Poison Fruit (6 page)

My skin prickled.

“This is the old Cavannaugh property that belongs to Amanda
Brooks.”
Lee pointed to a sizable green wedge on the map. “You can see why someone would want to acquire it if they were looking to develop here.”

I could. “What about Little Niflheim? Who owns
that
property?” Oddly enough, it had never occurred to me to wonder before.

Lee’s cursor hovered over it. “It’s actually owned by the City of Pemkowet.”

I relaxed a little. “So that’s not on the market.”

“None of these were ever
on
the market,” Lee observed. “At least they were never listed. Apparently Elysian Fields made them an offer they couldn’t—”

“Dammit!” I didn’t mean to interrupt him, but a thought had struck me. “I’m an idiot.”

He blinked at me. “Any particular reason?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know how to get hold of Dufreyne.”

“Well, you can try the general number for the investment firm,” Lee said in a dubious tone. “I’m sure they’ll get the message to him. But if he hasn’t returned any of your other calls or—”

“Right,” I said. “He’s not going to return this one. Which is why I’m not going to call him. Amanda Brooks is going to call him to set up a meeting about selling the Cavannaugh property.”

“You think she’d do that for you?”

“She’d better.” I stood up and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder. “She owes me. Meanwhile, keep looking. See if you can find out anything more about this Elysian Fields outfit.”

“Will do.” Lee escorted me to the door. “Hey, did Jen happen to mention that we’re getting together for coffee tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” I said, playing it cool. “Why?”

A tinge of pink had returned to his face. “No reason. It’s just . . . she probably wants to talk about my mom, right?”

Jen had been helping out with Mrs. Hastings while Lee’s arm healed. She’d actually offered Jen a job as her full-time caretaker, and Jen had even considered it before deciding that the old crabapple would make her life miserable—which was saying something, since working for the
Cassopolis family business cleaning houses wasn’t exactly a bed of roses.

“Well, I don’t think she’s changed her mind about the job,” I said. “And I doubt she’s been missing your mom since you got your cast off.”

He laughed self-consciously. “So you think it’s a date?”

“I think it’s coffee, Lee. Ask her out to dinner. Tell her you want to thank her for helping take care of your mom.”

“Good idea.”

“Just call me Cupid.” Hopefully, Lee would never find out I was the one who had sent the text in the first place. Given his paranoid streak, he’d probably think we were making fun of him.

I drove over to the Pemkowet Visitors Bureau office to talk to Amanda Brooks. Somewhat to my surprise, her daughter, Stacey—also known as my old high school nemesis—wasn’t working the reception desk. Instead, a pleasant young woman I vaguely recognized as being a couple of years behind me in high school informed me that Amanda could meet with me in ten minutes and offered me a cup of coffee. I liked the improvement, although in terms of people offering me beverages today, Mr. Leary won hands down.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting across from Amanda Brooks.

“What can I do for you, Daisy?” she inquired, almost sounding sincere. There wasn’t a whole lot of love lost between us, but we both knew that if she’d taken my advice and called off the Halloween parade last month, hundreds of innocent spectators wouldn’t have gotten injured. Frankly, we were lucky there were no fatalities. Oh, and I’d pretty much saved Stacey’s life, although Stacey didn’t give me the credit for it.

“Do you remember that lawyer who wanted to buy the Cavannaugh property?” I asked her. “I need you to call him and set up a meeting.”

Amanda raised her brows, or at least tried to. Botox, I suspect. She was an attractive woman, in a brittle, highly groomed fashion, and she worked hard at maintaining her looks. “Why? I have no intention of selling it.”

It hadn’t looked that way to me—before I’d talked her out of it,
she’d shown every appearance of considering it. “No, I know,” I said. “I don’t think you should. But I want to talk to him.”

“Why?”

My tail twitched with suppressed irritation. Once, just once, it would be nice if she trusted me. “He’s representing a company called Elysian Fields,” I said. “They’ve bought up a good chunk of property around Hel’s demesne.”

She frowned—or again, tried to. “Are you sure? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

It wasn’t just arrogance on her part. Pemkowet was a small town, and Amanda Brooks had her finger on every pulse. The fact that this was happening unnoticed was definitely strange.

“I’m sure.” I played my trump card. “And Hel is concerned. That’s why I want to talk to this Dufreyne guy and find out what’s going on. But he won’t return my calls.”

Amanda drummed her manicured nails on the desk. “Well, that’s highly unprofessional of him.”

