Cooking Up Murder (18 page)

No sooner had the door closed behind me and the little angel-topped wind chime above us announced our presence than I was overwhelmed by the mingled smells of incense and scented candles. There was a fountain to our right, and the sounds of trickling water provided a liquid counterpoint to the New Age music playing softly in the background.

"Blessed be!" a woman's voice called to us from somewhere beyond the beaded curtain that partitioned the main part of the store from what was probably a storeroom or office. "I'll be there in just a moment. Look around, why don't you."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I was already checking out the place.

The wall next to the gurgling fountain was stacked floor to ceiling with candles that had names like Morning Prayer and Angel's Kiss. The counter to my left was filled with beaded jewelry, incense that made my nose itch, and angels of all shapes and sizes. Angels graced everything from buttons to brooches. Angels perched on scrunchies and were emblazoned across the fronts of T-shirts and night-gowns and tank tops. Straight ahead was a huge quilt filled with brightly colored fabric angels, all of them pink-cheeked, bright-eyed, and as cute as . . . well . . . as cute as little angels.

Did I mention that I was losing confidence in Eve's plan?

My level of trust dipped a little more when the owner of the chirpy voice that had greeted us stepped out from behind the brightly colored beaded curtain. Rainbow DayGlow was middle-aged, as short as I am, and twice as round. She had a head of springy red curls and wore a flowing tie-dyed skirt that touched her ankles. Her matching top, though it was loose and wide, did not disguise the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. She smelled like patchouli (or was it sandalwood?). Her feet were bare; her toenails were painted purple.

"Blessed be!" She caught sight of me and smiled in an angelic sort of way. What else had I expected? "Can I help you with--" Rainbow's gaze moved past me to where Eve was checking out the display of books with titles like
Getting in Touch with Your Angel Guides
and
Talk to Your Angels and They'll Talk Back
. "Eve! Hey, girlfriend, what's shakin'?"

Eve stepped forward. She was still holding the vial of herbs, and she used it to point my way. "This is my friend, Annie," she said. "We need your help."

"Help?" Rainbow looked around the shop. Outside, Old Town was wall to wall with tourists, but right now, it appeared that none of them was in need of heavenly guidance; we were the only ones in the shop. "You mean--"

"You got that right." Eve hurried toward the beaded curtain, and because I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to do, I marched after her. Rainbow got there before either of us. She held the curtain and stepped aside to allow us into the back room ahead of her.

Did I say
room
?

OK, let me correct that right here and now. The place we walked into was less like a room and more like a cave. Dark walls. Dark ceiling. Dark floor.

In fact, the only light in the place was the single black candle burning in the center of a pentagram painted on the floor in the same silver paint that had been used on the smiling angel on the sign up front.

I screeched to a stop just inside the doorway and plucked at Eve's sleeve. "Are you sure you--"

Rainbow was right behind me, and she prodded me forward, one hand on the small of my back. "The only magic going on here is the white kind. You don't have a thing to worry about."

"But how--?" I gathered my thoughts and my composure. Whatever I had expected when I looked inside the Angel Emporium, it sure wasn't this. "Eve, how do you know about this place?"

It was too dark in there to be certain, but I swear Eve blushed. Since it's not something she does often, I was more curious than ever. Rainbow spared her the effort of an explanation.

"I've known Eve for years," she said. "We took belly dancing classes together back in '95. Remember that, Eve?" Rainbow laughed and did a couple of quick moves that made her hips sway in dizzying ways. Even after she stopped, they kept shaking. "Since then, I've been able to help her a time or two. As a matter of fact, Eve, I've been wondering how that latest spell worked out for you."

The color in Eve's cheeks deepened. She gave me a sheepish grin, and I knew right then and there that I didn't have to ask what kind of spell Rainbow was talking about. Or who that spell was intended to bewitch.

"You've used love spells? On Tyler?" My voice cracked over the words. "Eve, I can't believe you. Why didn't I know about this? How could you even begin to think that this kind of nonsense--"

"Now, now, don't knock it until you try it." Rainbow moved past me and flicked on a light, and for the first time, I saw that the room wasn't as bare as I thought. The wall just behind where she stood was covered with shelves. Each shelf held glass containers on it, and each and every container was filled with some kind of dried herb or powder. Rainbow gave me a knowing grin. "If I'm not mistaken, you look like you might be in the market for a love spell yourself." She reached for one of the jars and held it out to me. "Eye of newt?"

When I went pale, she laughed.

"Just kidding, kiddo!" She replaced the jar and stepped around to the other side of the long counter that was parallel to the wall. "So tell me what you two are up to. You're wearing that serious face of yours, Eve. The one you showed up with the day that son of a bitch Tyler broke up with you. Don't tell me my spell didn't work. Are you sure you did what you were supposed to? Did you sprinkle that powder I gave you all around his house? Every nook and cranny?"

Eve's silence was answer enough. And that was OK with me--I really didn't want to know the details.

She put Beyla's vial on the counter. "We need to know what this is," she told Rainbow. "It's important."

There was another light nearby, the kind that clamps onto the corner of a desk. Rainbow snapped it on and held the vial up to it. She twirled it around in her fingers, looking at its contents from every angle. "Where'd you get it?" she asked as she popped the cork and took a sniff. "Do you know what you're dealing with here?"

