Chapter 4
I tipped my head and closed one eye. “How even do you want it to be?”
“In the ballpark.” Jules stretched one bracelet-covered arm to hold up the banner. She had on a swishy skirt and a flowery blouse, both in spring colors. Her silver hair with streaks of brown was pulled up in a messy bun. “I’m not looking for perfect here. Nothing’s perfect in this place.”
The Rookery was an old crumbling building with good bones.
It was as close to a mansion as Ordinary had.
Jules had fallen into its ownership about a month ago (the whole thing involved undead witches and powerful grudges), and she’d declared Dusi and me co-owners of what would eventually be a community art and maker space.
Eventually.
We were currently in a mad scramble to get the place ready for a test opening this weekend.
Bertie was (of course) throwing a shindig starting Friday, which was only a few days away.
This time it wasn’t a festival. Ordinary was in hot competition with a couple coastal towns to see who could collect more supplies and gifts for kids, even though it was April, not the holidays.
I had a good feeling Ordinary was going to have a spectacular showing of goods collected, because Bertie was locked into a fierce, one-upmanship with her sister, Robyn, who was the festival-thrower in Boring, one of Oregon’s other little towns.
It was fun to watch Bertie rise to new heights with her festival plans. I was pretty much a permanent volunteer on her list, but I never got bored with the tasks she asked me to carry out.
But this, fixing up the Rookery, wasn’t for someone else. I was part owner. This was our place.
I loved it and was excited to watch it grow.
“There’s perfection in imperfection.” Dusi stood on the other ladder, hanging the banner that said “Grand Opening” on the opposite wall. “Artists know that. Make it too perfect and it won’t look like it belongs in this world.”
She wore her snakes like braids today and had tied a cute scarf around them that matched her red-and-white-striped palazzo pants.
“Piper?” Jules said. “Is it straight enough?”
“Sorry! Up a little more. Yes! Perfect enough.”
The banner said: Welcome to the new Fool Moon, and it had a colorful illustration of the tarot deck Fool dancing on the moon with a little cat by her feet.
Jules tromped down the ladder.
Little futures flashed…
…and I rushed forward to catch the cat figurine on the shelf just as Jules’ skirt knocked it over.
“Oh, good catch!” she said.
“Thank you,” I chuckled. “I almost didn’t make it.” I righted the statue that looked like her new kitten, Oolong.
“How’s little Oolong doing?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s full of mischief and I’m going to need new curtains. That’s why I left her in the cottage today.”
I grinned. “I’m sure she won’t get up to anything naughty while she’s all alone, unsupervised, in your house.”
“That better not be a seer thing.”
“Nope, just a cat mama thing. When Smuckleberry was a kitten, she was a terror.” I yawned. “She outgrew it. Kind of.”
Jules gave me a look of concern. “Did you get any sleep last night? After everything that happened at the diner?”
“Three luxurious hours. All praise coffee.” I raised my extra-large, quad-shot, chocolate and raspberry mocha. “I’ll have energy for days!”
“You’ll need it.” Dusi stepped down the ladder, fluid and sure-footed as a trapeze walker. “Book club is in a few hours, and I’m sure Xtelle will have many opinions on the book not having any horses in it.”
“We should have a signal,” Jules said. “So we can distract her.”
“I have no idea what distraction would work on the ex-queen of hell,” Dusi said. “No legal ones, anyway.”
“She loves murder,” I said, then winced. “That was supposed to be a joke. It was a long night.”
“Hey. It’s okay. Let’s take a break.” Jules touched my arm and guided me over to the couch and chairs.
The furniture was antique, but sturdy and comfortable. I sat, sinking into the cushions Jules had recently recovered in a lovely floral pattern. Dusi poured us all water and placed it on the low tables.
Jules relaxed next to me, and Dusi sat in one of the chairs.
“How are you, Piper, really?” Jules asked.
“I’m fine. I was trying to be funny.”
“You are funny, but last night was enough to shake up anyone. Do you want to talk about it?”
I nodded, relieved I could tell my friends anything. “I feel so bad for the victim, I really do. But I’m also sad this happened at the Blue Owl. That’s one of my safe places you know? It’s like a second home to me. To have something so violent happen there makes me feel…vulnerable and unsettled.”
“Of course it does.” Jules reached over and patted my hand. “It’s an awful thing.”
I knew she was speaking from experience. Her old house and shop had been broken into just last month.
“But more than all that, I’m worried about Jean. She looked so lost and afraid.”
“Have you heard anything more about her?” Jules looked as worried as I felt. “I tried calling Delaney and she said Jean’s fine and the investigation is ongoing.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t storm down to the police department and demand answers,” I said.
