“If we turn the lights on, can anyone see inside the store?” From where I was crouched next to the body, it looked safe enough. She hadn’t covered the glass door, but only the front of the store was visible through it.
She shook her head, but then her gaze fell on the big guy and she started to tear up again. “I didn’t mean to k-k-kill him.” She lifted the much-used hanky to her face. “I’m not a killer. I don’t even squish cockroaches or spray wasps. I do catch and release for scorpions!”
It took a second for me to make sense of cockroaches, wasps, and scorpions, mostly because I could barely understand her with the hanky pressed to her nose and covering her mouth. “Right. I’m sure there was a good reason for what you did.”
She pointed at the man. “His eyes glowed.”
Clarence made a hairball-hacking noise.
Since that could be either a prediction of cat yak to come or Clarence laughing hysterically, neither of which was a situation Lilac seemed equipped to handle, I stepped between the two and made a shushing motion behind my back. “His eyes glowed, so you felt the need to defend yourself.”
She frowned at me like I was a lunatic. “No, of course not. I didn’t hit him until he tried to strangle me. I just thought you should know that his eyes glowed—since you were saying how he wasn’t alive. Or the cat was saying that.”
“Clarence,” Clarence said in a huffy voice. “The cat’s name is Clarence.”
She craned her neck so she could see behind me, then stepped to the side. “I’m so sorry. Of course, Clarence.” But then her gaze fell on the man-creature who wasn’t bleeding real blood, and she started rambling. “I wasn’t entirely sure . . . and murder . . . and the police . . . you know . . . so I called you, Geoff. I . . . That man . . . his eyes . . .” She stood up straight and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she said much more calmly, without signs of hyperventilating, “He tried to strangle me, and that’s when I bashed him over the head.”
I looked at the hulking giant on the couch and then at Lilac. He was so much bigger than her that “over the head” had been the side of his head. Even so, I was having a hard time seeing how she’d had any chance at all. “What exactly did you hit him with?”
Lilac pointed at a small sculpture on the ground a few feet away.
“Do you mind getting the lights, Lilac?”
She nodded and moved to the back wall several feet away, and seconds later the room filled with light.
Now I could easily see the blood and hair on the small statuette lying near her desk. When Lilac came to stand next to me, I asked her, “What happened before he tried to strangle you?”
“Boss, you better hurry up,” Clarence said. “Something’s happening with the body. It’s getting warmer.”
Warmer? Waking up? Coming back to life? Maybe the thing wasn’t killable. We needed an expert.
“Phone book. I need a phone book.” I scanned the room, but didn’t see one. Lilac was rooted to the spot, unmoving, possibly unhearing, so I raised my voice. “Quickly, Lilac. I need your phone book.” I had a hunch that I knew one person who still had a landline, a listing in the white pages, and an idea what exactly was propped up on the sofa, looking almost human.
Lilac ran to her computer. “Who am I looking up?” She gave me a helpless look. “I don’t have a phone book.”
That computer class at the local library couldn’t start too soon.
“Look up Tamara Gilroy.” And I watched Lilac’s fingers fly across the keyboard.
Seconds later, she said, “I’ve got it.”
Tamara answered on the third ring, sounding neither surprised nor put out that I had telephoned her without being given her number. “How can I be of assistance, Geoff Todd?”
I racked my brain, trying to remember any tricks or hidden traps when trading with witches. Nothing came to mind, so I relied on her honesty. “I have a problem and need advice. Is there any harm to me or mine in asking you for that advice?”
“None, though I may not have an answer for you, naturally.” She sounded mildly amused.
“I have a recently terminated, cold body that doesn’t smell human and is rapidly heating. Are we in danger of harm?”
Without hesitation and with no hint of amusement, Tamara replied briskly, “Quickly, dowse it in water. Blessed, if it’s available. The entire shell.”
Shell? What was this thing?
I turned to Lilac. “Blessed water?”
She nodded but continued to stand still and stare at me. I gestured for her to hurry, which resulted in a relieved look followed by a flurry of action as she ran to retrieve water. When she returned, she held a small flask.
I rubbed my neck as I reported back to Tamara. “I only have a small flask, six to eight ounces.” Lilac shook the half-empty flask. I gritted my teeth. “Perhaps half that, but the woman I’m with is a practitioner of . . .” I scanned the walls and then her desk. I looked at Lilac as I said, “Hoodoo?”
She looked to the ceiling and shrugged.
My gaze continued to travel over the collection of charms, crystals, and herbs scattered around the store. “And Wicca?”
She nodded agreement.
“Yes, she’s confirmed, hoodoo and Wicca.” I’d noticed the hodgepodge of philosophies when I was first in the shop, but now that I would be relying on Lilac’s skill as a practitioner in one of those arts, her flexibility was somewhat more concerning.
In a resigned tone, Tamara said, “Young people will experiment. Go on, then, hand me over to your practitioner.”
Lilac reluctantly accepted the phone. When she put it to her ear, she flinched and then began to reply at an increasing rate. “Yes. No, not by me. Lunar.” She glanced at the body.
