Phantom Quartz: A Stacy Justice Witch Mystery Book 6 (Stacy Justice Magical Mysteries) (16 page)

Chapter 32

“Why would I have a picture of your mother on my cell phone?” I stalled.

Think, Stacy.

“That’s what I just asked you.” Monique waved the phone at me.

I accessed Fiona’s magic, conjuring an image of Thor in my head. “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s not your mother.” Focusing on the phone, I concentrated on sending the image in my head  to my phone. “It’s a pic of my dog.”

For the love of Artemis, please let it work.

Monique squinted and examined the phone once again. Her face scrunched up and she did a double take.

“May I have my phone back please?”

She plopped the phone in my hand and scratched her head. “Sorry. The woman’s been on my mind a lot lately. She’s driving me batty. She’s been all clingy this week like every time I step out the door, she thinks I’m going to be hit by a bus.”

That was curious. “Oh? I wonder why.” What were they up to? I had never known my mother to be friends with Farrah Fontaine. She had been a few years ahead of my mother in school and Mom never really talked about her. Come to think of it, I hadn’t known she was friendly with Evelyn Leary either. Although Evelyn was close with Chance’s mother, so perhaps they had met at some function I couldn’t recall.

“Who knows? My mom’s never been a warm and fuzzy kind of gal. It’s creeping me out, and not in the same way you do, either.”

I casually opened the cooler, pretending to assess the beer situation. “Maybe something happened. Did she mention anything?”

There was a clipboard on the bar and I grabbed it, checking the boxes for the beer we would need.

Monique finished cutting the limes and piled them into a plastic tub at her station. “Not really.” She paused, thinking it through. She pointed a bottle opener at me. “Actually, now that I think of it, she
has
been going out more.” Monique shrugged. “I just thought she had a new boyfriend or something, but she doesn’t really date.”

If the resemblance wasn’t so uncanny, I would have sworn Monique had been adopted. “Maybe you should ask her what’s going on. Sit her down for a chat.”

Because that’s what I was going to do with my mom. After I tied her to a chair and slipped her a truthing spell.

A wistful fog crossed Monique’s face, then she stiffened. She cocked her head to me and said, “What are we, friends now? Mind your own damn business, Justice.”

I sighed and continued with the inventory, thinking about my own Pentacle. As the Seeker, I was one point of the star, there was also the Guardian, John, the Warrior, Ivy, Blade, our latest addition, was the scribe, and Birdie was the Mage. The design was implemented when the Tuatha Dé Danann gifted their treasures to the first Druids. Both parties signed a treaty and throughout the ages, people have been chosen to guard the gifts at all costs. Those appointments now came directly from the Council.

So how could I be feeling the same kind of energy from the people sitting at the table?

A gust of wind blew through the bar, and the jukebox roared to life with another song from the same old movie. This time it was
Wild Summer Nights
, a punchy tune that made you want to speed down an open road in a muscle car with the top down and your shoes kicked off. “Gears are power shiftin’ down the Old Escape Road / All the kids are dancin’ as the jockey spins gold / Everybody’s fakin’ that they’ll never grow old...”

Monique jumped out of her skin. “Jesus Christ! What the hell? Is that on a timer or something?”

“Yes,” I lied.

Ponyboy sauntered up to the bar and I said, “Monique, can you grab a case of Chianti from the basement, please? I think that may be the drink of choice for the crowd tonight.”

She looked at me blankly. “You want me to go in the basement? No way.”

Ponyboy thumbed to Monique. “She looks like she’s packing some ammo under that blouse. You should tell her to open the curtains a bit wider.”

I held my eyes on Ponyboy as I wiped the bar down. “Fine, then you can take out the trash tonight and hose down the spill mats.” I knew she hated dealing with anything sticky, which was ironic, given her history.

Monique blew out a weary sigh. “Isn’t the basement where they found the body a while back?”

“Yes, but she’s not there anymore, and you
are
getting paid.”

Ponyboy said, “A dead body in the basement? Cool. Was that your case?”

Monique exaggerated a shiver. “Fine.” She tossed the towel she was using to wipe down the bottles on the bar. “But if I see a ghost, I’m out of here.” I tossed her the keys, and she clunked off toward the basement door .

Ponyboy watched as Monique tried to navigate the key ring, fumbled, dropped it, then tried six keys that didn’t fit into the lock before she finally found the key labeled ‘basement’. She twisted it into the lock, turned on a light, and clunked down the stairs.

Ponyboy stared at the space Monique was just inhabiting, a bemused look on his face. “Your partner doesn’t seem too bright.”

“She’s not my partner. Now what are you doing here?”

