Chapter Six
Six
“Stay here with Bruce,” Luke said. “I’ll go inside and take a look.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sophy began. Her senses were still sparking in response to the warning of the chimes.
“I assume there’s a back door?”
She wasn’t going to talk him out of taking the risk, she realized.
Credit where credit was due. He was a Wells.
He might not have any impressive talent but he had grown up in the security business and he was slated to become CEO of the firm.
He probably knew a lot more than she did about handling a situation like this.
She could almost hear Aunt Bea whispering in her ear. Let the man do his job.
“Yes.” She hesitated and then decided that under the circumstances there was no need to protect all of the Harper family secrets.
One or two could be sacrificed. Luke was risking his neck for her.
“There’s also a concealed door in the storage shed attached to the side of the house.
Electronic lock. The code is zero, zero, zero. ”
“Seriously?”
“Aunt Bea believes in keeping things simple.”
“No offense, but that is beyond simple. The word amateurish comes to mind.”
“You’re kind of a hard-ass, aren’t you?”
“I’m in the security business, remember?” Luke looked at Bruce. “Guard.”
The hellhound immediately took up a position next to her. Once again, battle-ready tension shivered in the atmosphere around him.
She watched Luke melt into the night. He wasn’t even using the flashlight on his phone to navigate the darkness.
She waited with Bruce, aware of her tight breathing, until the front door opened and Luke appeared on the porch. He had a gun in his hand. She was very certain he had not had one on him when he went into the house.
“The chimes sent the right message,” he said. “There is someone inside but currently he’s not a threat.”
“Where did you get the gun?”
“Took it off your visitor.”
“He had a gun?” Shocked all over again, she hurried up the steps. Bruce bounded up beside her, no longer in guard mode. “What’s going on?”
“Damned if I know. Come in and take a look.”
Luke led the way across the main sales floor of the shop.
Crystals of various shapes and colors, chimes, incense sticks, and boxes of Bea’s specially blended herbal teas were artfully arranged on the sparkling glass display shelves.
Jewelry made with polished stones and small amulets glittered in a locked cabinet.
Many of the pieces had been crafted by local artisans.
Bea had used her talent to infuse them with faint currents of positive energy that most people could pick up intuitively, if unconsciously.
On one side of the room there was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase crammed with books and magazines focused on trendy metaphysical themes—dreams, meditation, astral travel.
Sophy knew the layout of the shop and its wares by heart. She and Chloe had grown up in it. They had taken turns behind the counter and they knew how to slip into the smooth patter Bea used to close a sale.
Luke had been right. Most of the objects on display in this room were aimed at the tourist crowd and curiosity seekers who showed up at the lake from May through late September.
There was another pop of business in the week before Halloween.
But winter and early spring were quiet. There were no ski resorts to attract visitors during that time of year, and the lake was too cold for swimming.
There was, however, another sales floor down in the basement, one that provided an excellent year-round income stream.
Bea referred to it simply as “the office.” She called herself a psychic forensic consultant and she worked by referral only.
She possessed a sensitivity to certain kinds of energy that had been infused into objects.
She used crystals to help focus her talent.
Clients searching for missing persons brought jewelry or other personal possessions to her for analysis. Others wanted her to advise them on issues of inheritance, money, or trust. Is he lying to me? was a common question.
Bea’s clients arrived in every season and at all hours, sometimes in the middle of the night. Most paid her without any hesitation. But not everyone could afford her, so she did a fair amount of pro bono work. She always stressed the importance of using one’s talents to help others.
Luke went behind the sales counter. Bruce trotted after him. They both stopped and looked down.
“He’s not dead,” Luke said. “But he seems to have fallen sound asleep in the middle of searching the shop. His ID says he’s a homicide detective from Elk Cove.”
“What in the world?” Sophy leaned over the counter and looked at the handsome man sprawled on the floor. “Damn. Just when I thought this night could not get any more complicated.”
Luke held up a leather badge holder. “You know him?”
“Oh, yeah.” She grimaced. “His name is Mack Rivington. I’ve worked a few cases with him this past year.”
“And?”
“And we dated for a while,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Things did not end well?”
She gave him a sharp, cold smile. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Luke nodded. “Got it. One of your failed experiments. Any idea what he’s doing here in your aunt’s shop in the middle of the night?”
“I’m sure Mack came here for the same reason you did. He wants something from me. Probably my help on a case.”
Irritation flashed in Luke’s amber eyes. She got the impression he didn’t like having his motives for contacting her compared to Mack’s.
“Would you happen to know why he fell asleep on the floor?” he asked coldly.
“Smell that faint whiff of herbs?”
“Yes.”
“He tripped one of Aunt Bea’s aromatherapy traps. They are part of her security system. I set them tonight before we left for the read at the cabin.”
“Why isn’t it affecting us?” Luke glanced at Bruce. “Or him? His sense of smell is a hell of a lot better than a human’s.”
“Aunt Bea’s traps are designed to have a very limited range. Once released, the drug dissipates quickly in the atmosphere.”
“How long will Rivington be out?” Luke asked.
“Hard to say because we don’t know when he got hit or how much he inhaled. Best guess is several hours. The more important question is, what am I going to do with him tonight?”
“I’ll put him in his own cuffs. When he wakes up I’ll have a chat with him.”
The cold edge on the words was alarming.
