I drove slowly down Main Street toward the police station searching for either Mac or his car. I wanted to talk to Lisa Harkness, the receptionist, without Mac’s interference. After parking down the street near Alex’s restaurant, I walked against the wind toward the police station. The streets of Crystal Haven were less hospitable this time of year. The festive flags that flapped in the summer breeze had been put away, the pumpkins and scarecrows that welcomed shoppers just before Halloween were looking sad and beyond their sell-by date. The holiday lights had not yet been turned on, so it was a gray and blustery trek through town.
I poked my head in the door of the station and waved to Lisa. “Is Mac here?”
She shook her head. “You just missed him. He didn’t say where he was going—I might be able to catch him if it’s urgent.” She reached for the telephone as I stepped in the door.
“No! I mean, that’s okay. I’ll catch up with him later. How’s it going around here?”
Lisa crossed her arms. “I can’t tell you anything about Diana or Dylan.”
I regarded her carefully and switched tactics.
“Oh, I didn’t mean the Rafe Godwin case. Just wondering how things are going for you. How are the kids?” I gestured toward the photo on her desk.
She narrowed her eyes at me, but her kids were still young enough that she always had something she wanted to report about them.
I patiently listened to the litany of funny things the two-year-old was trying to say and the clever things the four-year-old was able to do. I laughed in all the right places and admired the newest pictures. This seemed to melt the frostiness she had exhibited initially. I didn’t blame her for her cool reception. Over the summer she’d gotten an earful from Mac about gossiping and the need for discretion in her job as receptionist at the police station.
She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath.
“You might want to talk to Tom if you’re wondering about Diana. He’s down the street at Millie’s again.”
Sighing inwardly, I realized I was glad I didn’t have Tom’s job. So much of it must consist of breaking up the same arguments and warning the same people to behave. Police work had turned out to be less exciting than I’d imagined. It consisted of piles of paperwork, dealing with rude and grumpy people, and the random injection of pure terror to mix it up.
I nodded to Lisa and strolled casually out of the police station. As soon as the door swung shut behind me I power walked down the street and around the corner to Millie’s Book Nook. The last time I had found Tom there he was trying to avoid arresting Howard for vagrancy. Howard was Millie’s husband and that time he’d fallen asleep in her comfy reading area. She’d called the station and insisted they send someone over to deal with the “good-for-nothing bum.”
This time there was no crowd gathered on the sidewalk outside. Millie didn’t seem to be shouting at Tom or Howard. This made me more anxious than a scene in front of the store.
“I want a restraining order!” Millie said as I pulled the door shut against the wind.
“I can’t do that, Mrs. Fessler.” Tom had his hands out and barely kept the frustration out of his voice. “Only a judge can do that and then only if there is a real threat.”
“Of course there’s a real threat. She’s crazy and she’s after my husband!”
Howard sat behind the counter, shoulders slumped, looking like he’d prefer to be anywhere else.
“Hi, Mrs. Fessler,” I said.
Millie wheeled around on her orthopedic shoes and took a deep breath, probably to start another tirade. Then her face broke into a smile.
“Clytemnestra! I haven’t seen you since the summer. Why don’t you ever come to visit?”
“I’ve been kind of busy with the festival, Mrs. Fessler.”
“Well, you’re never too busy for a good book. You just take your time, dear, and pick out a good one.” She waved her arm toward the fiction section and spun around again to face Tom.
Tom shot a pleading glance in my direction. Howard had perked up and his eyes sparked with excitement. He must have been expecting me to talk her down again.
“Why do you need a restraining order?” I asked, ignoring her directions and walking over to stand near her.
Millie put her hands on her hips. “That woman has been bothering my husband. She trespassed in my store and I want it stopped.”
I looked to Tom for an explanation.
“Mrs. Fessler thinks—”
“No, I know.”
“Mrs. Fessler is worried that Neila Whittle is ‘after’ Howard here,” Tom said.
I knew Neila had a reputation as a witch and that the kids in town were half afraid and half fascinated by her, but was surprised that Millie had an issue with her.
“Neila Whittle?” I said.
“The witch that lives in the woods,” Millie said. “She was here yesterday and I want it stopped.”
“Maybe she needed a book,” I said.
Millie shook her head.
“No, she waited for me to leave to bring my bank deposit down the street and then she slipped in here to talk to my Howard.” At this, she cast a look that combined adoration and menace in almost equal measure.
“She didn’t—” Howard began.
“Fortunately, I had forgotten the deposit slip on the counter and when I came back in to get it, I caught them in the act.”
My stomach dropped at the thought of Neila and Howard in the act of anything together.