Page 80 of Bewicched

“Yes,” he nodded, studying the jars.

“Would you like a taste of these?”

“Yes,” he said, reaching for the jars.

I put them down on the worktable we’d eaten off of last night and grabbed four spoons from a drawer. When I turned back, he already had all four lids off and was sniffing.

“Arthur, someone set fire to the gallery.” Hernández watched Osso with disbelief. “You know, police work.”

“I can do both,” he grumbled before savoring the first spoonful, one so full, I knew I’d need to order more honey.

I think watching Detective Osso’s fixation on honey was making the rest of us uncomfortable, so Declan suggested taking photos of the damage for the cops. While Declan hopped from post to post, taking pictures and Osso took a honey break, I started loading cookies into the four-tiered carrier.

When I finished, I scribbled my cousin’s name and web address so Detective Osso could buy himself some honey. I put the card on top of the carrier and placed both on the table beside him. There was one moment of tension when I thought for sure I was about to be swatted by huge bear claws because I took the honey jars back—far emptier than when I’d pulled them from the pantry.

Declan was back, showing Detective Hernández the images. “Arthur, come look at these.”

He put the card in his wallet and then picked up the carrier of cookies, taking it with him across the studio.

“Can you send me the photos and I’ll contact someone I know in Fire who should be able to help. Let her do her inspection, though, before you start repairs.” Hernández then started texting. “Arthur, why don’t you explain to Arwyn why we’re here this morning.”

A rumble rolled through the room, but it didn’t seem directed at anyone, more frustration in general. “A little girl disappeared into the woods yesterday.”

“Yellow dress?” I asked, the vision racing back to me. “She was coloring on the back porch, wearing a yellow dress?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Was there a woman with her, inside the house?” I hadn’t seen her, but Mom and Gran had. That had to be significant.

“Yes. A girl, but yes. The babysitter was in the kitchen, by the back door to the porch. She was texting with her friends and didn’t hear or see anything.”

“How old is the babysitter?” I asked. I was getting a funny feeling about that wave Mom and Gran had seen.

“Uh.” He checked his notes. “Fifteen. Why?”

A little older than I’d anticipated. “I think the babysitter knows the killer. The age isn’t quite right, so maybe not a friend. Maybe just knows him. He’s a neighbor or the younger brother of a friend.”

“You think she knows something?” He started scribbling in his notebook.

“No,” I said slowly. “It isn’t that. I don’t think she’s covering for him or anything. I just think you might find him through her.”

He nodded. “Can you come with us to her house? Touch things. Whatever it is you do?”

I looked at my unfinished tentacles that would remain unfinished a little longer and sighed. “Yeah, sure. I need to be back by one, though. I have desserts to make for my aunt’s sort-of wake.”

“We can get you back by then,” Hernández said.

Declan shook his head. “I’ll drive her. Then she can leave whenever she needs to.” He turned to find my eyebrows raised.

The presumption was strong in this one.

“If that’s okay with you. I can’t get started until the inspector’s been here and the materials have been delivered. Besides, I’d like to help if I can,” he said.

I turned and headed for the stairs. “Give me a minute to get changed.”

Rummaging through my closet, I grabbed jeans and a sweater and changed before pulling on my hiking boots. Taking the band out of my hair, I let it fall but kept the tie in my pocket in case I needed it later. I stopped in the bathroom, put on some mascara and lip balm, and called it good enough.

When I went back downstairs, I found Hernández studying the painting of the woods and Declan and Osso outside balancing on the tops of piers, studying the fire damage.

---