Page 87 of Real Fake Hauntings

It brought me to some tipping payment website.

Why did these sleazy paranormal types never want to get paid in potions? Most unfair, if you ask me.

I squeezed against the shelf to allow Dru to pass by and put in a tip of twenty bucks. Surely that had to be enough? Maybe not. It was a hard economy. I upped it to thirty, and returned to the conversation, typing: Double that if the information is right.

A few seconds later, I got an address. I hated to leave Dru alone but this couldn’t wait. Time to go.

Catching an errant order, I prepared the day’s special, then set it in front of Hutton along with a banana muffin on a plate. “Table by the window.”

Hutton stared at the items in confusion. “What?”

“Take these to the table by the window. Hurry up, there’s people waiting.”

Almost like he wasn’t sure of what he was doing, he grabbed the cup and the plate and took them to the table, where two teenage girls giggled and thanked him effusively.

“I think he’ll do,” I told Dru.

“He’ll do what?” she asked, distracted by someone coming to pay.

“Feel free to use him. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Hope!”

“I’ll give you a bonus!”

At this rate, I was going to have to give her the shop. Ah, if only I could find Bagley’s secret bank account with her dark magic’s earnings!

I escaped through the bead curtain before Hutton noticed my absence and could catch up. Fluffy followed dutifully, and I lost no time in rushing upstairs to grab a freezing potion and my backup plan. A girl could never be too careful. After grabbing Ian’s jacket and the dog walking bag, Fluffy and I slipped out the back door.

Sadly, I couldn’t use Bee-Bee with Fluffy, so I set off on foot.

Exclamations of pleasure followed us, and I deigned to stop at the request of a couple of kids and an older woman dressed as a witch to take pictures of Fluffy.

I only wished I weren’t in such a hurry so we could both truly soak in the Halloween spirit.

The address I’d been given turned out to be farther than I thought, so I ended up grabbing a ride. Twenty minutes later, it deposited us in front of a three-story parking garage. A bit of a cement eyesore in a more industrial side of the city peppered with small warehouses and new office buildings.

Not encouraging.

“Fluffy,” I declared, staring at the cement building. “I think we got scammed.”

A good witch knew when to admit defeat.

Checking the conversation with anonymous, my sharp deductions were proved right—the texts had been deleted.

The tipping site didn’t provide refunds, of course.

Just in case, I checked inside of the garage, but other than cars, I found nothing remotely looking like an earth mage for hire. And why would I? There was not a bit of soil or rock in sight in case things got tricky and they needed to use their magic.

My phone rang as I was walking out of the building. Hutton.

“Hello, Hutton,” I greeted him warmly. “How’s waitressing working out?”

“Get back here. Right. Now,” he seethed. “Witch.”

In the background, I heard Dru say, “Can you go into the back and grab us more cups?”

“No, I can’t,” Hutton responded, his voice farther away.

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