Page 12 of Magic Blooms

eleven

I went in unsure of how Joshua and I might succeed in luring Art out for a drink, but in the end the task proved surprisingly easy. Joshua fired up Old Sparky and drove us into town, where we then sat and waited outside the building marked with an aged sign that read “Dr. Art Fitzsimmons.”

After no more than ten minutes of us waiting there, an older man with thick white hair and a scratchy looking mustache pushed through the doors and out into the early evening air. Dr. Fitzsimmons, I presumed.

We spotted him at the same time, and Joshua immediately jumped out of the truck. He then reached within and pulled from a store of charm so deep I would never have known it existed.

“Art,” he called with a hand raised in friendly greeting. “How’s it going, man? I’ve heard you had a rough one today.”

I couldn’t stop staring at Joshua as I clambered out of the vehicle and onto the walkway. Who knew he could be so pleasant when he wanted to be? Well, I guess that meant he had never really had wanted to for me.

Art offered Joshua a weak smile before turning to face me. His entire demeanor changed the moment he laid eyes on me.

Wearing a huge smile now, he prattled, “Oh, well. Yes, it has been a hard day. But nothing I can’t handle. You know how I’m very depended on in this town.”

Joshua shot me a surreptitious wink. “I bet. That’s why Polly and I wanted to show you a bit of appreciation, if we might.

In fact, what do you say we take you out for a good dinner?

Polly here is visiting from far away, and she wants to get a feel for the real Peach Plains while she’s in town.

Figure there’d be no one better suited to give her an introduction to our little corner of paradise. ”

Once again Art’s eyes wandered over me—this time up and down as his smile widened to an obscene degree. “Dinner, you say? Well, I suppose I do have to eat. Shall we, Miss… Polly, was it?”

Huh, it looked as if everyone had been right about my inherent ability to charm the old guy. I smiled at him now. “That’s wonderful. I can’t wait.”

The ride over to Patty’s Pub didn't take long at all. This was because, with the exception of Joshua’s cabin, everything in Elyria had been laid out close together in one sprawling cluster.

After the three of us were led to a table by a pretty young girl with dark glowing skin, I grabbed the menu and began feasting over it with my eyes.

Although I’d been gifted with the ability to read any language, I still didn’t understand what at least half of these dishes were—being largely unfamiliar with the tastes of the listed ingredients, let alone how they combined.

But there was an easy enough solution for this, and it would play well toward our ultimate goal for this evening out.

I set my menu on the table and smiled at the older man seated across from me. “Art, what’s the best thing to eat here? After all, you’re the expert, I’m told.”

He puffed up at the compliment and set his menu down too. “You can’t go wrong with Patty’s catfish, and that’s a fact.” He signaled the waitress over and then made a big show of ordering for me.

He also requested that she bring me a concoction called whiskey and Coke. And that came out almost straight away.

Art raised a glass. “Cheers to a good visit.”

I smiled and took a thirsty gulp. The second the foul stuff touched my tongue I spat it out and started to cough, which both men somehow found hilarious.

“I would’ve thought a New Yorker would get out more,” Art quipped as he sucked down the beverage as if it were a simple glass of water.

As for me, I had to chug down a few gulps of ice cold water before the burning in my mouth finally subsided.

“I’m just full of surprises,” I croaked. And so is this place. The whiskey drink seemed like it might be similar to the crocker drinks the elementals back home were always talking about. Of course, due to my status, I’d never partaken. To be fair, I’d never been offered any, either.

But if it tasted anything like this Elyrian atrocity, then I was most pleased to remain uninitiated. Well, so much for all food and drink in this place being beyond delicious.

“So, Polly… Lorraine is your aunt?” he said, shifting his drink in his hands before taking another long sip. “It must be great fun to have a relative like her.”

Don’t lie, I reminded myself. Say as much of the truth as you can get away with, then change the subject. Easy.

“Lorraine is very special,” I agreed, nursing my water. “And fun, too, except when she’s not.”

Art threw his head back and laughed much louder than was necessary, especially considering I hadn’t said anything remotely funny. Had I somehow made a mistake again? Or was he just laughing extra hard as his way of flirting with me?

To be frank, Art wasn’t a terrible looking man, but he was much too old for my preferences. As far as I knew, he was old enough to be Joshua’s father. Still, he appeared to be in good shape, and his slicked back white hair was full and tidy.

As he drank more and more, however, Art became increasingly off-putting—speaking a bit too loudly, slurring words, and even spitting a bit while he talked.

