Wild & Hexy (23 page)

They had to solve Dee-Dee’s problem before then. Otherwise her loneliness might prompt her to take stupid chances that would endanger her and possibly the townspeople, too. Dorcas thought the answer was figuring out how to get a mate here, but she had no idea how they’d manage that.

‘‘Isn’t this terrific?’’ Isadora cried out as they sped around the lake and headed back toward the beach.

‘‘Yes!’’ Dorcas gave way to the moment and let out a little whoop of her own.

‘‘Attagirl!’’ Isadora gave her a light slap on the shoulder. ‘‘I knew you had it in you.’’

‘‘I have to admit it’s fun. I—’’ She didn’t finish what she’d been about to say. One glance at the beach told her playtime was over. Ambrose stood there, arms folded, feet planted apart.

Even from this distance, she could tell he wasn’t happy. She could also tell he was still wearing his favorite leopard-print silk pajamas, the ones he liked to put on after chair sex because he felt like a jungle cat. He had to be freezing.

Dee-Dee must have seen him, too, because she backpedaled, causing even bigger waves to wash up on the beach. Ambrose jumped back so he wouldn’t get his feet wet.

‘‘Who’s that?’’ Dee-Dee asked.

‘‘My husband, Ambrose.’’

‘‘He looks mean. I don’t like mean men.’’

‘‘He’s not mean,’’ Dorcas said. ‘‘He’s . . . upset.’’ She’d hoped for a more auspicious meeting between Dee-Dee and Ambrose. She’d also figured he’d sleep longer.

Isadora snorted. ‘‘Shades of Ebenezer. If he’d ever caught me riding Dee-Dee, which he wouldn’t have because he didn’t know she existed, but just saying he had caught me, he would have looked exactly like that. That’s why I’ll never get married again. You can’t have any fun.’’

Dorcas felt called upon to defend her husband. ‘‘We have plenty of fun.’’ She thought specifically of one moment last night when they’d had major fun. They’d made that wooden bench wiggle like a carnival ride. ‘‘But sometimes he worries about me. It’s only because he loves me.’’

‘‘Uh-huh.’’ Isadora sounded skeptical. ‘‘That’s what they all say.’’

‘‘In this case, it’s true.’’ Dorcas didn’t regret the exhilarating ride, but Ambrose would correctly guess that Isadora had tempted her and she’d succumbed. That didn’t look good from any angle. ‘‘Dee-Dee, take us to shore, please.’’

‘‘I don’t want to.’’ She continued to tread water, which caused the lake to boil as if it had a volcano under it. ‘‘I don’t like him.’’

Isadora laughed. ‘‘It’s wise to stay clear of a man who adopts that kind of disapproving attitude, Dee-Dee. You can drop us off on the other side of the lake.’’

‘‘No,’’ Dorcas said immediately. ‘‘Don’t do that.’’

‘‘Why not? I have my broom over there. I can give you and Sabrina a ride back to your house.’’

‘‘Because the sun’s up and the mist is nearly gone. Flying by broom is risky enough at night, but it’s insanity during the day. Honestly, Isadora, I don’t know how you’ve kept your identity secret all these years.’’

‘‘I’m incredibly fast.’’

‘‘And unbelievably lucky,’’ Dorcas said. And cocky, too, but she didn’t say that. They had a situation, and arguing wouldn’t solve it.

If only Ambrose would look a wee bit more welcoming, that would help. But she wasn’t surprised by his attitude. He didn’t know the lake monster, and Dorcas had been remiss in not getting them acquainted earlier. She’d been so intent on creating a female bond with Dee-Dee that she’d unwittingly fostered an atmosphere of suspicion between her husband and her new friend.

For Ambrose to come down this morning and find Sabrina
and
his wife out joyriding with Isadora must have been the final straw. She wondered why he was standing there in his pajamas. Whatever it was could be urgent.

Somehow she had to convince Dee-Dee to take them in to shore. Dorcas could be let off on the other side and make the five-mile hike, but she didn’t have the time. She had an appointment with Annie this morning, and besides, Sabrina wouldn’t appreciate being asked to walk that far before she’d had her breakfast.
Sabrina.
That was the answer.

‘‘Dee-Dee, I promise you can trust Ambrose,’’ Dorcas said.

‘‘I don’t think so,’’ she said.

‘‘Yes, you can. Check with Sabrina. She trusts him.’’ Dorcas didn’t know how Sabrina and Dee-Dee communicated, but she was positive they did. From the moment the two had caught sight of each other, some mysterious connection had been established.

