Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(62)
“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” Liam said to him, including the older deputy with a sideways glance, “but the woman we’ve come to question is a respected professional, and I expect you to treat her like one unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?”
Stu, the younger of the two, rolled his eyes. Butch, who’d been on the force for over twenty years, just shrugged. As long as he got home to his dinner on time and nobody took a shot at him, he was a happy man.
Liam looked around and spotted both the silver truck and the BMW, which had miraculously been restored to all of its former glory. He made a mental note not to ask how she’d managed that. And cursed a little under his breath, since he’d been hoping that Baba would be out when they got there. Somehow he didn’t think she was going to take it well when he informed her that he had no choice but to arrest her.
Settling his hat more firmly on his head, he walked up to the door and knocked briskly. Behind him, the two deputies stood like a uniformed wall of menace, as if they were about to confront a band of bank robbers instead of one slightly eccentric traveling herbalist.
The door creaked open slowly, and a tousled white head poked cautiously around the edge.
“Hello?” a querulous voice said. “Can I help you gentlemen with something?”
The woman attached to the voice was so old, she looked like she’d been around when dirt was invented. Her back was bent in a dowager’s hump, and her hair was as white and fluffy as a puff of dandelion. Wrinkles slid in layers down her cheeks and neck, disappearing into the lacy blue shawl tied over her drooping bosom. A strong gust of wind might have blown her over, which probably explained the way one age-spotted hand clung to the door. The other was wrapped around a wooden cane as gnarled as the fingers that clutched it, its head in the shape of a roaring dragon.
Liam blinked rapidly, recognizing the little old lady he’d caught a glimpse of that first day in his rearview mirror. Maybe she lived nearby, and he’d somehow never met her. Some of the older folks in the backcountry had an innate distrust of the law and tended to avoid strangers.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Liam said. “I’m looking for the lady who lives in this Airstream, Ms. Yager. Is she home?”
The ancient crone gazed at him with cloudy eyes that still managed to shoot sparks in his direction. “Miss Yager? You mean Dr. Yager, don’t you?” She shook her head, wisps of dandelion hair floating around her crumpled face. “You young people. No respect these days.” She made a tsking noise that reminded Liam of a particularly terrifying third-grade teacher. Behind him, he could hear Stu shifting uneasily, and had to stifle a laugh.
“My apologies. Dr. Yager, yes. Is she at home?” This was not going at all the way he’d expected it to. Of course, he was dealing with Baba. Why was he surprised? “And can you tell us who you are, please, ma’am?”
His good manners seemed to appease the old woman, and she opened the door a little wider. “I’m a distant relative of Dr. Yager’s,” she said in her light, high, birdlike voice. “I’m passing through the area and stopped by for a visit. But I’m afraid she’s out at the moment, collecting herbs. She says there are a few that work better if they are collected under the light of the moon. Why don’t you run along now and come back later when she’s home?” She made a shooing gesture and started to close the door, arthritic hand trembling with the effort.
Butch took an assertive step forward, thrusting his gut past where Liam was taking up most of the front step. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re under orders. I’m afraid we’re going to have to come in and check to make sure Miz—I mean Dr.—Yager isn’t in there.”
Her lower lip quivered, making Liam feel like a cad. But there was no way the deputies were going to let him just walk away from the trailer without searching it for Baba. They had a warrant, and no doubt, special instructions from Clive Matthews to make sure Liam did his job.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said in a gentle tone, speaking a little loudly in case she was hard of hearing. “We’ll just come in, prove to ourselves she isn’t here, and then we’ll leave you alone.”
Thin lips pressed together, she nodded at him and opened the door the rest of the way. “Very well,” she said. “But mind you wipe your feet. I won’t abide a lot of mud tracked in on these beautiful carpets.”
The three law officers trooped in, dutifully wiping their feet, and Liam watched with amusement as the other two gaped, openmouthed, as they looked around at the luxurious interior with its rich fabrics and glorious blues, and crimsons, and greens. The place looked as neat and tidy as always. There was no sign of Baba.
Chudo-Yudo crawled out from underneath the banquette table, and Stu nearly shot him.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell is that thing?” he asked, his gun suddenly wavering in his hand.
Liam sighed. “That thing is Dr. Yager’s dog, and I think she would object to you shooting him. Put your damned gun away; he’s not going to hurt you.” He made a point of going over to pat Chudo-Yudo on the head.
“Feel free to poke around if you have to,” the old woman said, waving one skinny arm toward the back of the Airstream. “Can I make you boys some tea?”
Butch glanced around at all the jars of herbs and muttered, “No way, José,” visibly suppressing a shudder.