano, as well as sweet marshmallow root and slippery elm, all heavily laced with honey. I suspected she’d steeped a bit of Saint-John’s-wort in the mixture, as well as adding a heartfelt incantation to the brew. I said a word of gratitude, added my own healing intentions, and downed the whole thing while sitting on the edge of the bed.
Then I removed the picture of the fringed gris gris Mother Eulora had given me from the drawer in the bedside table and leaned it against the lamp. I stared at it for what seemed like a long time. A grunting snore from where Mungo sprawled on his back reminded me that I needed rest.
Rolling carefully onto my back, I propped my elbow on a pillow and pulled the sheet over me. Seconds later, I was probably snoring as loud as my familiar.
* * *
The fragrances of garlic and basil, seafood, and fresh bread slowly pulled me from a vague dream in which I was chasing Tanna and she kept turning into a puff of sulfurous smoke. Shaking off drowsiness, I swung my feet out of bed and pushed myself to a sitting position. An odd, sour scent surfaced below the yummy food smells. Then, suddenly, it was gone. The rattle of cookware drifted down the short hallway, and voices murmured in the living room. Mungo was uncharacteristically absent. The solid wood floor felt cool on the soles of my feet as I crossed the bedroom to retrieve my robe. Wrapping it around myself, I stumbled into my living room.
Ben looked up from where he sat on one of the wingback chairs, hunched over the Civil War trunk. Detective Quinn sat on the sofa, and together they had managed to spread an assortment of papers over every flat surface within reach. Four boxes were piled over by the bookcase.
“Hey, darlin’. How are you feeling?” Ben asked.
Lucy poked her head around the corner of the kitchen. “You up already? I thought you might be out until morning. I called your parents to let them know what happened and that you’re okay.”
I yawned wide, quickly covering my mouth. “You’re a gem, Lucy. Actually, I feel a lot better. See? I can even move my arm a bit more.”
“Well, don’t,” she admonished. “You don’t want to break those stitches open.”
Mungo bounded out of the kitchen. I bent over to pet him. “Why, look at you! You got your bath after all.” He even had a little bandanna around his neck.
Yip!
“I came over as soon as we closed down the Honeybee, and first thing gave him a good scrub in the backyard,” Ben said. “He didn’t seem to mind a bit.”
“I don’t imagine he did. Thanks, Ben.”
“No problem. It was the least that I could do.”
I straightened. “Quinn,” I said by way of greeting. He’d watched our exchange in silence.
He shook his head and grinned. “Boy, it really takes a wallop to keep you down, Lightfoot. Your aunt said you only went to sleep a couple of hours ago.”
I glanced out the window. It was still light. But with my sleep disorder, two hours was like a full night’s rest. All I said was, “Sometimes a nap is all you need.” I indicated the mess. “What’s all this? And, Lucy, what on earth do you have on the stove? It smells like heaven in a pot.”
She grinned. “Close enough, honey. Fresh pesto with basil from your garden, grilled shrimp, and garlic bread courtesy of the Honeybee Bakery. It’ll be done in a few minutes. You’re more than welcome to stay, Peter.”
“Thanks, Ms. Eagel. I might just have to take you up on that. Katie, you see before you the remains of Frank Taite’s worldly possessions—at least the ones he left at Ms. Timmons’ boarding house. She gave them to me without any problem. And it turns out, there are some interesting things here.” He leaned forward and looked me up and down with such thoroughness I pulled my robe tighter. “You do look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
Have we found the gris gris? The thought sent a bolt of hope through me. Eagerly, I perched on the edge of the second wingback chair. “Interesting, like how?” Now that I was closer to the boxes, I felt an energy that felt sharply sour. Could that have been the vinegary tang I thought I smelled from the bedroom? One of the boxes by the bookcase seemed to exude a smoky yellow aura. Could it be the talisman? I felt my bare toes tapping on the floor in anticipation, and had to stop myself from barreling over and tearing off the lid. Detective Quinn would think I was nuts.
Ben leaned back and pressed his lips together. “Peter’s been here for an hour, and we’ve gone through absolutely everything. Twice. Two boxes of clothes and toiletries, a laptop computer that’s password protected, and a few personal items.”
“The talisman?” I couldn’t keep the eagerness out of my voice. “Did you find it?”
Both men shook their heads.
“Are you sure? It looks kind of like a necklace, metal and fringed. Here, let me get you a picture.” I bolted up and trotted to the bedroom to get the photo off the nightstand. Returning, I held it out to them.
Quinn took it with a frown. “Where did you get this?”
