Tiger's Eye (8 page)

Rationalizing behavior that authorities may construe as poor judgment is another Geraghty trait. One I was getting better at every day I lived here.

Not that I was proud of it.

A few minutes later, Leo and Gus came through the tree line.

“Why couldn’t we bring him, Chief? You know he doesn’t like to be away from you.”

Leo muttered, “Not now, Gus.”

“Who?” I asked.

“He’s such a cute little thing, Stacy.”

“Gus,” Leo warned.

“What, Stacy likes dogs.” Gus was talking and moving like a man with way too much caffeine in his system. “You know how all them dogs came running around the park yesterday? Well, most of them had owners who lived right in town, but this little Chihuahua had nobody, see—”

I swung my head toward Leo. “You adopted that piranha? Are you kidding me?”

“He’s a good dog.”

“He tried to eat all four of my extremities,” I said.

Leo laughed. “Yeah, he really doesn’t like you. But he’s great with everyone down at the station. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“Try explaining that to his next victim when he goes for the jugular.”

“How about you explain why eight of the dogs recovered were considered deceased by the people who buried them?”

I swallowed hard. That wasn’t good. How could that happen? Lost dogs, yes, but resurrected dogs? That was way too much. If Birdie found out I had screwed up that bad, she was going to kill me.

“Can we just get on with this, please? It’s been a trying day.” And my grandmother’s sure to make it worse when she hears about my drunken, botched spell.

Gus flipped open a notebook and I explained where in the lake I saw the body, leaving out the part of momentarily turning into a mermaid. I listened as Leo told him who to call first for the dive and then I remembered the phone. I pointed them to that as well.

“Is that it? Can I go now?”

“Yes. I think we have everything we need. Are you going to cover the story?”

“I don’t know.” I stuffed my towel in the bag and slipped my cover-up on. “That’s up to Parker. Come on, Thor.” He came prancing up to me and I clipped the leash on him.

We were halfway up the bank when Leo called, “One more thing, Stacy.”

I turned back.

“You look amazing in a bikini.”

I pulled into the driveway at the inn and cut the engine. Thor’s tail thumped in anticipation, and I decided it might
be a good idea to have a chat with him. I swung my arm over the seat and turned to face the dog.

“All right, my friend, listen up.”

Thor’s ears tilted toward me.

“When we go inside, I want you on your best behavior, do you understand?”

He groaned and slapped a paw on the passenger headrest.

I narrowed my eyes. “I mean it. That girl in there is in pristine condition and she’s going to stay that way until I can find her family. So that means”—I counted on my fingers—“no sniffing, no licking, no leg-lifting, no googly eyes, and—above all else—keep the lipstick in the tube. Comprendo?”

Thor slapped his other paw on the front seat, settled his chin between the pair, and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Good. Let’s go.”

I hopped out of the car, slung the bag over my shoulder, and circled around to open the rear door.

Thor decided I hadn’t properly toweled him off at the beach so the second his paws hit the pavement, he shook his entire body forcefully, head to tail, launching a loogie at my chest.

I tried to wipe it away with my damp towel, but only managed to maximize the snot stain.

Thor sat down, waiting patiently.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

He blinked, innocently.

I bent over, my face near his. “Let’s not forget that you were the one who kicked Chance out of bed last night. Consider us even.”

He snorted and trotted up the steps while I fished for a key. It was close to 11:30 when I twisted the door handle. I could still smell the freshly picked strawberries and mint from the garden. Lolly must have made her signature berry crisp.

Fiona had asked me to come by at noon, but rather than change clothes at my place first, I thought perhaps they needed help cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Plus, on Sundays, Thor was treated to a special feast, which was why I’d kept his breakfast light.

What I didn’t expect was a Metallica song rushing at me, accompanied by a thin, heavily tattooed man who spent too much time in the sun and not enough time at the dentist.

“Oh, hey there, mama.” He raised his chin. “Sup?” He punched a button on his phone and turned off the music.

“Nothing much. Sup with you?” I hung my bag on the hall hook.

The man, who looked to be past forty, was drinking what appeared to be a Bloody Mary and his hair was still wet from a shower. He was wearing biker boots and a muscle shirt that read
More Cowbell
. He tucked a chunk of hair behind his ear and said, “Just chillin’. Long night, you know. My ears are still ringing.”

He smiled and lowered himself into a tufted pink chair adorned with ivory tassel trim and lace doilies. I couldn’t help but think he would look less out of place if he were about to sit down to tea with Queen Elizabeth.

Then he crossed his legs and reached for a coaster, carefully arranging it on the end table before he placed the glass on top of it. He double-checked to make sure it was doing the job.

I glanced at Thor, who didn’t know what to make of the guy. He paused, then gave the all clear by curling up on the cool tile in the hallway and closing his eyes. Only his nose moved, searching for a clue as to what was on today’s menu.

“Awesome dog. Saw him last night. He yours?” The guy took a sip from his Bloody Mary, carefully lifting it and placing it back on the coaster.

“Yep, all mine. That’s Thor.”

The man smacked his head. “Geez, sorry, chica.” He stood. “Where the hell are my manners? I’m Brian, but my friends and the band call me Buzz.”

“Oh, you’re in the band. You guys were great last night, really great,” I said.

He smiled and thanked me. Asked if I was staying at the inn as well.

“No. Actually, I’m the granddaughter. I just came by to help out.”

“Well, your grandmother sure knows how to put on a spread.” He slapped his stomach. “I’m stuffed.” He lifted his glass and said, “And I don’t usually drink, especially not this early, but Lolly makes the best Bloody Marys.” He took another sip.

“Well, it was great to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you around. By the way, I’m Stacy.”

He stood and extended his hand.