‘‘Okay,’’ Dee-Dee said. ‘‘I’ll ask Sabrina.’’

In the silence that followed, Isadora leaned closer to Dorcas. ‘‘Are they using telepathy?’’ she asked in an undertone.

‘‘I assume so,’’ Dorcas murmured. ‘‘I’ve never asked Dee-Dee about it. It’s interesting, because Sabrina doesn’t communicate that way with George.’’

‘‘Oh, that’s easy to explain,’’ Isadora said. ‘‘George is too wrapped up in himself. He couldn’t concentrate long enough to establish a telepathic link with your cat. He—whoops, hang on. We’re moving.’’

And so they were, straight for shore. When Dee-Dee was close enough, she lowered her head and allowed Sabrina to leap off into the sand. Dorcas was so eager to reach Ambrose that she soaked her pants nearly to her crotch.

‘‘Is anything wrong?’’ she called to him.

‘‘You mean besides you sneaking out of bed trying to get yourself and everybody else in trouble? Besides that?’’

She reminded herself that he was speaking out of love. ‘‘I didn’t sneak. You were dead to the world, so I went for a walk.’’

‘‘So I see.’’ Arms still folded, tone still parental, he surveyed her soaked pants.

‘‘Ambrose, I’d like you to meet Dee-Dee.’’ She turned around to discover that Dee-Dee was gone. So, mysteriously, was Isadora.

‘‘If you’re looking for your partners in crime, they rode off into the sunrise,’’ Ambrose said.

Dorcas groaned. ‘‘I hope she doesn’t ride her broom in broad daylight.’’

‘‘Did you tell her not to?’’

‘‘You don’t tell Isadora not to do something. That will become the very first thing she does. She—’’

‘‘Bombs away!’’

Dorcas looked up in time to see Isadora sailing overhead on her broom and some red object falling from the sky. Before Ambrose could jump out of the way, the water balloon hit him and splattered, dousing him.

He stood there dripping and staring after her. ‘‘I have half a mind to get my staff and—’’

‘‘No.’’ Dorcas caught him by the arm. ‘‘Don’t let her get to you. Let’s go in and dry off. Then we’ll discuss this like an intelligent witch and wizard.’’

Ambrose scowled at her. ‘‘Isadora is trouble, Dorcas.’’

‘‘I know, but we need her to help us with Dee-Dee. ’’

‘‘We need her help about as much as we need a leaky cauldron and a backfiring broom.’’ Ambrose stomped up the path to the house.

‘‘We do need her. She thinks outside the box.’’

‘‘She doesn’t have the faintest idea of what a box is in the first place!’’

‘‘Calm down, sweetheart.’’ Dorcas hurried after him. ‘‘Don’t get your karma in a twist. By the way, why did you come down to the lake in the first place? Did you hear us?’’

‘‘No, Annie called. She wants to come over early.’’

‘‘Why?’’

‘‘Her sister, Melody, was talking to Bruce, who apparently went out to the dairy to check on those ice cream molds Donald Jenkins is making for the wedding.’’

‘‘Melody was telling me about those. Vanilla ice cream wedding bells. Very sweet.’’

‘‘Jenkins may make sweet wedding bells, but he told Bruce that come Sunday, after all the wedding events are over, he’s going out on the lake with his gun. He plans to shoot whatever’s down there and get himself on the cover of
Guns and Ammo
.’’

There’s a huge story here.
The flash of intuition came to Annie the minute she pulled up in front of the Lowells’ house. She’d always had an instinct for news, and she’d discovered that working in print instead of in front of the camera had sharpened that instinct. A tingle at the base of her spine signaled that she was about to uncover something significant, something that could change the course of her career and probably her life.

She needed exactly that, a launching pad that would catapult her out of the ordinary and cancel any remaining icky emotions left over from her divorce and the end of her TV job. But eager as she was to walk into the house and begin the interview, worried as she was about the man who threatened to shoot whatever lurked in the water, she took a moment to sit in her car and absorb this feeling of vast potential, which didn’t come to her all that often.

The bra story would attract interest, but it was still a woman’s kind of story, a lifestyle piece of the sort her editor expected from her. The creature in the lake was definitely front-page material. Annie suspected that the couple living in this house, with its pale lavender siding and turquoise trim, would have a lot to do with the story, too.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, stepped out of her car and walked up on the porch. The Lowells’ doorbell played the opening notes from Beethoven’s ‘‘Ode to Joy.’’ She doubted anyone else in town had a doorbell that played Beethoven. Those that even bothered with doorbells at all would have only the two-note, ding-dong kind.