“From Mother Eulora. This is the talisman she gave Franklin—the one I told you about.”
“Sorry, hon,” Ben said. “Nothing like that in any of this stuff.”
My eagerness faded, the frustration I’d come to associate with almost everything about the situation returning full force. “Dang it!”
So, what’s over there in that box?
“But take a look at what Peter found,” my uncle said. The anticipation on his face gave me pause.
I scooted closer. Lucy stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the stove and listening to us with a wooden spoon poised in her hand.
Quinn said, “Who knows what we might find on that computer, but Frank kept hard-copy records of his cases, both on and off the force. This is the one I think you might want to see.” He held a manila file out to me.
I took it, still aware of the force surrounding the closed box across the room. “Luce, are you using vinegar in anything you’re cooking in there?” I asked, opening the file.
“No.” She sounded puzzled.
I looked up. “Anyone else smell that?”
“Well, I sure smell lots of good things, thanks to your aunt’s hard work,” Ben said.
Quinn cocked his head and sniffed.
One thing at a time.
Quickly, I perused the contents of the file, skimming through the pages and then going back to check on a few things.
“So, human sacrifice was involved in this case.” I sat back in the chair. “Pretty freaky, but not exactly shocking, given what his lieutenant in New Orleans told you about his last case before he left the force. This is the same one, right? I mean, this isn’t the official police report, just his personal notes, but the dates seem right.”
Quinn nodded.
I went on. “Plus, Franklin mentioned human sacrifice to Mother Eulora when he came to see her in April.” I bent my head over the file. “Still, he stopped the sacrifice before anyone was harmed. Wait a minute.” I flipped through the pages again. “Who was the mastermind behind the whole thing?”
“We think Frank took part of that file with him.” Quinn tipped his head toward the folder I held. “I’ve got a call into the NOPD to find out what the official story is. And I’m hoping that information will be on his computer. Because there’s . . . well, keep reading.”
Lucy disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, then came back out to join us, the spoon still held absently in her hand. She sat lightly on Ben’s knee, and he steadied her with his arm. Watching me with a grim expression, he stroked his beard with his other hand. Mungo had snuggled down on the throw rug next to my foot.
I returned my attention to the papers in my hand. “A coma? Whoever it was induced a coma and then was going to kill the victim with— Oh, my God.” I looked up. “A snakebite? Quinn! It says they got away! It says here they escaped without making their sacrifice, but they were never caught. It says—let’s see here—it says they kept their victim for only a couple of days before trying to complete the sacrificial ritual.” I met the detective’s eyes, scrambling for the right words to convince him of what I was thinking. “Do you think it was more than one person?”
Slowly, he nodded. “A complicated plan like that, it would make sense for there to be more than one perpetrator.”
I reached down and scritched Mungo behind the ears. “Franklin disappeared without a trace from Cozie Temmons’ rooming house in April. He visited his friend, Mother Eulora, around the same time, but then never came back to see her. I think he would have if he could have. I think he would have contacted me, too.”
“Why?” Quinn asked.
I shook my head. “I just do. But he didn’t die until just a few days ago. So, where was he that whole time? Is there any indication of another case he was working on during that time? No, wait. There wouldn’t be because he disappeared without taking any of this stuff with him.” I licked my lips. “Here’s the thing: Those people he stopped from sacrificing their victim were never caught. And their plan had been spoiled by Detective Franklin Taite.” I hugged myself, almost glad for the twinge in my shoulder to remind me that this wasn’t a dream. “They got to him, Quinn. I think he was in a coma for months, and then they managed to go through with their snake-bite sacrifice. And now Dawn’s in a coma, too.”
His poker face didn’t waver. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben hold Lucy a little tighter. “That’s crazy,” Ben said.
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” I insisted. “Quinn, how hard would it be to check hospitals here in Savannah and the surrounding towns for long-term coma patients?”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch into minutes but was probably only seconds. Finally, he spoke. “Not too hard.”
I grinned. “You’ll do it?”
“No.”
My smile dropped.
“I’ll have a lackey do it.”
Ben laughed. “You know Katie’s right more often than not.”
Quinn allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his face. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t agree to this nonsense.” He reached into the pile of folders on the table. “There’s something else. About his niece.”
I leaned over and grabbed the file before he could properly offer it to me. Another quick scan, shorter this time because there was only one page. “Dawn was in North Carolina for the past two months?”
Quinn nodded. “Frank had her infiltrate a cult headed by some nutso prophet.”
“A cult!” Lucy said. “How could he?”
