Free a witchcraft mystery 08 - a toxic trousseau by juliet blackwell

even hurt.”
    “Understood.”
    “And in the meantime, I’ll nose around, see if I can find out anything on my end.”
    “Thanks, Carlos. And if you could tell me what Autumn Jennings actually died of, that would be helpful.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Oh, and Lily? Make sure that pig of yours doesn’t go after anybody else. One head-butt can be a mistake; two head-butts constitute a pattern.”
    “Oscar’s not normally that kind of pig. Honest.”
    “Uh-huh. Make sure he stays that way.”
    *   *   *
    It was only midmorning, overcast as was typical for San Francisco in the summertime. Usually the sun broke through the clouds by noon, warming things up considerably. Still, the City by the Bay was temperate, with temperatures rarely rising above the midseventies even in the summer. Tourists learned this the hard way, and sweatshirt vendors made a killing on the streets of San Francisco.
    I decided to take Sailor up on his offer to go by Vintage Visions Glad Rags. Even if the police were processing it as a crime scene, Sailor might be able to read some vibrations from out on the street. It wasn’t much of a plan, but at least it was something to do. With Aunt Cora’s Closet temporarily closed, I had some unaccustomed free time. Might as well look into Jennings’s death a little more. If the authorities happened to see me at Vintage Visions Glad Rags, I supposed I could just say I was nosy. I was already a suspect, after all. How much worse could it get?
    Sailor and I headed toward the door, but Oscar got there first. He had transformed into his normal guise, so he could talk.
    “Can’t I go, too?” he asked, his bottle-glass green eyes gleaming in his gray scaly face. “I don’t wanna hang around here all day by myself. The store’s closed!”
    “What do you think?” I asked Sailor.
    Sailor shrugged. “Up to you.”
    “If you come along, you’ll have to stay in the car. And make sure no one sees you in your natural form,”I added. Reports of a gobgoyle in my backseat were all I needed.
    He narrowed his eyes. “No one sees the real Oscar,” he said, pointing at himself with his thumbs, “unless Oscar says so.”
    I had to hand it to my familiar: He was very good at keeping his true self under wraps. I wondered sometimes if it was because Oscar was that good at being discreet or if it was because most cowans, upon seeing a creature like Oscar, assumed they were hallucinating. People were awfully good at talking themselves out of things that couldn’t possibly be, even when those things existed right under their very noses.
    Oscar occasionally used his ability to shock people to his advantage, though it was usually while trying to save my life. My heart softened and I felt myself give in.
    “Of course you can come, then. We’ll take the van so you have more room.”
    “Be right there!” Oscar said and hurried off to grab a few books and some snacks to keep himself amused while he waited.
    “That is one spoiled familiar,” Sailor said, shaking his head.
    “Well, if a witch can’t spoil her familiar, then who can she spoil?” I said sheepishly, grabbing my woven bag and making sure I had the keys to the car and to Autumn Jennings’s shop.
    “Everybody ready?” I asked. “Then we’re off like a dirty shirt!”
    *   *   *
    Sailor and I stood outside of Vintage Visions Glad Rags, peering in through the plate-glass windows atthe shop, which looked as neat and glamorous as it had yesterday. There was no sign of the police or a forensics team tearing the place apart. Autumn Jennings hadn’t actually died here, which meant the store wasn’t a homicide scene, but it still seemed odd. Then again, I didn’t know how official things like chain of evidence and whatnot worked. Still, I hesitated to use the keys and boldly walk in.
    “Shall we start with the neighbors?” I asked. “See if anyone there can shed some light on Autumn or her