“Wow.” Clarence stood up with his front paws on the kitchen table. I snapped my fingers at him, but he ignored me, focusing all his attention on Tamara. “Just wow. There’s a twisted logic there, but just wow.”
Sylvie wasn’t looking convinced. Curious, but not convinced. “How would you even know someone had been in my shed?”
“I have a . . . let’s call it a magical eye on the street. Like a neighborhood watch.”
Clarence snorted. “Sounds like spying on your neighbors.”
“No, cat, I do not spy. It’s not as if I have a Snow White mirror that shows me the goings-on of the neighborhood. If I did, I’d know who broke into Sylvie’s shed. This is more like a detection grid.”
“His name is Clarence,” Lilac said with a frown. “Your detection grid beeped like my home security system, except magically, so you knew zone five—or whatever you call Sophie’s house—had a magical visitor. Is that about right?”
“Not exactly. If we’re going to use a security system comparison, it’s like I’ve got the windows and the doors wired, but no motion sensors. If someone uses magic to breach a building, I know. If any magic anywhere in the neighborhood set off alarms, then we’d be in a pickle.” Tamara gave me a pointed look. “Geoff’s house, for one, is teeming with activity.”
“My house?” I asked, surprised. Then again, why not my house? Clarence, for one. And the various ghostly visitors. And the little bit of whatever magic I had that allowed me to act as unwilling medium. “Ah, never mind. I do see your point.”
Lilac twisted her green hair up in a knot with a look of intense concentration. “So, if I understand this correctly, someone broke into Sylvie’s shed using magic. Is that right?”
“Exactly right,” Tamara said. “Because Sylvie follows good common sense and locks her shed, my alarm was tripped when they used magic to fiddle with the lock. I checked it out, but I couldn’t find anything magical inside or anywhere else on the premises. I suspected they were done, but then they broke in again. That’s when I decided it was only a matter of time before Sylvie interrupted one of their attempts. I’m sorry I was right about that, dear. But that’s why I decided I needed to take preventative action.”
“Someone broke into my shed twice? And that’s only what you know about.” Sylvie looked dismayed by the thought. “I might as well get rid of my fence and leave the stupid shed open—assuming I even replace it. There’s practically been a parade through my backyard.”
Lilac leaned forward with a concerned look. “Once this is over, we can cleanse your yard and even your house, if you like.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Sylvie touched Lilac’s hand. “I might take you up on that.”
“Why come clean now?” Much as I liked to believe the best in people, people—supernatural or not—were a self-interested lot. And while my trouble meter might not be flashing warning signals, something was up.
Tamara turned her attention to Lilac. “The attack on Lilac.”
I looked at the marks on Lilac’s neck. She raised her hand self-consciously, covering the bruises. The marks had darkened to a dusky purple overnight.
“But if you’re responsible for the shed and not the other incidents, then . . .” Lilac’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand. What does Geoff have to do with the two crimes?”
“I suspect the answer to that question is timing.” Tamara lifted the coffeepot. “More coffee, anyone?” When no one replied, she refilled her own cup.
Sylvie pulled a leather-bound book out of her purse, along with a pen. A fountain pen. I hadn’t seen one in a long time. She flipped the book open, rifling past pages with notes and sketches until she came to a blank page. “When was the first break-in?”
Now here was a woman I understood. Sylvie, unlike Lilac when I’d introduced Clarence the possessed cat, had calmed immediately when presented with a task.
“Two weeks ago, yesterday,” Tamara said. “And the second was a week after that.”
Sylvie tapped the end of her pen against the paper. “They like Tuesdays?”
“Apparently,” Tamara said.
Sylvie sighed. “Which was why you blew up the shed on Monday.” With a mixture of confusion and disappointment on her face, she asked Tamara, “Couldn’t you have come to me and explained everything? Maybe we could have found what they were looking for, and . . .”
“And given it to them?” Tamara asked. “Destroyed it? Which bombing the shed was supposed to accomplish without involving you.”
“Or discussed it so that I could decide,” Sylvie said acerbically. “Whatever this item is, it’s apparently my property. Okay, back to the time line. Tamara bombs the shed, at which point I’ve already met Geoff—"
“Then I meet Lilac,” I said.
Sylvie tipped the end of her pen at me. “You meet Lilac.”
“And Lilac is attacked,” Lilac said with a quirk to her lips. “So maybe there’s speculation by the baddies that this item they can’t find is now being handed off.”
I thought back to my initial attempts to use the internet: so much information, so many bad sources, so much false data. “Or maybe this is more about knowledge. Let’s say I’d fessed up to Sylvie right away that I was a retired soul collector, if she had a supernatural question, she might ask me.”
“And we already know that if you have a question about the supernatural,” Lilac said with an amused look, “you head to the phone book, which, in this case, led you to me.”
We all looked to Sylvie. She dropped her pen and spread her hands out. “What? I have no clue what it is that these people want.”
Lilac snapped her fingers. “I forgot to mention, in
