No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells Read online

  It was a short drive to my first stop. The quaint historic section of town captivated everyone with its old buildings lining the cobblestone streets. It made me envision what the town may have looked like years ago when the horses and carriages clomped through. Brick sidewalks spanned the length of Main Street, lined with ornate black lampposts and matching planters filled with red geraniums standing proud, showing off their vibrant color.

  Southern charm was undeniable down every street, along the alleys and in every enticing shop that lined the main thoroughfare. Businesses ran the gamut from old-time barbershop—the one I was about to visit, which gives the shortest haircuts I’d ever seen—to antiques. Two antique shops, to be exact, one of which had the most beautiful credenza I’d ever seen displayed in its window. The buildings were all restored and in great shape.

  The small pizza joint on the corner had a prime spot next to the bookstore, two of my favorite places. There was nothing like buying a new book, then strolling over for a big slice of pepperoni. A small hardware store sat on the corner, but how it stayed in business, I wasn’t sure—the new Home Depot on the outskirts of town was a force to be reckoned with. There was even an old-fashioned soda fountain with the best chocolate milkshakes I’d ever had.

  I made my way through town, pulled up in front of the barbershop, and parked the car. With the heavy traffic, it would have been faster if I’d walked. By heavy traffic, I meant the huge tractor inching its way through town with a line of cars stuck behind it.

  I hopped out from behind the wheel and made my way to the door. The barbershop pole beckoned me and the Open sign blinked in the window. I swallowed the lump in my throat and moved forward. A few men sat around, chatting, but all talk ceased when I walked through the door. You’d think they’d never seen a woman before.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Can I help you? You didn’t come for a cut, did you?” The bald guy with the scissors in his hand didn’t glance up. He looked about as out of place there as I did. He reminded me of a cleaned-up version of a mountain man, except hairless on the top of his head. His dark beard was sprinkled with grey and neatly trimmed. He wore a plaid long sleeve button-down shirt with brown pants.

  “No, I didn’t.” I stayed close to the door. My hand hovered near the knob in case I needed a quick exit.

  “What can I do for you, young lady?” He placed his scissors down and grabbed the little brush, knocking the hair off the guy in the seat who’d just had most of his head shaved.

  Talking in front of the other men wasn’t an option. But it felt strange to ask to speak to him in private. The other men would think it out of the ordinary, for sure. Heck, it was out of the ordinary in their world for a woman to set foot in the barbershop.

  “I’m Elly Blair. I took over my grandmother’s café.” I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb, then handed him the little bag of peach pie.

  A look of recognition lit up his face when he opened the sack. Thank goodness, because now this awkward situation would be a whole lot easier.

  “I need to speak with you about my grandmother.” I motioned toward the sidewalk.

  He nodded. “I’ll be right back, fellas.”

  When we stepped outside he asked, “This is about the magic, right?”

  “Yes.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. Inside the barbershop, all eyes focused on us. I wasn’t sure what Mr. Hanley would tell them about our conversation, but that was for him to decide; I had enough problems.

  “I heard someone busted out the window on the café and stole your grandmother’s book, well…your book now.”

  “That’s why the organization sent me.”

  “They don’t think I had anything to do with it? ’Cause I’ll tell them a thing or two.” His face and ears grew red. Mr. Hanley had always had a permanent red hue, though, always sweating and appearing as if he’d pop a vein at any moment.

  “No, no.” I waved my hands. “They just wanted to know if you saw anything, or heard anything.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you there. But if I hear anything, I’ll let you know. I can’t imagine anyone who’d do such a thing.”

  “Me, either.” I sighed and peered back into the barbershop window. The men remained transfixed. “Yeah okay, thanks anyway. Let me know if you hear anything.”

  Mystic Hollow was a small town but obviously, we weren’t immune to lawbreaking. But someone wanted Mystic Magic. I guess if they took the book that was one way to get me to stop the magic.

  Well, so much for contestant number one. Now on to my next stop and with any luck, it would provide more information than the first. At least I didn’t have to get a haircut.

  The hot sun beat down on me as I rushed back to my Mustang. The temperature had spiked already. The asphalt held in the heat, making the area like a giant frying pan. The next location on my list sat between the only dry cleaner in town and a ceramics shop, the kind of place where you get to paint your own hideous creation.

  I slipped into the Mustang, shifting as the hot leather burned my skin. The torn piece on the driver’s seat poked my legs as I positioned myself behind the wheel. The air in the vehicle hadn’t spit out cold in ages, but at least the radio still worked.

  I parked the car right in front, not a lot of shoppers out at that time of the morning. The Plaid Peacock sign dangled high above the sidewalk—a plaid background and a colorful peacock in shades of lime green, red and blue. A young woman pushing a stroller with one hand and holding onto a toddler crying for ice cream with the other hurried past. I pushed the old door and stepped inside, relishing the blast of cold air that hit my face. A bell chimed, announcing my entrance. An aroma hit me—a mixture of old building and scented candles—I detected cinnamon, apple and maybe pumpkin. I liked the place instantaneously. It made me feel comfy and hopeful.