Duh. “That’s why I need your help,” I said. “There’s something very odd about this whole business.”

If you’re wondering why I didn’t tell her I suspected Daniel Dufreyne was a hell-spawn, there were two reasons. One, I had no proof. Two, when trying to obtain the cooperation of certain people, it’s best not to remind them that I’m one myself. Amanda Brooks was one of those people.

“All right,” she said reluctantly. “I’m not fond of the idea, but if Hel is truly concerned, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” I made myself smile at her. “Let me know when the meeting’s set up. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t meet with him alone.”

Amanda gave me a suspicious look. “Why? After all, I’ve met with him before.”

Oops. “Just give me this one, will you?”

She hesitated. “Is he dangerous? Because I seem to remember . . . something.”

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “But as Hel’s liaison, I’d like to take every precaution with him.”

“Very well.” She nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks.” I stood to leave. “Oh, by the way, did Stacey take a job
somewhere else? I was just wondering.” Wondering if I could quit bracing myself for the encounter every time I entered the PVB, really.

“You might say so.” A smile of maternal pride lit Amanda’s face, softening her features. “She’s our new head of online promotion. I suggested it after she did such a wonderful job with the video footage of our, ah, manifestations last month. The board approved the position last week.”

Oh, gah.

Six

I
fell asleep that night thinking about the ominous blotch of red on the map Lee had shown me, encroaching on Hel’s territory.

I didn’t like the look of it, not one bit.

I woke up to my phone ringing at approximately six o’clock in the morning, which is never a good thing.

“Daisy?” a woman’s voice rasped in a heavy Alabama accent. “Ah’m so sorry to trouble yuh, but it happened agin, and Scott’s out on the balcony with a gun.”

“What?” I sat bolt upright and fumbled for the lamp on my nightstand. Curled on the bed beside me, Mogwai let out a mewl of protest at being disturbed. “Dawn, what’s happening?”

“He tried to strangle me in mah sleep.” Her voice was thick with tears, and possibly the effects of an attempted strangling. “Now he’s threatenin’ to kill hisself.”

My brain jolted into alertness. “Did you call 911?”

“Yes, ma’am, there’s an officer on the way, only ah thought . . . yuh seemed to know things the police mebbe don’t.”

Shifting the phone against my ear, I rummaged for clothing. “What’s your address?”

“Beechwood Grove,” she said. “Apartment 207.”

“I’m on my way.”

Although I didn’t have the first idea how I could help, I drove like a bat out of hell through sleet and darkness to Beechwood Grove, an apartment complex that had been nice enough when it was first built in the 1970s, but was now a bit run-down. There was already a police cruiser parked in front of the Evanses’ apartment.

Dawn Evans opened the door before I could knock, clad in a ratty aqua-blue chenille bathrobe. Her eyes were red-rimmed and weary, her face was tear-streaked, and there were serious bruises already forming on her throat. “Thank yuh,” she murmured. “Ah do ’preciate it.”

“Scott’s upstairs?” I asked.

She nodded. “On the balcony off the master bedroom. The officer’s tryin’ to talk him down. Ah best get back to him.”

“Let’s go.”

In the master bedroom, a sliding glass door that led to a small balcony was wide-open, cold air and icy sleet blowing through it. Beyond the police officer blocking the doorway, I could see Scott Evans, wearing only a pair of drawstring pajama pants, the muzzle of a pistol pressed under his chin.

Shit.

I must have said it out loud, because the officer glanced back at me. It was Cody, his eyes grave and worried. “Daise. Do you think—?”

I knew what he meant and I shook my head, indicating that it wasn’t an eldritch matter.

He blew out his breath. “Mr. Evans, just come inside for a moment, won’t you? It’s freezing out there. No one can think straight in that kind of cold. I’m freezing. You’re freezing. Your wife’s freezing. Just step inside long enough so we can all warm up.”

“Lissen to him, Scott!” Dawn pleaded. “It’s all right. Ah know yuh didn’t mean to do it. We bin through way worse, yew and me.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Scott bared his teeth in a grimace, but there were tears in his eyes, too. “Bitch nearly got me to kill you tonight, honey. We can’t go on like this. We can’t. I love you, but it’s for the best.”

His finger tightened on the trigger, knuckle whitening.

“Wait!” Cody spread his hands. “Okay, you don’t have to come
inside, but Mr. Evans, Chief Bryant’s on his way. You promised me you’d talk to him. You promised me you’d wait until he got here, right? You don’t want to renege on a promise, do you?”

