Murder Under Cover (15 page)

Whenever I visited my parents now, I always went home with a bag of apples. Everyone in town did. Mom was known as the Apple Lady at the local grammar school. I guess that was better than being known as the Murder Scene Queen. Just saying.

After lunch, Mom helped Robin move to the chaise longue and tucked a blanket around her. With great care, she daubed some cream on Robin’s swollen face and set a glass of bright green parsley water on the nearby table for her to drink.

I hoped Robin knew better than to touch that stuff. I still had nightmares about parsley juice, Mom’s cure-all for most ailments.

Then Mom turned to another of her cure-alls. She pulled a disposable lighter from her pocket, lit a small bundle of sage incense, and blew on it until it was smoky, filling the air with its pungent aroma.

“I’ll now recite an original healing love chant,” she announced. She bowed to Robin, then bowed to the four directions and hummed loudly. Waving her arms and shaking the bundle of smoking sage above Robin’s head, she began her chant.

I started to applaud but Mom stopped me. “Not yet, there’s more.” Then she swayed and hummed and continued in an even deeper yet louder tone.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a burst of applause.

“Wow, Mom, that was really something,” I said.

“Beautiful, honey,” Dad said, his eyes moist with emotion. “I think that was your best one yet.”

“I feel the fire,” Robin said, and I didn’t dare meet her gaze.

Mom laughed breathlessly. “That was crazy!” Her cheeks were flushed pink as she fell back into her chair. “Now, Robin, that spell was created especially for you. It’s meant to cleanse your aura, lift your spirit, and allow your heart to find joy again.”

“Sounds like you threw in a little dose of the wild thing, too,” Dad said, dancing in his chair as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, jeez,” I muttered.

“I do what I can,” Mom said modestly. She bounced up and kissed Robin’s cheek. “We’ll take good care of you here, sweetie.”

“Thank you, Becky,” Robin whispered.

Derek squeezed my hand as he said to Mom, “It was lovely, Rebecca.”

“Why, thank you, Derek,” she said, beaming. “I’ve been trying out a few new chants. I don’t know if you could tell, but I improvised some of the words.”

I raised my hand. “I could tell.”

“I’m feeling better already,” Robin said, nodding in encouragement. She coughed as Mom blew more sage smoke over her head.

Then Mom stopped abruptly and listened to something only she could hear. “I believe it’s working.”

At that moment, the sliding glass door opened and my brother Austin walked out to the patio. He’d come straight from the vineyards and was still wearing his dusty cowboy hat, faded jeans, scruffy boots, and a white T-shirt covered in dirt.

Sometimes I forgot how beautiful he was. His skin was tanned from the sun and his dark blond hair was streaked with gold.

Austin had traveled all over the world but had finally returned to Dharma a few years ago to live and work the land with his family and friends in the commune. He wasn’t some kind of weirdo hippie freak, I swear. On the contrary, he loved football and beer and cars and girls. He liked to shoot and hunt and fish. He also loved good books and fine wine. And he loved this place, the hills, the trees, the grapes, the earth. He was basically an all-American guy, if you didn’t count the fact that he was raised in a commune with two Deadheads for parents. You know, the kind of parents who would name their firstborn son after the Texas town in which little Austin was conceived after a wild night watching the Grateful Dead perform with Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan. Apparently it had been quite a show.

I gave a little cry of joy, jumped up from the table, and ran to hug him. His blue eyes danced with pleasure when he saw me.

“Hey, farmer,” I said. “Gosh, you’re filthy, but it’s still great to see you.”

He ruffled my hair. “Hey, book girl, you look fantastic.”

I brushed some residual dirt off my sweater as Derek stood. Austin greeted him jovially as they shook hands. They’d always liked each other, which was a relief. I’d tried dating guys my brothers hated, and those relationships were always doomed from the start.

“Hello, Austin,” Robin said after the greetings died down.

At the sound of her voice, he smiled at the rest of us. “There she is.” Then he turned and got his first look at Robin. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”

I smacked his shoulder. “Knucklehead.”

Robin tilted her head to meet my gaze. “What every girl longs to hear.”

He whipped around and faced Mom. “Why didn’t you tell me she was hurt?”

Mom frowned and shook her head. “Why would I tell you anything, sweetie? It’s not as if you care about Robin one way or another, is it?”

“Care about—” He shook his head in disgust, then walked straight over to Robin’s chaise and crouched down beside her. “Of course I care about you.”

“Really? Who knew?”

He touched her chin gently with his fingers. “I hope I’m not hurting you.”

She sniffed. “You’re not.”

Stroking her hair, he whispered, “It’s really good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Austin.”

I edged a few feet closer so I could hear everything they were saying.

Austin said, “I understand you’ll be staying here for a few days.”

“That’s the plan.”

Austin glanced over his shoulder at Mom and Dad. He was frowning. If I didn’t know him better, I would’ve said he looked confused. But Austin was never confused. He’d always professed to know exactly what he was doing.

Returning his gaze to Robin, he murmured, “I’ve got to do this, babe.”

“Do what?” Robin asked in a tentative voice.

“Trust me?”

She stared deep into his eyes as if mesmerized. “I guess so.”

In one sweeping motion, he lifted Robin out of the chair and into his arms. “You’re coming home with me.”

“Put me down,” Robin insisted.

Dad jumped to his feet. “Austin, no.”

“Austin Wainwright,” Mom declared, “you put that girl down right this minute. She’s in pain and needs her rest.”

He turned patiently and said, “She’ll get plenty of rest, Mom. But . . .” He shook his head again, looked around as though he were seeing us all for the first time. Then he gazed at Robin. “I need her with me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mom said, clutching her hands nervously.