  “Welcome to The Plaid Peacock,” a sweet southern voice drifted from behind the counter. The short brown-haired woman shuffled papers, her round face popping up to attention. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m just looking, thanks. I thought I’d check your place out.” I glanced around, pretending interest in a floral arrangement. I wanted to get a sense of how she felt before springing the questions on her.

  Homemade folk art signs with lively sayings such as Home Is Where Your Story Begins and It Is What It Is dotted the walls. Knickknacks lined the many shelves.

  “Aren’t you Elly Blair?” Her rosy cheeks spread to reveal a huge smile.

  I furrowed my brow. “Yes, I’m Elly.”

  Was there a wanted poster of me already? The magical screw-ups most wanted.

  “I’m Kiki Adams. I heard about you taking over your grandmother’s café. Let me tell you, lately I’ve had one, okay, ten too many pieces of pie and ice cream from her place, not to mention the chocolate. My waist just keeps expanding.”

  “I know how that goes, the pastry is hard to resist.”

  Kiki moved right along with her chatter. “I read in one of those celebrity magazines about all those movie stars wearing those fancy girdle underwear things.” She paused for a quick breath, then continued, “I heard even Oprah wears them. Now, I don’t know where all the extra fat is squished to, but I digress.”

  I bit my lip to suppress my laughter.

  She looked at me with a dead-serious expression. “I ask you, where the heck does it go to? I mean, for heaven’s sake, where does the fat go when wearing that torture device?”

  I shrugged, but she didn’t slow down.

  She waved her hands in the air. “Anyhoo, I decided to try and find some of that fancy underwear and give it a test run. But of course, there’s none to be found in Mystic Hollow. I couldn’t find even one store that sells it. So I drove all the way to Louisville for a pair and, I swear, I think the darn thing is made from discarded car tires.”

  Biting my tongue no longer worked. My snicker escaped, but Kiki didn’t slow down.

  “Of course, I’m a tad bit
vain, and I opted to get the extra-small size.”

  My eyes widened as I looked at her round waist.

  “Honey, I swear this pair would have been tight on a flea. Why didn’t I get the hippopotamus size that was more fitting to my girth?”

  I giggled.

  “If I could have flipped my belly fat around to the back, I’d have a great J. Lo booty thing going on. Well, let me tell you, if there’d been a camera in that dressing room, I’d be on my way to Disney World or somewhere as winner of America’s Funniest Home Videos. I pushed and pulled. I rammed and crammed until every bit of extra me was tucked in. I had to have the check-out lady cut the tags off right there in line, ’cause there was no escaping.”

  I leaned against the counter, waiting for the outcome of this little yarn. Sure, I was wasting time when I should have been questioning others, but I had a feeling Kiki wasn’t letting me out of the store without finishing her story first.

  “I’m downright stupid, because I failed to think ahead of the time when I actually would have to take the vise off my body to pee. Wouldn’t you know, right after the store I had to go pee? So what did I do? I stopped to eat at Taco Bell and rolled myself off to the ladies’ room. Lord have mercy on my soul, extricating myself from that thing was like stripping off about ten layers of human skin from my body. I believe I actually exposed raw bones in the peeling process. I’m not lying, would I make this up?”

  I shook my head.

  “It was a wonder I didn’t go flipping and flopping and flying through the air like a balloon that’s been blown up and suddenly let go of.”

  “That’s quite a dilemma.”

  “I think I should redesign these suckers. I could make a million dollars by making them crotchless, or by making a detachable flap. But let me tell you, if you need any patches to repair your car tires or hot air balloon, I can cut up that sucker and send some your way.”

  Listening to her story was exhausting. I needed a glass of water and a place to sit down.

  “Kiki, I’ve never heard a story quite like that.”

  She snickered. “Well, I’m full of them. Let me know when you want to hear more.” Her expression turned serious. “I heard about what happened to you regarding the magic, and let me just say it’s terrible. I can only imagine how you must feel.” She paused to catch her breath again. “How are you holding up?”

  Word sure spread quickly with the magical folks. It was like being on the cover of some sleazy tabloid.

  “Thank you, Kiki. I’m doing okay. Things are working out okay.” I diverted my eyes, looking around the store.

  “Does your grandmother know?”

  “No, not exactly.” Grandma probably knew, but she always had wanted me to deal with problems myself. She said it made for a strong character.

  “Tell me what you’re looking for, darlin’.”

  Kiki had cool grandmother written all over her. The one everyone always wondered what it would be like to have. The kind of grandmother who’d hop on a motorcycle, then go home and bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Her black mini-skirt and tights combination revealed legs like a twenty-year-old’s. The dark blouse she wore matched perfectly.

  “I’m not sure. I suppose I’ll know it when I see it. I really love everything in your store. It’s so charming.” I was stalling; coming right out with the question was my best option, so why was I looking at knickknacks?

  “Thank you. Aren’t you precious?”

  I picked up a candle. “These are great.”

  “Those candles are locally made, you know.” She pushed buttons on her calculator.

