Chapter Seven

Ace jerked the police vehicle into gear, gunned the motor and off we sped. Star glanced at her phone when it purred again. “James says that special item you wanted his brother Alex to make is ready. What special item?”

“Nothing.” I said, pleased it was ready so soon considering it had only been a few hours. “A surprise.” I grinned at just how surprised a certain Mountie was going to be.

The SUV bumped along dusty roads before we hit Main Street. Ace made a right turn at the Clip Joint—the business next to ours—then pulled into the curved driveway in front of the detachment. The low-slung building that housed the RCMP featured a high metal pole out front with our red and white Canadian maple leaf flag proudly flapping in the breeze near the top. It was customary for private citizens to leave bouquets of flowers around the cement base when an officer was killed in the line of duty. When a man died doing his job and trying to protect the rest of us, it broke our collective hearts.

I fumed, waiting for Ace to come around and open the vehicle’s door from the outside, the backseat not being a comfortable place to sit. Hard vinyl plastic and not enough leg room were spectacularly unenhanced by the odor of skunk.

I jumped out and Star had to worm her way free. She stood inches taller than me, making her sit with her legs about tucked under her chin. A big man would be scrunched up in a tight ball. Of course, a deliberate design to ensure police protection. It was hard to do much damage squished up in the fetal position.

We marched up the sidewalk and into the station, me holding my sister’s hand all the time. No way was the boss man going to separate us without a struggle. Ace picked up on it, apparently, because he motioned for us to follow him into his office. Good.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the chairs lined up in front of his desk. I sat, then sighed, checking out the display of flowers and baked goods that threatened to topple off onto the floor. Again. The women of Snowy Lake were beyond help, trying to entice the almost-brand-new Mountie. He picked up a few of the items and transferred them to a shelf of a bookcase that sat to one side of his desk. The walls were painted a nice Canadian beige, but a new coat of paint wouldn’t have gone amiss. Scuff marks and dints in the dry wall marred the surface in places, making me wonder what tales they could share.

“Okay, down to business.” Ace had cleared enough space to open a small black notebook in the center of the mess. He took up a mechanical pencil, then jotted a few things down. He glanced at me first, accompanied by a small smile I think he meant to be reassuring. It was not. Being in a police station sucks. Big time. Like they can discover all kinds of things you’ve done in the past. A prime example was the time I’d ridden double on my friend’s bike in grade school and the crossing guard had stopped us, giving us a chewing out for taking a huge safety risk. I’d been certain for days I’d be expelled from school and Granny would be ashamed of me. I couldn’t even manage a late library book without anxiety attacks and plying Miriam with stacks of treats, though I thought she deliberately obscured the due date by smearing the fresh ink so I had to jot down on the calendar when I last visited her. Our librarian does love her sweets.

“Okay, Star, you said you’d gone to Howard Smith’s trailer to fill out some paperwork. Did you do that—fill out the forms?” he asked, his tone well modulated and doing funny things to my insides that I ignored. The walls of the room were closing in on me, ready to squeeze the life out of me. I chewed on my bottom lip, wishing this whole thing was over so I could take my sister home where she belonged. Where I belonged.

“I started to, but he was acting so weird,” she said, biting on a glittery pink-colored fingernail. “He got up from his chair, his eyes kind of glazed over and he—” She gave a shudder.

“Is this really necessary?” I demanded, hating that Star had to go through it again. Once was bad enough.

“I’m sorry, but she’s the last person known to have seen the deceased alive. Go on, Star, what did he do next?”

“He got up kind of awkwardly, like he was drugged or something, and he lurched toward me, tried to grab hold of me. We struggled—I remember my necklace being torn off—then I somehow managed to pull away. He lost his grip.” She shuddered before continuing. “And he fell to the floor, but I could see he was still alive, didn’t hit his head or anything.”

“We’ve been over this already! Why don’t you find out whose money’s in the movie? Oh, and don’t forget to check out Guido Morello like I told you. He looks like the kind of guy fully prepared for wet-work.”

He didn’t look as appreciative as I thought he should be. In fact, he glowered at me. “Did you really just use that term wet-work? I can’t believe you even know what it means.” He grimaced in distaste. “And yes, Miss McCall, I have all those facts. Thank you very much.”

“So why are we wasting time here?”

