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  “I was told to expect you,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be happy to introduce you to the women who worked with Ava.” She pushed back from the desk and came around to where we stood. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she added, lowering the wattage of her smile. “We miss her here.” Travis and I murmured our thanks. I felt like a fraud. We weren’t Ava’s cousins. For that matter, we’d never met the woman. I told myself it was a little lie, a fib that didn’t hurt anyone and could possibly lead to finding her killer.

  We followed Hannah into a large area that had been divided into cubicles with walls that went only two thirds of the way to the ceiling and no doors. She kept looking back at us over her shoulder as if she was afraid we’d get lost along the way. Or because her supervisor had emphasized the need to keep an eye on us.

  “That was Ava’s office,” Hannah told us as we walked past one of several offices with walls that went all the way to the ceiling and doors. “Her replacement is in there now, but she didn’t know your cousin, so we won’t disturb her.” She stopped beside a bank of cubicles to the left of the office. “These are the people who work in accounting.” She took us into each of the six cubicles and briefly introduced us. Everyone was polite and sorry for our loss.

  “I’ve been told that you were given fifteen minutes here.” She checked her watch. “There’s ten minutes left. Please keep that in mind. I’ll be at the front desk if you need me.”

  “No problem,” Travis said. Once she was out of earshot, he whispered, “you take the first three and I’ll take the others.” Given our time constraints it was the best way to go about it. I did my best to make the minutes count, but my mini interviews with Joan and Krista netted me little. There was a general consensus that Ava was a nice person and a good colleague to work with. They were in agreement that Angie had been Ava’s closest friend there, at least until things got tense between them a month or so before Angie split. They claimed to have no idea about what caused the friction between them.

  Travis and I were back at Hannah’s desk at the appointed time. “Any chance we could chat with Ava’s supervisor for a minute before we go?” he asked.

  “Let me see,” she said, dialing his extension. Judging by her side of the short conversation, he wasn’t thrilled about the prospect. She hung up and flashed us a smile. “He’s really bogged down with work, but he said of course he’d take a few minutes to talk to Ava’s cousins.” She pointed to a short hallway to my right with a door at the end of it. “That’s Mr. Nash’s office.”

  Nash was wearing a brown suit, cream shirt and blue and brown striped tie. He had a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee that were probably meant to offset his balding pate. “Come on in, have a seat,” he said, standing behind his desk. “I was so sorry to hear about Ava. What a loss.” Once we sat down, he took his seat again. “I can tell you that she was a hard worker, got along with everyone, a great member of our work family here at Eagle Enterprises. His tone was as bland as his clothing, his words lacking emotional substance. “It’s incomprehensible to me that someone just walked up to her and stabbed her in the back. What’s become of this world?” He shook his head. “Was there something in particular you wanted to ask me?”

  “We’d heard that she and Angie had a falling out. Would you happen to know what it was about?”

  “I’m as much in the dark as anyone,” Nash said. “I don’t think it was work related or I would have heard about it through the office grapevine. You might want to check out Ava’s social circle outside of work. If you’ll excuse me, I’m snowed under here.”

  “One last thing,” Travis said. “Do you happen to know why Angie left her job here so suddenly, packed up her kids, and disappeared a month before Ava was killed?”

  “All I can tell you is that she has parents who live out of state. Perhaps one of them took ill and needed her help.”

  It was too generic an answer for me. “If that were the case, why didn’t she just ask for time off? Or at least tell you she was leaving?”

  Nash turned his hands palm up and allowed himself a little chuckle. “I’m afraid I have no answer for you. It wasn’t as if Angie confided in me. We were as surprised as anyone when she didn’t show up that day. Caught with our pants down, so to speak. We tried to reach her for a week, then we had no choice but to move on and hire a replacement. If one cog goes missing, the whole engine comes to a grinding halt. No sooner were we back up and running at full steam than Ava was murdered. I can tell you—finding someone with her experience was considerably harder. It’s as if someone is targeting our business office,” he added ominously.

