I turned back to my plate. Was Cooper in one of those cars? Or was he home sleeping after having to wake extra early to play detective at the B&E scene, and Detective Hawke was on duty now? If it were the latter, I needed to avoid whatever emergency was going on up the road or the blockhead would try to pin that on me, too.
I was finishing my English muffin when my cell phone vibrated in my purse. I glanced down at the screen. It was Zelda again. Criminy! What did Prudence want now? A rematch so she could blacken my other eye?
Jerry had a strict rule about not accepting calls or answering texts during company meetings, so I sent it to voice mail.
When I looked up, the waitress had stopped by, wanting to collect some of our plates. As soon as she left, Jerry rose from the booth, excusing himself to use the restroom.
“Give us the real story, Vi,” Mona said, leaning over the table. “What happened to your eye?”
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated again. “Hold on.” I pulled out my cell phone since Jerry wasn’t there, scowling down at Zelda’s name. Prudence needed to learn the art of patience, dang it. “I’m going to have to take this, you guys. I’ll be right back.”
I slid out of the booth and headed for the ladies’ restroom, answering the call as I pushed open the bathroom door. “Hi, Zelda. Is everything okay?”
“No,” she whispered, which didn’t surprise me one iota. “There’s someone here.”
Why was she calling me about a visitor? I bent over and peeked under the bathroom stalls to make sure I didn’t have any eavesdroppers. The coast was clear. “You mean besides the bossy ghost you live with?”
“Yes. There’s a man standing outside on my porch.” It sounded like she was cupping her hand around the microphone now. “He looks super freaky, Violet.”
Huh. Maybe she was calling because her visitor was a certain detective I knew and daydreamed about hexing semi-often. But why would Detective Hawke be looking for me there? Was that why there’d been sirens heading up to Lead?
“Is your visitor sporting pork chop sideburns and a unibrow on a face that only Bigfoot’s mother could love?” I didn’t mention Hawke’s usual 1970s-style corduroy jacket because he was probably wearing a coat over it.
“No. He’s very pale with a thick crop of white hair, but he doesn’t look old—just sort of rough. Like he’s been out in the weather for too long.”
Oh! I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, pretty sure I knew exactly who she was describing. “Is he tall and lanky with dark eyes that are kind of bulbous?”
“Yes!”
Bingo. Mr. Black was back. I hadn’t seen the Timekeeper/sentinel/big white enigma in a few weeks now. The last time he’d basically appeared out of nowhere, he’d shown up in Aunt Zoe’s workshop with a ticking time bomb for me—actually, it hadn’t been ticking at the time of delivery—and then spilled the beans about my boyfriend being an Oracle. That day I’d found out that I might have initially latched onto Doc for reasons beyond just being warm for his form. It turned out that Oracles were like very rare lucky charms, and an Executioner such as myself could benefit from mating with one on several counts. And here I’d thought the multiple orgasms were the bonus gift.
Anyway, what in Hades was Mr. Black doing up at Zelda’s house? Why didn’t he knock to go inside? It was freaking cold out today. Then again, maybe the cold didn’t bother him like it did us plain-jane mortals.
“So, he’s just standing on your porch?”
“Well, he’s smoking a cigarette right now.” A shuffling sound came from her end of the line. “Prudence says you have to get up here right now.”
“Why me?”
“She says the pale man is here to talk to you. That’s why she had me call you.”
“Why would he show up on your doorstep if he’s there to see me?”
The line went quiet.
After several beats, I pressed the phone even closer. “Zelda, are you there?”
“Executioner!” Prudence’s harsh tone nearly broke my eardrum. Apparently, Zelda wasn’t getting the job of summoning me done right. “Your presence is required post-haste!”
I switched to my other non-ringing ear, scowling at the checkered floor. “You know I don’t like it when you boss me around, Prudence. Now put Zelda back on.”
“No. There is no time for such foolishness. You will come here now. We have a visitor.”
We? “Why don’t you open the door and see what he wants, then I’ll decide if I need to rush up there and look into your creepy white eyes again.”
A snarling sound came through the line. “I know what he wants, you fopdoodle! He’s arrived with dire news.”
I wasn’t sure what a “fopdoodle” was, but I would hazard a guess that it wasn’t some superior breed of dog known for its high intelligence. “How do you know it’s dire?”
“Because Mademoiselle Zuckerman has sent her favorite Hund.”
Zuckerman? As in the partner of Ms. Wolff, aka the Timekeeper whose role I’d taken after her death—which happened to be by my hand, but that wasn’t my fault.
“Her Hund?”
Prudence sighed loudly, my vast stupidity apparently knocking the wind out of her. “Yes! Her Hund. Her dog. Or as you call him, Mr. Black.”
I took a step back in surprise at this revelation, bumping into the wall and almost knocking a framed picture of the old town of Pluma in its heyday off the wall. “So Mr. Black knows Ms. Zuckerman?”
“Did I not say as much?” Prudence snapped. “Now hurry up and join us.”
“I’m in a meeting right now.” Actually, it was pretty much over, but Prudence needed to understand I was not at her beck and call. “Why can’t he just tell you his dire news and
