Frankie turned in his chair. "Psycho Sally?"

"You know her?"

"No." He grinned, pointing at the sign over the shop.

Sally sidled back into the tattoo parlour.

"Psycho Sally," Evelina read aloud the black script under the word tattoos. "I'll tell you what you need to know." She turned to Frankie. "So it's one stop shopping-a tattoo parlor and a fortune teller all in one."

"Looks like it."

Evelina leaned forward across the table so that she wouldn't be overheard. "Have you ever gone to a Soul-Sifter?"

"No." He said it so casually, as though the thought had never crossed his mind.

"Why?"

"Take it from me." He appeared serious all of a sudden, "Some things you're better off not knowing."

"Like what?"

"Like the future." He flashed a wry smile. "I have enough trouble with the past, thank you very much."

"Sooo, you only have time memories for the past. What does that mean? You can't skip forward?"

"We can." He shrugged. "But obviously there are no memories, so it's risky as h.e.l.l. It's not something you want to do."

She was about to ask him if he ever had, when their coffee arrived.

He took a sip, then came to his feet. "I'll be right back." He strode to the back of the restaurant in the direction of the men's room.

Evelina sipped her coffee while scouting out the place, taking in every inch, from the pressed tin ceiling, to the six gold doubloons in stained gla.s.s along the top of each window.

She gave a start when Frankie slid back into his chair.

He nodded his head toward the back of the restaurant. "Your turn."

"I'm good."

"No, you're not."

Her cheeks went hot. "Oh!" Apparently he wanted her to do some snooping around. "Right." She rose from her seat, then sauntered to the back of the crowded restaurant.

The ladies' room was empty. Good thing. It was hardly convenient to search the place for clues in a crush of bodies.

But despite the quiet, there was nothing to be found.

At least, if there was, she couldn't see it. Of course, it would help if she knew what she was looking for. The Wave Wire said, Count the coins at Cut Throat Cove', nothing else. Not a lot to go on.

"Nothing," she said as she returned to the table.

"There's a bar upstairs." He nodded toward the waitress trotting down the stairs. "But, it's closed this week for renovations."

And there was no way to sneak up there now with the staff coming and going all the time. Better to wait. They could round up reinforcements to run interference.

If only the Wave Wire had said more.

If only she knew for certain who sent it.

Was it her parents? If so, there had to be a good reason. Why send her a Wave Wire unless they feared they could never tell her in person, which meant, if it was them, they must have sent it right before their death. Maybe they knew they were in danger and wanted her to know the truth about what happened to them.

It was rumored their death was no accident. More than rumored. Grammy Crimm believed it had something to do with her father's investigation of black market spells-the same kind that killed Frankie's sister.

It was all a big, tangled mess. No one had ever gotten to the bottom of it. The Swamp Hags were involved, that was certain. They were caught red-handed helping Wendell Barnes when his Time Keeper memories were revoked.

But there had to be someone more powerful at the root of it. This thing had been building for centuries. There was just never any solid proof. Or if there was, those who found it were quickly silenced.

Like her parents.

Evelina couldn't get it out of her head as Frankie walked her back to the dune buggy. The obsession with her parents' deaths increased after the Wave Wire. She needed to know what happened to them.

"I think my parents sent me that Wave Wire," she said aloud when they reached the dune buggy. "I just don't know why. I mean, if they were in danger, why didn't they send one to someone who could help them right then. I was only five at the time."

"Maybe they did." Frankie shrugged. "Maybe the person just couldn't do anything about it?"

"Or didn't want to." She knew what that felt like. She lost a lot of friends when she started to get her powers. People kept their distance-whispered behind their hands.

Who could blame them? Freaky things happened when she was around. She couldn't explain half of them herself, even if she was allowed to.

"Maybe they trusted the wrong person." Frankie said, lifting one golden brow.

"Maybe." If only she knew more about her parents-who their closest allies were-who they trusted most? "My father was a Time Keeper, investigating black market spells. He must have been in touch with the Witches' Council. They must have known something."

Frankie didn't look surprised. "Raskin Lipworth would have known. He's been the chief investigator for three and a half centuries." Frankie's features closed, as though he'd said too much. "But things can happen fast-before you can report details. They wouldn't have said anything without proof."

"Is that who you report to?"

"He's part of the team."

