Witch and Tell (Witch Way Librarian Mysteries #7)

Chapter One

L alena’s text was urgent: I need to see you. Can you meet me at my place?

I wasted no time setting aside The Body in the Library , the Agatha Christie mystery I was rereading, and locking my apartment in the old servant’s quarters in the Victorian mansion that served as Wilfred’s library.

My cat Rodney trotted ahead of me as I hurried down the hill on foot.

It was a warm day, the kind of August afternoon in which Oregon excelled.

The breeze through the woods smelled of pine needles, and the sky was rich blue and streaked with clouds, like the Florentine endpaper in leather-bound novels.

Rodney’s sleek black form darted through the tidy double row of trailers that made up the Magnolia Rolling Estates and passed under the rosebushes surrounding LALENA ’ S PALM READINGS HERE sign.

I rapped on her screen door and opened it to find her at her kitchen table, her head flat on its linoleum surface, tarot cards splayed around her.

“Lalena? I got here as soon as I could.”

Rodney dashed through the door to greet Lalena’s terrier mutt, Sailor. He jumped to the couch and batted Sailor’s head before settling next to him.

“Josie.” Lalena raised her head. The colorful scarf she’d wound around her head and her vivid lipstick didn’t distract me from her unwashed hair and tired eyes. “Thank you for coming. Help yourself to iced tea.”

I poured each of us a glass from her refrigerator and joined her at the table. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Ian. I don’t know what to do.”

Ian Penclosa was Lalena’s boyfriend. They’d met less than a year ago when he moved to town to open a rare books stall in Patty’s This-N-That.

They were an unusual couple—Lalena, bubbly and open; Ian, shy and intense—but it had been love at first sight.

On walks through town, Lalena kept a hand on Ian’s shoulder while he maneuvered his wheelchair through the streets.

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“We haven’t talked for two days.”

I leaned back in relief. “That’s all? You had me worried.”

She raised her head and leveled a sour look at me. “Two days is an eternity. We’re soulmates, Josie.” She collapsed on the table again but held up a tarot card. “This morning I drew this. The Ten of Swords.”

I took the card from her fingers. It featured a man flat on his belly, stabbed through his back with an armload of swords. It was hard to put a positive spin on this one. “Maybe he’s getting acupuncture?”

“It means death. Termination. Something bad has happened.” She snatched the card from my fingers and threw it on the floor, where it skittled to a stop under the refrigerator.

I tried again. “It’s still a new relationship. Maybe he’s having a little freak-out. Maybe he just needs to back off for a while before moving forward.”

“That’s not it,” she said. “Just last week we were talking about what it would be like to grow old together.” Her gaze took a faraway look. “We were going to take a cruise on the Bosphorus. Ian had been studying the pagan religions of Turkey.”

This would be par for the course for Ian, as a dealer in books on parapsychology and the occult. For his birthday breakfast, Lalena had fried hash browns shaped like pentacles.

“Maybe all you need is a good talk. Clear the air,” I said.

“Look how well that worked for you.”

Ouch . Lalena was right, although she’d never know the details. Since I’d told Sam, Wilfred’s sheriff and my boyfriend, that I was a witch, our communication had collapsed. I was heartbroken.

She reached across the table and touched my hand. “I’m sorry. That was low. Have you heard from Sam lately? I know he’s been out of town.”

I looked at the tabletop and shook my head. Sam was in D.C. on an art theft case, but he had a phone and computer. Still no response to my texts and calls. “We’re not here to talk about me.”

She straightened and rubbed her throat as if a lump were forming there. “It’s worse than I’ve made out. Ian….”

I nodded. “Yes?”

“Ian won’t talk to me at all. I reach out, nothing.” Anguish crept into her voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know if it’s me, or if something’s happened to him.” She pulled her phone from the counter behind her and tapped its screen. “He left me this message the day before yesterday.”

Ian’s voice came from the tiny speaker. “Lalena . . . listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch. Take care.”

“That’s it.” She set the phone face down on the table. “I don’t know what to make of it. It’s not so much that he had to go somewhere, but that he wouldn’t tell me about it.”

How I felt her pain. “Let’s start at the beginning. When did he start to shut down? Or did it happen all at once?”

She drew a long breath. “Three days ago. I’ve thought about it over and over.

We were at Darla’s Café, and he was in the middle of relating some old doctor’s theory of garden fairies when he went blank.

” Lalena’s expression froze as she mimicked Ian’s face.

“Mid-sentence. It was so weird, as if he’d seen a ghost.” She contemplated this a moment.

“Bad comparison, since he’d be psyched to see a ghost. Anyway, you know what I mean.

We finished dinner, but something had changed. ”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“It gets worse,” she said. “We had a date the next day to hit up some estate sales for books. He never showed. Then I got this message.” She lifted her phone. “I had a client, so I couldn’t pick up. Raylene Burns, you know, from the feed store. She has a new beau and needed a psychic consultation.”

I nodded. Raylene’s romantic exploits were conversational fodder around town. Word was, she had her eye on the horse supplements salesman. “Was it something Ian was talking about? Or saw at the café?”

She lifted Sailor to her lap. “I don’t think so. There was nothing around us but diners. The regulars, plus a few construction workers from the renovation at the Empress.” Her shoulders fell. “Oh, Josie. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried. What if something happened to him?”

Our tumblers of iced tea had turned lukewarm, and condensation puddled on the tabletop.

I turned the glass in my hand and nodded across the trailer park.

“His van is still in his driveway, so he couldn’t have gone far.

Maybe he took a cab to the airport for an emergency trip home.

Lots of cab companies have vans that accommodate wheelchairs.

Have you been in touch with his family?”

“I haven’t met them.”

“We could track them down. Where’s Ian from?”

She hesitated a moment before saying, “I don’t know. The East Coast somewhere.”

That much I’d gathered from his accent. Although my research skills were good, they weren’t good enough to query the entire eastern seaboard. Lalena’s mournful expression led me to add, “I wish there was something I could do for you.”

She pushed her tarot cards into a pile. “There is something you could do. You could look for him. Would you do that?” She bit her lip. “I’m . . . I’m embarrassed to ask myself, and I’m worried.”

And hurt. I got that. “Sure. I’ll ask if anyone’s seen him lately. I bet it’s all a simple misunderstanding.”

“I’d appreciate it so much. Thank you.” She gathered the tarot cards. “Mostly, I want to know he’s okay. But, if he is, could you find out why he’s been out of touch?”

This part I was less comfortable with. “What if it’s personal? It should be you who talks to him.”

The hurt in her eyes was palpable. “And say what?”

I understood. I relented. “All right. But I’m not digging too deeply. If he doesn’t want to talk, I’m not pushing it.”

“You’re a good friend, Josie.” She set Sailor on the floor and came to my side of the table. “Stand up. I want to give you a hug.”

Crushed in Lalena’s arms, I glanced at the couch, where Rodney stared with unblinking amber eyes, seem ing to say, Good luck with this one .