“What do you mean?” she said. “I’m not Mack’s biggest fan, but he’s a good cop. I’m sure he’s not involved in whatever went down at Deke’s cabin.”
“If he’s such an honest cop, where’s his vehicle? It isn’t parked out in the driveway.”
“It’s probably at the back of the house. Mack doesn’t come here very often but when he does, he is always careful to park out of sight.”
“Why does Rivington want to sneak around?”
For some obscure reason she felt obliged to defend the sleeping man. Mack was in no position to speak for himself.
“He doesn’t sneak around,” she said. “Not exactly.”
“Okay then, why does he go out of his way to avoid being seen here at Bea’s shop?”
“Why don’t you try connecting a few obvious dots?”
Luke nodded. “He’s afraid that if rumors he consults a psychic get back to his boss it would not look good on his record.”
She sighed. “You know how it is. The police don’t like to admit they occasionally use psychics. Often they do it only because the family of the victim insists. And it rarely goes well when they do bring one in.”
“Because they end up hiring a fraud who tries to fake it with some vague line like ‘I see the body near water.’ ” Luke glanced down at Mack and then looked at her, eyes tightening a little. “You, however, are the real deal, and Rivington knows that, doesn’t he?”
“I think so, but he tells himself that I’m just a very keen observer and that I have excellent intuition. Cops do believe in intuition. Everyone does.”
Luke got a knowing look. “Did he keep his dates with you a secret, too?”
She elevated her chin. “We liked our privacy.”
“Thought so. He didn’t want any of his cop pals to see the two of you together, did he?”
“It wasn’t like that. Not exactly. My apartment is in San Francisco, so there was no reason for us to eat at restaurants here in Mirror Lake or Elk Cove.” She made a face. “Okay, it was a lot like that.”
“Don’t you think it’s a striking coincidence that he broke into your aunt’s shop on the very night that I arrived to hire you to read a scene linked to the disappearance of Deke and Bea?
For all we know, Rivington is investigating that murder at the cabin.
If so, maybe he considers your aunt a suspect.
Maybe he came here to search the place.”
A jolt of panic snapped across her nerves. “I hadn’t thought of that. I just assumed he came here because he knew I was in town and wanted me to work for him again. You’re right. We need answers.”
“Which is why he will be sleeping in cuffs.”
“You are not going to question him on your own. I want to hear what he has to say. Besides, he’s more likely to talk to me than he is to you.”
“Because the two of you had a relationship?”
“We’re still friends,” she said evenly. “I think.”
The freight train rumble of thunder interrupted her. Lightning slashed the darkness outside. It was followed by a gust of wind that rattled the windows. Bruce tensed.
“Take it easy,” Luke said quietly. He rested a hand on the dog’s head. “Just a storm.”
The lights blinked.
Bruce whined. He moved out from under Luke’s hand and began to prowl the shop.
“That settles it,” Sophy said. “No one is going anywhere until this storm ends. You and Mack and Bruce are staying here tonight.”
“Thank you,” Luke said. “That’s an excellent idea.”
She folded her arms on the counter. “Why do you suddenly sound so enthusiastic about it?”
“You’ve already had one of your exes—correction, one of your failed experiments—break in tonight for unknown reasons. In addition, we have agreed that Deke and your aunt are in trouble. You should not be on your own here.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Why don’t you think of me as an old friend of the family?”
“Is that intended to be a joke?”
“I thought it sounded better than ‘a potential failed experiment.’ ”
“Don’t worry.” She unfolded her arms and straightened. “Failed experiments are an entirely different category. You and Mack and the hellhound can sleep in the living room. Follow me.”
She stalked behind the sales counter and opened the door to the private quarters.
“There’s a bathroom down that hallway,” she said.
Luke surveyed the cozy living room with its large hearth, reading chairs, thickly cushioned sofa, braided rug, and wooden coffee table. An old-fashioned desk stood in the corner, its top cluttered with papers and books.
“This will do,” he announced, looking pleased.
“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to hear that. I’ll let you haul Mack in here, unless you plan to leave him out there on the shop floor.”
“No, I want to keep an eye on him, and I can’t do that from here.”
“I’ll get some blankets and a couple of pillows.”
She went up the stairs, switched on a wall sconce, and turned to go down the hall to the linen cupboard. The click of dog nails on the steps made her pause and turn around. Bruce was following her.
When he reached the top of the stairs she touched his head. “It’s okay. Just a storm. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other hellhounds that thunder makes you anxious.”
Bruce seemed to accept the reassurance, but he followed her to the linen cupboard, waited while she gathered up an armful of quilts and pillows, and then followed her back downstairs.
Luke was waiting for her. “What are you doing to my dog?”
“Nothing. He’s a little nervous because of the storm. I told him it was going to be okay. We’ll probably lose the power soon. There’s a generator but it’s just big enough to keep the refrigerator, hot water heater, and stove going.”
“All the necessities.”
She looked at Mack, who was snoring softly on the braided rug. “I take it he’s the one who will be sleeping on the floor?”
“We flipped a coin for the sofa. He lost.”
“Maybe because he’s asleep?”
“You snooze, you lose.”
“Good night, Luke. And whatever you do, do not attempt to intimidate Mack when he wakes up. This is my house, at least it is while Aunt Bea is gone, so my rules. One more thing—remove the handcuffs.”
“And you called me a hard-ass.”