Page 34 of Curses & Cold Brew
“Ha! I mean. Sure. Um.” After all, when was the last time I’d stopped into Midnight Market for a treat? “What’s the most popular flavor this week?”
“The Pumpkin Cheesecake Swirl is my personal favorite,” he answered with a wide grin of surprisingly white teeth. “It’s a cheesecake base, with locally sourced milk from Dutchman’s Dairy. The graham-flavored sponge cake is from Full Moon Bakery, and the swirl is a mix of green custard and chocolate cookies to represent the swamp. It looks gross but tastes delicious.”
“Much like yourself, I’d bet,” I murmured.
“What?”
“What?” I exclaimed. “I said I’d love a sample, thanks!”
“Oh, okay.” He scooped out a sample larger than the others he gave out—which I really shouldn’t have cared about—and handed it to me.
“Wow,” I said when I sucked on the spoon. It really didn’t sound like the flavors would work together, but it was delicious. “That’s inventive. Sorry, what is your name?”
I already knew, but he didn’t know that. Maybe I could get him talking.
“Dean,” he replied, pointing to the name badge on his pinstripe apron. “I’m Billy’s nephew. Sort of.” He winked, and I knew that he meant he’d been created within Billy’s family somehow, though I wasn’t exactly sure how his particular species went about it.
“Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Iris.” I swept my hair behind my ear and hooked my thumb in the direction behind me. “I work over at the Poison Apple Apothecary. Welcome to town.”
“You’re one of the local witches.” His smile widened as he scooped another sample and passed it to me with a flourish that made it look like I wasn’t holding up the line. “In Citrine’s coven?”
“Yup. That’s the one.” I made a mental note that he was just as giddy mentioning Citrine as she was about mentioning him. Maybe I would need to have my own little Cher Horowitz moment with those two. I took a bite of the new sample, and a rich, decadent flavor blossomed on my tongue. “Mmm, this is really good! What’s this one?”
He beamed at me as if he’d churned it himself. “It’s called Death by Chocolate.”
“Hey there, Iris.” Billy’s gruff voice came from behind Dean. Our mayor was six four but seemed short compared to his nephew, though there was plenty of family resemblance despite the fact that Dean’s people skills were silky smooth and Billy’s were gravel sandpaper. “Grabbing some seasonal favorites, I see?”
Billy lifted an apron from the wall and slipped it over his mop of bedraggled black hair. Then he gave the checkout assistant a nod, which I assumed was a signal for them to take their break.
“I’ll take one scoop of the Death by Chocolate, please,” I said to Dean. I gave the tall, green glass of water a final once-over,scheming all the ways I could set him up with my coven sister, before moving down the line to Billy. “Hey, Billy? Could I ask you something about a resident who used to live here?”
Billy tilted his head at me, the stretch in his neck pulling at what looked like a new set of sutures. “I always have time for my constituents, no matter how unruly.”
There was that winning mayoral charm.
I lowered my voice so that no one could overhear. “Do you know anything about someone named Esme?”
“Hmm, that sounds familiar.” His thick brow furrowed. “Was she part of the local coven?”
“No,” I replied. “Have you seen anyone around town with wavy brown hair and blue eyes?”
“That’s not a lot to go off of. I think there are two people in line right now that fit that description.”
“Never mind.” I waved the thought away with a laugh.
He considered me for a moment, and something in my gut told me to keep any further information to myself. If word got back to Ramona that I was questioning local monsters out in broad twilight, it would be my head.
“Here’s your cup.” Dean held out an overflowing cup of ice cream.
“Thanks.” I dug into my pocket, pulled out a five-dollar bill, and handed it to Billy. “Keep the change. Your new staff member is quite the salesman.”
Billy clapped Dean on the shoulder. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
I made my way out of the market, doing my best to avoid any figures lurking in the shadows. I didn’t want to admit it, but Ramona was right. Esme could be anywhere, or worse, working with someone in town. And not knowing who meant I had to be more discreet. But the fact that Billy Bacchus hadn’t seenher around was useful information—useful enough that maybe I needed to pay that stubborn demon a visit and tell her as much.
18
RAMONA
