Magic and Macaroons (25 page)

Declan had turned at her words, and now hurried over. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. I was about to have the hospital put out a BOLO for you.”

“I went to see Eulora.” I felt tears threaten, and hung my head. “I feel so awful about what happened. If I hadn’t barged into her life and started asking questions, she wouldn’t be here—she’d be nice and safe at home. And now she doesn’t even have a home. It’s completely gone. I put her in terrible danger.”

“She was already in danger,” Mimsey said. “Lucille here was just telling me about Mother Eulora, and the truth was that she was involved with Franklin Taite. He’s dead now. Do you think you’re responsible for that, too, Katie?”

Slowly, I shook my head.

“Well, then, how could you think you’re in any way responsible for the fire at Mother Eulora’s?”

Because I’m a catalyst.

But that just sounded egotistical. So I said, “Because I’ve been asking too many questions, and that made someone angry. Because I know Franklin was murdered, and I’m going to find out who did it—and why.” The rush of words made me feel better. I’d been called to find the truth, and, by the goddess, I was going to do it.

Never mind that I had no idea what to do next.

Declan put his hand under my chin and tipped it up, looking into my eyes with a professional air. “I found out where Eulora was and went to find you. You’d already left the cardiac unit. Did you get lost?”

“No. I visited Dawn Taite,” I said.

Silence greeted that announcement. Finally, he said,
“Yeah. I guess you’d want to check in on her as long as you’re here.”

“She’s in intensive care still, but they let me in. Her mother asked them to. I could tell she’s been here with Dawn more or less nonstop since she got into town.” I sighed. “But she has no idea what might have happened to her daughter—or to Franklin.”

A sharp pain emanated from the increasingly vivid ache in my arm. I pulled the pain pills out of my pocket and removed two from the blister pack. “Could you grab me some water?”

Ben jumped to his feet before Declan could respond. “Back in a jiff,” he said, and hurried to the cooler.

“Who’s minding the Honeybee?” I asked.

Lucy said, “Iris is, honey. She’ll be fine. Annette next door said she’d come over and help out if there’s a big rush. And she has our cell numbers.”

Ben returned and handed me a paper cup of water. I washed down the pills and sat back in my chair. “Golly. You guys didn’t all need to come.”

I caught Steve’s eye. The corners of his lips turned up a fraction, and he finally spoke. “I wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”

Declan glowered. “I have that covered, Dawes.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

“Jaida and Bianca will be here soon unless I call them back,” Mimsey said. “And I left a message for Cookie with Oscar.” She tsked. “We’re family, Katie. We stick with our own.”

“Would you mind calling them?” I asked. “I’m ready to head home, and I don’t want them to make the trip for nothing.” I stood.

Mimsey nodded and fished out her phone. “Of course, darlin’. You need a nap more than anything else.”

The door whooshed open, and Samantha Hatfield swept into the emergency room like Sandra Dee onto a movie set. She wore a crisp cotton circle skirt in eye-searing vermillion, a white short-sleeved blouse, and white canvas sneakers. Her shiny, flaxen hair was held back from her face with a wide headband the same color as the skirt. She took in the waiting room and us with it before fixing her attention on me. Her eyes got big, and she hurried over.

“Katie! Goodness’ sake, are you all right, girl? I just couldn’t believe it when Steve called and told me what happened.”

Steve rose and walked over to put his arm around her shoulders. I dared a glance at Declan. Hostility rolled off him in waves, though I was surprised to see that his eyes were narrowed at Samantha rather than Steve.

“I’m fine,” I said again, hoping the dry tone of my voice would be attributed to smoke inhalation. “How did you find out about the fire?” I asked Steve.

He shrugged. “You know. The usual.”

Samantha’s lips thinned, but then she quickly laughed. “The usual! I
declare
!” Ms. I Suddenly Seem to Think My Name Is Scarlett eyed my bandage. “You’re not entirely fine, I see.” Was that satisfaction in her words? Steve didn’t seem to hear it, but I saw Mimsey’s sharp gaze as she watched Samantha.

The hydrocodone was beginning to kick in. I struggled to rally. “Samantha, this is Mimsey Carmichael, and this is my boyfriend, Declan McCarthy.”

“Mimsey! What an
adorable
name!” Her accent had deepened. “I’m so very pleased to meet you!”

