“Anyway, I need to go. Customers coming in,” I fibbed. It was only a tiny fib; customers probably would come in soon. I usually got a rush just before six o’clock closing time. But I needed a minute to think.
The only person who had lots of money …
No. She wasn’t. Except Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby didn’t really know about Jack and his money. He hadn’t earned much for running the war against the vampires, but when he’d helped save Atlantis from demons, they’d insisted he accept what he’d called a “hoard” of Atlantean gold and jewels.
He was probably a billionaire. Or at least a multi-millionaire. Which was crazy.
Since he wore old jeans and flannel shirts, lived in his old family home, drove an old motorcycle and an even older truck, he wasn’t exactly flaunting his wealth. I didn’t think anybody but me even knew about it.
But he had done things like donate large amounts of money before. Anonymously, mostly. When the town was in danger, all the kids and their guardians and teachers had gone to a theme park for a few days, all paid for by Jack. Nobody knew about that, either.
Then there’d been the clowns and the donation to the hospital and…
Oh, yeah. It was definitely Jack.
Why hadn’t he told me?
I sighed. It probably had never occurred to him because money didn’t mean much to Jack.
I shot him a text:
Any thoughts on who donated money to the town for a new deputy?
I saw the three dots that meant he was typing a response almost right away.
Nope. Maybe somebody who thought if the town had another full-time deputy, they’d quit asking tigers who were minding their own business to help solve crime?
Then he sent me a laughing emoji.
I wrote back:
Busted. But I won’t tell. I love you. Be safe.
I saw the three dots again, but then nothing. He was probably in the middle of whatever it was and too busy to text right then.
Certainly, it wasn’t that he was hurt and couldn’t answer. Not so soon after he left.
“Argh!” I shoved my phone in my back pocket and started my close-of-business chores. Nobody was going to be inconvenienced too badly if the town pawnshop closed half an hour early on a Monday.
When I was on the front porch, locking the door, my phone buzzed. Jack!
Nope.
Susan.
“Hey, Sheriff. What’s up? Ideas for more rock band names?”
“Tess, is there any chance you can come over to my place? Now? I know it’s a little before six, but—”
“I’m on my way. Just locking the door. Susan, you sound upset. What’s going on?”
“My house is full of dangerous magical objects that I had no idea were coming, including a dagger that has a mind of its own and may try to kill me. And my godfather is acting like he’s under the influence of dangerous magic.”
I immediately responded to the most shocking part of that:
“You have agodfather?”
She shouted something to someone and then returned to the call. “Tess. Hurry.”
