Hexes and X's (Z&C Mysteries, #3) (6 page)

Pat guffawed. “I’m just here getting my chicken is all. But have no worries, Slobber will come begging on hands and knees for me again soon. Anyway, I have no idea where he is right now. He’s always all over the place, mingling about. Good luck findin’ him!”

SEVEN

All Zo ended up
findin’
was a porcelain coffee percolator and six matching mugs at Old Stuff Store. While talking over the price of the collector’s set, the dealer asked, “Aren’t you the mother and daughter that is staying at Coven House?”

“Yes, that would be us,” Zo said, amazed at how fast trivial news travels in even smaller towns than their own Riverside.

“Well, we would be wanting anything that could be found of Captain Zachariah Dread. We would pay a pretty good price… because of the legend, of course.”

“What legend?”

“That he was a pirate and built that old Victorian with bloody gold or pearls or something.”

“You don’t saaay.” Zo found that so very enlightening. “Me thinks Matilda has been holding out on us, Claire dear,” she said later.

*

It was disappointing how their day didn’t lead to any info about where Jack might have gone. They decided to stop at Aunt Bebe’s Diner for a late dinner before closing time at nine. Everywhere else had turned out the lights for the night, including Slobber’s convenience store across the street; the two-pump gas station would remain open for self service only.

The waitress seated them at a window booth and handed out menus. An old cowboy with a broom moustache, mud stains on the bottom of his worn jeans and beat up boots, called over the heads of those eating heartily, “Tildy is goin’ to kick butt at the hearing. That Victorian is hern.”

There was some agreement voiced while a little old woman protested, “It is a valued historical property that should belong to the town for everyone, not a crackpot bunch of witches! Who knows what goes on there? It’s probably being destroyed, all painted up black on the inside.”

Three women were about to take a table across from Zo and Claire. One paused, facing them before sitting. She was gorgeous, her winter-blond hair folding around her face at the shoulder. Her pale blue eyes set on the mother and daughter like the edge of a razor.

Zo slid out of the booth, and stood up face-to-face with the Psycho Witch. “You must be Cynthia.”

The witch looked a little taken back. “Yes. You dare speak to me. Which proves you are an out-of-towner,” she said coolly.

“Definitely. This by interpretation means I am not given to small-town legends or reputations.”

Cynthia looked around to the others in the diner. “I suppose you mean you do not fear me.”

“That would be correct, dear.”

“I am not your DEAR,” she hissed.

“Under the First Amendment, you are. I presume you are an American.”

“Of course I am an American, you idiot!” Cynthia sputtered.

“Are you putting in a claim for Coven House?”

“Maybe I should, and hex everyone that goes against me. Yes. I have decided just now to do that.”

“Good. We will see you at the hearing. I know we are going to be the best of friends.” Of course, Zo didn’t believe that at all, but she was certain those words would disarm and shake up someone irascible.

“You are nuts! I’m going to brew something up real special for you, Zoey Kane.”

“Excellent! Let’s do lunch sometime.”

“Come on, ladies! I have lost my appetite.” As the last lady walked by Zo, she said, “You are in for it now.” She added, “I know she’s got something for Matilda too, for bringing you Kanes into town.”

“No need to thank us,” Claire interjected.

“You got that wrong.” The disagreeable, round woman headed out the door behind Cynthia. It made complete sense now that Pat would be friends with her.

The waitress, in her black apron and frilly matching headband, came right over to take their orders. “Here’s a full shaker of salt. You might want to throw some over your shoulder.”

“Thank you for your offer. I am not worried,” Claire assured.

“Okay, I will worry for you.” She threw some salt over Zo’s shoulder. “My life is a little boring right now anyway. What would you ladies like to order?”

“Give me tomato soup and a cob salad,” said Claire.

“I will have the beef pot pie and orange juice,” Zo ordered.

One could soon hear the waitress calling the order in the background. “Red and green, and moo-pot with strangled oranges.”

“I would say our day has been revealing and interesting, Mom. It’s just too bad we couldn’t find Jack.”

They were well into their dinner when suddenly a deafening boom was accompanied by massive pressure that could be felt in the head, ears, and sinuses. Tiny beads of glass pelted against, and stung, their skin. Claire thought she got hit by a car that went through the wall. Zo thought she had been murdered, probably by Cynthia. They were both surprised to find that they were each still alive and glass was all over the table from what used to be a window.

Slobber’s gas station was ablaze.

People were standing up, some screaming. It was hard to hear. Claire spoke first. “Mom, you okay? You have little blood spots on your face and neck. You okay?!”

Children were crying. Somebody yelled out, “Call an ambulance!”

“Claire, honey,” Zo shouted, “you have a bloody nose. How’s your hearing?”

“Oddly, it seems fine. How about you?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Only I don’t know if I can move yet.”

Claire braced herself against the table and stood. Her knees were shaky, but other than that she seemed fine. She got out of the booth and took hold of her mother and helped her up.

“Thanks, honey. I feel a little bandy-kneed, but I am standing. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

They made their way through the loud and confused crowd. “Thank God that station was closed so nobody could be hurt in there,” Zo said out loud, mostly to herself.

People started pushing their way out the door to the front to see the station. It looked like a plane had flown over and dropped ordnance. All they could see were collapsed metal beams and tall licking flames. Two sheriff units arrived first, followed up by two fire engines and then an ambulance.

A fireman yelled to everyone, “Alright, people! You must clear out now and take the side road, here, home. It is not safe. Do not run, but walk—fast. Those pumps have not exploded, yet. Move it!

“Does anyone need an ambulance?”

A man raised a hand while holding the other over an eye. Somebody supporting him yelled, “Here!” A deputy jogged over and took hold of the man under his arm and walked him toward the waiting ambulance.

