Removing the cork with the edge of the rag, Comacho took a sniff. His face puckered and his eyes watered. "My G.o.d," he said in disgust.

"What is it?"

"Urine, I think. What do you think?" he asked, holding the bottle toward me.

I took a step back, waving my hands. "Ah, no thanks. I'll take your word for it."

He corked the bottle. "I bet some kids, out drinking, chucked this in the ditch. Too lazy to get out of the car, they used what was handy."

"But what's rattling?"

"Don't know-don't care," he said and made a move to toss it.

"No," I yelled.

Comacho dropped his arm, holding the bottle.

"You can't throw it away," I said in a rush. "It's from a crime scene."

"The team from the crime lab didn't think the bottle was important. They would've taken it if they did."

"Maybe they didn't see it."

"I doubt it. Those guys don't miss a thing."

"Please," I pleaded, "take the bottle to the lab and have it tested."

Comacho looked at the bottle, thinking. Finally he made his decision. "What the h.e.l.l. We don't have any other evidence to test. Might as well waste the taxpayers' money on this."

"It won't be a waste," I said, walking toward our cars.

When we reached the cars, Comacho opened his back door and wrapping the bottle in a towel, put it on the floor. "This sucker better not spill on the way to Des Moines. Or you're cleaning out my car."

"Can the lab test the bottle right away?"

"Why is this bottle so important to you?"

Turning, I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't care if you believe me or not, Comacho, but I'm telling you, without a doubt, this bottle is a message from the killer. You have to figure out what the message says."

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

My weary steps faltered at the door to Abby's room. Mother and Arthur sat by Abby's bedside, quietly talking. She took one look at me and insisted I go home. She a.s.sured me she was more than capable of handling anything that might come up. Hadn't I left her to deal with Bill? Hadn't she convinced him to post a guard without giving out too much information? She had, indeed, so after one final check on Abby, I headed home.

Kicking my shoes off by the door, I went to the kitchen and made sure Lady and Queenie were fed and watered. I struggled up the stairs and into my bedroom. My unmade bed looked so inviting that I fell, still dressed, across it.

When I opened my eyes again, the early morning sunshine was spilling through the window onto the bedroom floor. Rubbing my gritty eyes, I looked at the clock: 7 a.m. I'd slept for over twelve hours. I rolled over and thought about yesterday.

I'd had two major psychic experiences and been almost arrested twice. Not bad for one day, but too many more like it would probably kill me. I needed a shower, coffee, and to make a call to the hospital before I tried to figure out yesterday's events.

After my shower, I dressed in comfortable sweats and piled my wet hair on top of my head. Securing it with a clip, I made the call to the hospital on the phone in my bedroom and talked to my mother.

Abby's condition was much the same, except she was moving more. Her brain scans were normal and the doctors were optimistic. Mother pointed out my time would be better put to use trying to help Comacho.

I thought about calling him to find out if the contents of the wine bottle had been tested. A quick look at the clock told me the lab wouldn't have had enough time to complete the test.

Too early to call Comacho. Not needed at the hospital. Hmm, what next? I thought while I walked down the stairs. Oh yeah, coffee. And a lot of it Oh yeah, coffee. And a lot of it.

I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter while I waited for the coffeemaker to finish. Too anxious to wait, I pulled the pot and poured what was brewed in a mug.

Well, half a cup's better than none. I'll fill my mug once the coffeemaker finishes.

Lady and Queenie followed while I padded on bare feet to the living room. The aroma of the steaming coffee almost made me salivate. I swirled it around in my mug, enjoying the antic.i.p.ation of the first sip. Lifting the cup to my lips, I closed my eyes and started to take a cautious drink, but I stopped before the coffee hit my lips. I wrinkled my nose. There was another scent in the room-cloying, almost overpowering. Opening my eyes, I scanned the living room and saw a huge vase of red and white roses.

They were beautiful. The red was so dark that it was almost burgundy. The difference in colors was such a contrast, the white roses seemed to glow. Yes, they were were beautiful, but for some reason, they also made a slow chill creep up my spine. Why?

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my front door. From the window I saw Darci's car in my driveway.

"Who sent the flowers?" I said without preamble when I opened the door.

"Good morning to you too," she said. "I wondered what you'd think when you saw them."

"They're lovely, but..." I paused, rubbing my arm. "They kind of creep me out for some reason." I shook my head. "I guess I just don't like red and white flowers together. Do you want coffee?" I asked, changing the subject.

"No thanks," she said as she walked past me to the kitchen. She stopped and took a deep breath. "Whew, the smell's strong, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's nice out. Let's go out back and sit in the sun."

"Good idea," she said, moving through the kitchen and out the back door.

Grabbing my cell phone in case the hospital called, I joined her.