Ambrose came to the door along with a sleek black cat who pranced by his side. The cat nonchalantly surveyed Annie with luminous green eyes. Ambrose, however, looked harried. He had on jeans and a frayed T-shirt that had a bumblebee on the front and the words BLESSED BEES underneath. The bee wore a halo.

Ambrose finger-combed his damp hair, which had just enough gray to make him look distinguished. ‘‘Dorcas is still in the shower.’’

‘‘I’ve made you both rush. I apologize.’’

‘‘No, no. Not a problem, especially considering the news you have about Donald Jenkins. We have an urgent situation here.’’

‘‘I think so, too.’’ Annie’s adrenaline spiked as she realized that unless Ambrose believed that the creature was real, he wouldn’t be concerned about Jenkins’s threat. She was as intrigued by Ambrose as she was by Dorcas, and wanted to know more about him. ‘‘Interesting T-shirt.’’

He glanced down as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. ‘‘It’s a band. We play . . . played soft rock.’’

‘‘The band broke up?’’

‘‘Sort of.’’ Ambrose gestured toward the parlor. ‘‘Please have a seat. Dorcas will be down any minute, but in the meantime, I’ll make you some tea.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’ No doubt about it, the Lowells were different from your average Big Knobian. Nobody in town would think to offer tea as the first—and apparently only—choice of beverage. Most likely they’d start with coffee as a first choice and tea as a distant second option.

As Annie walked into the parlor, she thought about the band name on Ambrose’s shirt. She’d seen the phrase
blessed be
somewhere before, and this looked like a takeoff on it.

Then she remembered where she’d seen it—the closing line on an e-mail she’d received at work about a Wiccan festival held outside the city. She hadn’t been able to cover the festival. Now she wished she had.

She didn’t know much about Wicca, but the little she did know convinced her that Dorcas and Ambrose were prime candidates. They were worldly enough to have come in contact with it and they used to live in Sedona, a place known for fostering alternative belief systems. The black cat was an obvious cliché, but clichés existed for a reason.

The cat chose to follow her instead of Ambrose. Annie had a choice of sitting on an eye-popping purple sofa or an equally dramatic red wing chair. She decided on the sofa because she couldn’t resist the color. By sitting on the sofa, she had a chance to study the stained-glass window to her right.

At first she thought it was an abstract design of red, purple, green and gold. Then the picture clicked into focus for her and she realized she was looking at a couple having sex—frozen in the act, captured in colored glass. The window wasn’t visible from the street. Otherwise someone in town would have mentioned it to her before now.

While she was mesmerized by the stained glass and pairing that with the potential Wiccan ties of a couple who would choose such a decorator item, the black cat jumped up beside her and climbed into her lap.

‘‘Hello, there.’’ Annie stroked the cat’s amazingly soft fur and the cat began to purr. She’d always liked cats, but Zach hadn’t wanted to be burdened by the demands of a pet. She didn’t even know whether her apartment complex in Chicago allowed them.

‘‘I see you’ve met Sabrina.’’ Dorcas hurried into the room wearing stone-washed jeans and a black knit top. Her hair was perfectly combed, but it looked slightly damp.

‘‘She’s gorgeous.’’

‘‘Sabrina’s my alarm system,’’ Dorcas said.

‘‘A cat?’’

‘‘Not in the usual sense. She can’t bark like a dog, but she tells me who is trustworthy and who isn’t.’’ Dorcas smiled. ‘‘You passed with flying colors.’’

‘‘That’s good to know. You have an unusual room here.’’

‘‘I tend to go for unusual effects. Obviously I like color.’’ Dorcas paused to gaze at Annie. ‘‘I also like sex, but I’d rather you didn’t use that as a quote for your article. Ambrose and I are cautious about who we invite here.’’

‘‘Yet you allowed me, a reporter, in. Why?’’

Dorcas’s amber eyes were nearly as mysterious as her cat’s green ones. ‘‘I’d like to get to know you better.’’

Same here.
Yet she wasn’t here to ruin the Lowells’ existence in Big Knob. ‘‘The interview isn’t intended to be an invasion of privacy,’’ she said.

Dorcas settled in the red wingback chair like a queen on her throne. ‘‘I know, or I wouldn’t have agreed to it. But before we talk about Ambrose and me, tell me what you think about this Donald Jenkins business.’’