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  “Surely that must be only a tiny spell to alter what the records will say,” Olivia said.

  “That’s true,” he admitted. “And my fee is tiny too.” He named a price.

  “Wow!” Elsie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s tiny?”

  “These things must be handled delicately.” He kept pulling papers from his satchel. “The Grand Council frowns on anything heavy-handed that might stand out and be noticed. There must be no clue left behind as to our manipulation.”

  Olivia’s ghostly face puckered up like a pickle. “What? That’s outrageous! I won’t pay it. You’ve already charged me enough to give Dorothy these documents.”

  “No, madam.” He handed the papers to Dorothy. “This bill is for your daughter.”

  Dorothy took the papers from him with a smile. “It’s fine, Mother. I don’t mind. I never expected in my life to own a house. Not to mention all the valuable art and antiques you’ve collected. Thank you for leaving it to me.”

  “In case you consider selling off any of those antiques or works of art.” Brannigan handed Dorothy another card. “My firm takes care of those delicate matters as well.”

  “Why, you little buzzard!” Olivia shot straight up like an angry plume of smoke. “She is not interested in selling anything. You should take your cards and leave now. I’m not sure what a ghost is capable of, but I may be angry enough to find out.”

  “A thousand apologies.” Mr. Brannigan picked up his briefcase. “I’ll be leaving now.”

  We watched him walk down the stairs and into the parking lot before he completely disappeared.

  “I’d like to learn to do that,” Dorothy said.

  “We all would, dear.” Olivia went inside.

  “Does that mean it’s time to give Dorothy’s cat a new name?” Elsie asked when Mr. Brannigan was gone.

  “No. It means we have to pay a visit to the werewolves and try to get Larry out of jail,” I reminded her.

  “Why are we responsible for what happens to Larry?” Olivia wanted to know. “We’re witches. As long as we’re doing what we’re supposed to do, the werewolves should take care of themselves.”

  “We could at least give them a heads-up for Larry’s sake,” I told her. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

  “Well I certainly don’t want to be trapped here at the shop again. Those three cats never shut up last night. I could barely sleep.”

  “Considering that you’re dead,” Elsie said, “I don’t think you’re supposed to worry about sleeping anymore.”

  Olivia pouted as we put the chairs and table back in the shop, locked up and got in the car.

  Dorothy brought the staff with her. “Maybe my mother is right. Do wolves and witches mingle much?”

  Elsie got in the car and adjusted her purple hat. “Not usually. Larry is a special case. If we don’t act and he changes while in police custody, it will be a very big deal for him. And it will be proof that werewolves exist.”

  I nodded and adjusted my rearview mirror when I sat down. “The last werewolf that changed in front of the unsuspecting public was found torn to bits the next day. The police said it was a reaction from the public. I think we all know better.”

  Olivia and Elsie nodded.

  “What makes you think it was something else?” Dorothy tried to find room in the backseat for the staff without setting it on top of her mother. She finally placed it on the floor.

  “Because that’s the way the wolves deal with that kind of thing.” Olivia said what we were all thinking. “The witches make people who find out about them disappear, or they wipe their memories clean.”

  “It’s much more humane.” Elsie put on her seatbelt.

  “We all know what’s at stake.” I tried to get my troops ready for battle. “I like Larry. He’s always been a good customer.”

  “And a good friend,” Elsie chimed in.

  “Please!” Olivia rolled her eyes, which was quite unpleasant in her current state. “We all know why you want to save him!”

  “Nothing wrong with a little romance, right, Dorothy?” Elsie winked at her.

  Dorothy blushed.

  I drove down Water Street past the ships and boats on the river. Some of the old structures had been renovated down through the years. They had a mellow kind of charm about them. Other structures looked neglected, barely standing after the hundred years or so since they’d been built.

  The werewolves gathered at an old tavern that had once been owned by a heroic blockade runner during the Civil War. He’d retired here, so the legend said. Late one night, he was called from his sleep by a knock on the door.

  It was a werewolf that had changed during the full moon. He’d come into Wilmington on board a ship from Greece and had killed everyone on that lost ship.

  He asked the tavern owner for sanctuary. Of course it was a mistake for the gallant hero to let the wolf in. By the next full moon, he too had become a werewolf.

  The tavern was renamed Wolf’s Head, and werewolves had come to hang out there ever since.

  “You’d think they could keep the place up a bit,” Olivia observed as we found a spot in the parking lot between potholes.

  “Are you sure we should go in there?” Dorothy asked. “My mother—my adopted mother—told me never to come into this part of town.”

  Elsie smiled. “We’re witches, dear. We have nothing to fear from these wolves, especially since it isn’t time for them to change for a few days. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Can you recall what the name of the new werewolf representative is?” I asked after I’d locked the car. “I know they got someone to take Harold’s place. I can’t think of his name.”

  “Wasn’t it Jerry something?” Elsie asked.

  “No.” Olivia shook her head. “It was John something, wasn’t it? I kind of remember because he was really good-looking—for a wolf anyway.”