“I’ve heard of this bunch. They’re pretty harmless—mostly woo-woo pagan stuff. Not exactly another David Koresh. It looks like Frank sent his niece to bring a girl back to her parents.”
Lucy still frowned.
“I’ll check into it,” Quinn continued. “Obviously, she finished what he sent her to do and came back to Savannah. I doubt that it has anything to do with Franklin’s death or her current condition. You never know, though.” He began gathering the folders into a neat pile. “Any chance that dinner invitation is still open?”
My aunt bolted to her feet. “Oh, heavens. I turned it all off, but it’s ready. Come in and help yourself.” She darted back into the kitchen.
Ben and Quinn got up as the dish-rattling sounds began again.
“Quinn,” I said quietly.
He paused. Ben noticed, but went ahead to join his wife.
“Are you worried that someone might go after Dawn? At the hospital, I mean. For another, er . . .” I trailed off, unwilling to say the words.
The detective wasn’t so squeamish. “Human sacrifice?”
I nodded.
He looked thoughtful. “Honestly, no. And I can’t justify putting a guard on her. She’s in the ICU still, though that might change. But let me see what I find out about coma cases in area hospitals.”
My brows pinched together, and I bit my lip.
“In the meantime, I’ll alert hospital security to be on the lookout for anything strange.”
“Okay,” I said. At least he was doing the best he could.
Quinn joined my aunt and uncle in the kitchen, and I got up and went to the box that had caught my attention. Mungo followed, his tiny toenails making wee clicking sounds on the wood floor. Sinking to my knees in front of the bookcase, I carefully nudged the top off the box. Sure enough, the sour aura became stronger. Not only that, but Mother Eulora’s bracelet grew significantly warmer. Could Ben and Quinn have overlooked the gris gris?
With thumb and forefinger, I moved a few things around. A picture of two boys—Franklin and his brother, I guessed. A couple of bow ties, which was odd, yet I could totally see Franklin Taite wearing one. Three mystery novels were stacked in the corner. I wondered if he’d had a chance to finish them. There was a ceramic figure of a hedgehog that made me think of Mother Eulora. Perhaps he’d been planning to give it to her. There was no talisman or anything that looked like it could conceal the talisman. But I had found the source of the strange energy.
It was a poppet. Only not a poppet like the spellbook club had used before, but a doll like the ones I’d seen in Marie LaFevre’s shop. A voodoo doll, seven inches long and sloppily sewn like those, only this one was made of black velvet and had red-stitched X’s for eyes. Another vermillion X represented the mouth, and a fourth one marked the middle of the poppet’s chest. That X was bigger than the rest. I glanced away, and it seemed to throb like a heart beating in my peripheral vision, but when I looked back, it was plain embroidery floss on plush fabric. Still, I felt my hands shaking.
Then I saw that the doll had no stuffing. It was a completely empty husk.
I couldn’t make myself touch it, but I’d tell Quinn about it over dinner. Because, oddly enough, this was the only thing in Franklin’s effects that really indicated voodoo had been involved with either of the cases Quinn had showed me.
Other than the planned sacrifice by snakebite, of course. That smacked of voodoo through and through.
* * *
Quinn ate and ran, taking all of Franklin’s possessions. I’d insisted on going through them myself, just to make sure they hadn’t missed the gris gris in one of his pockets or tucked into a sock. Thankfully, neither my uncle nor the detective took offense. Still, I didn’t find anything. Quinn promised to give the voodoo doll to the crime lab for testing.
“Will you let us know what you find on his computer?” I asked.
He looked at the ceiling for a moment, ignoring Ben’s grin. “Depends on what we find, Katie. It’s looking more and more like Frank’s death was a homicide—”
“Which you wouldn’t have known without my interference and meddling,” I pointed out, using words I’d heard him use before when referring to the help I’d given him.
“Yeah, well. I’ll let you know what I can.”
I gave him a look.
“Good Lord, girl. I brought Frank’s stuff over here before even taking it to the department. Give me a break.”
“You’re right.” I hung my head.
“Well,” he mumbled. “That’s better.”
Lucy took my arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you back to bed.”
My cell tone went off as Quinn went out to his car. I heard the sound of the Tahoe’s engine fade as I read Declan’s text.
Just checking in to make sure you’re okay. Have called twice and Lucy must be starting to think I’m crazy. I am, of course. Crazy about you. Call me when you get this any hour.
“Aw,” I said.
Lucy grinned. “Declan?”
“Yup.”
“Katie!” Margie stood in the still-open doorway. Alarm thrummed through her voice. “Miss Lucy, Ben, what on earth is going on? Why were the cops over here? And what happened to your poor arm, Katie?”