“Anyone else need medical attention?” the fireman yelled. No one moved or said anything. “In that case, hurry away, but carefully!”

In the background a fireman could be heard, calling to the others, “The pumps have been turned off. We’re going to let it burn out.” So a line of yellow jackets in red hats could be seen standing by, watching the blaze from a distance.

Too-Tall Riley Jones appeared out of the crowd walking their way. Zo said, “I feel another Sam Spade moment: His glide was like a young lion, beautiful, his muscles rippling the uniform with every stride. Those penetrating turquoise eyes pulled me under the brim of his hat. I wanted to touch, but that would be deadly, a forbidden chasm that told you it would be a big mistake. So, I decided to smile instead and force my thoughts to the fire that lit up the sky like spotlights in an air raid. Was it fiendish arson or a stupid accident?! Either way, I could use a drink. The heat had parched my lips and dried my tongue; was it the fire, or Deputy Jones?”

Claire laughed. “Mom, you want Deputy Jones.”

“As if…”

“Hello, ladies. May I escort you to your car?” He went on to say, “I will be at Coven House’s hearing, as an officer of the court to keep order. At the same time I can start an official report on your friend’s disappearance to get it ready to activate
… providing he has not returned with a hangover.”

“Bring a couple of pens, deputy.” Claire affirmed. “And… I wonder what you will think of the mannequin that my mom shot down the night before.”

“Target practice?” he ventured; but, this time a slight frown crossed his forehead, followed up by a smile and some uncertain curiosity.

They all were standing around the little Volkswagen, the driver’s door open. “No. We heard noise in the attic. We went up to see. It appeared to be rushing us, so Mom shot it three times in the heart.”

“Whoa! I’ll remember to stay out of the attic. However, that is worthy of going in my report as an unusual circumstance as evidence to the possible disappearance of your friend.” Then he added, “There is no law against firing a gun in the county where Coven House is as long as there was no murder and no damage of private property; that would include livestock and pets.” The deputy shut the door for Claire, safely inside behind the steering wheel, then went around and opened Zo’s door.

“Thank you, Deputy Jones. We will not run amuck.”

“Do you need help with your seatbelt, ma’am?”

Zo thought, Is he kidding? “You know,” she quickly organized her words, “I just think too much fabric from my blouse is getting in between the seatbelt lock.”

He took his trooper’s hat off and put it on top of the car and leaned in.

A Sam Spade moment overcame Zo again
: In the glare of neon lights, the big city back street drums and grinding music could be heard from the strip joint on the corner. People who hunched over eating at the counter of a nearby chilidog stand, heaped on the hot peppers. Smooth, magneto-pulsing guys walking along the sidewalk with beautiful dames didn’t have anything on the Too-Tall Jones; but this one—was a heavy danger to all the mama’s girls.    

“How’s that feel?”

“Huh?”

“The seatbelt. It isn’t too tight is it?” the deputy asked.

“Oh.” Zo laughed in a strange high giggle that she was not used to hearing from her own mouth. “That will be just fine. Thank you.”

He looked at Claire with a big smile. “You ladies drive safe.” He got his hat and returned to the fire.

Claire started the car, and then looked at her mom. “Sam Spade?”

“Oh yeah…”

EIGHT

A lot was on Zo and Claire’s minds as they were getting ready to settle down for the night: a finger bone and map, a missing ex, and a blown up gas station. It had been an eventful day, to say the least.

Claire pulled her feet under the covers in her bed as Zo sat on the edge of her own bed, making a phone call. “Hi, Matilda. Did I wake you…
? Oh, you are here in your office…? Ah, I guess you heard about Slobber’s gas station…? Uh huh, I’m glad no one was there… Yeah, we’re a bit shaken up but fine… Another reason I called—you need to tell me a little more about your Grandfather Zachariah… Yes, I found out… Okay. Claire and I will be down.”

Zo answered her daughter’s expectant expression. “Get your slippers on. Matilda wants to talk to us down in the office.”

The duo made their way down the stairs by the light of the moon coming in through the foyer windows. They followed the hallway and passed the library toward a glow sifting out from under a dark door. The darkness was heavy and had a sense of swallowing one into a shroud of evil of no return. Zo knocked on the door anyway.

“Come in…”

Zo turned the cold knob and pushed the heavy door open. Matilda’s silhouette sat by a dim yellow lamp light at an ornate desk, boasting laughing gargoyles holding it all up. She wore a black floor length dress and bent witch’s hat.

Matilda laughed at their surprised expressions. “Don’t be too shocked with what I am wearing. I was invited to an Elks Club mixer. I speak about the work we do here at Coven House in our canning and candle work. They make jokes about us and then donate a little money to our cause. If it wasn’t for the fact that a couple of them are regulars here for potions, we might not get any donation.”

“You look quite convincing,” Zo said. “Well,” she continued as Claire and she took a couple of chairs to sit, “tell us about the legend of your grandfather—the pirate.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Oh, Grandpa was no pirate. He was a salvage captain. He got quite a bit of treasure that way, which is all legal. Legend has it, that hidden in this house is a pirate’s chest of gold and jewels, but I rather think it’s a chest of pearls, since he sailed along pearl-rich islands. Rumors, though. It’s all rumors, since there is nothing to verify them as facts today.”

“Interesting,” Zo said. “I guess now is a good time to tell you that we got an old antique note that said, ‘Let the game begin’ and ‘Finder beware!’” She shot a glance at her daughter. “You know Jack is missing. You don’t suppose—”

“That would be quite a stretch,” Matilda said. “The only thing that might make sense there is the threat in relation to the sketch. But why would Grandpa threaten himself with a game? Silly.”

“No. That would be more likely a threat to people trying to find his treasures.”