Spells (Bayou Magic 2)
“I have a dead body,” I say into the phone around the lump in my throat. “At my shop.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t disturb the scene, Millie.”
“No worries there.”
I hang up and immediately dial Lucien, but it goes straight to voicemail.
If I have to stand out here by myself with this body, I’ll go insane. This isn’t just a hand or a foot. Or even a body in the street, surrounded by a horde of onlookers.
This is a disemboweled man, hanging in front of my door. The message is loud and clear.
It’s a gift for me.
I back away, one small step at a time as if any sudden movements might wake the poor dead man and startle him. My foot falls off the curb, and then arms encircle me. I let go of the scream that’s been stuck in my throat.Chapter EighteenMillie“It’s just me, dear.”
I’m staring at Gwyneth, relieved that it’s her and not a homicidal madman.
“Cash is on his way,” I whisper. “My goddess, Gwyneth.”
“I’m casting a spell so bystanders can’t see this,” she murmurs and swirls the air a bit with her fingers. “This is too brutal for anyone to witness.”
It doesn’t take long for Cash to arrive, followed shortly by other cops, and an ambulance.
“Where is it?” Cash asks.
Gwyneth gestures with two fingers and points to my front door.
“How did you—? You know what, never mind.” He shakes his head and walks over to the body, then shakes his head again and looks back at me. “I’m sorry, Mill.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
“I’ll get this out of here as soon as I can. But we have to work the scene first.”
“Unfortunately, I know the drill.”
Cash’s men quickly block off the area and get to work, and I take Gwyneth’s hand and lead her around the back, not caring in the least that the alley is blocked. We enter the Brew from the back door.
“Why are the lights on?” I wonder, just realizing that everything’s on, the music, the lights. I can even smell coffee. “Who’s in here?”
We hurry through to the front of the shop, and I find Esme staring out the windows. She turns when she hears us approach from behind.
“Whoa,” she says and clutches her chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Likewise. What are you doing?”
“I came to work.” She gestures as if I should already know that. “You know, because I work here. What’s going on? Why is there a naked dude outside the door?”
I glance down at my phone and try to call Lucien, but it goes right to his voicemail again. “Call me as soon as you get this.”
Damn it, where is he?”
“You’re not supposed to be here until ten,” I remind her.
“You’ve been a little busy, Millie. I came in to help.”
“Did you come in through the front or the back?” Gwyneth asks her.
“The front. I hate going through the alley. Gives me the creeps. Besides, it’s blocked off today. What’s going on out there?”
“Was there not a body hanging by the door when you got here?” I ask her.
“A body? Uh, no. Pretty sure I would have noticed that. I’ve been here for almost an hour because I wanted to mop the floor one more time this morning. Someone spilled a full mocha all over it yesterday, and I wanted to make sure I got all the stickiness up.”
“How is it possible that you’ve been here for an hour and didn’t see anyone hanging a dead body in front of the door?” I demand.
“I haven’t been out here this whole time. I spent some time sweeping the courtyard out back, and I straightened up the reading room. I had to clean the bathroom. Jesus, Mill, I do work here, you know?”
“What I know is that you’re here when you aren’t supposed to be, and I walked up on a dead body hanging outside of my business.”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Hold on,” Gwyneth says, holding up her hands. “No one is accusing anyone of anything. Millie, you need a minute. This is a scary thing, and you need to take a breath.”
“I can’t reach Lucien.” I feel tears threaten. I need to hear his voice, know that he’s okay.
“Go try to call him again,” she suggests, and I follow her advice because I’m about to accuse Esme, a woman I trust implicitly, of being possessed by Horace and hanging a dead man in front of my café.
That sounds ridiculous even to my own ears.
Just as I’m walking through the door to my office, my phone rings. “Oh, goddess, you’re okay.”
“Of course, I’m okay. I’m at work. What’s wrong?”
I clench my eyes closed, relieved to hear his voice. I tell him about what I found when I arrived at the shop.
“He looks just like you.”
“He’s not me, darlin’. Is Cash there?”