  I wanted to say, Wouldn’t it be more productive for an enemy or competitor to target your scientists rather than your bookkeepers? What I did say was, “You’ve got to be so careful these day—espionage is everywhere.” In spite of my good intentions, a bit of sarcasm dripped into my voice.

  Nash’s brow lowered over his eyes, reminding me of drawings I’d seen of Neanderthals. “You are more right than you know,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we are still playing catch-up around here. If you return to reception, Hannah will show you out.”

  On the short drive back to town, Travis and I compared notes on the six women who worked in the accounting department.

  “There was something they weren’t telling me,” he said. “I’ve conducted enough interviews over the years to know when people are holding back information.”

  “I had the same feeling. It was like they were worried about saying the wrong thing—or being overheard saying the wrong thing. Whatever Eagle is working on must be very hush—hush.”

  Travis pulled to the curb in front of Abracadabra. “I’m curious as hell about that government project.”

  I opened the car door. “I’ll try to come up with a plan.” I didn’t say what I had in mind or he’d have me wearing a wire again along with a flak vest. I could teleport into the facility after-hours, snoop around and teleport out. I’d have to go it alone, though. I wasn’t strong enough yet to take someone with me.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Travis warned me. “I know what’s going through your head and it would be a great way to get yourself killed or thrown in federal prison for attempted sabotage and treason.”

  Chapter 27

  The next day Tilly asked me over for dinner. She wanted to try a new recipe for chicken pot pie that she’d seen in a magazine while waiting to see her ophthalmologist. She’d made a similar dish in the past, but it never turned out quite right. The crust was too heavy and sagged into the mixture of chicken, veggies and sauce. She’d taken it hard. After all, the crust was the pastry part of the recipe—the part she should have excelled at.

  Merlin encouraged the new attempt. Not only did he love the dish from his other life in Camelot, but he thought it would be the perfect opportunity to update us on his latest discovery in the ancient scrolls. I was thrilled about not having to figure out dinner for myself, which often meant eggs, grilled cheese, or takeout.

  I fed my clutter of cats. With six of them, it actually seemed like the most appropriate term to use. Bellies full, they settled in for some serious preening, to be followed by their evening nap. I decided to forego the car and get some much-needed exercise by hoofing it to Tilly’s house. Okay, a block can hardly be called exercise, but it was better than nothing. Perspective mattered. If I owned one of those techy exercise bracelets, it would probably be nagging at me all the time to get some exercise. In my defense, it was hard to run a business, care for a household of felines, solve murder cases and still have time to workout at a gym. My mother had tried to come up with a spell that would work the muscles of couch potatoes while they stayed firmly planted on the couch. None of us expected it to work, so we were just mildly disappointed when it didn’t.

  “I’ve never known a spell to work if it promoted laziness or other poor behavior,” Morgana summed up at the time. My own
experience with creating spells had proven her right. I imagined censors beyond the veil, passing judgment on each spell as it was created. In my vision, they wielded celestial black markers to strike down attempts to shortcut one’s way through life’s trials.

  Merlin opened the door when he saw me coming up the walk. He looked like a crazy professor. His hair stuck out around his head as if he’d been struck by a brainstorm, complete with electricity. His eyes were bright, twinkling with excitement over the pot pie or his newest discovery in translating the scrolls—probably both. There was more than a bit of the showman in the wizard, and even an audience of two was enough to energize him.

  Tilly announced that we had to eat first, because the pot pies were ready, and reheating them might destroy their perfect, golden crusts. Merlin didn’t argue. To his way of thinking, nothing trumped food. These pies turned out as amazing as everything else that came out of my aunt’s oven, proving that the failed pot pie should be attributed to a problem with that recipe. Tilly lapped up our praise. Merlin went so far as to pronounce them better than the pies served in King Arthur’s dining room. The three of us were so stuffed that the idea of dessert was met by groans. Merlin suggested it be put off until after his revelations. Tilly and I remained seated at the table. The wizard stood at his place. “My progeny, who gave rise to your ancestors, emigrated from England to this vast land well before it was a country. Have you ever wondered why they chose this specific spot to set up shop?”

