Brewing the Midnight Oil Page 5

  “Awesome.” Klein tuned down Magnolia Ave. “We have no crime scene, no timeline and no motive. Regular bird’s nest on the ground, this case.”

  Ivy growled to herself and stared out at the tunnel of trees.

  “There’s something else bothering you.”

  “No.” Ivy didn’t look at Klein.

  He didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyes. How to put this without sounding stupid?

  “Every good looking woman we meet gets all flirty with you. Is that part of the job? Is it like the suit, the muscle car and the gun?”

  Everett’s brows drew together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Susan, with the card thing, and her ‘Anytime you need something?’ Bronwyn with her giving you the up-and-down and saying you’re a fine man, looking like she wanted to eat you for tea.” Ivy didn’t mention Olivia from their last museum caper. While she appeared to be a very young woman, it turned out that she was something more.

  “If you say so.” Everett pulled around the block to park in front of the botanica.

  “That’s it?”

  He shrugged. “You don’t flirt with me.”

  Ivy sat, tongue-tied. It was okay that she couldn’t find her voice. Everett got out of the Viper. Her face went hot, and it wasn’t the weather.

  “What a snazzy flivver!” Auntie Abitha burst out of the shop. “And aren’t you a handsome devil? You don’t look a bit hardboiled.”

  “I’m glad the car still impresses. She’s getting a little worn out.” Everett shook her hand. “Everett Klein.”

  “Abitha Light Munroe. Charmed, I’m sure. We’ve just put on a fresh pot of coffee—special blend. Not much excitement in a plant shop.” Abitha dragged him into the botanica. “Come on in, set a spell.”

  Everett glanced at Ivy over his shoulder. She shot an index finger and made a ‘See?’ face. He only shrugged again.

  “Aren’t you a cute couple,” Mama said from behind the register. “I never see you all gussied up, sugar pie.”

  “This is my Mama, Davinia Light,” Ivy introduced Everett.

  “Mrs. Light.” Everett shook her hand.

  Mama’s other hand patted her wavy hair. She smiled brightly. “Oh, it’s Davinia, please. Delighted to meet you. How does such a charming man get into such a rough business?”

  Jeeze Louise, Mama too?

  “I’ve always been in the business, I reckon,” Everett said. “My family are all lawyers, my daddy, my granddaddy, mama was a paralegal. Way back, even in high school, I did little investigations for them. I took to it more than I ever did law school or the military.”

  “Sakes, let’s get you some coffee in the consultation room. It’s got AC,” Mama stood up.

  Everett followed her back. “Consultation room? Isn’t this a plant store?”

  It was getting harder to cover up the magic. Everett Klein was no dummy. At least he was in the consultation room, getting fussed over by the Biddy Committee, when Clarabelle Hawkins came in.

  “Yoo hoo!” Clarabelle suffered serious indigestion and other stomach ailments. Skinny enough to hide behind a cattail, and boasting a similar Marge Simpson-esque hairstyle, she stood in the foyer and waved a lace handkerchief. “Are you in there, Ivy? I’ve come for my stomach remedy.”

  “I’m in the greenhouse, Mrs. Hawkins. Come on back.”

  Mrs. Hawkins pushed through the glass doors and into the jungle-y part of the business. Ivy could see her hair bobbing over the tops of tropical plants. “I do love this shop. Like getting lost in the woods, but indoors.”

  Ivy retreated to the kitchen, retrieving the potion she’d brewed the previous morning. She handed the vial to little old Mrs. Hawkins. “You remember the dosage?”

  “Two drops in my afternoon sweet tea,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “Once a day, and no more.”

  Ivy nodded. “That’s right. That’s a powerful potion.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it? It’s the only thing that helps me, even with all those newfangled stomach medicines. I saw an ad on television about them causing cancer or some such?” Mrs. Hawkins looked aghast.

  “This is all natural,” Ivy said. She didn’t mention that it came from deadly poison flowers. “Keep it out of the sunlight. If it turns brown, that means it’s been exposed and it won’t work anymore. Throw it away, and I’ll brew you another. Otherwise, I’ll see you next month.”

  Mrs. Hawkins paid her and slipped the clear vial in her purse. “Thank you so much, dearie. Oh, who’s this?”

  Everett appeared, mug in hand, the Biddy Committee in tow.