  “If you’re talking about me”—a man’s deep voice startled us—“I’m John Mayhew. We don’t get many witches visiting us here. Why don’t you come inside for a drink?”

  CHAPTER 24

  From ghoulies and ghosties, and long leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night, good Lord protect us!

  John Mayhew was tall, dark and handsome, wolf or not. He stood at least a head above all of us. His broad chest was covered by a white T-shirt that said “Wolves Do It in the Full Moon.” He wore his tight jeans low on his narrow hips.

  “Oh, what a wonderful idea.” Olivia giggled. “I’m Olivia Dunst, and these are my friends, Elsie and Molly.”

  John, it seemed, only had dark eyes for Dorothy. “And what’s your name, little one?”

  “Oh. That’s Olivia’s daughter, Dorothy,” Elsie introduced them.

  “Hush,” Olivia muttered. “I’m too young to have a daughter.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Dorothy shook hands eagerly with John. “I’m a witch-in-training. I work at the downtown library. I’ve never met a werewolf before.”

  John kissed her hand but observed the parking lot a little furtively. “Such matters are better discussed inside. Come with me, Dorothy, witch-in-training. I think you’ll be surprised how charming werewolves can be.”

  “He’s making a play for my daughter.” Olivia shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Quiet,” Elsie said. “Maybe she can keep us from getting in trouble here.”

  We went into the old tavern with John. The heavy door was made of large pieces of oak that had been spliced together. The floors were black with age and spilled beer. The seats were rough and crudely made, as was the huge bar.

  The door closed behind us, and we were enveloped by the dark. There were no windows, and the light from the ceiling was dim.

  “What will you have, ladies?” John got behind the bar. “I think
we have a little wine. It’s red, of course. We like to pretend sometimes.”

  “You don’t kill people when you turn?” Dorothy hopped up on a bar stool.

  “Not anymore, little girl. That’s a thing of the past. Too much bad publicity can ruin a haven.”

  “We’re not really here to drink,” I told him. “We’re here to talk to you about Larry Tyler. He’s been arrested for murder. The chances are pretty good that he’ll still be in custody when the moon rises.”

  Several other werewolves joined us at the bar. They weren’t handsome or charismatic. They looked tough and a little on the mean side. They might not have been thinking about killing us, but they were definitely sniffing around on us, like nice steaks.

  “That’s Larry’s problem.” One man had a huge scar that ran from chin to hairline. “Why should we care?”

  “Because if he turns in jail, everyone in Wilmington will know that there are werewolves here,” Elsie said in a clear, concise voice. “I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.”

  “You’re right, of course,” John agreed. “I don’t know what we can do about it. None of us have money or property to use as bail. I’m afraid Larry will have to stay where he is.”

  I started to offer to help with the problem, but before I could speak, Elsie added her own take on it.

  “What about a jailbreak?” She grinned. “We’re witches. We have magic.”

  Olivia peered around at the growing number of werewolves in the tavern. “Elsie, maybe that’s not the best way to handle this.”

  “That’s true,” John said. “But why would a few witches and their pet ghost want to help us?”

  Elsie adjusted her hat. “Because Larry is a personal friend. We know what happens to werewolves who turn publicly.”

  The werewolves exchanged glances. Olivia and Dorothy huddled as close to me as they could. One or both of them were standing on my foot. I was too scared to move and find out. I didn’t know one could “feel” the weight of a ghost. Maybe it was because she was so frightened.

  “You know, I think there’s a better answer,” I said. “A jailbreak isn’t as easy as it sounds. There are high-tech surveillance devices. You can’t simply waltz in there and take Larry out.”

  “It sounds like it’s either that or we shred old Larry,” a third wolf growled.

  This was getting out of hand. There had to be some way to talk some sense into everyone there. I didn’t want to come right out and tell them that our magic didn’t always work. That could be another road to disaster.

  “Couldn’t Joe help us?” Elsie smiled at me. “Her husband is a police detective. In fact, he’s the one who arrested Larry. He was misguided.”

  “This keeps getting better and better,” Olivia whispered. “Do something, Molly.”

  “I’m trying.” The werewolves were staring at me. I could see they weren’t happy about what Joe had done. Not that I was involved with it, but that thought might not have crossed their minds.

  “Is that true?” John asked.

  “My husband did his job. We think Larry was set up by another witch who actually committed the murder,” I explained. “Larry was an innocent bystander.”

  “Who is Larry supposed to have murdered?” the werewolf with the scar asked.

  I swallowed hard. “He’s charged with killing a friend of ours.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Molly, just come out with it,” Olivia added. “He’s accused of killing me. I don’t know who did it, but I feel sure it wasn’t Larry.”

  Elsie nodded. “Werewolves don’t need knives to rip out a throat.”

  The group of werewolves jostled each other, as though a silent communication had passed between them. And then they looked at us like we were lunch.

  “Why don’t you clean this up?” John asked. “It seems that you ladies are at the heart of it. Find the killer for the police, and they’ll release Larry before the full moon.”

  “It’s not that easy,” I started to explain.