He bounced up and down on the stool. “Thought maybe you could use some backup. I know some sweet moves.” He did what he thought was some kind of Jiu Jitsu chop-kick combo.

“I don’t need your help, kid.”

He feigned a wounded look. “Now see that hurts, Red. I thought we were developing a rapport, and then you go and call me kid.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “You can’t be here, Ponyboy, I’m serious. You’re fifteen. Fifteen–year-olds are not allowed in bars.” Pointless, yes, but worth a shot to get rid of him.

“Oh come on, I won’t order a drink or anything. You don’t have a TV, and you took away that booby gadget. What am I supposed to do?”

“Why don’t you go home?” Maybe if I could coax him to go to his own house, I could convince him he didn’t belong on this plane any longer. Why was he here anyway? Had he been murdered? Did he die tragically? Was it him in that car? I made a decision then to stop at the paper on the way home to see if I could locate any archives about a missing kid and a missing car. Most of the original archives had been mistakenly wiped out long before I took over the paper, and a fire had destroyed the library hard copies, but there was a collector in town who’d been working with Gladys, our researcher, to load them onto drives.

He tilted his head as if contemplating. I sucked in a breath.

“Nah,” he said. “This is more fun.”

Terrific.

I grabbed the ice bucket. The tune still pounding away from the jukebox. “Shipwrecked pirates claim their treasures in the sand / Sidewalk surfers ride the streets in super vans...”

Ponyboy stared at me as I poured the ice into the well. He was drumming the bar with a pair of straws, when Monique came back upstairs.

I swiped the straws from his hands and whispered. “Look, if you stay, you cannot touch anything, got it?”

“Why not?”

How could I explain to a ghost who didn’t think he was dead that random objects floating around the bar might spook the customers?

“Because you’re a wild card, and you’ll blow my cover.” I tilted my head toward Monique.

The young spirit’s eyes widened and he winked.

Monique said, “Who are you talking to, Justice?”

When I turned back, the stool was vacant and another song was playing on the jukebox.
Runaround Sue.

I knew it was going to be the longest night of my life even before everything went to hell.

Chapter 33

An hour later, Monique and I had served up drinks to a few locals and several tourists when a flurry of Italians swarmed the bar followed by the Geraghty Girls. I was feeling a bit fuzzy by then, so I downed a shot of tequila as Cinnamon’s relatives carted in trays of sausage and peppers, chicken vesuvio, fresh bread, antipasto platters, mostaccioli, and of course, Angelica’s famous cannoli. They began pushing tables and chairs together in the backroom and I cued Monique to start opening the Chianti.

“Ah, Stacy,
mi bellissima
.” Mario kissed my hand. “Come, eat. The family wants to meet you.” His eyes were glued to Monique’s ass.

“Maybe later, Mario, I still have a few customers.”

I poured him a glass of Chianti and asked where Carmella and Bianca were.

Mario said, “Carmella likes to window shop. She’s making lists of all the things she want me to buy her.”

As far as I knew, Mario sold jewelry on the streets of Florence. He was a get-rich-quick schemer, but his schemes rarely panned out. From what I understood, his last trip here was paid for by Cinnamon’s mother. So how could he afford to toss money around like it he was rolling in it?

He thanked me for the velvety red wine just as Angelica walked up to the bar.

“Ah, Stacy, you’re a good girl taking care of Cinnamon’s place. My house is so small for this group, eh?”

Angelica lived in a cramped apartment above her bakery.

“No problem, Auntie. You know I’ve got my cousin’s back.”

She reached over and patted the bar. “I know. I can count on you.”

Angelica asked me to bring over some wine and water, so Monique and I loaded up two trays full of glasses, Chianti, and a pitcher of water, and delivered them to the expanded table. There was a lot of chatting, hand waving, scooping, and pouring, and we were coaxed to join them. I begged off, but Monique pulled up a chair and a plate and sat next to the sexiest dreamy-eyed guy in the room.

Ponyboy was back, sitting in a corner of the bar like he was on a stakeout. He winked and I winked back. As long as he didn’t touch or move anything, I was okay with him hanging around. Maybe someone he recognized would come in and he’d float home with a patron.

The Geraghty Girls were the only living people sitting at the bar at that time, so I circled around to the well and faced them. In front of each of them sat shimmery, glittery bottles draped in ribbons, and capped with crystal stoppers.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“These are gifts for the baby,” said Birdie.

She had glued a four leaf clover to the front of hers, the caption
Leprechaun Gold for Luck,
painted beneath it. The jar held tiny flakes of gold inside. I really wanted to get to the bottom of the whole leprechaun thing, but I figured this wasn’t the time.