  “This is my friend, Everett Klein. Everett, this is Mrs. Hawkins.”

  Mrs. Hawkins took his hand, doing a little curtsey and giggling. “My friends call me Clarabelle.” Her other hand poofed up her already poofy white beehive. “Charmed!”

  “Likewise,” Everett said. It sent Mrs. Hawkins into more giggles.

  Moira appeared near the herb rack dressed in silk pajamas and a tasseled sleeping cap. She eyed the old ladies eyeing Everett Klein. With a shake of her head, the ghost disappeared again.

  Everett’s head suddenly jerked in Moira’s direction. His brows lowered as he scanned the greenhouse. Holy cow, had he actually seen Moira? Ivy really needed to figure something out before the detective detected that she and her family were witches.

  “I’m sorry, but I simply must be going,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, Everett.”

  Before she could break into girly giggles again, Klein asked, “You’re not buying any plants today?”

  Clarabelle’s eyes darted to Mama’s, to Aunt Abitha’s, to Ivy’s and back to Klein’s. “I have… no, not today. Just dropping by. Y’all have a lovely day.”

  The Biddy Committee exchanged a serious look. Klein might very well be on to them. What could Ivy do about it?

  Blanche pushed through the front door. She wore a fawn colored power suit, sheer tights, heels and a matching purse. Ivy frowned. Her cousin looked dynamite in her outfits. Blanche was shorter than Ivy, but curvy to beat the devil. Maybe that’s what made Ivy look like she was wearing a flour sack.

  “Hey, ya’ll, who’s driving that schmancy-ass Dodge?” She stopped short upon seeing the detective. “Everett Klein, right? Ivy talks about you all the time. Blanche. Blanch Light Munroe. I’m Ivy’s cousin.”

  “Charmed.” Everett shook her hand with a straight face.

  “I thought you had to work at First Trust all day,” Ivy said.

  “Well, the meeting with my professor ran short. He approved the thesis. All I have to do now is write the dang thing. I had a couple hours to kill.” She dropped her purse on the checkout counter. “Ya’ll detecting?”

  Everett had to smile. “Indeed.”

  She eyed his mug. “Is there more coffee?”

  Mama nodded. “In the consul—in the back room.”

  “You talk about me all the time,” Everett said to Ivy.

  Ivy felt red on her cheeks. “I might.”

  “Your friend Julio called,” Mama jumped in. “He said he was running a little late.”

  “Oh, good, I thought I might have a chance of seeing him,” Blanche returned with her coffee. She plopped into the chair behind the register and leaned back with a squeak of springs. “Now, tell me about this case. I might be able to help.”

  Red cheeks became face lava. But Everett seemed fine telling her the details. Blanche made a moue of her mouth and closed her eyes in thought. “I’d check out the butler. It’s always the butler. If you want, I can stake out his house after work, follow him if he does something suspicious.”

  “Stake out his house?” Everett says. “Butlers live in the house where they work. Haven’t you ever seen ‘The Nanny?’”

  Blanche opened her eyes but her face went blank. “Nope.”

  “‘Soap?’ ‘Benson?’ ‘Downton Abbey?’ ‘Upstairs, Downstairs?’”

  Blanche shook her head.

  Everett sigh
ed. “‘The Addams Family?’”

  Her cousin’s eyes went wide. “Oh, yeah, I guess Lurch does live in the house, doesn’t he? Well, scratch that, I guess.”

  Mama picked up a manuscript from behind the register. “If you don’t need us any longer, Sissy and I need to do some shopping.”

  Abitha was gazing at Everett, her eyes dreamy. She snapped awake. Her face fell. “Do we really?”

  “Your husband hasn’t caught anything for supper, so if we want to eat, we shop.” Mama smiled at Everett. “Nice to meet you. You’ll have to come by Light House for supper sometime. Maybe when Roby catches something delicious.”

  Everett nodded at her. “It’s a date.”

  Mama covered her mouth. No doubt she was suppressing a giggle, Ivy thought. She eyed Everett. Sure, he was a pretty good detective, smart, a little too much so, and confident. Maybe he was handsome in a rugged way, but not enough to transform grown women into giggling schoolgirls. It wasn’t the first time she wondered what she was not seeing in him.