“Oh, I did. But I got the same answer from Myra and Ryder and Hatter and Shoe. Do you have any insider knowledge?”
“I used my powers a little. At the crime scene.”
“Oh, that’s good. What did you see?” She looked so hopeful and encouraging. Of all of my friends, Jules had always been the one who wanted me to be proud of my ability, even though I wasn’t very good at it.
“It’s a jumble. The future—futures,” I clarified, “are a jumble. I see little things that might happen but only some of it ever does. Free will messes up every possible tomorrow.”
“It’s powerful stuff,” Jules agreed.
“And with all of us shaping the future just by being alive and making decisions and taking actions?” I shook my head. “It’s hard to pin down the real future.”
“How do you know which one is most likely to happen?” Jules asked.
“Gut feeling, I suppose. Plus, I’m older than I look. I’ve had practice.”
“Was there anything the jumbled futures had in common?” Dusi, ever practical, asked. “Anything that repeated?”
“I did see Jean under house arrest in a few of them.”
We were all quiet for a moment. I drank more coffee.
“No,” Jules said firmly, as if finishing an argument with herself. “Jean couldn’t have killed that man. And Delaney wouldn’t lock up her own sister.”
“Delaney might not have had a choice,” I said gently. “She has to follow the law.”
“Could it have been an accident?” Dusi asked, still focused on the crime. “Could Jean have killed him on accident?”
Jules looked at me like I’d know.
“I don’t know how it could have been an accident,” I said honestly. “He was stabbed in the back. But I agree, Jean would never kill someone.”
They both murmured in agreement.
“Hatter and Shoe questioned all of us for hours,” I said. “So did Delaney. They might have found some really good information that points to the real killer. And hey—don’t worry! I know the police will figure it out. They’re the experts.”
Dusi made a considering sound. Jules shook her head.
“You know…we’ve had good results,” Dusi said.
“We found two criminals,” Jules added. “One was a murderer.”
“Hold on,” I said. “That was different. This is…he was very dead. There isn’t magic or trickery involved here. There was a stabbing. This is real.”
“Murder’s murder,” Jules insisted. “With magic or without it.”
She looked sad but also determined to make this better for Jean. Dusi just looked determined to solve the crime. I knew where this was going.
Little futures flashed:
We were all looking for clues in a dark room, with flashlights?
Jean, running for her life
Jean, arrested, in jail
I stilled. Out of all of those, I only wanted the first to come true. I very much didn’t want the other two to come true.
I made a fast decision. “Yes, I think we should look for clues and prove Jean’s innocence.” My heart was beating fast like I’d just run sprints.
I had just made a choice that might change the future.
What if I had chosen wrong?
What if I’d just messed up the future for all of us?
Futures bubbled and fizzed and the world swayed. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I didn’t want to see Jean jailed or running for her life. Surely, looking for clues was a better future. This could be a good choice. This future could be the one where it all worked out.
“Yes!” Jules clapped, interrupting my worries. “That’s the spirit. Let’s solve the mystery. When do we start?”
“After book club,” Dusi said. “We still need that signal to distract Xtelle.”
“How about we snap our fingers, then change the subject?” Jules said.
We all snapped.
“Great weather we’ve been having,” I said.
“Did you hear about the Rookery opening this weekend?” Jules added.
“One of my snakes hates worms,” Dusi said.
That made me laugh. “Is that true?”
She nodded. “Snilly gets the willies.”
I heard the tiniest hiss of agreement from one of her braids.
I chuckled and finished the rest of my drink. Little futures that were variations of the same thing flashed. “Time to get the tables in place for the artists—oh, we are doing that next, right or am I future-assuming?”
Jules chuckled. “We are.”
“Also,” I said as another future flashed, “we’ve got about an hour before Bertie comes by to see our progress.”
“She’s coming early?” Jules stood and looked around the place like she was assessing a battlefield. “What mood is she’s going to be in?”
“Bossy and business-like.” I grinned. “But I don’t have to look into the future to know that. She’s always bossy and business-like.”
Jules laughed that big laugh of hers and started toward the tables stacked by the wall. “Well, except for when she’s with Tark.”
“Tark?” Dusi asked.
“You didn’t know?” Jules threw over her shoulder. “They’ve been seen flirting. In public.”
Dusi had on her mirrored sunglasses so I couldn’t see the surprise in her eyes, but she smiled. “Well, good for her. Good for both of them, I suppose.”
“Speaking of dating,” I teased, giving Dusi a look.