“No big deal?” Mason repeated disbelievingly. “I can’t believe—”
“Hey, I didn’t know about it, either,” Vinnie put in. “But if Kendall says it’s no big deal, I believe her. Anyway, the way I see it, you’re looking at two different things. One, some idiot thinks it will be all spooky or something to leave voodoo dolls lying around. Two, maybe the bones Aidan found came from some old grave or maybe they’re recent, but either way, they still got him started looking for Jenny Trent, and that’s a good thing, whether it has anything to do with the plantation where he found the one bone or not.” He stood. “As for me, I’ve got to go to work.”
“Vinnie, thanks so much for helping out today,” Kendall told him.
“My pleasure. Mason, see you later?” Vinnie asked.
Mason shrugged. “I’ll check my calendar. Hmm. Nope, no pressing engagements. Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit. I’m going home for a shower first, though. I smell like a giant cinnamon scone.”
Vinnie looked at Aidan. “Hey, man, if you ever think I can help you…”
“Thanks,” Aidan told him.
Vinnie left, and Kendall turned to Mason. “You can go on home. Aidan can wait while I just give the place a once-over and lock up.”
“All right.” Mason started for the door, then turned back, “Aidan, by the way, I remembered something else kind of weird about that woman who bought the dolls.”
“What?” Aidan asked.
“Those gloves she was wearing?” He grimaced. “I think maybe they were made of latex.”
“Odd,” Aidan said. “Thanks. That info might come in handy.”
“Sure.”
When Mason was gone, Aidan surprised Kendall by walking quickly over to the counter and asking, “Do you keep your sales slips organized by the week?”
“Yes. I do my banking Mondays. Usually. Right now I’ve got two weeks’ worth of sales slips. I didn’t make it in on Monday. Why?”
“I want to find the receipt for those voodoo dolls.”
“Why? If the woman was wearing gloves, you won’t get any fingerprints, and she paid cash, so there won’t be anything to identify her. Or him.”
“I just want to make sure there is a sales slip,” he said.
She stared at him blankly for a minute, then realized that now he was suspecting Mason of being in on something.
“Come on, Aidan,” she groaned. “There are tons of people in this city, and dozens of them are probably guilty of something. Why are you picking on my friends?”
He looked up at her. “Because Jenny Trent’s trail put her here and then at the Hideaway. Two people—besides you, I might add—are generally both here and at the bar. Vinnie and Mason. Simple enough? Now, are you going to get me those sales records?”
“Yes,” she snapped. Jerk! She’d been glad to see him—anxious to see him, even—and now he was turning into the high inquisitor again. “But you know, maybe you should be listening to what Vinnie said. Maybe those voodoo dolls don’t have anything to do with Jenny Trent being missing. And while you’re at it, maybe you should be listening to Rebecca, too. If you’re so interested in finding out about those bones, you should just get them back and send them somewhere else.”
He ignored everything she’d said and asked again, “Can I see those sales slips?”
She let out a snort of aggravation and went back to her reading room, which doubled as her office, annoyed to find herself trying to avoid looking at her tarot deck while she unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk to pull out the daily receipts.
She turned to bring them back out front, then saw that Aidan had followed her. He took the stack of receipts from her hands and sat down at her reading table. She stood in front of him, and her eyes fell on the deck of cards. They did nothing.
What the hell had she been expecting?
“Have you seen the sales slip?” he asked her, going through the receipts.
“No,” she admitted. “I trust Mason.”
He paused suddenly.
“That’s it, right?” she demanded.
He placed the receipt in front of her. The computer had written, “Collectible voodoo doll, quantity, three.” The price and the amount, a cash sale, were filled in after.
“See?” she asked quietly.
“Of course, Mason isn’t stupid,” he mused.
“Oh, will you stop!”
He looked up at her. She didn’t know what he was thinking, because that crystal curtain had come down over his eyes.
“Yes, of course. Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry at all. He simply knew nothing he could say to her would change her mind.
He rose. “Thanks. Anything I can do to help lock up?”
“No,” she said stiffly. “Thank you.” She locked the receipts back in her desk, then went to make sure the rear door was locked.