“Enchanted,” Mimsey said with a gracious smile and shook her hand. But I knew that look. Steve’s girlfriend wasn’t pulling the wool over that witch’s eyes.

“And, Declan. My, you are a handsome one.” Her hand popped out again.

He took it with a dazed look. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

Her other hand rose so that she was holding his hand in both of hers. Steve looked on with an expression of mild indulgence. Was he faking it? Because maybe the meds were making me cranky, but I wanted to slap her. I looked back at Declan, who stood transfixed, staring down at her double grip.

Then I saw it, too. A diamond so big, it actually looked heavy on the third finger of her left hand. At least two carats of faceted stone.

How impractical. You’d never be able to knead bread . . .

And then:
What the heck?
And finally:
Oh, dear. Something is terribly wrong here.

“It looks like congratulations are in order,” I managed in a strangled voice.

Goddess help me, she smirked. “Thank you so much, Katie! Yes, we’re very happy.” She finally dropped my boyfriend’s hands and wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist.

Steve’s eyes met mine. They held a smidge of embarrassment, a tad of apology, and a good dose of defiance, but all were dusted with his usual self-assurance. And when he looked down at his fiancée and grazed the crown of her head with his lips, his gaze held only adoration. “Very happy, indeed.”

Engaged? After what—a month at the most? No. It wasn’t like Steve. None of his behavior around Samantha seemed normal. Something else was going on. And it wasn’t the book on how to get what you wanted that she’d found at the Honeybee. No self-help book was that effective, especially when a druid was involved.

She got a love potion from Mambo Jeni and is using it on my friend. I wonder if Heinrich knows about this engagement yet. Though, by the sound of it, she might be using the love potion—or some variation—on him, as well.

I swallowed against the thickness in my throat and looked away. Normally I would have been outraged, but I was too tired and my shoulder hurt too much to deal with all this right now. Then I remembered something I’d been thinking about in the elevator on the way back down from intensive care.

“Steve, can I talk to you a sec?”

He tore his attention away from Samantha. “Sure.”

I pointed. “Over there?”

He looked surprised.
Too bad.
I wasn’t going to broach the subject in front of just anyone, and certainly not in front of her.

Samantha frowned. “Honeybuns, I think you two can talk about whatever you need to right here,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Steve said to her. “I’ll be right back.”

She glared at me. “No. We don’t have any secrets. Just like Katie and Declan don’t. Right?” She turned to Declan with a wide smile. “Right?”

“It’s not about a secret,” I said.

“Could it wait, Katie?” Steve cut in. “Because if it’s not urgent, you need to go home and get some rest. You look awful.”

Samantha smiled at that.

“Why, thank you,” I said, weighing my options. “Yes, it can wait.” I returned Samantha’s smile as I added, “I’ll call you, Steve.”

Her pretty little nostrils flared. “Come on.” She pulled Steve toward the door.

“You take care of her, Declan,” he called over his shoulder.

The room wavered in front of me, and I grabbed the back of a chair as they exited. Lucy gasped, and Ben
started toward me, but Declan already had his arm around my waist and was helping me to sit down.

Lucy perched on the other side of me. “Katie, honey, we have to get you home.”

“I’ll pull the car up,” my uncle said, and started for the door.

“Wait, Ben,” Declan said. “I’m going to call into work and get someone to cover the rest of my shift.”

I shook my cotton-filled head. “You don’t need to do that. Ben needs to get back to the bakery. If you can take him in the truck, then Lucy can take me and Mungo home—right, Luce?”

“Of course, honey.”

I looked up at Deck. “I’m going to go straight to bed. No need for you to miss work so you can watch me sleep.”

He frowned, unconvinced and unhappy.

“Really,” I said. “I’m a bit dizzy right now from the pills, but that’s all. And you know what?” I gingerly moved my elbow to make sure. “I already feel a lot better. That hydrowhatsit is kind of awesome.”

“Well, okay.” His tone was grudging. “But you call me if you need me, Lucy, and I’ll be there in a flash.”

She patted his arm. “I promise.”