Lolly’s bottle was taller, the glass blue, and it was labeled simply,
Wishes
. There looked to be dandelion puffs inside. Maybe even stardust, but that wouldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

The third jar was round and squat. Fiona’s gift read,
Giggle Dust for Happiness.

The little one had her very own fairy godmothers. “Those are really beautiful. Cin and the baby will love them.”

Birdie said, “We thought it might be best if you delivered them to her, since we haven’t been ourselves.”

“Yes, dear, we’re afraid the magic may fade if we keep them any longer,” said Fiona.

“Or that we’d drop them and they’d break,” said Lolly.

“No problem.” I grabbed a clean towel and carefully wrapped each jar, locking them inside my bag in the office. I stopped, noticed Cinnamon’s emergency labor bag was again under her desk, so I thought better of it and placed the gifts inside that.

When I returned, the Geraghty Girls had their heads together in deep discussion. Fiona was still in casual attire mode wearing a pair of leggings and a long sweatshirt. Lolly had on skinny jeans and a knit top. Birdie was still wearing her usual skirts and bangle bracelets, although she was also sporting a newsboy cap.

They adhered to Rule Number One and ordered colas. I poured those as they pulled out the notebook that had been in their magic chamber earlier.

Birdie leaned forward. “We did some digging for you,” she said conspiratorially.

“Oh?”

Fiona said, “Yes, we used the Intercept.”

“Internet.”

“That’s what I said.”

Lolly said, “Did you know you can Foogle someone’s name and find out things about them without using any magic at all?”

“Google.”

“Exactly.”

I rolled my eyes.

A few customers walked in and I motioned that I’d be right back. I poured a few drinks and I noticed the man Monique had cozied up to was leaning over the jukebox. Ponyboy was keeping a close watch on him.

I slid back over to Birdie and the aunts and said, “What have you got?”

There were six names on the list—all people who had attended the drunken football game—and we went over them one by one.  Mario, they learned, was on a few dating sites, and they’d found Facebook pictures of him with Carmella in different parts of Europe, looking blissfully happy. They hadn’t found any dating back more than a couple of weeks, which I thought was suspicious, but he could have just met her. Whirlwind romances happen, I suppose, although I still thought they went together about as well as peanut butter and hot dogs. Mario had come into some sort of windfall, but they didn’t know the source. Just that he’d Tweeted about it.

Next up was Rocky, the hottie Monique had her eye on. Rocky had been in the leather business since he was ten years old. Nothing seemed odd about him except for the fact that he’d taken a shine to Monique, but hey—when in Amethyst.

There was another woman-Angelica’s cousin, Lisa, who had no online presence whatsoever. Fiona pointed her out to me. She looked young—mid-thirties, with a sassy short hairdo reminiscent of old Hollywood.

“It’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? Not to be on the line for someone so young.” Fiona asked.

“Online.”

“That’s what I said.”

I stared at Lisa, who was laughing with Angelica. As if she felt my gaze on the back of her neck, she swiveled her head, catching my eye. She smiled and waved. I waved back.

The last two men were Angelica’s uncles, twins who owned a trattoria together in Palermo.

I thanked them and tucked the notebook in a sleeve by the register.

“Did we help?” asked Lolly.

“Very much. You saved me a lot of time.”

They really had.

Birdie said, “I’ve been trying to reach Tabby all day, but she won’t return my calls. I’ve scoured the bylaws of the council and it seems that what she said is true. They can strip you of the Seeker role.” She looked crushed and my heart twisted into a knot. This was all she ever wanted for me, to become my true self. I reached over and grabbed her hand. She jolted.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. I don’t know why I keep shocking people.”

Lolly said, “I do. You’re tuned to your magic now more than ever, and you’re feeding off others who have it or who are connected to your power.”

“Well then do me one more favor, ladies.”

Birdie said, “What’s that?”

“Scour the Blessed Book and find a way to reclaim your gifts.”

The three of them exchanged glances. Fiona said, “All in good time, Stacy. You can’t harness magic. It travels where it’s needed.”

With a rustle of bar stools, they stood as a unit and sauntered over to the feast, chatting up their house guests and Angelica. I watched them mingle like only Geraghtys can, laughing,  smiling, and charming, all the while scrutinizing for the rat in the pack.

So who was it? Was the shifter in this room?

I was just about to pour myself a glass of wine, debating on if I wanted to tell Birdie about my mother and my uncle, when my youngest aunt caught my eye. It was the briefest of looks but it held a lifetime of meaning.

With that one look, Angelica said simply, “We’re family.”