  “Really?” I picked up another one, taking a long sniff.

  "You’re not here for candles though, are you?"

  I stared at her for a beat, then shook my head. “No. No, I’m not.”

  “Well, spit it out, dear. What’s the matter?”

  “The National Organization of Magic sent me.”

  “Okay. Is this about Imelda?”

  “Not exactly. The café was broken into. The Mystic Magic book is missing. I’m just trying to figure out who did it. Someone who knew about the magic had to take it.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Your grandmother will be devastated.”

  I didn’t need to be reminded of that right now. “I’m afraid I can’t be of much help. I came here really early to work on stock. I drove past the café, but I didn’t look over. Sorry to say I was messing with the radio.”

  “Oh well, I was given a list of people to ask. I’m very sorry if I bothered you.”

  “You’re no bother. I just wish I could help. There is one thing,” she said while tousling her hair. “Henry, the town drunk, has been known to slip into stores with unlocked windows. But I doubt he’d ever do something like break a window or steal. He’d never hurt a fly.”

  “You’re right, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly. I met him already.” But he had mentioned the book. He’d seen Grandma Imelda with it and it had made an obvious impression on him, but enough to steal it? And what would his motive have been?

  “He’s a smart man and very charming, even more so when he’s sober,” Kiki said.

  “What happened to him? How’d he come to live in the hotel?”

  “His wife died several years ago and he’s never been the same. He sold their home and moved into the hotel. He lives off his retirement money. Money for his room and money to drink on, that’s all he needs.”

  “That’s a tragic story.” We stood in silence for a few seconds, then I said, “Thanks again for helping.”

  “Wish I could do more.”

  After contemplating Kiki’s words for a few seconds, I snapped out of my reverie and selected a few candles for myself—cinnamon, lavender vanilla, and blackberry, then handed Kiki the candles.

  “Would you happen to have another one of those iron candleholders over there in the display window?” I asked.

  “Isn’t it lovely? As a matter of fact, you’re in luck. I did order a few more. The shipment should be here any day now.”

  “Well, I want one, so I’ll check back. You’ll be seeing more of me, Kiki. These candles smell wonderful. I’ll take these three.” I took another whiff before handing her cash for my purchase.

  “I’d like that. You come by anytime you want.” She handed me the white bag containing my purchase. It had lime green tissue paper peeking from the top and a lime green ribbon secured to the handles. “Just come by to chat if you’d like.” Her big brown eyes twinkled in the light.

  “I will.” I waved over my shoulder as I bounced out the door.

  That trip had been unproductive other than me spending money I didn’t have. The other visits yielded nothing, either. Someone had to have seen something. With any luck, Tom had turned up a clue. Or even better, he might have already solved the mystery of the missing spell book.

  The Mustang sputtered through the narrow streets, passing an old, weather-beaten gas station and a produce stand along the way. As I neared the café, a red light caught me. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel and looked around. That’s when I spotted them.

  Unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, I saw Kim standing next to the building across from Mystic Café. I didn’t need eyeglasses. Nope. It was her in a tête-à-tête with Tom. As I sat at the red light, waiting for it to change, I watched them. Why would he be talking to Kim? Was it about the magic? She hadn’t been on the list.

  Kim touched his arm and laughed, tilting her head back as if he’d said the funniest thing she’d heard in ages. I’d only seen Kim a few times, but it didn’t take long to discover the touchy-feely thing was part of her attempt to charm everyone she came in contact with. But in spite of her efforts at charisma, there was an aura of intimidation about her. As if she’d better get what she wanted, or there’d be hell to pay.

  The stoplight was taking an insane amount of time to change. Of course, I was a wee bit curious and wanted to know what they were talking about, so that may
have had something to do with the drawn-out time. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel harder, taking my gaze off them and glancing at the light every few seconds. Okay, a lot curious.

  Mostly it seemed as if Kim was doing all the talking, though. Tom nodded a half a dozen times, then he finally stepped away. Kim watched him for a moment, then sashayed down the sidewalk. At least she hadn’t followed Tom to the café. I didn’t want to deal with her at that moment. Actually, I didn’t want to deal with her ever, but I digress.

  When the light turned, I punched the gas and steered over to the curb in front of Mystic Café. Time ticked away for me to find the book and reverse the spell. I sensed it. Soon, it would be too late.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  When I pulled up to the café, Tom was waiting for me. He was leaning up against the side of the building. “It’s about time you made it back.”

  “Some people are chatty.” I left my purchase from The Plaid Peacock in the car. No need for him to know I’d shopped while interrogating Kiki. I figured she’d be more likely to talk if I bought something. Men wouldn’t understand that line of thinking.

  “What did you find out?” he asked.

  “Other than where to buy local candles and how to escape a buzz cut? Nothing. Nothing at all. No one saw anything and they certainly weren’t telling me if they took anything. I didn’t sense any lying from them either, if that’s what you were getting ready to ask.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t be so sensitive.”

  “It’s hard not to be, I’m under a little pressure here. What did you find out? It didn’t take you long.”