Star gave me a swift kick to the shins.

“Oww. What was that for?” But at least she looked less upset now.

“Just let the man do his job already.”

I took a deep breath. What would A.C. do? Agatha Christie always had the answers.

“Did you hear anything else while you were inside the trailer. Any sounds at all?” Ace asked, the expression in his eyes pinning me in place before he turned his full attention to Star.

“You think the murderer was already inside when my sister was there?” My pulse instantly hit its highest setting, my mouth dry.

“It’s possible.” Ace raised one eyebrow. “His body was discovered a short time later. Problem is, no one else was seen leaving his trailer after Star.”

“Who discovered the body?”

Ace hesitated for a split second, then decided to share, probably knowing I could sleuth it out in record time. It wasn’t as though anyone else could do what I could to get to the truth, Mr. Fancy-smancy Master’s Degree in Criminology aside. Okay, I’d give him that—it was something all right. But book learning’s not real-life knowledge, no way, no how.

“Felicity Higgins, the daughter of the woman in the starring role, Mimi Blake, and one of the makeup persons, Sharon Jennings. They wanted to see Howard about an accounting matter to do with a discrepancy in Sharon’s paycheck.”

“The poison expert? Now there’s a prime suspect for you.”

Ace pursed his lips, clicking the point of his pencil against the tabletop.

“Looks like you’ve got two suspects already. And I didn’t like the look of that PA. What was his name? Yeah, Bryce Stanford. Never trust a man who won’t shake hands, my granny always says. And there was another guy that had a beef with Howard. Some guy called Chace. And check out that money trail like I mentioned. Now, can I take my sister home?”

The pencil lead snapped off the mechanical implement before it flew across the desk, landing in my lap. “Chace Wilde—that’s the guy you met in the café?” he asked.

“A very good friend of Howard’s, if you get my drift. Need a sharpener, Sheriff?” I hid my grin, picking up the sliver of lead delicately between thumb and forefinger and depositing it in the white plastic-lined garbage can beside his desk. Why did I enjoy winding up the man so much? I had no idea, but it was a lot of fun. Could it perhaps be some payback for his insistence that I stayed out of things that deeply concerned me? Nah, I’m not that incorrigible. I’ll leave that to my sisters.

“Yes, you may go. But don’t leave town. And as for you, Charm, stay the heck out of things or I promise you will not like where they lead,” he growled, his tone vibrating through my bones and making me fantasize about jumping across the desk and kissing him on his fine lips, sister watching the show or not.

“Aye aye, Captain.” I saluted him with one hand to my forehead, quite unclear of the wisdom of baiting him further. It just felt darn good. Cut me a little slack. Who doesn’t feel a little crazy in police stations?

“I mean it, Miss McCall. If you interfere with this police investigation, I will throw you in jail so fast that your head will spin faster than that girl’s in The Exorcist. Consider yourself warned.”

“Fine,” I said, my lips twitching from holding back.

“Expect to see me later.” He looked good sitting at his desk, his handsome face pinched by chagrin, and clutching the mechanical pencil.

I gave him a stiff nod and grabbed Star’s hand again. I took off with her in tow, barreling down the corridor between the offices at a fast clip, then pushing open the front door of the detachment.

“Hey! Slow down,” Star protested.

“I’ve got food to finish preparing and a kitchen to clean. You going to help?”

“Jeez, what’s the big deal? You shouldn’t let the constable get to you like that. He was just investigating what happened between me and Howard Smith.”

I turned and looked at her when we made the street. A sudden pang of guilt for what she had just been through sent me into a tailspin.

“I’m sorry, Star, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. He just pushes my buttons when he doesn’t realize how much help I can be. I mean, who else can get a reading on suspects?”

She patted my arm. “Oh, I think he thinks you’re a lot of help.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Was my sister dissing me now?

“Yes, I can be,” I said, blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen across my forehead. I stopped walking at the door to the Tea & Tarot and turned to Star. “And I intend to be a lot more help.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t hear a word he said, did you, sis?”

“Blah, blah, blah. But you wait and see, tomorrow when we deliver the food to the set, I’ve got the time to do some investigating of my own. Easy-peasy.”

“I don’t know that you should be sticking—”

“Star! This affects our family.”

