“Me?”
“Maybe someone’s trying to keep you occupied and therefore out of the way.”
“Out of the way of what?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But didn’t that weasel with the cupcakes—”
“Jamie.”
“Whatever. Didn’t he say Tristan came to San Francisco to work with Renee-the-cupcake-lady?”
I had wondered about that as well. Could Tristan really have been the male practitioner to Renee’s female? Had he been after the lachrymatory in the shoe box? A contribution to her collection of grief and tears, an offering to her foundation of power?
“So maybe now she’s angry with you, sending cupcakes and a fake Sailor to confuse you and keep you busy. Out of her way.”
“But wait,” I said. “The Sailor look-alike killed Tristan, right? If Renee is manipulating the look-alike, and she wanted to make Tristan her male counterpart, then why would the look-alike kill Tristan?”
“Good point.” She sat back, defeated. “So much for playing junior detective. I need another drink.”
“Have one—you’ve more than earned it,” I said. “But I have to get back to the store, plus I’ve got an appointment at four to look at some wedding dresses.”
Patience let out a bark of laughter. “You really are a piece of work. You outrun a Sailor look-alike one moment and try on wedding dresses the next?”
“At this juncture, it would feel good to cross one single item off my to-do list. Anyway, lend me money for a cab?”
“A cab in San Francisco? Dream on. You’ll be waiting an hour. I’ll get the food to go, and call us a Lyft. I’ll go back with you.”
Before we left, I asked Patience to pick up the napkin with the sigil on it and place it in the center of my old-fashioned embroidered cotton handkerchief. Then I tied the handkerchief’s corners together, wrapping the napkin up so I wouldn’t physically touch it.
“Why are we doing this?” she asked.
“I don’t want to take any chances in case it really is a demon’s sigil. If I carry it on my person, I might accidentally invoke it.”
She looked skeptical. “How does a person ‘accidentally’ invoke a demon? I would think it would be pretty complicated.”
“For a normal person, sure. But I think we both know I’m not particularly normal. You know how, in moments of stress, a person might pray or say, ‘Oh please oh please oh please’?”
She nodded.
“When I do that, I could focus my intent enough to set off a chain of events I didn’t fully intend. It’s been known to happen.”
“So you’re like a ticking time bomb ready to go off.”
“I have the sense neither of us walks the easiest path.”
Once we got back to Haight Street, Patience left tospeak with Renna and ask if she was able to see anything useful, as well as to make sure as many Rom were lined up to help as she could get. As Patience sashayed down the street, her swishing skirts turning plenty of heads, I realized I was glad to have her on my side. On Sailor’s side, to be more precise, as I was fairly certain she wouldn’t go out of her way to help just me. But that was good enough. All I wanted right now was to get Sailor out of jail, figure out what the hell was going on, and find a wedding dress.
I glanced at my watch. I had just enough time to check in with the gang at Aunt Cora’s Closet, and then head over to the estate sale. Fingers crossed, one of the dresses would be perfect. That way I’d be all set—just in case I could find a way to spring my man from jail in time for the handfasting.
I always love coming into my shop, to be greeted by the hustle and bustle of business and by the scents of fresh laundry and the rosemary and lavender sachets I hung on the rods. But on a day like today that sensation was multiplied many times over. The shop was crowded, but not with customers. Selena was there, along with Bronwyn and her boyfriend, Duke; Conrad and his friend Shalimar; Maya and her cousins Kareem and Richard.
“Lily!” Bronwyn called out, as she hurried over and gave me a big hug. “I’m so glad to see you safe. What in theworldis going on?”
“I, uh... ran into an old acquaintance,” I said, though my attention was diverted by Oscar. Instead of greeting me as he usually did, he was lying on his silk pillow and making strange sounds.
“What’s wrong with Oscar?” I asked.
“He’s been doing that for a while. I’m starting to get worried about our little guy,” said Maya. “It sounds sort of like that hollow cough that dogs get.”