"Is it--?" I swore I was going to keep out of it, but I couldn't help myself. The suspense was killing me. I swallowed down the tight ball in my throat. "Is it foxglove?"

"Oh, you're good!" Rainbow looked at me with something like admiration, but in a second, that expression dissolved into concern. "
Digitalis purpurea
. You're not messing with this stuff, are you?"

"We're not," Eve said. "But we think someone else is."

"Then I'm glad I don't know that someone else." Rainbow took another whiff. "Foxglove is not something to fool with. Fresh or cooked in with food, just a smidgen of this stuff can kill a man."

"We think maybe it already has," I told her.

Rainbow's eyes went wide. She put the cork back in the vial and handed the foxglove to me. "I won't have anything to do with that kind of thing. It's nasty, and it works quick, twenty to thirty minutes tops. Did you know that to a person who's been poisoned with foxglove, everything looks blue? Weird, huh?"

Plenty weird.

I tucked the foxglove in my purse. "So where would a person get foxglove?" I asked Rainbow.

She shrugged, a motion that caused her breasts to settle on the counter like tie-dye-draped pillows. "Lots of places. Plenty of people grow it and don't have a clue how dangerous it is."

I glanced at the shelves behind her. "And you sell it, here, too. Right?"

It was just a guess, but I knew I was spot-on when Rainbow backed away from me, her hands out like she was a cop stopping traffic. "I'd never sell it to anybody if I thought--"

"That's not what we're saying. Honest." I did my best to relieve her fears. "We're just trying to get a handle on things."

She looked at my purse as if she could see beyond the faux leather to the little glass vial inside. "It could be mine," she said.

"And the woman who bought it?"

Just as Eve asked the question, the little wind chime at the front door jingled.

"Blessed be!" Rainbow called out, and she headed back out into the shop.

Eve went out after her, and I brought up the rear. But not before I stopped to blow out the candle. I may have been a new woman with a new outlook on life, but there was no use taking foolish chances.

I brushed aside the beaded curtain, stepped into the shop, and stopped dead in my tracks.

The customer who'd just walked in was Beyla.

She looked at Eve. She looked at me. And she took off out the front door like a bat out of hell.

Twelve

HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'M NOT EXACTLY ATHLETIC?

Eve is, of course. Or at least with her slim body and long legs, she could be, if she made the effort. And if she thought that physical fitness was about more than Botox injections and electrolysis. Of course, all things considered, no matter how heart-healthy she was, it probably wouldn't have done a whole lot to overcome the issues that are bound to arise from trying to run in three-inch heels.

I scrambled around a display of angel greeting cards, trying to reach the front door before it slammed behind Beyla. Eve high-stepped after me. I ducked under a mobile, but she smacked right into it and sent the shimmering heavenly messengers that hung from it dancing. I darted out the front door, leaving her behind me grumbling words that never should have been used in a store full of angels. By the time we were both outside, we were breathing hard.

And Beyla was nowhere in sight.

"Now what do we do?" Eve asked. But I'd already formulated a plan.

I pointed to the right. "You head that way," I told her. "I'll go the other way. At least maybe if we can find her, we can talk to her. Ask her what she's doing here and why she ran when she saw us."

"Got it," Eve said. I would like to say that she took off running but . . . well, remember those three-inch heels. Eve took off striding gracefully in one direction. In my sensible sneakers, I hurried off in the other.

Of course,
hurried
is a relative word.

The sidewalks were packed, and I sidestepped a lady with a stroller, a man walking a sickly looking poodle, and a Japanese family taking pictures outside the pub and brew house next door to the Angel Emporium. Even before I got swallowed up by the crowd patiently waiting for the light to change at the next cross street, I knew I was getting nowhere fast.

I stood on tiptoe and craned my neck, attempting to see over the heads of the people all around me. Across the street and three stores up, I thought I saw a flash of black. I didn't know if it was Beyla's clothing, Beyla's hair, or if it was Beyla at all, but I knew that I had to find out. I excused my way through the crowd, looked both ways at the corner, and took off running across the street just steps ahead of a Dash About bus.

I had no sooner leapt onto the opposite sidewalk than a man stepped out of an alley right in front of me. We were outside a little sidewalk cafe, and with tables on one side of me, the building on the other, and the man blocking my path, I was trapped like the proverbial dirty rat.

And Beyla--if it really was Beyla--was putting more distance between us with every second that passed.

"Excuse me!" The man blocking my way was tall, thin, and bald. His back was to me, and he seemed to be busy looking at something down the street. I raised my voice so he could hear me above the sounds of traffic. "Excuse me," I said again when he didn't respond. "I need to get by."

Still nothing. I tapped him on the back.

He turned, startled, and I let out a little gasp. I was face-to-face with Yuri Grul, Drago's former partner.

If Yuri was surprised to see me, he didn't stay that way for long. He took one look over his shoulder, another at me, and one more at the crowd that was coming our way like a wave, now that the light had changed.

Without a word, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the alley he'd just stepped out of.

We were sandwiched between the cafe and the boutique next door. It was shady and damp, and after the press of the crowd and the summer heat that rippled off the sidewalk, I felt suddenly chilled. I hugged my arms around my chest and wondered if I should listen to the cautious voice inside my head--the one that reminded me that I shouldn't be alone with a man I barely knew, out of sight of the crowd. The one that whispered the word
murder
and told me not to forget that whether or not I was playing detective, I might be playing with fire.