I nodded. “This is my cousin, Delia Bell Barrows. And this”—I motioned downward—“is Louella. She’s a bit bitey, just letting you know.”
Avery’s dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She didn’t have a lick of makeup on, and she was breathtakingly pretty. Fair skin with a hint of freckles. Perfect bow lips. Beautiful jawline. Not even the dark circles under her eyes could detract from her natural beauty.
She tugged down the sleeves of an Auburn sweatshirt until they reached the tips of her fingers, then crossed her arms. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but what in the hell are you doing here? How did you know where I lived? This is strange.”
“We need to talk to you,” I said.
“About what?” she asked.
I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head so she could look into my eyes. “Your father.”
Tipping her head backward, she drew in a deep breath, then looked at Delia and me. “Come on inside.”
It was so dark inside the house that it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Avery went about moving textbooks from the sofa and chairs to the floor.
“Excuse the mess.” She motioned for us to sit down and opened the front draperies, which flooded the room with light.
It was like the space had come alive. Gone were the shadows, and in their place unique treasures appeared. Glass tiles in the fireplace surround, lovely pottery, vibrant artwork. An antique mirror hung above a mantel lined with pictures, most of Avery and a pretty blond woman. Twilabeth, I assumed.
“You’re still in school?” I asked, keeping an eye on Louella so she didn’t accidentally tinkle on the big textbook on the floor.
“Almost done,” she said. “I graduate in December. I’m a little behind due to a bitter divorce from a cheating jerk.”
“Ouch,” Delia said in sympathy.
“Tell me about it,” Avery said. “I’m still dealing with the fallout. For example, I still need to get my name changed back.” She sighed. “One day at a time, right?”
“Right,” I said.
Haywood had retreated to the small kitchen, giving Delia and me space. He was doing his pacing thing. I didn’t know how to bring up what I needed to bring up, which was also something I probably should have thought about before coming here.
Delia sat next to me and Avery across from us in a wing chair. She drew one leg up and sat on it. Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, she said, “This is all kinds of awkward.”
“It is,” I said, “and I’m sorry, but time is limited and we need some answers.”
“Are you with the police?” she asked.
I said, “No. We’re just . . .”
“Didn’t Miss Eulalie say you owned a potion shop? I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand why you’re here. This makes no sense to me. I think you should leave.”
“Did you kill your father?” I asked. “Haywood?”
Shock flashed in her eyes. “What? No!”
It was the truth, and I relaxed a bit.
“Who do you think you are?” She stood up. “Get the hell out right now, or I’m calling the police.”
Neither Delia nor I budged. I figured that if I was going to get any information out of her at all, that I was going to have to break some of my own rules. “Do you see that doorway right there?” I pointed toward the kitchen.
“I’m calling the police.” She pulled a cell phone from her pocket.
“Your father’s in that doorway,” I went on. “Glaring at me, I might add, though I’m the one upset with him.”
Her finger froze midjab. “Are you crazy?”
“She is,” Delia said, nodding. “Completely off the charts.”
I shot her a dismayed look. “Not helping.” Looking over my shoulder, I said, “Haywood, will you please assist me here? As you may recall, I didn’t want to get mixed up in this in the first place yet you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
He opened his mouth. “Emmbberrree.”
Louella growled low in her throat and let out a sharp yip. I patted her head. Again, she didn’t bite. So either she’d grown weak from lack of food, or I was growing on her.
For some reason, I doubted it was the latter.
Avery slowly sank back into her chair, her gaze fixated on the kitchen doorway. “What’s going on?” she asked so quietly that I barely heard her.
“It’s a long story,” Delia said. “But—”
Avery cut her off. “I have time.”
“Your dad doesn’t.” Delia leaned forward. “He’s a ghost right now, but if he doesn’t cross over to the other side by midnight, then he’s sent to his grave for another year. He can’t cross yet, because his soul is unsettled. He wants to find out who killed him, and he went to Carly for help the night he was murdered. She’s been trying to figure out who killed him ever since, and that’s why we’re here.”
Avery’s eyebrows shot up. “If that’s not the biggest load of bull I ever heard, I don’t know what is.”
I looked at Delia. “Said out loud that way, it does sound a little bit like a Hallmark Halloween movie gone wrong.”
“It really does,” she agreed.