  “I better go, too. Gotta drive up to Jacksonville to meet a friend.” Everett gave Ivy a look. Fingerprints, she thought.

  With raised brows, Blanche watched the detective leave out of the corner of her eye. Her mouth made that speculative shape again. “Man’s got an aura,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Blanche shrugged. “I’m not sure, but considering he’s so gruff, he’s got a whole lotta charm going on. Charisma. Something.”

  “Charm seems to be the word of the day,” Ivy said. “Everyone’s charmed to meet him. Speaking of, I have to figure out a way to hide the magic stuff from him. But he’s so nosy, so suspicious, and way too smart. What the heck do I do, Cuz?”

  “That’s a tough one. He’s gonna figure it out on his own eventually. You might just tell him the truth.”

  “That we’re witches?”

  Blanche’s lips made a tight line. She tapped her fingers on her knees. “Maybe he won’t believe it, or think we’re hippy pagans or whatnot. What did he think about those horrible creatures who took Abigail?”

  Ivy thought about it. “Not much, really. He only talks about the people they infected. Heck, maybe he will think we’re just pagan hippies. Most folks just automatically ignore or justify magic when they see it.” Ivy said it, but she didn’t know if she believed that Everett Klein was most folks.

  Chapter 8

  She spent the rest of the day distracted, thinking about the case. The snooty Tanner implicated the snooty wife. Truly, the only people who seemed concerned were Gus Beranger and his hired security firm owner, J. Benjamin Franklyn. The tiara was insured, she heard. The tiara was gaudy junk, she heard. Was it just that the True Treasures exhibit would be ruined without its most infamous piece, or were she and Everett missing something?

  After locking up, she changed into her usual cutoff overalls and slip-on Keds and folded Blanche’s suit for the cleaners. Clouds rolled in from the east as she walked out to her little truck. Impending thunderstorms made for lighter traffic as she drove to the historic district. She managed to find parking within walking distance to the drycleaner on St. George Street. On her way back to the car, a berry-colored pencil skirt suit in a boutique window caught her eye.

  Well, what the heck. She needed to dress up a little, and Blanche’s least favorite outfits weren’t working for Ivy. She popped in, just to look at the price tag.

  “Buy it. You’ve got the stems for it, honey.”

  Ivy turned, expecting to see a saleswoman. Instead, she found Moira. The ghost was dressed like the store employees. Her name tag read ‘Easy.’

  “I don’t know if I want to make the investment. It’s not like I’ll wear it more than once.”

  “Oh, shut up and try it on. Look, there’s one in big blue houndstooth, too! These are your colors, honey. You’re totally a Summer.”

  “What’s a Summer?”

  Moira waved her hands. “I don’t know, it’s something I saw on “The View.” Try on the dang dress, Ivy.”

  She grabbed it off the display and headed to the dressing room. The skirt hugged her knees, and the slit up the side seemed to let in way too much fresh air. She slid the sleeveless blouse over her head and shrugged into the jacket.

  “C’mon, girl, let’s see it,” Moira called from outside the dressing room.

  Feeling sheepish in her ratty Keds and fancy suit, Ivy crept out in front of the full length mirrors. She did a little turn, looking at herself at different angles. “What do you think?”

  “Oh!” Moira shrieked. “It’s fabulous!”

  The ghost bustled around her, trying to flip and tuck, but only creating a little stir of breeze. “The skirt shows off your pretty gams, hugs that little heart-shaped patootie like a regular ol’ snuggle bunny.”

  No one could hear, but Ivy blushed nonetheless. “I do kinda like it.”

  “Like it?” Moira plucked, ineffectively, at the low cut blouse. “Just a little bit of cleavage, with the drape of the jacket perfect to hide your disappointingly small boobs—”

  “Hey!”

  “This’ll send Mr. Hotpants Detective’s motor racing, honey child.”

  Which wasn’t her objective. Was it? Ivy looked down at her feet. “What about shoes?”

  “I never pay attention to shoes,” Moira said.

  That figured.

  An actual saleswoman came over. “Sakes alive, that dress was made for you. And we do have heels in that color, but they’re low heels, if that’s all right.”

  Ivy hated heels. “Flats?”

  “In that suit, with your legs?” The saleswoman’s tag read Meg. “Don’t even!”

  “Listen to Meg,” Moira said.