Good to know. She'd file it under d' for don't know a whole h.e.l.l of a lot,' or t' for tight-lipped Time Keeper.' Not that it was Frankie's fault. He had a job to do. Ordinarily she'd consider his professionalism n.o.ble, but right now, curiosity was burning a hole in her head.

She pushed her eagerness down, keeping her tone casual. "So Lipworth would have known the direction the investigation was going, but might not have been completely up to speed."

"Right."

"The six doubloons must mean something."

"We'll find out." Frankie reached over and squeezed her hand.

"Why are you doing this?" Evelina said. "I mean, I thought you promised the Witches' Council you'd stay away from me?"

He shrugged. "You need my help."

As simple as that.

Wow.

She wished her feelings for him were that easy to explain.

But who was she kidding?

Frankie would help anyone. He was that kind of guy. Besides, this wasn't just about her. Frankie's sister was killed by a black magic spell. So he had a personal interest in the case.

Just like she did.

And she planned to get to the bottom of it.

"What's up with the h.e.l.l Hut?" Abby leaned across the counter of the Coconut Shack. "No weenies today?"

"It's closed." Tally continued to stack paper cones under the counter from the box in her hand. "I haven't seen them."

Evelina closed the till, then leaned over the counter beside Abby to have a look. "Seems strange, in the middle of the day, doesn't it?" What were they up to? Judy and Susie Cheetum were dedicated vendors or cutthroat compet.i.tors, whichever way you looked at it. Last week Susie strutted up and down the beach in a hotdog suit while Judy marked a tally after each customer on the chalkboard under the heading hotdogs sold.'

"There's a volleyball tournament in an hour," Abby said. "I can't see them missing that."

Evelina agreed. A tournament meant spectators-hopefully, hungry and thirsty ones. If the tips were good, it promised to be a lucrative day.

"There must be some crisis." Tally's brow puckered, as though doing mental calculations of lost sales. "They wouldn't miss this."

"Oh well." Abby announced with a wide smile. "More customers for us."

And less nasty looks.

The only thing the Cheetums loved better than winning was blowing their own horn.

No sooner had the thought left Evelina's head did a girl with curly pigtails roll up to the shack on a Segway, fling a flyer at them, then zoom off down the beach.

Evelina caught the green flyer in midair. "Party at the Pier," she read. "Catered by the h.e.l.l Hut."

"No wonder they're not here." Tally's ocean blue eyes grew. "So much for taking the day off."

"Evil never sleeps," Abby said in dour tones.

"Eight o'clock tonight," Evelina read on. "Music, dancing, and good eats."

Abby scrunched up her face. "I thought the tournament was to promote good health? So much for that message getting through."

Tally squinted down the beach in the direction of the pier. "They must be down there now setting up."

"Look!" Abby pointed skyward.

A huge red banner with the words h.e.l.l Hut emblazoned in orange flames sailed behind a seaplane over the sparkling Atlantic.

Evelina cupped one hand up to block out the sun.

Impressive.

Not to mention expensive.

They'd have to sell a pile of weenies to pay for that.

She would have sworn it was impossible, if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.

That night at the pier Judy and Suzie cranked out weenies faster than a sausage factory.

"That thing must be enchanted." Abby whispered against Evelina's ear as they watched the steady line at the h.e.l.l Hut's weenie cart. "How else could they spit them out so fast?"

The smell of hotdogs polluted the salty air. Stars twinkled above the white lights strung along pier. The carnival sounds of calypso music played over the rush of the surf in the distance.

"Hey! Check it out." Abby gave Evelina an elbow jab in the ribs. "Look who's here."

Evelina turned, expecting to spy Frankie and Cliff, who'd promised to meet them there.

Instead, Ronny and Donny Cupid, a.k.a. the Dirty Diaper Gang, swaggered by with c.o.c.ky grins plastered across their freckled faces, craning their long necks to leer at every bikini-clad body that came their way.

Evelina glanced over their curly nut heads. If they were here, Wendell Barnes couldn't be far behind. He always kept his trusty henchmen close by.

She turned around to head the other way and there he was.

Wendell smiled. "Evening, ladies." He could pour on the charm when he wanted to.

Tally took a step back.

Abby's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are." Wendell drawled, "Partaking of the local culture."

Abby folded her arms across her chest, raising one dark brow. "I didn't know you could dance."

Wendell's gaze slid up and down Evelina, causing a shiver to snake through her. "I can do almost anything with the right partner."

What did that mean?

Hopefully, not what it sounded like!