“Wouldn’t have been a blue sedan, would it?”
“Nope. Bright yellow Volkswagen with a peace sign on the door.” She grinned.
“When was this?”
“You mean when I got the painting?”
I nodded.
“Oh, years ago.” Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, a bell tied into one of her dreads jingling faintly.
“And you just now put it up?”
“No, it was over there.” She nodded to the opposite corner. “But no one ever really noticed it… not like you are.”
I stared again, my eyes following the branching pattern, the flow of the roots. My pulse ticked higher. I imagined the Black Bandit standing exactly where I was, studying this canvas the same way.
“What do you see, Detective?”
“Witchcraft,” I muttered.
Hazel gave a soft hmm. “Look closer.”
I leaned in until my nose was almost brushing the paint.
“Now,” she whispered, “what do you really see?”
“A clue.”
Hazel leaned in. “I see magic.”
I straightened, took a step back and focused on her. “Why don’t you say whatever it is you’re dancing around.”
She eyed me for a minute. “Fine. I don’t want you idiots to shut down the Moon Magic Festival this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one, I’ll make three months’ worth of revenue in two days. Two, because I’m sick of the divisiveness in this town. I’m sick of the narrow-minded, short-sighted rednecks exploiting stereotypes and spreading fear and propaganda about a religion that is not rooted in evil.”
“You’re talking about Wicca?”
“Yes, I am,” her chin lifted with defensiveness. “Berry Springs should welcome all people, from all walks of life, not just those who ride horses, chew tobacco, and tuck their balls into the left side of their Wranglers.”
“One, thanks for the visual, two, who’s embracing stereotypes now, Ms. De Ville?”
“This is serious, Detective. This is exactly how wars start, how civilizations fall. If we all worked together, respected each other, embraced our differences, andlearnedfrom eachother, the world would be a much better place. Festivals like Moon Magic don’t only bring money into the town, but they also build a sense of community.” She stomped her foot like a child. “Youcannotcancel the festival. I willnothave it. It will lay a dangerous precedent. Our town will shrivel up and die if we don’t embrace others.”
“It will shrivel up and die if someone starts a fire during this burn ban.”
She rolled her eyes. “Because everyone’s going to be smokingdoobies,is that right?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I sipped my coffee—piping hot, fresh. “But I want something in return.”
“Of course you do.”
“Tell me about the Harpers.”
“What in particular do you want to know?”