Baby Bart rested in the crook of her elbow, his arms around her neck and his head leaning against her shoulder. He blinked sleepy blue eyes at me.
“Wasn’t our doing,” Ben said with a smile. “She gets into trouble without any of our help.”
The JJs appeared on either side of her, clad in pajamas and both wearing bunny slippers. Jonathan’s were brown, and Julia’s a dingy pink.
I smacked my forehead. “We were supposed to have a girl’s night tonight. Oh, Margie, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot!”
“Never mind that. Are you in trouble?”
I laughed. It felt good, and I realized it had been a while. “Not the kind you mean.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Really,” I assured her. “I was in a fire, and Declan and his crew showed up. I got a pretty deep cut in my shoulder, but they patched it up nicely at the emergency room. Oh, and that policeman who was here had some questions about the fire. You’ve met Detective Quinn before, haven’t you?”
She nodded, still thin-lipped. “He seems to be here pretty often.”
“He’s a family friend,” Lucy said, and I watched the suspicious look drop from my neighbor’s face. What—did she think I was having an affair with Peter Quinn? A bit old for me, Declan or no Declan. Astroy and Rowanna Bronhilde, the author of the spellbook I’d suggested for the coven’s review during our last meeting, suddenly came to mind.
I shook my head to clear it. “Margie, I don’t think I can hang out tonight after all. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, bless your little heart, Katie Lightfoot. I wouldn’t dream of dragging you over to listen to me natter on and drink pink wine after you’ve been wounded in a fire. Good heavens, girl. You better take yourself some aspirin and get right on back to bed.”
Lucy looked amused. “I’ll make sure she does just that.”
Margie gave a definitive nod and turned to go. She whirled back. “Hang on. I heard about a fire this afternoon. You’re weren’t at Mother Eulora’s, were you?”
I felt my mouth go slack. Struggling to recover, I managed, “You know Eulora?”
She flipped a hand. “Oh, heavens, yes. Honey, I’m a born-and-bred Savannahian. I bet I’ve run across everyone in this town at one time or another. Especially folks that have been here as long as she has. Beside, my mother-in-law consults with Mother Eulora pretty regularly ever since Redding’s daddy passed on.”
“Will wonders never cease?” I heard Lucy mutter under her breath.
Margie shook her head. “I must say, I’m surprised as anything that you go in for that woo-woo stuff. I always thought you were one of the most practical people I know.”
Behind me, Ben muffled a laugh.
I grinned. “What about you? You believe in spirits and haints and spells and the like?”
She flushed but looked defiant. “Maybe a bit. Hard telling what might be around—just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Besides, we live in the most haunted city in the entire United States, you know.”
“I believe it,” I said. “And, yes, I was, uh, consulting with Mother Eulora when the fire broke out.” All my humor drained away. “It was horrible. Her whole house it gone, Margie, and Eulora’s in the hospital. Her family is there, but she could use the prayers of anyone who knows her.”
Margie’s expression softened. “I’ll tell my mother-in-law. I’m sure she knows some of Mother’s other clients. We’ll spread the word and get some good vibes going her way.”
“Thank you. You’re a gem.”
“Nah. Saint Margie, remember? Come on, kids. Let’s get you to bed. And, Katie?”
“Mmm?”
“I know Declan’s on shift, so if there’s anything you need—anything at all—you just let me know. Okay? I’ll be around, and I can run right over.”
“Thank you,” I said with feeling. “You’re the best neighbor ever.”
She looked pleased but waved it away. “Pshaw. Anyone else would do the same. You take care.”
“I will.”
Ben shut the door behind the Coopersmiths. “I think we might have to be going, too. Unless you want us to stay the night? You still have that futon in the loft, don’t you?”
“No need, Ben. I appreciate it, though. I’m going to have another glass of Lucy’s amazing healing tea, check in with Declan, and settle in for some more shut-eye.”
My aunt and uncle exchanged a long look before he dipped his chin in agreement. “Okay.”
“The rest of the tea is on the counter,” Lucy said, reaching for where her purse hung from the back of one of the wingbacks. “And there are plenty of leftovers for both of you. Mungo’s pasta doesn’t have garlic, and is in the blue container in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Lucy. I’ll see you in the morning,” I said.
My aunt spun around. “What? Oh, no, Katie. You most certainly will not. I’ve already called Iris, and she can come in early. We’ll handle the baking tomorrow. You stay home and rest.”
“I’m not sick,” I began to protest, but she cut me off.
“I won’t hear another word about it,” she said. “Come on, Ben.”
And that, apparently, was that.