Read Online Phantoms Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #13 by Connie Shelton - Free Book Online Page A

this
matter-of-fact recount, she brought out a plate and opened a package of cookies
that she’d bought earlier.
    “So you escaped from communist
Romania in the dark of night . . . What were you doing there in the first
place?”
    “Oh. Well that, of course, was
because I’d gone to Transylvania. My interest in eastern European witchcraft.”
She caught my incredulous stare. “I gave it up after a couple of years.
Fascinating people, but it was sort of a crowded field.”
    I think my expression conveyed
the What?? that was going through my mind. She smiled sweetly and I
couldn’t help it. I burst into giggles. Once I started, she practically
collapsed with laughter herself.
    “Oh, I can so understand
why my father could not accept your lifestyle.”
    “I know—” she gasped. “Silly,
isn’t it? Bill and me, brother and sister. It really never quite worked.”
    I sank into one of the chairs at
the kitchen table. Once I caught my breath, I had to ask. “So, what’s the book
about? Can you actually read it?”
    “I used to. I’m probably fairly
rusty at it now.” She poured tea into the two mugs and set them on the table.
“It’s a book of spells.”
    Ah. I reached for a cookie to
keep myself from cracking up again.
    “If you noticed the little wooden
box on the shelf . . . the compartments in it contain the basics that a witch
needs—eye of newt and such.”
    “And did you have a wand?” I
asked.
    Her brows drew together in the
middle. “Well, no, of course not.”

 
     
    Chapter
7
     
    I pulled myself from my snug
little nest of blankets and was shocked to find that I’d slept close to twelve
hours despite the fact that I’d gone to bed with images of Louisa sneaking
through a forest in Eastern Europe under threat of death. I found clean jeans
and a pullover top and decided a ponytail was the easy answer for my hair. A
couple of swipes with the blusher and lipstick and I felt as ready as I’d ever
be.
    In the kitchen, Louisa sat at the
table with her coffee, newspaper and toast.
    “You look chipper,” she said. “I
guess you slept all right?”
    “That bed is wonderful. I may
have to steal it and take it home with me.” I helped myself to coffee from the
carafe.
    “I’m off to work in a bit, but
make yourself at home. It looks like Bethany will be out again. Unless I can
find a replacement I probably can’t break away before four o’clock.”
    “Not a problem. I thought I’d
explore a little bit more, pick up some gifts to take home.”
    There were two bookshops we’d
passed in our strolls yesterday and I thought I could probably find something
for my brother’s three young sons there. Better to encourage reading, I felt,
than video games. For Drake, one of the clothing stores’ display windows held a
selection of men’s wear and I might investigate that a bit further.
    Louisa bustled around the
kitchen, putting an apple and a sandwich into a bag to take with her, offering
me the run of the kitchen if I wanted to eat lunch in.
    “Choose a nice place for dinner
tonight,” I told her. “My treat.” With what I was now saving on hotel costs I
should be treating her to gourmet meals every night.
    She hurried out the door, while I
lingered over my coffee. I wondered how I would adapt to life in such a
home—fitted tightly between neighboring places, a tiny garden outside the back
door, the front leading directly to the road—but the small rooms and low
ceilings made it amazingly cozy and warm against the damp climate. Last night
Louisa had lit the gas fireplace in the parlor while we watched TV and the
little room had warmed quickly.
    I took one more glance at the
items on her bookshelf, including a peek into the potion box. Fascinating
stuff, but I had other things in mind for the day. I stuck the box back in its
spot and gathered my purse, umbrella and the little guide map Louisa’s
co-worker had insisted I take along yesterday.
    Waterstone’s Books was easy to
find and I lost