"I don't think he'll press charges," Harper said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
"How's Calliope doing?" I asked. "Did he say?"
"Resting. She's pretty shaken," Harper said. "Finn was on his way to the Sorcerer's Stove to pick up some soup for her."
The restaurant had reopened recently under new management, and the village couldn't have been happier to have it back.
"I don't know about her," Harper said after a pause.
"Who?"
"Calliope. Aren't you paying attention?"
I frowned at the phone.
"Now, if I'd been with you," Harper said, not waiting for me to answer, "I can assure you that I wouldn't have been upchucking."
True. Harper would have been taking pictures and notes. "Cut Calliope some slack," I said. "It was traumatic."
"For Raina."
"You're being harsh."
"I think it was a bit of an exaggerated response, don't you?" Harper asked. "Maybe one produced to make her seem like she was shocked by the scene."
"The scene was shocking."
"You didn't get sick or even faint. It couldn't have been that bad."
"It was that bad. I think I'm building up a tolerance to death and blood," I said.
"I'm not sure whether that's a good or bad thing."
"Me neither."
I finished tucking the remaining folders into the filing cabinet and looked around. The office space had been a source of contention between Ve and me over the past year. She liked organized chaos. I just liked organized.
I'd clean.
She'd muss.
I'd computerized our billing system.
She still used a ledger.
It was maddening.
However, over the past few weeks, the office was slowly giving way to my methods. I'd gloat, but the only reason Ve hadn't wreaked havoc on my organizing was because she hadn't been around. It was only a matter of time before the space returned to her special kind of anarchy.
Or was it?
If she won the election how much time would she be able to devote to the company? It was a thought that I didn't want to think about too much. If she closed the business, I'd be out of a job. A paying job, at least. I still had the snoop business to keep me busy.
"But still," Harper said, undeterred. "I mean, Calliope used to work with Sylar and Dorothy as an assistant at Sylar's optical shop. She has to have a high queasy tolerance."
Harper made a good point, not that I'd admit it. "What are you getting at, Harper?"
She let out a loud huff. "Maybe you should talk to the Elder? Get her to hire me as the Craft snoop? Because if you can't figure out what I'm getting at, then you might be in the wrong line of work."
"You're cranky. When was the last time you ate? You know how you get when your blood sugar drops."
"Darcy!"
I laughed. "What possible motive would Calliope have for murdering Raina?"
"Again, isn't this your job?"
"So you have nothing," I challenged, finding this conversation ridiculous.
"Okay, let's see . . ." She trailed off.
Missy lifted a sleepy eyebrow as I tapped my foot, waiting.
"All right, all right," Harper finally said. "Maybe she wants Raina's job. How about that?"
"I doubt it. She's been sending resumes to museums all over the city. It's only a matter of time before she's hired as an archivist."
"Fine. Well, maybe she's having an affair with Kent. How about that?"
"Ew."
"I know, right? Don't think about it too hard."
"Calliope's newly engaged to Finn," I said, trying to shake the image of canoodling Kent and Calliope from my head. "Remember?"
"Well," Harper huffed, "maybe she's just plain old mentally unstable."
Smiling, I teased, "I'm not sure she's the one who's mentally unstable."
"What are you getting at?" Harper asked, full of faux outrage.
"If the straitjacket fits . . ."
"You're lucky a customer just came in. I'll talk to you later. You still owe me details." She hung up.
I glanced at Missy. "She's certifiable."
Missy yawned.
But . . . maybe Harper had a point about Calliope. I shouldn't rule anyone out quite yet. Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I eyed Calliope's phone. Before I could overthink it, I grabbed it and swiped the screen, bringing it to life.
A password box popped up.
I groaned. Served me right for trying to violate her privacy like that.
But . . . I was able to see she had text messages waiting for her from Kent. Eight of them, in fact. And five missed calls from him, too. I imagined they came in after he heard what happened to Raina.
I quickly finished cleaning up the desk, and decided I'd put off the inevitable long enough. It was time to get this investigation going. First, I'd look for Starla to see if she had any additional information about Raina's state of mind lately. Then I needed to drop off Calliope's phone and binder. Then go see Pepe. And then . . . well, it would be time to face my demons.
I had to find Andreus.
Chapter Five.
I left Missy at home as I headed out to search the green for Starla. I didn't know how long I'd be gone, and it wasn't fair to the little dog to drag her all about the village for hours on end, though she'd probably argue that if she could. She loved being out and about-obviously, since she escaped every chance she got.
