Jan Burke - Sweet Dreams, Irene

“You ski into a tree, Irene?” she asked lightly.

“No, but that’s a good story to have on hand.”

When I didn’t offer any further explanation, she said, “What can I do for you?”

I gave her an idea of what kinds of things were easiest to put on and take off. She went to work, and Rachel looked like a pack animal by the time we left.

As we were walking and hobbling back to the car, something made me turn around – a sensation of being watched.

A black limousine was pulling up alongside us.

I let the cane clatter to the sidewalk and grabbed on to Rachel so hard she dropped the packages. As she saw what had startled me, she said softly but firmly, “I’m here, Irene. I’ll protect you. We’re out on the street in broad daylight with people everywhere. He can’t do anything to you.”

I looked at her. She had left the packages on the ground and had taken a no-nonsense stance next to me. She looked so strong and determined that I relaxed a little.

I watched our mirrored reflections roll down as a rear window was lowered. A tall, silver-haired man looked out at us and smiled. Under other circumstances, I would have said he was dignified and handsome, looking like a pillar of the community. But that same smile could have been seen on the face that led Little Red Riding Hood to say, “My, but what big teeth you have, Grandma.”

“How nice to see you out and about, Miss Kelly,” he said. “I’m Malcolm Gannet.”

“I know,” I managed. Please don’t let him see how scared I am, I thought.

“No need to be frightened, Miss Kelly.”

Well, shit. But I grew angry, so my prayer was answered. “What exactly do you want, Mr. Gannet?”

“I wondered the same about you, Miss Kelly. Remarkable reports have reached my ears. Your friend – well, really more than a friend, isn’t he? Your lover? Your-”

“Say what you have to say,” Rachel said in a low, commanding voice.

He looked over at her. “Miss Giocopazzi, isn’t it? Che piacere.”

“So you’ve been to Berlitz. Glad one of us finds it a pleasure. Now, why don’t you leave Miss Kelly alone?”

“I wonder why Miss Kelly won’t leave me alone? Really, Miss Kelly. A search warrant? You wouldn’t have found anything on the Long Shot. I guarantee it.” That hungry wolf look again.

I said nothing.

“No use bothering by now, is there?” Rachel said. “I imagine you’ve made sure everything is just shipshape.”

“Tell me, Miss Giocopazzi, how do you find time to act as nursemaid and chauffeur to Miss Kelly? Perhaps Detective Baird is less than fascinating company?”

Rachel’s smile was cold enough to skate on. “You can find trouble without begging so hard for it.”

“Miss Kelly-” he began, attempting to ignore Rachel.

“Leave Miss Kelly alone,” she interrupted. “Go on home. I’ll even give you something to look up in your Italian dictionary: Va’ a fare una bella cacata! Ti sentirai meglio.”

She turned to pick up the packages, and not wanting to be left staring at him, I turned to help her.

I heard him mutter something to our backs, then the car drove off. I was trembling. I collected the cane from where I had dropped it. Straightening, I fought off the urge to cry.

“Irene. Don’t let him get to you. He’s just trying to scare you.”

“I wasn’t one-tenth as scared as I would have been if you weren’t here. Thanks for sticking up for me.” We slowly made our way to her car. “By the way, what was that last thing you said to him in Italian?”

She laughed. “I told him, ‘Take a good shit, you’ll feel better.’”

I GAVE HER DIRECTIONS to Rhiannon. When we pulled up in front of the shop, Rachel looked at me with wide eyes.

“You’re going in there?”

“Want to come along?”

“And have some old strega put the malocchio on me?” She held up her index and little finger on one hand like horns and spat three times between them.

I laughed and made my way into the store. The idea of Zoe putting an evil eye on someone amused me to no end.

“Zoe, do you do hexes?” I asked by way of greeting. I found I was beginning to enjoy the spicy smell of the shop.

“Hello, Irene! As a general rule, no. The main tenet of Wicca is ‘Harm no one and do as thou wilt.’ Hexes are not to be taken lightly.” She had her back to me and was spreading some powder on the window sills of the shop. She turned and saw me, and took in my injuries with a quick glance. “You have a very strong spirit, Irene, which has served you well. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“I’m healing,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “Putting out protection powder – an ancient herbal recipe for protection from thieves.”

“Have you had problems with break-ins?”

“No, but I dreamed that someone broke in and stole an athalme.”

I searched my memory. “A knife?”

“A ritual knife. Come into the back, I’ll show you.”

Setting the cane aside, I followed her through the narrow aisles, dodging boxes of herbs yet unpacked. She talked as we made our way. “There are four elements: air, earth, water, and fire. The athalme represents the air element. It is used to separate sacred ground from the rest.”

“Separate it?”

“The athalme is used to draw a circle on the ground in an unbroken manner. It is never used to cut anything. Another knife is needed for cutting herbs and so on.”

We came to a glass case filled with knives. Most had long, black handles. Zoe explained that most athalmes were black-handled. I glanced over some white-handled knives, and then my eyes came to rest on something that made me stand stock-still.

A knife with an animal foot on its handle.

“Oh, you’ve noticed the deer-foot knife,” she said, seeming embarrassed. “I know, I should get it out of here. Maybe that’s what the dream was about.”

“Deer-foot?”

“Someone convinced me that some witches liked the representation of the goddess in the hoof. I had four of them. This is the only one that’s left, and I don’t think I like it. In fact, I didn’t like the auras of the men who purchased the other three.”

“Were the others purchased all at the same time? By two brothers?”

She looked at me and said, “Yes, I suppose they could have been bothers, though I’m not sure. But they were here at the same time and bought the knives together.”

I described Devon and Raney.

“Yes, that sounds like them. How did you know they were the ones who bought the knives?”

I hesitated. I knew she had been fond of Sammy. I didn’t want Zoe to know that one of the knifes might have been used to kill her. “I’m not sure. Just a feeling that it was something they might do. They’re the ones who did this to me. Well, most of it.”

She sensed my mood change and said, “Well, I told you I had a little something for you.” She pulled two stones out of her pocket. “I hope you will accept these with an open mind.”

One was oblong and dark green, roughly the diameter of a pencil, a little less than two inches long. The other, nearly the diameter of a dime, was rounded and transparent, a light purple color. “Jade and amethyst,” she said, as I took them from her. “Jacob tells me that you have trouble sleeping. The amethyst has long been regarded as able to cure insomnia, relieve pain and tension, even to give prophetic dreams. The ancients believed that jade gives health and long life, accurate judgment, and protection from nightmares. I want you to have these.”

Doubt as I might that two little stones could do all that, the kindness of the gesture was not lost on me. “Thank you, Zoe. I’ll give them a try.”