The Evil Inside

yet, so she could go,” Sam said. “Except, of course, I think you’ve all had your pictures in national magazines at one time or another.”

“If they recognize me, they’ll kick me out,” Angela said.

“All right. Angela, you head to church,” Jackson said.

“What about Joshua Abbott?” Jenna asked. “He was one of the people wearing the horned god costume at the ball last night.”

“We’ll get to Joshua tomorrow at school,” Sam said.

“You could try to speak with him today-his mother never threatened you,” Jenna pointed out.

“Ouch!” Sam said. “All right, I can try to get that in today, too. If not, I’ll have John Alden make sure he breaks up the two-David Yates and Joshua Abbott-tomorrow. Even if we’re considering them cleared, they know something. Call it a hunch.”

“A hunch, huh?” Jackson said, smiling. “Just messing with you. I can do my part and try to get to the rest of the Abbott family.”

“I’d like to speak with Milton Sedge’s son,” Sam said. “But I don’t want to intrude so immediately on his grief, especially since none of us can do so now in an official capacity. This evening, maybe. John Alden isn’t going to give me any help with that. He’s convinced it was an accident that killed Milton Sedge. But I don’t want to sit around, either, and with what we know now, I think that Madam Samantha could answer a few more questions.” He looked at Jackson. “Madam Samantha definitely has a bold edge to her, and she seems to like to taunt men. Jackson, you and I will go to see if we can’t get in for more readings.” He grinned at Jenna. “No offense-you’re not her type.”

“No offense taken,” Jenna assured him, relieved. She hesitated.

“Madam Samantha, Joshua Abbott-and Sedge’s son,” Jackson said.

“Sam, do you have the police photos taken at all the murders?”

He shook his head. “Just the Smith family crime scene.”

“Then I think I’ll pay a visit to the police station. Can you call John Alden for me? At his level, he’s probably typically off on Sundays-probably rushing home after having been called in this morning.”

Sam groaned. “If you want the photos, I should go with you.”

“Maybe it’s best if I just go,” Jenna said. She smiled. “John Alden is a good guy, like you said. I think he’ll help me. You call, I’ll talk. I have a hunch. I just want to see something. I’ll go to the station, see the photos, and then I’ll just hang around on the street and watch Will’s form of magic. We can meet up there.”

The bored clerk still liked Sam. She probably knew exactly who he was by then, but she still seemed to like him.

And she still turned him down.

“You know, we’re in full swing here these days,” she noted. “Halloween is just two days away. You’ve got to understand. Madam Samantha is in the highest demand. She’s doubled her rates for these last few days, and we’re still turning people away. I can’t possible slip you in today.”

“She must come out to breathe… Maybe I could take her for lunch, coffee, drinks…something?” he asked hopefully.

“And I haven’t had a chance for a reading at all,” Jackson said.

“No. No, no and no-and I’m so, so sorry!” the girl said. “Look, I do readings too, you know.”

Sam was thinking quickly of something courteous and politic to say in return when a client in Gothic attire came out from behind the curtain. Madam Samantha followed, stopping dead when she saw Sam and Jackson.

“I was just telling them how busy you were,” the clerk said.

Madam Samantha smiled slowly. She pointed at Sam. “You. You, come with me.”

“Go get her, buddy,” Jackson whispered lightly to Sam. “I’ll talk to the charming clerk for a bit and see if I can’t still verify our tarot reader’s whereabouts, see if there was any way she might have slipped out during the murders.”

Sam followed the sultry “psychic” to the back. He was curious that she had decided to see him. She knew who he was, and she had to know he was trying to trip her up. What the hell was it that gave her so much confidence?

They went back to her curtained area. She took her seat behind her table with its crystal ball and tarot deck. She indicated the chair in front of the table.

“Getting tired of Red already?” she asked him.

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

She lifted her hands and offered him one of her overtly sexual smiles. “What’s to figure out, Mr. Hall? I’m an open book. You want to accuse me of murder because it’s always the sexually unabashed and brassy woman who turns out to be the murderer. Come now, Mr. Hall, you’re a renowned attorney! You know the world doesn’t work that way. I was here, right here. I have a dozen witnesses to testify that I was working when the Smith family was killed. What? Do you think you’re in Salem and you can use spectral evidence? My astral self went out and committed murder while I was here, in the flesh, with a dozen clients?”

“No,” Sam said. “I believe that you didn’t kill the Smith family.”

“Then?”

“I want to know about your partnership with Andy Yates.”

She lowered her eyes and smiled slowly. “Hmm. Yes, well, someone dug deep to find out about that.”

“Business agreements like that are public record,” Sam reminded her.

“Yes, but…never mind. We weren’t trying to hide assets from the government or anything. Yates just wanted it all…well, he’s a councilman.”

Sam leaned forward. “You’re the talent, I take it.”

“I think you know that.”

“And he’s the money.”

“He does do well,” she said.

“But you both tried to buy the Lexington House. Wasn’t that a conflict of interest?”

She shrugged. “One of us might have gotten it.”

Sam frowned, leaning back. “So why would Councilman Yates loan you money? Were you having an affair with him?”

She smiled. “Well, you see, that’s none of your business.” She rose, walking around the table and leaning against it so that her legs were pressed against him. “I should just tell you to go to hell. I obviously am innocent of the Smith murders, and the police have a kid in custody who was covered in blood. But I do like you. I like your scent, and I like your size, and I even like your face, Mr. Hall. Still, I am getting bored of all this.” She leaned forward, hands on her knees, pressing her cleavage tight. “Next time you call me, it had better be to get laid, or I’m not going to talk to you again.”

She stood. “Now get out.”

Sam smiled and rose. “Madam Samantha, you’re right about one thing.”

“You really do want to get laid by someone who offers real excitement?” she asked.

“I’m a good attorney. I’ll find a way to bring you into the courtroom.”

“Really? But you don’t have a witness anymore, do you? Poor Mr. Sedge was found dead today in a pool of olive oil!”

“I can see your concern.”

“I’ve been here, working. You know that yourself.” Her anger had returned to her face with a vengeance.

“Before I was an attorney, in law school, I went and got my private investigator’s license, and I know a lot about breaking alibis,” he said pleasantly.

“Call me when you want to sleep with me, honey. You don’t even need to buy dinner,” she said, and winked.

“Oh, honestly, I don’t think that will be the case,” he said pleasantly, and he walked back out to the main shop room.

Jackson was leaning over the counter, smiling as he chatted with the clerk. He arched an eyebrow at Sam. Sam thanked the clerk and paid his bill for Madam Samantha’s time.

He and Jackson walked out of the shop.