Once outside, we sat in my lawn chairs. The warm April sun felt good on my face. I took a deep breath of the clean fresh air while I watched Queenie stalk an unsuspecting bird and Lady roll in the gra.s.s.

Darci laughed, watching her. "I bet she's trying to get rid of the smell of those flowers."

"No doubt. I wish I could join her," I replied.

She laughed again.

"Okay, who sent them?" I asked.

"Who do you think?" Darci gave me a quizzical look.

"Charles?"

"Yup. And I took the liberty to read the poem he sent too. You must've made quite an impression on him."

I rolled my eyes. "He's just lonely and I'm someone he can talk to. But how did the florist deliver them? I was gone all day?"

"She called the library. I was coming over here to take care of Lady and Queenie anyway-"

I patted her arm, interrupting her. "By the way, thanks."

"No problem," she said with a wave of her hand. "I unlocked the house with the key you gave me and let her in."

I tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear. "Darci, do you think the roses and the poem are a little over the top? I've been out with the man once."

"I don't know," she replied with a slight shrug. "Like you said, he's lonely and you're someone he relates to. Maybe he treats every woman he's interested in this way. Who knows?"

"That's the problem. I don't know," I said thoughtfully. "I just met him, but it's like he's courting courting me." me."

Darci laughed. "I guess you have to decide if you want want to be courted." to be courted."

Frowning, I took my cell phone from my pocket and scrolled down through the received calls.

"I don't think I do. He's going too fast for me and I need to tell him that."

Finding the phone number I wanted, I hit send. It rang twice before he answered.

"h.e.l.lo." Charles sounded sleepy.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you, Charles?" I asked.

"No. I'm feeling a little under the weather."

"You're sick?"

Dang, now I couldn't tell him to cool all the attention. I had to be nice.

"Yes, I think I have a mild case of food poisoning, but it's pa.s.sing. I heard about your grandmother. Did you get my flowers?"

"Umm, yes I did. Umm, very thoughtful of you," I said, stumbling over my words. "But we'll talk about them later, when you're over the food poisoning. Hope you're feeling better soon." Without waiting for his good-bye, I hit the end b.u.t.ton.

"Well, that was smooth," Darci remarked sarcastically.

"He's sick. You can't tell someone to back off when they're sick." I hesitated, then sighed. "I can't worry about Charles now. I've got too many other things to think about."

"I wouldn't be too hasty about writing off Charles. You did enjoy your date and he is a successful man. A very respected writer. Maybe later, when everything's resolved, you can take your time to get to know him better."

"Hey, how do you know Charles is successful?" I asked suspiciously.

Darci shrugged. "I looked him up on the Internet."

"You checked up on him?"

She nodded her head firmly. "You bet I did. This guy blows into town, starts putting the rush on you. I wanted to know as much about him as I could." She hesitated. "He's rich, old money. His family owns factories in Ma.s.sachusetts."

"I know. Charles mentioned his family and so did Beasley."

"You talked to Beasley?" she exclaimed.

I scowled. "Yeah, unfortunately."

Drinking the last of my coffee in one gulp, I took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened the day before.

When I finished, Darci's face wore a stunned expression.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered. "Oh my gosh," she whispered again. "Oh my-"

I broke in, "Darci, you've said 'Oh my gosh' twice now."

"I know, but... oh my gosh," she said her voice hushed.

I shook my head back. "I had hoped for something a little more helpful than that."

"Yeah, yeah." Darci drummed the arms of her chair. "I know. Let me think a minute."

Patiently I waited while a parade of expressions crossed Darci's face. Finally, her lips tightened in a determined line, she looked at me.

"When you felt the negative energy attacking you in the ditch, you held your talisman and it helped?"

"Yes. It's a fire agate."

"What does that mean?"

I lifted my eyebrows, thinking. "Abby gave it to me after Brian's death five years ago. A fire agate is for protection. Its energy helps insulate the wearer-like a shield. In fact, Abby says any ill wishing bounces off the shield and back at the one who wished you harm."

"The person seeking to harm gets a dose of what they wanted for you?"

"Sort of. But at the meeting, I don't think it was directed at me. Maybe Gus? He was standing near me when I felt it. Or even Charles. I'm sure he was close to me too, but I hadn't noticed him yet." I thought about what I'd felt at the end of the meeting. "It did seem to follow Charles out the door."

"What about when you found Gus's body and when Comacho picked up the bottle? Was the energy directed at you?"

I nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah."

"Hmm," she said, tapping her chin, "I don't understand why there'd be a difference, but I'll think about it. Now back to Brian."

There's a leap in conversation. We hadn't talked about Brian, but I didn't point it out to her.

"Brian was alive when the incident with the student happened in the library?" Darci asked.

"Yes," I answered.