*   *   *

I’d retrieved Mungo, said good-bye to Mimsey and Ben, and kissed Declan hard on the lips after assuring him yet again that he could go back to work. I was waiting in the late-afternoon sunlight for Lucy to unlock their vintage, baby blue Thunderbird when a black Chevy Tahoe screeched into a spot two cars over. Detective Quinn clambered out and strode toward me.

Suppressing a tired sigh, I said, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Lightfoot, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“A fire.” I didn’t have the energy for witty repartee. “What are you doing here?”

He stopped in front of me and pressed his lips together. “You left me a message, remember?”

“Oh, right.” I shook my fuzzy head.

“And then McCarthy left me a message about the fire, that you were here, and that he suspected arson.”

“But you don’t investigate fires . . .”

“I investigate homicides and attempted homicides. If it was arson, then it’s possible someone tried to kill you— Oh, sorry, Ms. Eagel.”

Lucy had come around to stand at the back of the car, her lips parted as she listened.

“Er, and it sounds like there may have been another person in the house,” Quinn went on in a gentler tone. “Someone who didn’t make it out.”

“Tanna,” I said. “Mother Eulora’s, uh, caregiver. Sort of. I don’t know her last name. Eulora and I thought we heard her come in, but Declan wondered if it couldn’t have been someone setting the fire. I think he might be right.”

“Eulora Scanlon is the homeowner, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, the actual fire investigation is out of my hands. But I’ll be involved if I need to be.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said with feeling.

“I don’t think you need to worry that Tanna was caught in the fire,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I saw her in there.” I gestured toward the building looming behind him.

His gaze sharpened. “Where?”

“In the stairwell, outside the cardiac unit, where Eulora is being treated. Apparently, she doesn’t get along with the family. She ran away when I tried to talk to her, though.”

Lucy’s eyes grew wide.

Quinn whipped out the tiny notebook he always carried and scribbled a quick line before looking back up at me. “But you called me before the fire, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Oh! Yes. I wanted to tell you about Franklin’s landlady. She thought he ran out on his rent and re-rented his room, but she packed up his things. She wouldn’t give them to me, but she said she’d give them to you if you stop by. Her name is Cozie Temmons. Her rooming house is by Forsyth Park.”

He stared at me.

“What?”

“For the past two days, I’ve been trying to find out where Franklin was staying, with no luck. How did you find out?”

“Um.” I glanced at Lucy.

She smiled her encouragement. “Tell him about Mother Eulora.”

“The other fire victim? What in Sam Hill does she have to do with Frank Taite?” he demanded.

“Hey! Show some respect.” The pain meds were making me both cranky and cocky. “She had a heart attack in the middle of that fire. She’s lucky to be alive.”

He looked down at the asphalt, then back up at me. “Okay. So who was she to Frank?”

Poppa Jack had said Eulora was well-known in town, and she didn’t act secretive about her skills. I didn’t think she’d mind if I told Quinn. Besides, I was too tired to make up a lie. “She was his voodoo spiritualist.”

Quinn snorted before he could help himself.

“Listen. Franklin died from a snakebite, right? And you found feathers, snakeskin, and that other stuff near his body.”

“Yeah . . .” His interest was piqued now.

I grabbed the car handle and hugged Mungo tighter. “And you know that Franklin had an interest in the occult. Well, Mother Eulora calls herself a spiritualist, but she was referred to me as a voodoo queen. It turns out she’d helped Franklin on some of his cases involving the paranormal.” I chose my words carefully. “She told me voodoo was likely involved in Franklin’s death, and she told me where he’d been staying in Savannah when she last saw him—which was about three months ago. That’s how I knew where to look.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. He didn’t seem angry, just curious.

“First off, I didn’t know if I’d find where he’d stayed. Plus, when I heard
voodoo
, I knew you’d be less than receptive.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the Tahoe. “Katie, I know you think I’m a curmudgeon, but I’m just a practical guy. I don’t buy all that woo-woo stuff, only my own gut hunches. But I do know voodoo is alive and well here in Savannah, so I’m not discounting anything you’ve told me. I do wish you’d told me sooner, because if Franklin died as part of some kind of ritual, that changes everything. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

I visually checked with Lucy again. Between the pills and still feeling a little shocky I didn’t entirely trust my own judgment. Should I tell him about the other voodoo queens? About Poppa Jack? Without a good reason, that felt like a betrayal—to them, and certainly to Cookie.