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The sort of day I’d hoped I might encounter after moving to such an out-of-the-way spot. It seemed a shame to waste it indoors.
The store just opened last night,I told myself with a mental shake.You can’t turn around and close it for the rest of the day just because the weather is nice.
True. And it was a Saturday, and therefore my best chance at getting some tourist traffic. It was one thing to close the place down for twenty minutes so I could run out and grab a sandwich. It was something else entirely to shut it because I was getting spring fever.
Still, even though I went back to Once in a Blue Moon and dutifully took down the “Be Back At” sign — and hid my half-eaten chicken salad wrap under the counter when a few tourists actually did wander in — I couldn’t quite ignore my itchy feet. Something was telling me I needed to get out.
Okay, then. I’d stay open for a while longer, but close early. Not too early, but early enough there would still be some daylight.
Daylight for what?
I got a quick flash in my mind — a fast-moving creek with grasses hanging over its bank, and the lush, fresh green of cottonwood trees in the background. A blink, and the image was gone.
Even as the question began to form in my mind, I realized what I’d seen.
The place where Lucien Dumond had died.
Oh, hell no,I told myself.Bad enough you’re a suspect. Now you want to go and disturb a crime scene?
If there was even anything left to disturb. Surely, Calvin and his deputies had already gone over the spot with the police equivalent of a fine-tooth comb. Maybe I could go out there and poke around, see if I picked up on any vibes or got any psychic flashes. That happened to me sometimes as well; it wasn’t all Tarot cards and pendulums and crystal balls.
And usually, if I was vibing with something, that meant I needed to follow my instincts.
At four-thirty, I put the sign back in the window, signaling that the store would be open again on Monday at 11 a.m. Since I’d noticed that most of the other locally owned shops in town had haphazard hours at best, I figured no one would mind too much if I wasn’t open from ten to six every day. And although I still didn’t quite know what I’d do with my days off, I figured I couldn’t work seven days a week.
When I went upstairs, Archie lay in the middle of the hallway, licking a forepaw. His location had probably been chosen to ensure I couldn’t possibly avoid him, so I stopped a few feet away and crossed my arms.
“It’s too early for your dinner,” I said.
Immediately, he stopped ministering to his paw and got to his feet. “So, now you’re a murder suspect?”
Archie had made himself scarce during Calvin’s visit — he definitely hadn’t been loitering in the office, his usual hideout — but I realized it was too much to hope for that he’d slept through the whole thing. I gave what I hoped was a casual shrug as I said, “Maybe. I don’t think Chief Standingbear knows what to make of the situation. He’s pursuing another lead right now.”
There, I’d managed to say his official name without cracking a smile.
However, my feline roommate didn’t look impressed. “He came here to collect evidence.”
“Possibleevidence,” I corrected him. “Anyway, I’m innocent, so there’s nothing to worry about. Actually, I’d think you’d be happy to know that Lucien is no longer a threat. At least you don’t have to worry about me disappearing off to L.A.”
“No, just to prison,” Archie remarked, his tone lugubrious in the extreme. “For a witch, you don’t seem to be very skilled at managing your own luck.”
I wanted to tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about, but since I had to admit that the last twenty-four hours hadn’t been exactly all that great, I decided to keep from clapping back at the cat. “Working on it,” I said. “In fact, I have something I want to check on before it gets dark, and we’re burning daylight.”
“Check on what?” he asked, green-gold eyes narrowing in suspicion as he followed me into the bedroom.
“I don’t know yet.”
Because I was already wearing a black T-shirt, I only had to slip out of my skirt and into a pair of jeans to prepare for my outing. As soon as my fingers slid beneath the elastic waistband of the sparkly peasant skirt, Archie’s eyes widened in alarm, and he bolted from the room.
There. I knew that would work. Any time there was the slightest chance he’d see me anything but fully clothed, he beat a hasty retreat.
There was more than one way to manage a cursed cat.
When I emerged from the bedroom in jeans and hiking boots, he watched me with narrowed eyes. “I assume from the footwear that you’re not going to Walmart.”
“I might be,” I allowed, since I thought I probably should head over to the store after I was done with my…well, whatever it was I intended to find out on the San Ramon Apache reservation.
For a second or two, the cat didn’t respond. Then he let out a small huff and said, “I need more treats,” before stalking into the office so he could curl up on his bed.