  “I have,” Tilly and I said in unison.

  “Ley lines, my dear ladies. It’s all about the ley lines.”

  “Wait—I know this,” Tilly said, holding up her hand to stop Merlin from providing the answer.

  The wizard waited, imitating a clock tick-tocking its way to the end of her allotted time. “Not helping,” she muttered.

  “All the game shows have some form of music when the contestant is thinking,” he said in his defense.

  “I’ve got it,” she called out. “Ley lines are lines of energy beneath the Earth’s surface.”

  “We have a winner! Give the little lady a prize! Sorry, I don’t actually have any prizes,” he added in a whisper, as if there were a larger, viewing audience from whom he was keeping the truth. “But it does add a little zip to the presentation and I do love saying it.”

  “I remember reading something about electromagnetic energy with regard to Stonehenge,” I said. “Is that related to ley lines?”

  “Another winner!” he proclaimed. “According to the scrolls, ley lines carry electromagnetic energy. Stonehenge was built over a nexus of ley lines. Some believe that makes it an energy portal. But that doesn’t concern us at the present time.” He took a dramatic pause before continuing. “It is my theory that something has disrupted the ley lines here and that is why we are all experiencing problems with our magick!”

  Tilly and I gave him a sitting ovation—it had been a long day. Merlin accepted with a gracious, if wobbly, bow. “And now, Matillda,” he said. “Bring on dessert!”

  * * * *

  I spent a ridiculous half hour trying to decide what to wear to brunch with Travis’s parents. Everything I owned seemed either too buttoned up, too girl on the prowl, or too retro flower child. I called Travis for an opinion. “You’d be fine in jeans or chinos and a blouse,” he said. “Don’t over think it.” I finally settled on dark-wash jeans, a white tailored shirt, and a blue tweed blazer with gold buttons. I stuck small gold hoops in my ears and slipped my feet into my most comfortable flats, because it’s hard to be charming with grouchy feet.

  I arrived at the Grotto ten minutes late, not because I was trying to make an entrance, but because a large family of Canadian Geese couldn’t decide which side of the street they preferred. It was very cute for the first minute or so. At minute five, I took matters into my own hands, before an irritated motorist decided he had a hankering for roast goose.

  I left my car where it was and went to stand on the closer side of the road. I’d fashioned a spell for the very same problem several years earlier. I repeated it silently three times. For the benefit of the onlookers, I included a lot of gesturing for the geese to come to me. It would be better for them to think of me as the crazy goose whisperer, than as a worrisome, spell-casting witch.

  In less than a minute, the geese were off the roadway and I received a round of applause, punctuated by the horns of the cars now stuck behind mine. I hopped back in and threw the car into drive. You really can’t make some people happy.

  The Grotto was busier for Sunday brunch than I would have thought. A good half of the patrons were dressed in their church finery. I fit in with the other half. Travis saw me come in and waved to catch my attention. As I threaded my way through the maze of tables, my first impression of his parents was of a handsome couple approaching sixty in conservative style. Travis’s father was tall and lean with well-cut silver hair and intense blue eyes. His mother was more petite than I’d pictured her. Based on Travis’s accounts, she’d been magnified in my mind’s eye so that I’d expected her to tower over her husband. She was quite the opposite, one of those women with delicate features who can pull off short hair and minimal makeup and still turn heads. I immediately felt big-boned and awkward around her.

  Travis introduced me to them as Kitty and Gary. Gary was old school. He got up when I reached the table and pulled my chair out for me. I sat between him and Travis. I wondered if Travis had purposely left the empty seat where I’d be somewhat insulated from his mother or if it was just the way it had worked out. I apologized for being late and told them it was the fault of geese. I left out the part about the spell.