“Yeah, but since I didn’t do it, why—”

“The quicker this is all cleared up, the better for everyone. Just leave it to me. I got a very special skill set just waiting to be unleashed on the murder suspects.”

Star shook her head. “I don’t think the constable really wants your help. And I got the feeling he believes I’m innocent anyway and will find the real killer.”

What’s the fun in that? For all his threats during the last murder investigation, I’d escaped unscathed. Okay, he had thrown me in jail that one time, but my coven sisters had gotten me right out again by protesting and burning an effigy of our sweet Mountie on the front lawn of the detachment. Note to self—Explain to the crew not to make a habit of that kind of thing, even if it works.

“I didn’t read all those books on how to solve crimes and understand a murderer’s mind to just sit on the sidelines. Let me handle this. I gotcha covered.”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You know what happened last time.”

“And I solved the crime, with a little help, eh.”

I patted her on the back and opened the café door, ushering her inside. No one was around, which meant the two of us could spend some quality time together. “Up for some time in the kitchen?” Best mood changer for me is cooking for others. “I still need to do a Kismet Spell to bless all the food before we deliver it tomorrow. Want in?”

“I would, but I’m a bit tired. I wouldn’t add any power to it. And I’ve got an early call tomorrow. The director wants me on set at first light to discuss my new role. Isn’t that something? This is going to be my big break—I can feel it in my bones, Charm. You know, the cards said this would happen soon. They’ve been speaking of good things to come for days now.”

“Okay, but make sure you’re never alone with a male again. Promise me.”

She gave a huge put-upon sigh. “I don’t want to be seen as difficult to work with.”

“Better difficult than in difficulties.” I shook my head with misgivings. “You’re so young and vulnerable.”

“That’s rare! We’re exactly the same age and yet you run all over town doing whatever you darn well please.”

“Not exactly the same age.”

“I gotta go before I say something I’ll regret. Bye.” She turned abruptly and stomped from the café, probably on her way to sleep at Granny Toogood’s. It was still the family home. I had lucked out and lived in the apartment above the café. Oh goddess, that reminds me. I needed to discuss living arrangements with our Ivana, before I was left without a place to sleep. No way was I laying my head down alongside the sister of a Russian Bratva. I just might lose it.

Ling Ling strolled up, circling my jean-clad legs with her purr engine set at maximum overdrive while leaving a fluffy trail of evidence. I didn’t worry about the fur settling on the treats laid out in vast profusion over the counters—the trays were covered with plastic lids.

“We thank you for this bounty of the sacred Earth. May this food be safe and nourishing to all who consume it and bless them with optimal health, gifting them energy, vigor and well-being.” I sent my positive intentions out into the universe, visualizing the stream as a circle of love, enjoying the tug on my spirit and the answering karma of sunlight entering the deepest parts of my soul.

“Good stuff, eh, Ling Ling? You hungry?”

She tilted her head to the side, giving me the look she was famous for and that was best summed up in one word—Duh.

“Hmm, smoked salmon pâté or chicken liver? One meow for salmon, two for liver.”

“Meow, meow, meow.”

“Ah, wise choice. A bit of both.”

Ling Ling watched my actions critically as I spooned out a few treats onto a china plate, lining them up in a perfect checkerboard pattern. I laid the plate on a mat and set it in front of her. She took a few polite nibbles of the pâté, then delicately licked her paws.

“You’re lucky you’re a cat, you know. There’s this new interloper in town after the new Mountie.”

She cocked her head at me, her deep blue eyes a brilliant contrast to the whiteness of her fur.

“I knew you’d understand. She’s a real gold-digger, too. A geologist by trade.” I snorted.

Ling Ling gave a bit of a snuffle and a couple of disgusted sneezes, obviously in utmost sympathy for my plight.

“I know, I know. But what’s a gal to do? I can’t just go and drag my prey in like you could. Besides, if he doesn’t come freely, then what’s the point? I want my romance—when the goddess deems it time—to be of the big variety. You know, to have my Prince Charming sweep me right off my feet. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to be shown without a shadow of a doubt that I’m the right woman for him, and he’s the right man for me.”

A throat cleared behind me, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I whirled around, the subject of our debate looming over me. “What are you doing sneaking up on me?” What the heck, was he psychic? He seemed to have an uncanny ability to show up at exactly the wrong moment.