Page 24 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
“He said that he wanted to tell you that he had a condition,” Ivy said frowning as she tried to interpret the message. “Something that could change the whole election. But he wasn’t totally sure you could be trusted.”
“Sure, he was getting between me and the snacks,” Rosie muttered jokingly. “So what condition did he have?”
“He’s giving me a snake,” Ivy said, her eyes losing focus again as she went back beyond the veil of the living. “Which is changing into a dragon. But not a regular dragon—it’s a watery one.”
“A water dragon,” Rosie mused, utterly confused.
Ivy held up a hand. “No—now it’s red. And now it’s an eagle, not a dragon.”
“Okay then.” Rosie made a face, wondering how on earth to figure out what a dragon changing into an eagle could possibly mean. “Helpful. Thanks Aata.”
“I’m guessing that this is really close to the reason he’s been murdered,” Ivy said confidently, her gaze coming back to Rosie once more. “That’s why he’s skirting around it. He can say certain things and show me visions, but if he is getting too close to the truth about his death he gets foggy, and things won’t make much sense. Call it a cosmic scrambling device, if you like.”
It was interesting to see how this worked, and to see an honest-to-goodness medium in action. Rosie had always been curious about such things. She was just annoyed the opportunity had to arise while she was neck deep in trying to solve a politically charged witch murder.
“So now what?” she asked, unsure of how to proceed. “Maude’s gonna want her room back any minute. Can we come back when we have more time? Or should I go try and stall her?”
“It’s fine,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “I should be able to make contact with him more easily now—what?” she asked, tilting he head to one side so her soft red wavy hair fluttered. Her eyes with looking up and slightly to the left—the same direction her head was slanted—and Rosie watched with interest as Ivy had a conversation with Aata from beyond the veil.
“He’s saying a word, but it doesn’t make any sense to me,” “Do you know it? It sounds like ‘tenny-fer’, or ‘tunny-fah’. Ring any bells?”
“None,” Rosie admitted. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to make a note so they could Google it later.
“I get the feeling that’s what he wanted you to know,” Ivy insisted, a frown creasing her brow as she considered the message. “Tunny-fah. Sorry it’s not more helpful!”
Rosie pursed her lips. “Does he have any clues about who murdered him? That might be more helpful.”
Ivy paused to listen again, a frown of concentration flickering across her face. “That’s the only word he’s saying. He—argh!”
The door opened suddenly with a loud creek, making both the witchandthe medium jump clear out of their skin. Maude poked her head in, skin ruddy and hair frizzled on account of the temperature outside.
“Gravy on biscuits, Maude. You scared us half to death!” Rosie gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You tryin’ to send me into labor?”
“Sorry,’ Maude said, though she didn’t really seem too sorry at all. “Y’all find what you’re lookin’ for?” She cast overly dramatic surreptitious looks around the unassumingly clean murder scene.
Rosie glanced at Ivy, who shook her head sadly. “No ma’am, ain’t no ghosts here. Thank you for lettin’ us poke around though. Mighty kind of you.”
Maude sniffed magnanimously. “Told ya,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I don’t hold with all that. Dead bodies is just that—dead. And then they go on off to—where did you say they were takin’ that poor young man, Rosie?”
“New Zealand,” Rosie said, herding Maude out of the room.
“Gracious—to die such a long way from home! And on his own, too.”
“He wasn’t really on his own though, was he?” Ivy spoke up. “He was with whoever killed him. Did you see anyone suspicious around?”
Rosie only just managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes as Ivy’s question sent Maude off on another rant.
“The whole place was loaded to the hilt with folks you’d call suspicious! And then they were all gone again after the murder,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that! I’ll tell ya, I’m not surewhatall to make of it! Especially that argument.”
“What argument?”
“Oh, it was a doozy! The young man who was murdered was out the back of the motel gettin’ into it with a lady with long dark hair and an olive sorta complexion. There was finger jabbin’, and shoutin’, and what all else.”
“It got physical?” Rosie’s mind had already turned to Medea Florakis, who fit the description and who definitely had beef with Aata.
“Looked like she was tryin’ to snatch somethin’ out of his hand—some kinda paper. But whatever it was, she didn’t get it. He left her not long after and he had it in his hand when he went back into his room. Saw it all through the office window.”
“And around what time was this?”