Robin shoved her hand against his chest. “I won’t sleep with you.”

“Yes, you will.”

“In your dreams.”

He whispered something to Robin that made her laugh—despite her best intentions, it seemed. Then Austin stalked toward the wide walkway at the side of the house and disappeared with my best friend in his arms.

“I guess I don’t know my own strength,” Mom muttered, as she crushed the still-smoking sage into a small bowl.

“You’ve got strong magic in you, Becks,” Dad said, and gave her a quick hug. “Especially when it comes to the wild thing.”

“I’m not listening to this.” I pressed my hands to my ears and stared at them in complete bewilderment. Did Mom and Dad really think it was her chanting that brought Austin here? Was that what caused him to go temporarily insane? To fall into lust? To kidnap my BFF?

I glanced at Derek, who was watching me thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

“Not to discount your mother’s skills,” he said, sitting back in his chair, “but I think Austin and Robin appear to be two consenting adults who’ve known each other a long time.”

He was right, of course, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I supposed stranger things had happened up here in Dharma land. I just couldn’t think of anything right off the bat. Robin and Austin had always been hot for each other, but the timing had never been right for one or the other. Now . . .

Was that what had happened? Was the timing suddenly right? Was it all about Austin and Robin? Or was Mom’s power increasing? Was she starting to chant love spells that actually worked? And if it was only an enchanted love spell that got them together, wouldn’t it wear off eventually? Wouldn’t one of the interested parties complain that they’d been coerced into something that wasn’t of their own free will?

Whoa, what was I smoking?

There was no such thing as a love spell, enchanted or otherwise. Clearly, Austin and Robin had just experienced a simultaneous moment of supreme lust. I could dig that.

My only concern now was that I didn’t want Robin to get hurt again. But there was nothing I could do about it except follow Derek’s lead and keep it simple and positive.

After all, Robin had looked so happy and Austin so downright determined when they left. Who was I to worry or judge or interfere? All I’d wanted to accomplish in bringing Robin to Dharma was for her to be safe, away from bad people and out of the city. I’d achieved that goal.

I turned to Dad, who still looked shell-shocked. Feeling about the same, I held out my wineglass. “More, please?”

“Good idea, Punkin,” he said, and filled everyone’s glasses with golden, bubbly liquid.

As we all recovered from the shock, Mom filled us in on what was happening around Dharma. We talked and laughed and enjoyed the view of the rolling green hills covered in vineyards, broken by picturesque thickets of gnarled oak trees.

Mom was particularly proud that Annie’s kitchenware store, Anandalla, had been written up in several cooking magazines. Annie Karastovsky was relatively new to Dharma. She was the long-lost daughter of my former bookbinding mentor, Abraham. The whole town, and especially Mom, had adopted her as their own.

Gabriel’s recuperation was another of Mom’s triumphs. The formerly mysterious stranger who had saved my life in a noodle shop on Fillmore Street in the city, Gabriel was still in Dharma after almost dying last month, when he was struck in the head by a killer’s bullet. That attack had led to a daring sting operation and the arrest of a murderer. Gabriel had recently moved into a bungalow a mile away from Mom and Dad. I was surprised to hear that he seemed to be enjoying the slower pace of life up here. In his spare time, he was helping out Guru Bob with his massive library project.

Guru Bob, by the way, was more properly known as Avatar Robson Benedict, the leader of the Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness, the artsy Sonoma County commune my parents had joined years ago, back before the commune got rich from the grapevines they grew and the winery they built. Back before the commune property was incorporated and morphed into the charming town of Dharma. Back when we all lived in Airstream campers. Those were the good old days.

Mom regaled us with the antics of the Wiccans who lived in the next glen over and how they’d finally accepted her into their coven.

“Wait’ll they hear about the power of my love spell,” she said.

“Do you think they’ll elect you chief witch?” I asked.

She laughed. “Oh, sweetie, you make it sound like the PTA.” But her eyes glittered with intent as she added, “No, they’ll install me as grand raven mistress of the most high druidic pentangle, if they know what’s good for them.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

Finally, after securing Mom’s promise to call me with any news of Austin and Robin, Derek and I took off for the city, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge just before sunset.

As we wound our way through the Presidio, then onto Lombard until we reached Van Ness, my thoughts focused on Austin and Robin again. Were their paths about to merge for real? Or was it just that Mom’s ability to bust a love spell was more potent than we’d thought? Nope, I reminded myself. It wasn’t a love spell. Just some heavy-duty lust. Nothing wrong with that.

“Never a dull moment with your family,” Derek remarked as he parked the car in my building’s garage. We laughed about the afternoon as we stepped inside the old-fashioned, industrial-size elevator and rode it all the way up until it shuddered to a halt on the top floor. The ancient elevator was one of my favorite features left over from the corset factory that had inhabited this building once upon a time.

In contrast to the clunky old elevator, the corridors leading to the lofts were modern and elegant, with pale blue walls, contemporary white sconces, and wide sisal runners laid over the original dark wood flooring. Since mine was the top floor, there were skylights in the halls to further lighten the space.

Derek and I held hands as we walked to my door. It felt comfortable and
right
somehow to be coming home with him. But maybe that was just me, still reeling from my mother’s enchantment spell.

“Thanks for taking the time to drive up there with us,” I said.

“I was glad to do it. I would’ve hated to miss your mother’s stories of Wiccans and covens. Although,” he teased, “the ‘hey, nonny, nonny’ chant was my favorite.”

I laughed as I reached into my bag for my keys. “I’ll give Robin a call tomorrow and see how she’s doing.”