“What, like an agent?” She frowns in confusion.
“He means a solicitor,” Maddie states.
“No, I don’t think so.” She folds her hands on her lap and shakes her head stubbornly. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me.”
“Actually, we can. We have evidence and a confession, so we can charge you for drugging Tristan and attempting to drug me. Whether we’ll be adding murder to those charges is yet to be determined.”
“Murder!” Ivy gasps. “I didn’t murder anyone!”
“Well then, you can get a solicitor and tell your side of the story,” Maddie offers bluntly.
“No,” Ivy snaps. “I’m not going with either of you.”
“Look, Ivy,” Maddie says mildly. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You either get your jacket and your handbag and accompany us to the station under your own volition, or we can call a squad car to your quiet little cul-de-sac, lights and sirens blazing, and march you out of here in handcuffs in front of all your neighbours. But either way, you’re coming with us.”
“Fine.” Her eyes narrow calculatingly. “But I’m an eighty-two-year-old pillar of the community. There’s not a jury in the land that’s going to convict me.”
“Wanna bet?” Maddie stares at her flatly. “You broke the law. This isn't Monopoly, there is no get out of jail free card just because you’re old.”
I watch as Maddie helps Ivy out of the chair and she pulls her coat on, reaching down to pick up her handbag while glaring at Maddie.
I don’t know, I’ve got a strange gut feeling about this. There’s no doubt in my mind she absolutely is responsible for what happened to Tristan, but I’m not convinced she’s responsible for poisoning Delores. I guess time will tell. Although I’m hoping sooner rather than later before anyone else gets hurt.
17
“God, I hope this works,” I breathe as we stand outside the bookshop.
“It will,” Dusty says firmly as she reaches for the handle, swings the door open to the chiming of bells, and steps inside the shop. “Evangeline will know how to fix this mess, trust me. She’s been around so long she knows everything. She’s like Yoda in a cardigan with a bag of knitting.”
I follow in behind Dusty and Chan, holding onto Mrs Abernathy’s hand. I’m barely inside the shop when I stop sharply, feeling a powerful wave of dizziness pass over me. I rock back on my heels slightly and blink.
“Hey? Are you okay?” Dusty asks in concern.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
There’s a strange buzzing at the back of my skull, and it feels like my skin is rippling with static electricity and my hair is standing on end. In fact, I’m pretty sure if I was to look in a mirror, my big hair would look like I’d just stepped off the stage at a Country Music Awards.
But the weirdest thing is the strange pull I feel. It’s like something is tugging me in the direction of a solid wall. Only I know it’s not a solid wall; behind there is a doorway to the spirit world. Fuck, is that what I can feel? It’s potent.
“Tris?” Dusty says softly.
“I’m okay, just a little dizzy.”
“I forgot about that,” she murmurs as she studies me. “The first time you experience this place can be a little… intense. The first time we came in here, it almost knocked me on my arse.”
I take a deep breath, even though I’m technically not breathing on account of being incorporeal, but the action is calming, nonetheless.
I nod. “I think I’m okay now.”
As we approach the counter, Madame Vivienne glances up and does a double take so fast I’m sure she’s given herself whiplash. Her eyes widen as she looks first at me and then at Dusty wearing my body. Vivienne rummages under the counter and pulls out a half empty bottle of gin. She fumbles with the lid, hastily screwing the cap off as she lifts the bottle to her lips and glugs shamelessly, her eyes never leaving us.
She finally lowers the bottle as she sucks in a breath.
“Nope, not dealing with that,” she decides aloud and without further ado, she gathers up her gin bottle, a stack of tarot cards, and several books, and scurries behind the beaded curtain, which swishes and clatters in her wake.
“Is she always this welcoming?” Chan remarks with a raised brow.
“My goodness,” a familiar voice says mildly. “You two have got yourselves in a bit of a pickle, haven’t you?”
