Janet Evanovich - Full Scoop

"You'll have to remove the hex."

"What hex?"

"The hex he swears Queenie put on him."

"Even if it was a hex, which it isn't, I don't know how to remove them," Maggie said. "Queenie uses some kind of Uncrossing Oil, whatever that is, and a bunch of other weird stuff."

"You're not really going to remove a hex; you're just going to make Mike think you removed one. Do like Queenie. Use weird stuff."

"I don't have any weird stuff on me at the moment, and I don't have time for Mike's weirdness."

Mel came to the door. "Mom, Miss Vera says you'd better check on Mike. His face is red. Miss Vera says he's burning up."

"See?" Jamie said. "In an hour he'll be dead."

Maggie tried not to show her annoyance as she rechecked Mike's temperature. She was stunned to find that it had gone up two points.

"I feel so weak," Mike said, falling sideways on the sofa. His voice was barely audible. "Where is that pretty music coming from?"

"Oh, brother," Maggie said under her breath.

"You have to do something!" Jamie said.

"What he needs is a good kick in the behind," Vera told her. "He's nothing but a big baby."

Maggie could not remember feeling more frustrated. "Okay, you want to help me uncross this hex?" she asked Jamie. "Fine."

Vera gave Maggie a funny look.

"What do you want me to do to break the hex?" Jamie asked loudly.

"Hmm, let's see," Maggie said thoughtfully. "First, I'll need a frog."

Jamie looked surprised. "Frog? Did you say frog?"

"Not just any frog. I need a young male frog."

Jamie opened her mouth to speak, saw the smug look on her friend's face, and smiled pleasantly. "Okayee, one young male frog coming up," she said, grabbing her purse.

"I'll go with you," Destiny said, following Jamie to the door.

"Hold it!" Maggie said. They turned. "I absolutely positively must have grave dust in order to undo this particular hex."

"Grave dust!" Vera said.

Maggie shrugged. "Dirt from a grave."

"Can't you make a substitution or something?" Jamie asked.

"Oh, my goodness, nooo!" Maggie gasped and covered her chest with both hands as though fearing her heart would stop beating at the mere thought. "The results could prove disastrous."

Jamie crossed her arms and gave Maggie a peeved look. "Anything else while we're at it?" she asked sweetly. "Eye of an owl? Hair of a dog?"

Maggie spoke softly. "The grave must have been dug within the past forty-eight hours and sit within twenty-five feet of an oak tree."

Jamie's eyes crossed.

"It must be empty. It looses its purity once a body has been placed in it."

Mike raised his head slightly. "Hank Judd is being buried at one o'clock this afternoon at Oaklawn Cemetery," he said, as though it might be the last words that slipped from his lips. "There are oak trees all over the place. That's why they call it Oaklawn." His eyes rolled about, and his head fell back on the sofa with a flump.

Destiny checked her watch. "We have thirty-five minutes. You drive, and I'll jump out and grab the grave dirt. I tossed an empty Midol bottle in my trash. I'll get it on the way out and put the dirt in it."

Vera looked at her. "Somewhere out there is a straitjacket with your name on it."

Destiny looked amused as she turned to Jamie. "After we get the dirt we can go by my place for the male frog. I have dozens. I keep them in Mason jars under my bed just in case one decides to turn into a prince."

"How do you tell the difference between a male and female frog?" Jamie asked.

"By the color bow around its neck," Destiny said.

Vera pressed her lips into a thin line and looked at Jamie. "I'll be at my desk writing my letter of resignation."

Jamie and Destiny hurried from the building. They climbed into Jamie's Mustang, and she put her key into the ignition and started it. "You know this whole thing is a hoax."

"Of course," Destiny said.

"So where are we really going to get the frog?"

"There's a pond near my place. I've seen bunches hopping around. We can grab some dirt from there as well."

* * * * *

Max stepped inside the kitchen and found Maggie and Zack carrying cups of coffee to the small table. "Vera said I could find the two of you in here," he said. He offered his hand to Zack and introduced himself. "It's nice to finally meet the voice on the other end of my cell phone," he said.

Zack nodded. "Same here. You've been a great help."

"You two know each other?" Maggie asked.

"Max is my info man," Zack said. "The coffee is fresh," he told Max.

"Great." Max poured a cup, and the three of them sat down. He looked at Maggie. "So, if I understood Vera correctly, my wife is out gathering frogs and grave dust so you can remove a hex."

"Why else would I have spent all those years in medical school?" Maggie asked.

"Now I understand." He turned to Zack. "Have you heard anything?"

Zack leaned back in his chair. "Not since they found Luis Perez, the guy they call Loopy. The police are scouring the highways and byways, but they can't put a chopper in the air because of the fog."

Maggie took a sip of her coffee. "Do they have any idea how long it will take for the fog to lift?" she asked.

"A couple of hours at least," Zack said. "They're ready to move the minute it does."

"What's it been, twenty-seven or twenty-eight hours since Stanton took off?" Max asked.

Zack nodded. "They're smarter than I thought. I'm trying to think which way Stanton and Boyd are traveling. Remember, Boyd drove a beer truck for a southeastern distributor while taking correspondence courses to become a shyster accountant. He knows his way around. If they've listened to the radio they know we have a description of the car. In that case, they'd be smart to avoid heading east to Atlanta and go straight south, maybe as far as Albany, Georgia, then grab 82 East to Brunswick. From there, I-95 North is a straight shot to Beaumont."

"It would still be risky," Max said.

Zack nodded. "I think they ditched the car. They've either stolen another one or caught a ride with somebody."

"I can't imagine anyone would be willing to pick up a couple of strangers," Maggie said.

"Unless they had a gun to their head," Max offered.

Maggie could tell the men were deep in thought and could probably use some time alone for brainstorming. "I'd better check on Mike." She left the room.

"These guys are going to give the police a run for their money," Max said. "They could be zigzagging all over the place in a dune buggy for all we know."

"Yep." Zack clasped his hands behind his head. "So the smart thing is to wait," he said, "and let them come to us."

"I don't know which is worse," Jonesy said, trying to make himself heard over a gospel song blaring from the radio and the slapping windshield wipers. "This dang rain or the fog," he added. "Cook, hit that defroster; the windows are steaming up on me again."

Cook flipped a switch and hot air fanned the windshield. Outside, the wind whipped about and from time to time the semi shuddered.

Carl Lee sat quietly, arms folded across his chest, a frown marring his face as passing motorists openly gawked at the Prayer Mobile and the three priests in the front cab. He checked his wristwatch, sighed, and leaned his head back against the cracked leather seat. He tugged the collar at his neck.

"Your friend doesn't say much," Jonesy told Cook.

Cook nodded. "He's got a lot on his mind."

Jonesy chuckled. "Hope he's not trying to remember where he hid the money."

Carl Lee ignored him. Instead, he reached into his back pocket and carefully pulled a sandwich bag containing a folded newspaper clipping. He unfolded the clipping; it was worn despite his attempts to protect it, the ink smudged in places from overhandling. Dr. Maggie Davenport and her daughter smiled back at him from a black-and-white photo as they leaned against an antique trunk that Maggie claimed she had lovingly restored, just as she had a number of other antiques belonging to her grandparents. It was her hobby, she said.