Maudlin's Mayhem (Bewitching Bedlam #2)(30)

She bundled me into the front passenger seat, then plugged her phone into the GPS. “Where do you need to go?”

I went to the same doctor as Sandy—it had been easier than finding someone new when I moved to Bedlam. “Dr. Karen Osgood. She’s on Rushwood Drive.”

Rhonda plugged in the instructions and the GPS navigator began guiding her. As we eased out of the parking lot, I leaned against the headrest and tried not to move my thumb.

“I own the Bewitching Bedlam B&B. What do you do?” I really didn’t relish the silence of a ride with a stranger.

She flashed me a smile. “I heard about your inn—and you—when the woman from your coven was murdered. Bad business, that.”

“Rose. She was a friend,” I murmured.

“I’m an accountant. I run my own business, Castille’s Accounting. My husband started it, and after we got married, I became a partner in the firm. He was killed two years ago when he drove into Seattle. There was a lot of ice that year on the West Seattle Bridge, ending up in a five-car pileup. He was unlucky enough to be wedged between a big van and a semi-truck.”

I blinked. That was a lot of information to take in. “I’m sorry.”

She gave a little shrug, and a flash of pain crossed her face, but all she said was, “Life sucks, sometimes. But we had four kids and I had to pick up the pieces.”

I steered the conversation away from painful memories. “Thanks so much for giving me a ride. I don’t think my thumb is broken, but I’m not going to be able to do much until it’s set. They really shouldn’t block the aisles with stacks like that. It’s much safer to put the cans on the shelves.”

She let out a laugh. “You know how businesses are—make use of every inch of space. I don’t like going into some antique or china boutiques because I’m afraid of breaking things. I may be a weretiger, but you’d think I was a proverbial bull in the china shop.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I’m not graceless, but honestly, I sometimes think that Murphy’s Law follows me around just waiting for an opportunity to prove itself.”

We continued the banter until she eased the SUV into the doctor’s parking lot. She turned off the ignition and jumped out, coming around to open the door for me. “Here, this will be easier than you trying to use that hand.”

Holding my right hand in the air, I headed into the doctor’s office with Rhonda following me. Thirty minutes later, I walked out again, sporting a wrist guard and a brace on my thumb. The pad below my thumb was also inflamed, so the doctor wanted me to wear the brace for three weeks.

“Thank gods I’m left handed,” I said as we drove back to the market. At that moment, my phone rang. I managed to get it out of my purse and answered. It was Sandy.

“Can you meet me at the Blue Jinn for lunch? I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

That Sandy dove right in told me something had happened. “I’ll meet you there at twelve-thirty. If I’m a little late, don’t panic.”

Back at the supermarket, I thanked Rhonda for her help and paid for my groceries. I’d have to pick up the rest of what I had come for later. As the bagboy carried them to my car, I glanced at the time. Twelve-ten. If I went home first, I’d be late. There was nothing that could spoil in the bags, so I decided to drive straight to the Blue Jinn.

Navigating wasn’t nearly as difficult as I had thought. I just kept my thumb straight and used one hand to grasp the steering wheel. I passed the central park in the town square, where it was all decked out for Ostara. Bedlam celebrated all the holidays with gusto, and every six weeks like clockwork, the park would spring to life in a flurry of decorations marking the season. A group of schoolchildren were there, testing out their magic as they enchanted the bird baths and other statues to glimmer and glow.

The Blue Jinn was along Exxo Street, and I managed to find a parking space in the crowded lot. As I entered the diner, the noise and aromas from the lounge hit full force and I realized I was starving. The Blue Jinn had a stage for live music and dinner theater, and the lounge for drinks and finger food. I motioned to the hostess.

“I’m joining Sandy Clauson.”

She consulted her table chart and then nodded, motioning to one of the nearby waitresses. “Please escort Ms. Gallowglass to table 14B.”

I followed the waitress, who led me to a small booth near the windows overlooking the outdoor seating area. It was still too cool and rainy to sit outside, but the center fountain in the courtyard was flowing. It was a statue in the shape of a dolphin leaping out of the water, and water burbled out of its blowhole, and also from its mouth.

Sandy was already in the booth, poring over a menu, a tequila sunrise in hand. She was still wearing her sunglasses, and that meant something was up. She glanced up when I arrived.

“I’m glad you made it.” She pointed to her drink. “Want one?”

I shook my head. “Water, please, and raspberry herb tea. I took a pain pill and the doctor suggested not mixing them with alcohol. While they won’t make me drowsy on their own, he said that the combination would put me out like a light.”

“Pain pill?” Sandy lowered her glasses and, judging by the red swollen eyes, I knew she had been crying.

“Um hmm.” I held up my thumb. “Sprained it a good one at the grocery store.” I waited until the waitress left to get my drinks and then leaned forward. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve had one hell of a cry-fest.”