“It’s a necktie.” Tweedy rolled his eyes at Evie.
“Hmm,” Brand said. “What is its purpose?”
“Purpose?” Tweedy rubbed his temples. Evie sympathized with him. She had the beginnings of a headache too. “Heck, I don’t think it has a purpose. It just looks good.”
“Ah,” Brand said. “It is decorative. No neckties.”
The neckties flew over the top of the dressing room doors and settled in a bright pool at Tweedy’s feet.
Tweedy gave her an incredulous look. “Who are these people and what planet are they from? I thought you said they were looking for something conservative to wear to the funeral, but they don’t know what a necktie is?”
Oh, crap, she wasn’t such a good liar, after all. “Conservative in an—uh—out there kind of way.” Tweedy stared at her, and she lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “You know how unconventional these big-city artsy-fartsy types can be.”
“Big city? You mean they’re from Mobile?”
“Farther away.”
Tweedy’s eyes grew round. “Atlanta?”
The dressing room doors opened, and Brand and Ansgar stepped out. Evie gaped at them, feeling a little lightheaded. The super fine wool trousers fit the two men as though tailormade, and the cotton shirts they wore molded themselves to a pair of wide, muscled chests.
Wow. Double wow. Great googly mooglies.
“Well, I declare.” Looking befuddled, Tweedy fiddled with the tribble of hair at the top of his forehead. “I’d have bet my bottom dollar those trousers wouldn’t fit, but they’re perfect. Must have been sized wrong or something.”
He shook his head and hurried into the dressing room to get their discarded tags.
Brand came to a halt in front of her. “What do you think, Mistress Evie? Will we do?”
Evie realized she was staring and flushed. “Yeah, you’ll do.”
“Good.” Brand strode toward the front of the store. “Ansgar, settle our bill with the Tweedy human. I must find Adara.”
“Of course, brother. Evangeline and I will join you shortly.” Ansgar straightened his cuffs. “Oh, I almost forgot. Evangeline may have sighted one of the djegrali on the street a few moments ago.”
Brand halted, his broad shoulders stiff. “What did you say?”
The undercurrent of violence in the softly spoken words sent a warning bell jangling in Evie’s head. Tiger, tiger burning bright. She cut her eyes at Ansgar. He was either unfazed by Brand’s ill temper, or he was channeling Captain Oblivious.
“Evangeline thinks she saw the dead man Dwight Farris standing outside the shop,” Ansgar said in his calm, detached way. “Since dead men do not typically walk about in the light of day, I assume it was one of the djegrali.”
Brand turned. His eyes burned with a predatory glow. “Why did you not tell me this sooner?”
Ansgar shrugged. “I did not see the creature myself, so I could not be sure.”
“For your sake, you had better hope Mistress Evie was mistaken,” Brand said through his teeth.
The door slammed, and he was gone.
Evie jumped to her feet. “He thinks that thing is after Addy, doesn’t he? We’ve got to warn her!”
“Do not be alarmed, Evangeline. Brand will take care of the djegrali and your friend. Adara is safe, I promise you.”
“But—”
She swallowed her protest as Tweedy bustled out of the dressing rooms. “I thought I’d put your other clothes in a bag,” he said, looking puzzled, “but they aren’t there.”
“We took care of them,” Ansgar said. “Do not trouble yourself.”
“But I didn’t see—” Tweedy took a deep breath. “Forget it. I’ll ring you up.”
Ansgar stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the cash register and Tweedy. “What passes for coin in this plane?” he asked in a low voice.
“Huh?”
“Recompense, payment, currency.”
“Oh, you mean money. I’m afraid all I have is a twenty.”
“I do not expect you to pay for my clothes, Evangeline. Show me this twenty of yours.”
Confused, Evie pulled her wallet out of her purse and handed him the bill.
Ansgar took the twenty from her and studied it carefully, front and back. “It is flimsy and somewhat fragile, but much easier to carry than gold or jewels, is it not?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
A flat leather pouch appeared in his hand as if by magic.
Evie blinked. “Whoa, how’d you do that?”
“What, this?” The pouch vanished, then reappeared in his hand. “I keep it hidden in plain sight, as I do my quiver and bow.”
“Q-quiver and bow?”
“Brand and I use a concealing charm to shield our weapons from humans so as not to cause undue alarm. You did not notice Uriel, Brand’s flaming sword?”
Addy did say something to Meredith in the flower shop about weapons, but Evie thought she was kidding. “Uh, no, can’t say as I did.”
Ansgar chuckled. “Humans. They see what they want to see.”
He opened the pouch and slipped her twenty-dollar bill inside. The pouch glowed briefly, bright as a Christmas tree, and grew thick. Ansgar reached inside the swollen purse and handed Evie a twenty-dollar bill. Curious, she peeked inside the pouch. The leather purse bulged with good old American greenbacks.
“Holy smokes, you really are from another planet!”
“Not another planet, Evangeline, another dimension. I know you are puzzled, and that you must have many questions.”
“Yeah. Oh, yeah. But, right now only one comes to mind.”
“What is it? Tell me what troubles you. I will do my best to answer you.”
She raised her eyes to his. “Where can I get me a purse like that?”
Chapter Seven
The town of Hannah nestled in a cluster of rolling hills created during the Cretaceous period when a chunk of rock tired of spinning through space and crashed into Behr County, rumpling the earth like an unmade bed. Hannah’s business section was situated at the south end of Main Street, a frayed gray ribbon of asphalt that ran past the flower shop and other stores and the Methodist and Baptist churches, and chugged up a steep hill to the town square. At the top of the ridge, Main Street split into a round-about that circled the park and rolled down the hill on the other side, spilling into North Florida where it became Highway 97. The funeral home was located at the north end of Main Street past the river bridge and near the edge of town.
Addy flew down the street, her thoughts focused on avoiding a tongue-lashing from her mother. She skidded to a stop at the employee’s entrance of Corwin’s and paused to finger-comb her hair and smooth her twisted skirt. She smelled something burning and looked down. Good grief, her shoes were smoking and she’d blown a heel. She limped inside and hurried down the hall to State Room A or the “Camellia Room” as Mama liked to call it.
Mr. Farris’s casket stood open against the right wall. Her gaze skittered past the burial box and moved on. She did not want to see Mr. Dead Dude. Death was good business. Death was money. Death was dependable. The flower shop wouldn’t survive without