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“Hey, welcome back. What can I do you for?”
Dot shrugged. “I was kinda hoping your mother could read the crystal ball for me. I don’t think Hank will want me for his secretary. He favors old Bernice. Maybe I should look for a new job.”
Had Dot stolen that sheet about Jackson and Ives from the paper stack in hopes of ingratiating herself with someone? Who? Besides Hank Williams, the hardware store owner, who wouldn’t understand half of it.
Grumpy old Hank could shake hands and pound a gavel—but someone else was pulling his strings, almost guaranteed. Was there any chance that someone had wanted Clancy out of the way? Was Jax right and they were making this too complicated by bringing in Swenson and Pendleton’s death in California? Maybe it was just local politics at its worst.
“I can read your cards, if you like. I’m not as good as Mavis, though.” Evie shuffled the deck her mother had left on the counter. Keep Dot entertained, and maybe she could pry more information from her. “Did you ever find out why there wasn’t anyone on the reception desk the day Clancy died?”
Dot hesitated over the cards, studying the deck Evie showed her. “Bernice claims Clancy told her to go on to lunch. Her mother is in the hospital, and she’d wanted to drive over to Charleston. She says he promised to watch the desk for her.”
“Huh. Sounds like he didn’t want Bernice around when he offed himself.” Keeping Dot talking, Evie handed the deck over for her to shuffle.
“You haven’t heard? The coroner says Clancy suffered from anaphylactic shock and was probably unconscious when the shot was fired. They found traces of peanut dust on the desk, and his doc says he was allergic. I mean, they grow peanuts all around here. If he was allergic, wouldn’t you think he’d have an epi-pen?” Dot shuffled the deck and handed it back to Evie.
Uh-oh, so much for the local politics theory. This looked even more like Pendleton’s death. Death by allergy wasn’t reliable...
Evie flipped a simple tarot spread. “Maybe he was only slightly allergic. Did someone give him a bag of peanuts? Or steal the epi-pen?” On top of a cat allergy, even a slight allergy to peanuts might have been just enough to knock him out. The bullet to the brain part, though... that was a cover-up,for someone who knew Clancy well enough to know his allergies.
Pendleton’s death may have been a spur-of-the-moment blow to the head. The killer might have learned from that. Bringing peanuts and flinging cats... that was pre-meditated.
Apparently experienced at the cards, Dot winced at the abundance of swords in her layout. “Peanut dust doesn’t sound like he was eating them, does it? One of the peanut farmers must have visited while Bernice was away.”
Not immediately replying, Evie tapped the ace of swords. “All the other cards show you have a problem and you’re conflicted, which you already know, but the ace says you’ll discover a solution. Is it possible Clancy sent Bernice away to keep her from seeing his visitor?”
Dot studied the ace. “That’s possible. He’s done that before. He liked to use city hall as his second office. I wish the cards would tell me what todo, not what might happen.”
“As I said, I’m not as good as Mavis. Consider this a freebie and come back and have my mother read them for you. If I wanted to talk to Clancy’s ghost again, how would I go about it? I’d rather not have people watching me.” Evie shuffled the cards back into the deck and mentally crossed her fingers, hoping Dot might come through with a key.
Dot shrugged and pulled her shoulder bag up. “It’s a public office. Anyone can go in anytime. But keeping people from watching... maybe pull the blinds? Although that’s bound to draw attention.”
The office was right behind the reception desk and had windows open to the hall. Evie grimaced. “Is there a good time when there aren’t too many people around?” Although she really wanted to go there at night or at least when city hall was closed. Spirits were much easier to contact when she wasn’t distracted.
“Weekends. There’s probably no one there today, which means the doors are locked except to employees with keys. That’s not me, sorry. Call Helena, maybe. Thanks for listening.” Dot swung out, leaving Evie to her customers.
Evie had all afternoon to fret. She ate ice cream with Loretta, sold knick-knacks to tourists, did a tarot spread for one of the customers who had seen her do it for Dot, and tried not to chew her fingernails. Jax and Mavis were with the sheriff. R&R were helping Ward. She had to get into city hall on her own.
* * *
“I can’t tellyou anything more than I already have.” Mavis took the offensive the instant a deputy led her back to Sheriff Troy’s office.
Biting back a sigh, Jax took her elbow and steered her into a chair across the desk from Troy. “The sheriff has a job to do. Let him do it. He needs information that you might have and don’t realize, okay?”
Troy didn’t look grateful for the help but did send the deputy for water bottles. “You were there shortly before Clancy died. We need you to tell us who else was present.”
“Why? If he killed himself, what difference does it make?” Mavis wasn’t about to make this easy.
Jax bit his tongue and let the sheriff handle her. Troy had known Evie’s mother far longer than Jax had. He was here as Mavis’s arm candy, apparently. Evie’s mother was slightly taller and broader than Evie and wore thick heels and her graying hair stacked high to add height. In full freight train mode, she could out-dowager a duchess, if duchesses wore caftans.
“The coroner said it would have been difficult for Clancy to hold a gun in place while unconscious from anaphylactic shock.” Troy played along with the pretense that Mavis hadn’t already heard the gossip. “He probably would have died anyway without treatment, so the gun was just a smokescreen. You knew he had a peanut allergy, didn’t you? He’d asked you if there was any herbal solution.”
Jax winced. Clancy had died just like Pendleton. It might be time to fill the sheriff in—but the connection was so tenuous, he felt like an idiot even thinking it.
“I told him just what his doctors told him. Short of building up resistance, we can only treat the symptoms.” Mavis folded her hands over the purse in her lap and sat straight and stiff, the veritable image of an outraged Southern matron, except for the moon and star motif of her midnight-blue caftan.
Jax sat back, crossed his arms, and studied the tiny star studs twinkling in Mavis’s ear. He recalled that Mavis’s aunt was Evie’s Great-Aunt Val, the actress. Drama apparently ran in the family.
“Clancy wasn’t carrying an epi-pen, so I assume the allergy wasn’t serious?” Troy asked, not bothering to take notes.
