“I think they call that motive,” Bixby said. “You have the skills, as we know, also called means. And you’re in the location where he passed. That’s opportunity.”
“I had a perfectly good reason for being here.”
“Right. Pursuit of a lonely ghost dog with a goal of bringing her back to life. I’m sure Big Red has enough magic running through his veins to grasp that. Even though your mother and Liberty don’t quite get it.”
Deep, slow breaths, I told myself. “Why do you do this, Bixby? I’m going to—”
I hiccupped and a sunflower sprouted out of the metal shelf in the gap likely left by the book Angus held.
“Strong little suckers,” Bixby said, chuckling again. “I do it to prepare you. To point out what might come up in discussion with your hot cop. And to let you get those belches out of the way before he arrives. Think about how they’ll sound to him in a tight space. I care about your romantic prospects.”
Sinda pushed through to squeeze in beside me. “You’ve said enough, Mr. Bixby. There’s a fine line between warning and harassment.”
“I have such trouble seeing it,” he said. “Maybe Skye’s blue eye will do better.”
My friend touched my arm, sending a surge of good energy into me. It was much stronger than it had been when we met months ago. What began as a mere tickle was now like a vibrant green vine that grew in all directions at once. Come to think of it, it was nearly the opposite of my firepower, which could wither or even melt objects.
“Ruminate later,” Bixby said. “At best, you only have a few minutes to do your thing.”
Another sunflower sprouted beside the first. “What thing?”
“Smite those flowers, for starters. Then perhaps take a read on Angus. If you want to discover more about magical prison, by all means just stand there and belch. Otherwise, I’d suggest figuring out what happened here.”
“He’s right, Janelle,” Sinda said, reaching out to pluck the sunflowers. They left holes in the metal but when she ran her fingers over the pocked surface they sealed. Her sharp intake of breath told me that was new for her. “Angus is wearing a watch, dear. Perhaps it will have something to say.”
“Right, right.” My psychic abilities were somewhat erratic, but a well-worn piece of jewelry was often my ticket in. Crouching, I rested my index finger on Angus’s watch. Instantly, images flooded into my mind. I saw Cassie as a young girl, her dark hair already a riot of curls. She clearly got that from her mother, who was beaming in every image.
Until she wasn’t.
There were arguments. Tears. Angry gestures. Cassie hid behind her mother, brown eyes huge with fear.
Then it was only Cassie, the smile gone as she grew into the attractive young woman I’d met recently. Happiness only returned when Blaine joined the images.
The last of the older images was the gathering in the mayor’s office at the wedding. I was there beside Cassie and we held matching bouquets of sunflowers, roots dangling. The next image was new. From today, in fact. Angus was in Whimsy, fighting against Harold’s wind as the rest of us watched. He was terrified. More than the situation required, as wind was our only threat.
I waited for more and finally a few images flickered in. The streets of Wyldwood, completely without the charm I’d witnessed. The festive lights were wasted on Angus. Then he was here in the library, pulling out book after book and flipping through the pages. There was frustration and more fear. What he needed wasn’t here. Or if it was, he couldn’t see it.
I started to pull my fingers away but Bixby urged me on from inside my head, where he’d watched the images unfurl like a disjointed movie. “Dig a little deeper if you can. He was holding this book when he passed. Did it mean something?”
“Relief,” I told the dog silently. “This was the one. Angus found what he needed. Crisis averted, or so he thought.”
“Then you’d better check the book now,” Bixby said. “Because it will be taken into evidence.”
My fingers left the watch and moved a few inches to hover over the book Angus held.
“Wait, no!” The dog’s exclamation boomed in my head but it was too late.
I’d barely touched the cover when dark smoke exploded into my mind, crowding out other impressions. It seemed to fill my lungs, too. Gasping for air, I clutched a shelf for support.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Ms. Brighton? Janelle? Are you all right?”
I knew the voice, even though my vision was still cloudy.
“Fine, fine. Yes.” I was sitting cross-legged beside Sinda on the library floor, propped against the shelves. The acrid smoke in my head was clearing, thanks to a steady infusion from Sinda into my arm.
Drew stood over us, trying to take in what was surely a very confusing scene. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call the paramedics? You don’t look well at all.”
“She’s fine,” Mr. Bixby snapped. The snapping was literal. I heard his teeth clack. “I would know if she wasn’t, Big Red.”
Sinda translated for Drew. “She’s coming around nicely. No need for medical assistance, Chief.”
“What’s he so snappy about?” Drew said. “I know he doesn’t love me but I’m trying to help.”
Ren’s laugh sounded farther away and shaky. She was behind Drew. “It’s nothing personal, Chief. Mr. Bixby is just upset about Janelle fainting.”
“It’s to be expected when one stumbles over a body in the library,” Sinda said. “Or anywhere else for that matter. I almost fainted myself when I saw Mr. MacDuff.”
“Indeed, but nothing has shocked Janelle like that before.” Drew’s brow furrowed, as much from curiosity as concern, I suspected. “She’s witnessed more deaths than many.”
Bixby gave a sharp yap in regular dog language. He already didn’t like the direction this was going.
“Bixby, calm down,” Sinda said. “The chief is right to have questions about what happened. Especially after today’s clash at Whimsy.”
“Do not spoon-feed him, Sinda,” Mr. Bixby said. “Let Red do his own legwork.”