  “You’re witches,” the scarred werewolf pointed out. “Do a spell or something.”

  “Yeah,” another werewolf agreed. “Larry’s a good friend of mine. I’d hate for anything to happen to him.”

  The implied threat made Elsie nervously giggle. I knew we had to find a way to get out the door. I didn’t have a clue what to say or how to explain our position without making the situation worse.

  I glanced at the door, wishing our powers were strong enough to spirit us away. “I think we should go.”

  Dorothy smiled. “I haven’t been a witch for very long. I’m not sure how to find the killer yet. But we’re working on it. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. You’ll be the first to know.”

  John smiled at her. The other werewolves did the same. It was as though her innocence made it safe for the rest of us. At least I hoped it was going to work that way.

  The heavy door to the tavern squeaked open, and Richard Brannigan stood there for a moment, framed by the light. “Ladies. Pardon my interruption. I forgot to have you sign a document. Excuse us, gentlemen.”

  “Let us know how the magic goes,” John said. “There are a few days before the moon comes up. We could still plan that jailbreak—with your husband’s help.”

  “We’ll do that.” I smiled and put a hand on Dorothy’s and Elsie’s arms. “Thank you for hearing us out.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” Elsie called out.

  “Next time, leave the ghost at home,” John responded. “Ghosts hanging around give a place a bad reputation.”

  “Will do.” Dorothy smiled and fled quickly out the door and into the sunlight.

  Once we were outside, there was a collective sigh of relief.

  “That was not the best idea,” Olivia said.

  “I thought it was fun.” Elsie giggled.

  “I think I’d rather be a witch than a werewolf.” Dorothy squinted at Mr. Brannigan. “What paper did you forget to have me sign?”

  He cleared his throat and fidgeted a little. “Actually, the council of witches directed me here. They were a little worried that there might be an incident. Werewolves and witches have gotten along amicably for more than a hundred years. No one wants that to change.”

  “You mean you were lying?” Elsie asked.

  His face turned red. “This is in no way indicative of my normal practice. But where the council sends me, I go.”

  Dorothy hugged him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much. I thought we were going to be eaten today.”

  “I was happy to be of assistance.” He cleaned his glasses on a pristine white cloth he pulled from his pocket.

  “But this still leaves us with the problem of Larry becoming a wolf in jail.” I peeked back at the werewolf bar. “We won’t get any help from them.”

  “Perhaps I could be of assistance in this matter as well,” Mr. Brannigan offered. “I’m quite familiar with cases like this. I’m sure I could get Larry out of jail with very little fuss.”

  “Let’s get us out of here first,” Olivia said. “Those werewolves could change their minds.”

  We agreed with her and got in the car to drive back to the shop.

  Before we could get there, Elsie suggested that we still couldn’t trust Mr. Brannigan. “We don’t know who he is.”

  “We won’t ask him in,” Dorothy said. “That worked last time, right?”

  “Yes,” Elsie agreed. “But do we want to trust him with our plan to free Larry?”

  Dorothy and I stared at her.

  “Is there a plan?” Dorothy asked.

  “Of course,” Elsie said.

  “What is it?” I sided with Dorothy. “You aren’t still talking about breaking Larry out of jail, are you?”

  “We could do it—with Dorothy’s magic. We could pretend we were visiting Joe
and do the spell right there in the jailhouse. Come on, Molly. It would be fun.”

  It didn’t sound like fun to me. The spell would be hard, and Dorothy’s magic was unpredictable, as was our own. We could free Larry, or we might turn the jail—and everyone in it—inside out. I wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  “We need a better plan, girls,” Olivia said. “I wish ghosts could do things. I could get in and out with Larry easy. And why did that sexy werewolf say that about me? I’m beginning to feel a little hurt by the attitudes toward ghosts in this city.”

  We met Mr. Brannigan back at the shop.

  After a long discussion about whether we could trust him, we decided to do a small binding spell on him that would keep him from using his magic while he was there. Our spells protecting the shop from outside magic were strong. There seemed to be no reason why we couldn’t sit down, have tea and talk about our situation.

  It was even possible that by listening to his ideas, we could understand what the council was thinking. We didn’t have to trust him to spy on them.

  Mr. Brannigan seemed pleased with the idea. He walked in carefully, sniffing the air as though he could smell everything in the shop. He had a little of the hobgoblin look about him. Maybe he could.

  “This is very nice.” He checked out some of the books on the shelves. “You have some very rare magic books.”

  Elsie was filling the teakettle. “We’ve been collecting them for fifty years ourselves.”

  “Not to mention our mothers’ collections,” Olivia added. “I wish I could have a cup of that lavender tea. It smells wonderful.”

  Mr. Brannigan studied her through his tiny spectacles. “Ghosts can’t smell. They have no olfactory senses. You must be imagining it.”

  That riled Olivia. “I am not imagining it. I know what lavender tea smells like.”

  “I didn’t tell her what kind I was making either,” Elsie said.

  “Never mind.” He shrugged away the thought. “She probably glimpsed the tea or is simply used to what you make. Do you have any horehound? That’s my favorite.”