A large crowd still watched the goings-on at the Tavistock house as village police officers scoured the yard. Joining the rubbernecking, I stood on my tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of Nick, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I was itching to talk with him. To find out what he'd learned so far-if anything. Technically, he could get in big trouble if his mortal coworkers discovered he was sharing information with me, but we were careful. And the lone Crafter who'd rat us out-Glinda Hansel-had been neutralized by the Elder when she appointed me Craft snoop.
As always when I thought about Glinda, my initial anger slowly dissipated into pity. I felt for her and her unhappy misguided life, though she certainly didn't deserve my sympathy. And wouldn't want it, for that matter.
Pressing on, I skirted the crowd, searching for Starla. Unfortunately, if she was still here, she was so in the thick of things that I couldn't see her. Or she'd already gone off to the newspaper office. Or she'd called it a morning and was meeting Vince for an afternoon driving lesson.
Heaven help us all.
Shading my eyes, I gave one last futile look around and finally decided to move on.
Plan B.
I'd postpone seeing Starla and head to the Gingerbread Shack, the bakery owned by Starla's twin brother, Evan. It was a win-win decision. Since he had accompanied Starla during her house-hunt he would have spent as much time with Raina as she had.
Plus, if I was going to track down Andreus, fortification in the form of chocolate and coffee could only help.
I threw one last look around for Starla to no avail, then turned to be on my way, when I bumped into someone.
"Sorr- Eeee!" I stumbled backward.
Strong hands settled on my shoulders, steadying me. "My deepest apologies if I startled you, Ms. Merriweather."
Andreus Woodshall's face was cast in shadows by the canopy of leaves above his head. His dark eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, and the bones of his face pushed against his skin, giving him a skeletal appearance. His lips twisted into an evil smirk, and his fingers felt like bony knives on my arms.
Suddenly thoughts of death and evil flooded my brain, and I tried to get a grip on myself.
"I-" Nope. When he looked like this, he was absolutely terrifying, and I couldn't seem to form a coherent thought.
"Ms. Merriweather? Are you unwell?"
I wondered-but didn't know for certain-if he was aware of the way he changed between the dark and light. I suspected he did-and used it to his advantage.
Steeling my nerves, I quickly spun around, tugging him out of the shadows and into the sunshine.
In an instant, his features morphed into a pleasing countenance. He went from being the Crypt Keeper to a handsome Clark Gable.
Have mercy, as my aunt Ve would say.
"I'm-" I cleared my throat. "I'm fine. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
"Was I sneaking?" A corner of his lips lifted in amusement. "I wasn't aware." He motioned to Mrs. P's bench. "Care to sit down a moment?"
What I really wanted was to run far, far away from him, but hightailing it out of here wasn't really an action befitting the Craft snoop. I had planned to track him down anyway, so why not just get it over with now? Right here. Where there were lots of witnesses.
Besides, I was rather curious as to why he wanted to speak with me.
"Sure," I said. Half the bench was in shadow, and I quickly parked myself on the shady side. I wasn't taking any risks.
Arching an eyebrow, he sat next to me. Sunbeams fell across his face as he ran a hand along the bench's well-worn armrest. "I heard about Mrs. P's death and her subsequent return. She's doing well?"
It was still odd to not see Mrs. P sitting on the bench in her velour jogging suit, her hair sky high, her laughter punctuating the air. Her death the previous January had been shocking, and her passing had taken a twist I hadn't expected. Mrs. P was the newest familiar on the block. A chubby white mouse with spiky fur between her ears and the same boisterous laugh. "She's good. Happy."
"I'm pleased to hear it."
I searched for a way to segue from speaking about Mrs. P to asking if he was a cold-blooded killer. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to blurt out my suspicions. "How long have you been back in the village?" I asked instead, studying him.
I'd known him to be kind.
He had the ability to see black and white auras around others, and he'd warned me when he'd seen dark energy around me. He'd cast a protection spell for me when I needed it most.
I'd also known him to be wicked.
Breaking and entering. Lying. Cheating.
It suddenly struck me that his dual faces matched his dual personalities. He was good. And he was evil.
Mixed together, they made for one heck of a complex man.
"A few days now," he said slowly, eyeing me carefully.
Sizing me up.
I tried not to let it bother me. Which was infinitely easier when he looked like a movie star and not the keeper of the dead.