A jolt surged through my body the instant I grasped it. Then the vision came. The man from the lake in the plaid shirt, yelling about something. A look of surprise on his face. Then a shocking blast of wet cold and…darkness.
The scream I had heard when I was playing in the outfield echoed in my head as the image faded.

“Hey, hey, Stacy. You all right?”

I realized I was gasping for air. I had to get out of there. Away from him. I backed up, slowly. “I’m fine. Just a little hot is all. I just need some water.”

He took a step forward, looking confused, concerned. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get it.”

“No!” I said too loudly. I smiled at him, trying to mask the nervousness. “I mean, it’s fine, really. I just overdid it swimming is all.”

I glanced at Thor. His legs were twitching. Asleep.

“Thanks, though. See you around.” I fled.

It wasn’t until I was halfway down the private hallway that I stopped and looked back.

Had I just grasped the hand of a killer?

Chapter 10

I gathered my composure and swung the door open to the kitchen. Fiona was standing at the sink, lemony suds popping all around her as her hands scrubbed a stubborn copper saucepan. Her auburn locks were twisted into a chignon and she wore a breezy linen blouse with matching pants. Espadrilles adorned her pedicured feet.

I heard the clinking of glasses and plates coming from the dining room, but I didn’t see Birdie or Lolly.

“Hi, Aunt Fiona.”

She had a smile on her face when she turned around, but it disappeared the moment she laid eyes on me.

“Heaven’s, child, what happened to you? You look like you’ve been through a car wash without the car.”

Yeah, fighting with a dead sea urchin will strip the shine right from your hair.

“I went swimming with Thor. I would have changed, but I wanted to see if you needed help cleaning up.”

She rinsed the pan and set it in the drying rack and turned back to me. “Actually, we’re all done here. Lolly
is just putting away the dishes. Did you meet any of our guests?”

Should I mention what just happened? The visions that hit me when Brian touched me were intense. But what if I were wrong? What if the energy had just projected onto him somehow? He was at the park yesterday, after all. Perhaps he met the deceased?

Or maybe he was there when the cement block was chained to the dead man’s ankle.

I decided to tread lightly. “I did meet one, yes. Brian. Said he was with the band. I was wondering when they had the chance to check in with having to play that late.”

Fiona waved her hand. “Brian and his band, The Hell Hounds, have been staying here for years. I just gave him a key after the softball game.” She grabbed a towel and began drying the saucepan. “They play at Cinnamon’s tavern sometimes too.”

At times, I felt like I had never left; other times it was as if I had been gone a million years. I had never heard of this band before and certainly had never seen them perform at the Black Opal. Cinnamon might be a better source of information than the aunts on this guy. It was one thing to be on your best behavior at a bed-and-breakfast run by three older ladies, but at a booze-fueled bar, people weren’t as guarded.

I turned my attention to the initial reason for my visit. “How is Keesha? Did you learn more about her?”

Fiona was rummaging through the refrigerator. She pulled out some leftover pot roast and sweet potatoes, grabbed Thor’s dish from the cupboard, and set it on the counter.

“Oh my, yes. She’s quite the chatterbox, that one. She’s resting comfortably.”

She turned the oven to two hundred degrees and scooped the meat and potatoes into the bowl, then opened the freezer for a bag of green beans. She dumped that in the bowl as well and spooned some gravy on top. Then she put the whole thing in the oven.

“Why don’t you just get a microwave?” I asked.

“Whatever for?”

She pulled out a stool and sat, looking tired and not nearly as youthful as she had the night before.

I fixed us each an iced tea and sat across from her.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Are you all right?”

Her eyes sparkled like emeralds in the sunlight. “I’ll be fine, just didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked. Lots of visitors last night.”

Oh boy. “What do you mean?” Of course, I had a pretty good idea.

“Well,” Fiona sighed and smoothed out her slacks, “of course there was little Keesha, who had a great deal to talk about, but there were many other dogs who came to me in my dreams—dogs I had known long ago even—seeking guidance on this or that.” She frowned and sipped her tea. “It was odd, really. Not only had I never had so many spirits appear in one night, but usually they are varied in form—not just canine.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked at me. “Where was it you found Keesha?”

“At the edge of the woods, past the baseball diamond in the park.”

I could see the wheels turning as a thought clicked into place. “The old pet cemetery rests in those woods.”

Well, that certainly explained a lot. I had forgotten all about that cemetery. I sucked in a breath as I recalled helping Chance bury a pet there once.

Fiona cast me a suspicious look. “You wouldn’t happen to know
why
I had an influx of visitors last night, would you, dear?”

I sipped my tea.

Birdie descended the stairs, a trail of lavender following her, and asked, “Would someone explain to me why there is a dog sleeping in my bed?”

“Fiona’s was too soft?” I offered.

Birdie gave me her unmissed look.

“Stacy was just about to explain that, Birdie.”

Betrayer! I shot Fiona a glare. She usually protected me from Birdie’s wrath.

Fiona patted my hand and grinned.

“Okay, but then you need to tell me all about Keesha.”

Fiona nodded and Birdie crossed her bare arms, her bracelets clanking together.

I explained how I couldn’t find Thor and I was worried so I performed a spell. I took them through it, step-by-step.

Birdie rolled her eyes and leaned against the island when I was finished. She crossed one sandaled foot and her purple skirt fluttered. “So not only had you been drinking, but you performed a spell on your own familiar?”

“Yes.” I looked from one to the other. “Is that bad?”

“Bad?” Birdie asked, incredulous. “Is pouring gasoline on a fire bad?”

“Yes.”

“What about using a sledgehammer to pound a nail into drywall? Would that be bad?”

I wasn’t a carpenter, but I could glean the correct answer from her tone. “Yes, I think that would be bad.”