  Ivy hesitated. “I’d like to try on the blue houndstooth, too.”

  Meg’s eyes went big. “Oh, yeah, let me grab that. Ladies’ suits and shoes are BOGO half off, by the way. We’re having a sale.”

  “These suits are totally BOGO!” Moira agreed readily.

  When Meg walked off to get the other suit, Ivy said, “You know BOGO means ‘buy one get one,’ right?”

  “Just super BOGO.” Moira tried to adjust the jacket some more.

  The blue houndstooth looked just as good as the berry.

  “You could totally swap the tops for another look,” Meg said. “Does it feel comfortable?”

  “Sometimes beauty hurts,” Moira said. “Just go with it. You look BOGO. Edible, even.”

  Ivy ignored Moira. “I’m pretty much a cutoffs girl. I don’t wear fancy clothes to work.”

  “Why, that’s a crying shame, Ivy,” Meg said. “I mean, yeah, I’m trying to hustle you into two suits, but, hell’s bells, girl, you’re a knockout in these.”

  “Wrap ’em up,” Ivy said. “I’ll take ’em.”

  “Yes!” Moira shouted so loudly that even Meg looked a little startled. A few customers looked their way as well.

  Meg blinked a few times. “The shoes as well?”

  “Let me try them on.”

  Twenty minutes later, she stumbled across the damp gravel that served as a parking space outside of Light House. Ivy was not used to any kind of heel, and the gravel was treacherous on the best days. Finally finding her balance, she walked inside. Uncle Roby greeted her with a wolf’s whistle. The Biddy Committee looked up from their work.

  “Sakes, baby, that dress is fine as frog’s hair,” Mama said.

  Auntie Abitha abandoned her tarot cards to walk around her niece.

  Blanche came down the stairs to see what the fuss was about. “Woah, Cuz! You clean up nice.”

  Abitha licked her index finger, leaned forward, and touched her own butt. “Ssss! That’s a nice fit. Did you get all dolled up because we’re having steak?”

  Mama got up, and adjusted the lapels on the suit coat. “Nice. What’s in the bag?”

  “The same one, but in berry.” Ivy blushed. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to dress up once in a while.

  “Try it o
n. Let’s have a fashion show!” Abitha said.

  Moira appeared next to Blanche, startling her. “Doesn’t she look totally BOGO?”

  Blanche made a face at her.

  Feeling light, Ivy modeled the berry suit, shoes and all. She hardly even stumbled in the low heels.

  “Turn like a runway model!” Moira shouted. “Make a bitch face!”

  Once Ivy changed back into the usual, they sat down to dinner. Roby frowned at the T-bones. “Sorry I didn’t catch anything. Had a pretty big shark on the hook, but he bit through the line.”

  The steaks had been barbecued, and sizzled with juice. As per usual, Uncle Roby fried all the side dishes. Ivy didn’t care. She tucked in.

  “What made you decide to buy some decent clothes for a change?” Blanche asked.

  Ivy frowned. “Well, I was working this case with Everett, and all the women looked so put together. And me, I’m wearing someone else’s suit, and it’s a size too big, and my hair’s in a bun and I feel frumpy.”

  “A size too big?” Moira said from the parlor. “Try two or three sizes. Blanche, honey, you need to lay off the mochaccinos.”

  Blanche gave Moira a slow burn, but asked Ivy. “Speaking of nice suits, where’s mine?”

  “At the cleaners. I’ll pick it up for you tomorrow—” She stopped short when her cell phone dinged: text message.

  “What is it?” Mama asked. “Something wrong?”

  Ivy put the phone back in her purse. “Everett says he came up with something. He needs me to meet him first thing.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Auntie Abitha said.

  “Maybe.” Ivy frowned. “It’s just that I’m taking all this time away from the botanica.”

  “You’re making good money now,” Blanche said. “Why not hire a girl?”

  “I’m making good money because I work hard. And who am I going to hire? Nearly half my business is in magic potions. Dang it, I wish—”

  Ivy stopped talking. Everyone at the table avoided her eyes. They knew what she was going to say. She wished Harmon were here. With his official job title being “adventurer,” it left large blocks of free time. If he was in town, he’d be hanging out with her at the shop anyway. She felt her eyes prickle, but shook off the sadness.