  “We have the same problem on Long Island,” Gary said. “They don’t have any natural predators there, so their population is out of control.”

  “We liked it better back in the day when they wintered in Chesapeake Bay,” Kitty added with a dimpled smile. The waiter arrived before I had a chance to look at the menu, but I didn’t want to hold things up. I listened to what everyone else was having and decided to order the French toast with bananas and caramel sauce like Kitty. I wasn’t trying to insinuate myself into her good graces. I’m just a sucker for anything sweet. If I ordered eggs Florentine like Travis or eggs Benedict like Gary, I’d be craving the French toast for the entire meal and the rest of the day.

  We chatted about our families, our histories, favorite things and pets. Travis steered the conversation away from anything too deep or dark, determined to make this first meeting with his parents a pleasant experience for all of us—except for him. I’d never seen him on edge like that. I did my part to keep things light as well. We almost made it through the meal without incident. The French toast was amazing. I was sipping my coffee, finally relaxing, when Kitty mentioned my magic shop. “The shampoo and conditioner Travis bought for me at your shop last year are truly miraculous. I’ve never found anything that comes close. If you don’t already have a patent for them, you should. Look at my hair—it wasn’t this thick in my twenties.”

  The busboy came by to refill our cups, and Kitty waited until he was gone, before continuing. “The next time my son is in your shop, please remind him to buy me two bottles of each. And if you have a cream or gel to diminish the dark circles under my eyes, I’d be indebted to you. Some mornings I look like I just went five rounds with Rocky.”

  “I promise,” I said. “And I’ll throw in some samples of my other products.”

  “Sign of a good salesperson,” Gary said with a laugh. “Get the customer hooked on things she doesn’t even know she needs yet.”

  “No, no. I’ve just found that my customers like trying different things without spending a lot of money on them upfront.”

  Travis grinned. “My dad’s just messing with you.”

  Kitty gave her husband a slap on the forearm. “It’s best to assume that Gary is always joking. But getting back to your shop—I wish we’d
had the time to stop there. It will be a priority the next time we’re up here. I’m fascinated by how you created all the products you sell. It must take a great deal of research.”

  “I have a degree in botany, but I can’t take credit for most of my inventory. I guess you could say it’s been the family business for a long time.”

  Kitty shook her head. “Travis told me about your mom and grandma. Such a tragedy.”

  Three tables away, I noticed the hostess seating Tess and Ben Webster with their son Conner. I hadn’t bumped into them since the day I saved Conner from smashing his head on the kiln in his mom’s ceramic shop. Conner must have recognized me too. While his parents were fiddling with the kiddy seat, he took off—headed straight for me. I had no idea if Tess was still afraid of me or what she might say in public. But I couldn’t think of a worse time for such an encounter. I considered escaping to the ladies’ room, but it was at the other end of the restaurant. Short of crawling under the table, there was nothing I could do to prevent what was about to happen. I felt like the girl tied to the train tracks with the train bearing down and no hero in sight.

  “Look Mommy—lady from your shop.” Tess looked up and followed his pointed finger to me.

  “No Conner, no!” she called out as she squeezed past tables to reach him. “Conner, stop!” Conner wasn’t listening. He was grinning, pleased with himself for finding me. By then the entire restaurant was watching the race. Would Conner reach me before his mother reached him? I wasn’t giving any odds.

  “Lady, why you not come back to see us?” he asked, tripping over his own feet and lurching forward head first into my lap.

  “Don’t you dare touch him,” Tess said, scooping him up in her arms. Conner immediately started wailing. “Don’t you ever come near my boy again,” she added. Ben had reached our table and was trying to calm his son, hush his wife and apologize to me at the same time. Tess didn’t want to be quieted. “I don’t care, Ben. I don’t care if it is white magic.” She turned back to me. “Stay away from us, stay away from our son or I’ll… I’ll get a court order to make you stay away!” She turned abruptly on her heel and stormed back to their table. Conner was sniffling. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong or why his mother was yelling at the nice lady.