Scott hesitated.

“He’s right,” I said. “The chief’s going to be pissed as hell if we dragged him out of bed at this hour for nothing.”

Beside me, Dawn let out a choked, hysterical laugh, biting down on her knuckle to stifle it.

“Okay, so we’re all waiting for the chief to get here,” Cody said in a calm, level tone. “No problem.”

I had to give Cody credit—he kept up a steady stream of quiet, innocuous talk, keeping Scott Evans’s attention engaged while we waited for Chief Bryant to arrive. It was likely a technique he’d learned in training at the police academy, but as far as I knew, he’d never had to use it before. Still, it felt like forever before the chief’s car pulled into the parking lot, though it was probably only five minutes.

“Yuh promise yuh’ll lissen to what the man has to say?” Dawn asked Scott.

The muzzle of the pistol remained firmly lodged under his chin, and the slow, steady tears that leaked from his eyes were half-frozen on his cheeks. He was shivering in the cold so hard I was afraid he’d pull the trigger by accident. “Said I’d give him the courtesy, didn’t I?”

She nodded. “Yuh did.”

Jesus fucking Christ, my heart ached for both of them, and I felt helpless; obscenely helpless.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Dawn. “I’m so sorry. I wish I did know something that could help, but I don’t.”

“It means a lot that yuh came,” she murmured. “Mebbe yuh could show the chief inside?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

Chief Bryant’s face was pouchy with sleep and his hair was disheveled, but his eyes were sharp and alert beneath their heavy lids. “All right,” he said in a deep, reassuring voice as he entered the master
bedroom. “Let’s everyone just take this down a notch, okay? Mr. Evans, why don’t you step inside so we can talk man-to-man?”

“No, sir.” Scott shook his head. “I’m fine right where I am.”

“All right, then, why don’t you just hand the gun over to Officer Fairfax?” the chief suggested.

Scott wasn’t budging. Well, except for the violent shivering. “No, sir,” he said politely. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.”

Something caught my eye. Scott Evans wasn’t the only thing shivering. The silver watch chain dangling from the chief’s coat pocket was vibrating visibly.

“Son of a bitch!” I said without thinking. Chief Bryant shot me a look. “Chief, the watch, the watch!”

He glanced down. “Must have shoved it into my pocket on the way out. Force of habit.”

“Take it out!” I said. “Hold it over the bed!”

“Excuse me?” Dawn said in a perplexed tone. On the balcony, her husband looked as bewildered as she sounded—bewildered enough that he’d involuntarily lowered the pistol a few inches.

I couldn’t blame them, but I didn’t want to take the time to explain. Chief Bryant fished the watch out of his pocket and let it dangle over the bed. It rotated in a circle on the end of its chain, the hands on the dial spinning backward.

“Son of a bitch!” I said again. That’s what I got for lending too much credence to a mundane expert. I whirled around to face the open sliding door. “Scott, you’re not crazy. She’s real. The Night Hag’s real.”

He lowered the pistol a few more inches. “She is?”

“She is?” Dawn echoed.

“Yeah.” I glanced at Dawn. “You didn’t put a horseshoe over the door, did you?”

She shook her head. “Ah couldn’t find one on short notice. Ah was gonna call yuh tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “It’s my fault. I should have figured this out yesterday. Scott, will you come inside now?”

He still hesitated. “This is a trick, isn’t it?”

“No trick,” I promised him. “The chief’s watch is genuine dwarfish craftsmanship. It responds to the residue of eldritch presence.”

Scott looked uncertainly at Chief Bryant.

“Crazy as it sounds, she’s telling the truth, son,” the chief said. “I give you my word of honor.”

“That means we can catch the bitch.” My tail lashed with vehemence, my temper surging. “She’s not free to prey on anyone in
my
town.”

“Hell, yeah!” For the first time, Scott Evans smiled, a tight, fierce smile as he lowered the pistol to his side.

Unfortunately, at that very moment the balcony gave an alarming creak. Scott took a lurching step, his bare feet slipping on the sleet-covered wood. His hand clenched on the trigger as he fell backward and the pistol discharged, the gunshot sounding like . . . pretty much nothing but a gunshot. A scream caught in my throat. Scott hit the railing hard, and the pistol fell from his hand. If the balcony had been up to code, it would have caught him, but the old 1970s-built railing was at least a foot and a half lower than current regulations required, and he began to topple backward over it.