Page 92 of Fresh Old Bounties

“Who is that?” Dru asked. Not for the first time. She tensed and beckoned to me excitedly.

I got to my feet, my legs complaining at the sudden change of position, and tried to slide between their bodies.

Ian shifted slightly, giving me an opening. I peeked through the slice of open door. An old woman stood by the row of lockers, white hair dyed pink and a slight curving to her spine.

As we watched, she inputted the combination on the electronic lock of our target box, and the door popped open. After looking furtively to her left and right, she reached inside with the speed of a viper and retrieved the vial.

Ian gently pushed us aside and opened the door. In two steps, he was towering over the old woman, who gave a frightful little yelp and cradled the potion closer to her chest.

“Oh, my Lord, young man. Don’t scare me like that.”

Now that she was facing Ian, we had a good view of her features. They were familiar. I had seen this woman before. A customer of the shop?

No, not a customer. The old biddy who’d ranted at me, ran off without paying for her tea, and left me my first one-starred review!

“Hey!” Abandoning our hiding spot, I strode up to them.

The old woman jumped at my exclamation. Her scowl was immediate. “What are you doing here?” she spat, hugging the potion protectively.

“You know this woman?” Ian asked.

“Yes,” the old woman said in outraged tones. “This is the quack from the witch shop.”

“The…” I put my hands on my hips, my scowl giving hers a run for its money. “You left me a one-star review and ran off without paying.”

She dismissed the charges with a wave of her hand. “Bah! You are no good, that’s what you are. Well deserved. Theodora would’ve had my special more than ready.”

Judging by the fact that she knew Bagley by her given name and we’d just caught her getting a dark magic delivery, I could take a good guess at what her special entailed. “Bagley is gone now, and we just caught you buying illegal magic.”

“Illegal?” She sniffed soundly. “How dare you?”

“Oh, cut it off. We know that’s dark magic.” I pointed at the potion vial, now clearly visible.

“You can’t prove that.”

“We don’t need to prove anything. He”—I pointed at Ian—“is a bounty hunter.”

The woman gasped. “Bounty… Hunter?” She took a good look at Ian and instead of paling or fainting with recognition, the glowering returned. “See here, Cavalier. I was a grown woman by the time your mother was a toddler. Don’t try your tricks on me.” She still held the potion like a lifesaver in her gnarled hand.

Ian kept his expression neutral. “Your name?”

“Agnes Dorsey,” she said with great dignity.

I snapped my finger with recognition. “You own the bed and breakfast.”

“So what?”

With a fast check that we were alone in the room, I asked, “You cater to paranormals, right?”

“None of your business, young lady.”

I nudged Ian. “Show her the security camera photo.”

Ian brought out his phone, swipped through the pictures, and showed Mystery Man’s picture to the old biddy.

“What about him?” she demanded.

“Is he a guest?”

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