I smiled. “Sounds like the plot of a soap opera.”
“I grew up watching a lot of ‘stories’ with my mom while she sewed. I know it sounds far-fetched, but how else are we going to warn folks that someone who looks just like Sailor isn’t to be trusted?”
“Good question. So, you’re okay with all this?”
“Okay with it? Not at all. But I saw him in the Lucky Moon. It was Sailor, but . . . not Sailor. It makes no sense, but I assume from the way you’re acting and the fact that Sailor’s been arrested that there’s something supernatural going on.”
When first we met, Maya didn’t believe in magic. She’d been exposed to a lot in the last year, and had been on a steep learning curve. I thought about Patience’s question, whether Maya might have abilities of her own, but I truly didn’t think so. She was simply highly intelligent, and had come to understand there was no way to explain the unexplainable . . . other than magic.
“I really don’t want—or need—to know the details,” Maya continued. “And I don’t want to freak everyone out, but I do want them to be safe.”
I nodded. “I agree with you there. Okay, let’s go with . . . creepy look-alike cousin.”
Maya grinned. “Yes, that’s so much easier to believe than an identical twin. Whatever you say, boss.”
I took another moment to call Selena’s grandmother, briefly explained what had happened, and asked her to be particularly wary of anyone who looked like Sailor, or any strangers that might come into her and Selena’s lives in the near future.
Then I joined the group in the shop and tried to explain why they should take care around anyone looking a lot like Sailor.
“I don’t think it will be a problem, but I want everyone to take precautions.”
“A couple of officers stopped by about ten minutes ago,” said Bronwyn. “They said they’ll cruise by occasionally, keep an eye on the place.”
“That’s good. But they won’t be here twenty-four/seven, so let’s stay on guard, all right? No working alone. I’d rather close the store altogether than have someone here by themselves. Understood?”
Bronwyn and Maya nodded. Conrad shook his head, blew out a long breath, and said, “Duuuuude.”
“Oh, hey, Conrad, did you overhear the conversation I had outside the other day with Sailor and a stranger? The time Carlos arrived and joined us?”
“The fight?”
“It wasn’t a fight, exactly.”
“Sounded like a fight.”
“I’m going to take that as a yes. You didn’t happen to mention it to anyone, did you?”
“No, nobody.”
I hadn’t thought so.
“Except . . . Let me think. . . . I think Wind Spirit came by right after. It’s possible I mentioned it to her, just, like, in passing.”
“Wind Spirit. You’re sure?”
“Yeah, dude. She used to be named Amy, and Wind Spirit doesn’t seem to fit her, in my view, but whatever she wants—am I right? Also, that doughnut dude was there.”
“What doughnut dude?”
“Not doughnuts . . .” He frowned, as though the word escaped him. “Cupcakes! That’s what it was.”
“The cupcake dude? Do you mean Jamie?”
“Right, Jamie. That’s the one.”
“He came by? Was he with Wind Spirit?”
“Not ‘with her’ with her. Least, I don’t think so. Not that the Con is always up in everybody’s business or anything like that.”
“Did he say anything? Do anything? Did Wind Spirit?”
“Don’t really remember. I think they just happened to be passing by. Everybody loves the Haight—am I right?”
“Right. Okay, thanks. So, please, everyone,” I said, getting back to the subject, “err on the side of caution for the next few days, until I can figure this out.”
Part of me hoped if I kept saying I would be able to figure it out, I would manifest a resolution. If only it worked that way.
“And does ‘erring on the side of caution’ apply to you as well, Lily?” Bronwyn asked, forehead wrinkled in concern.
I smiled. “It does. Besides, I have Oscar to protect me.”
“Quite the ferocious guard pig,” Maya’s cousin Kareem said.
We all glanced at said guard pig, who was now lying on his back on the purple pillow, short little legs kicking in the air, a huge porcine grin on his face.
“Maybe not so ferocious,” Duke said dryly. “Lily, I hate to be a wet blanket, but you should take additional steps to protect yourself while you’re home alone.”
“Yes, please, Lily,” Bronwyn continued. “We worry about you.”
Maya and Selena nodded in agreement, and I felt a wave of warmth wash over me. With friendship, I was learning, came the obligation to take reasonable precautions with one’s well-being. “You’re right. I’ll be extra careful. And to that end: Maya, would you call a locksmith? I want to change the locks. I left my keys somewhere.”
“I’m on it,” Maya said, and went to the computer to look up the number.
Oscar huffed even louder.
“When did Oscar start acting like this?” I asked.
“A little while ago,” Bronwyn replied. “He just keeps snickering. He’s also been eating everything in sight.”
“Well, at least that part is nothing new. Maya, while you’re on the computer, any chance you could find a symbol that looks like this?”
I took my handkerchief out of my pocket, unwrapped it, and laid it on the counter. Maya looked at me curiously, but reached out to smooth the napkin.
“It looks like the symbol on the map,” Selena said immediately. “When they finish it, anyway.”
I glanced at the map with its red thread figure. Selena’s drawings of cupcakes with black icing were now encircling it, held up by bits of Scotch tape.
“We don’t have a scanner,” said Maya, her hands moving swiftly over the keyboard, “so I’m not sure how to search for it, exactly. I can pull up some symbol dictionaries, but it will take time to go through them.”
“Maybe . . . check out demon sigils?”
I still couldn’t understand why the grandmas would be making a sigil, but at this point I was willing to try anything.
Maya was scrolling through a bunch of them, shaking her head and glancing back and forth from the drawing on the napkin to the images popping up on the computer screen.
“You know what it reminds me of?” asked Conrad. “Remember a while back, the Da Pinchi Code?”
“You mean Da Vinci Code?” asked Maya’s cousin Richard.
“Nah, dude. Da Pinchi. It was, like, this burglar code. Burglars would put these signs on buildings they cased.”
“That sounds a little far-fetched, Conrad,” said Duke.
“Dude, it was totally, like, on the BBC. You know how those Brits are—they’re real serious.”
“He’s right,” said Maya, pulling up an article online. “I remember hearing about it, too. And here it is. It was on the BBC a couple years back. . . .”
Bronwyn, Duke, and I crowded around to look at the screen over Maya’s shoulders.
“But . . . no, Snopes doesn’t think it makes sense.”
“Who’s Snopes?” I asked.
“It’s a Web site that investigates rumors, tells you whether or not they check out.”
“There’s a Web site that does that?”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, my friend.”
“And this one doesn’t check out?”
“They don’t say it’s a fabrication, exactly, just that it doesn’t make sense, since there wouldn’t be much ‘added value’ in doing it. It says that criminals have other ways of sharing addresses beyond physical marks.”
Not to mention . . . why in the world would a bus full of witches be making the sign of theft? It made no sense.
“Still,” I said, “this symbol does look a bit like that one, doesn’t it? Maya, would you mind poking around a little more, see if you can find any others like it? The image might not be complete, after all.”
“Sure, I’ll do what I can,” said Maya. “And Kareem is great at this sort of thing.”
“I was just going to suggest taking a photo of the symbol,” Kareem said. “That way we can import it and Google it directly.”
“Good idea,” said Maya. The cousins bent their heads together and worked up a plan.