Usually if an elemental from Vilea had too much crocker, my family would swiftly remove them from the public eye and send them home to wait out the effects of the drugged drink privately.

Tonight, though, the more Art drank, the more forward his questions became. “Pretty girl like you has to have guys knocking down the door,” he said, leaning halfway across the table. “Mind if I come a-knocking, too?”

“Umm, I don’t really have a door to call my own. Besides, a doctor like yourself must have the same problem. You seem so respected here. After all, you’re the first one they called after the disaster this morning.”

There. I would bring the conversation back to Karen.

After all, it’s why we’d come here—and the sooner we got what we needed, the sooner we could get out of this increasingly uncomfortable situation.

I had no problem being friendly, but I drew the line at flirting with someone while I was promised to someone else.

Especially because I had zero interest in getting to know Art in such a way.

“Helping out the less fortunate is the least I can do with the many privileges I’ve been gifted.” He gazed at me and licked his lips. “Education. Wealth. Power. What else are you looking for, sweetheart?”

I exchanged a quick glance with Joshua, but we both managed to keep the judgment—and disgust—from our faces.

“I think helping out the less fortunate is one of the best indicators of an overall good person,” I said, totally playing into his self-absorption and hoping it would get him to open up even further.

“Oh, yes. Most definitely. I’m all about the less fortunate. That reminds me, Dusty Riley came in a few weeks ago with a sore on his foot, and…”

My mind shot back to the well-intentioned warnings from Gerry that morning.

Art was now telling me numerous graphic details that I was certain I’d never be able to erase from my mind.

And he did it with a gleeful joy, as though telling me all these things was a gift—one I should be overjoyed to accept.

Unfortunately, because I wanted him to keep telling me things about Karen, I just had to keep smiling and nodding and ignoring the fried catfish on my plate now that my appetite had been completely ruined by Art’s medical gossip.

After about three more stories—each more horrible than the last—Art was well and truly inebriated. He still showed no signs of slowing down, though.

During our meal, Joshua had gone from pointedly ignoring our guest to borderline hostility.

“So, Art, enough with the bull,” he interjected at last. “You know why we’re here. What happened with Karen?”

The older man sat back suddenly and blinked a few times as though trying to break through the haze in his mind. “The Harrison woman? Yeah, that’s a right awful mess.”

“A mess how?” I wanted to outright ask if it was ricin but worried that such a specific question would raise more than a few inquisitive brows.

Art waved a dismissive hand. “I mean she was a mess inside. But it’s Peach Plains. Who knows what caused it? I’m running toxicology on her blood work. Here’s hoping for something that science can explain.”

I took a deep gulp. “So you don’t think she died of natural causes?”

He scoffed and reached for his drink, but his aim was off. He chuckled and tried again, this time succeeding. “Oh no. Someone wanted that woman dead. Of this, I am certain.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I knew we already suspected that someone had done this to Karen, but hearing it confirmed was still a blow. Who could have done such a thing?

And how much more help could I be? I didn't know anyone here. I didn't know what I was doing. Now that we'd gotten Art to talk about what caused Karen's death, our goal for this outing had officially been met. So what now?

“When was the last time a murder happened in Elyria?” asked Joshua, taking charge of the conversation once more.

Art let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Probably not since those academy people were fighting for access to the portals. But that was really more of a war than a murder…” He glanced at me and flinched, probably remembering he wasn’t supposed to talk about magical stuff in mixed company.

I had to suppress a smile as the poor man tried to fight through the fog in his mind to cover his tracks.

“I mean, I can’t think of any murders. Nope, not a one. I must be thinking of a show I saw on the television. With wars and portals and what not.” He simpered at me, clearly believing his last-minute save had thrown me off the scent.

I almost felt bad for him, but then he emptied another drink, and I lost every ounce of sympathy I had remaining.

“The real question you should be asking is why,” said Art as he started looking around for the waitress so he could order another.

“Do you have any guesses for the why?” I asked. Maybe Art could prove more useful to us than originally expected.

He sighed when he realized the waitress was nowhere to be found and he’d have to wait longer to force more whiskey and Coke down his throat.

“Well, what else could it really be? If it was magic, then I suspect it had little to do with your Mrs. Harrison herself. Think about it, she was traveling alone. An easy target.”

“A target for what?” I asked, leaning so far forward in my seat, my chest was practically on top of my plate.

“A ritual, of course,” he told me with a hollow expression. “You know… Dark magic.”