Page 34 of Coven of Corpses

Demetrius smiled. “Gotta support the cause, I guess.”

“Did you get anything?”

“No. I had actual werewolf ears years ago. That was enough for me.”

A few minutes later, Oliver pulled into the Drives Rite lot and parked beside the gray brick building. It was a standard gas and service station with one island with pumps on either side and no awning overhead. There were two service bays, both occupied, and a small office to one side. The roll up door for the service bay closest to the office was halfway up. Rock music played from somewhere in the background. Judas Priest, if Demetrius was hearing right over the bang and clank of tools and the whine of a lug wrench. A few cars were parked haphazardly around the lot, none of them newer models, all of them out of warranty.

They stepped into the cramped office area. The smell of grease and gasoline, layers of ancient cigarette smoke and sweat, hung heavy in the air. Demetrius had time enough to wonder what the online reviews were like for the place before a heavyset man walked in from the service area. He wiped his hands with a dirty rag, which looked to Demetrius as if it was adding more grease to the man’s skin than removing.

“Help ya?” His voice was deep and phlegmy, eyes a startling bright blue shining from a face riddled with what Demetrius had to assume was a collection of pre-cancerous dark patches.

“Hi, hello,” Demetrius said. “We’re looking for Rita Haines. Is she working today?”

The man’s blue-eyed gaze sharpened. “Why?”

“I’d like to talk with her about a noise coming from my friend’s car’s engine.”

“You can talk to me. I’m the owner, Harvey.”

“Oh. Great. So, you see⁠—”

Thankfully, Oliver cut Demetrius off before he could make things any worse. “Hi, sorry. We know Rita from around town. We’d heard something happened to her out in the woods and wanted to check and see if she was all right.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” Harvey gave Demetrius a hard look. “I know you. You used to run that critter place. You’re the one who whacked Phil.”

“I actually didn’t do the whacking.” Heat bloomed in Demetrius’s cheeks and across his scalp. Sweat prickled along the skin on the back of his neck. “And Phil was dead before my partner whacked him. The autopsy proved it.”

“You whack one of my guys, and now you come in here and lie to me about needing to talk to Rita? What did I do to get you to come after my business like this?”

“What?” Demetrius shook his head. “No. It’s not that at all. It’s just a coincidence. We just want to help.”

“Like you helped Phil? Get the fuck outta here. And don’t fuckin’ come back.” Harvey jabbed a dirty finger at the door.

“Okay, we’re leaving,” Oliver said, grabbing Demetrius by the arm and pulling him outside. They hurried to the car, and Oliver pulled quickly out of the lot. “Well, guess that rules out the only repair shop in town for us both.” He looked over at Demetrius. “You okay?”

Demetrius rubbed his palms on his thighs. The soft denim scratched pleasantly against his skin. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He flashed a rueful smile. “Guess I’m a little rusty with my interviewing skills.”

“A little rusty?” Oliver laughed and shook his head, then said in a higher pitched voice of imitation, “Hi, hello. Is Rita here? We’d like to talk to her about a noise my friend’s car is making.”

“I don’t sound like that.” Demetrius couldn’t help an embarrassed laugh.

“A little bit.” Oliver leaned in over the steering wheel. “What the hell is that? Did I get a ticket or something?”

“What?” Demetrius leaned forward against the seat belt. A piece of yellow paper had been stuck beneath the driver’s side wiper blade, fluttering in the wind. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“Goddamn it. As if Lucia doesn’t have enough to do with another murder in town, she’s got to track me down and write me a ticket? And what’s it for?” Oliver pulled to the side of the road and got out to retrieve the paper. He sat behind the wheel again and closed the door, unfolding the piece of paper. “Huh.”

“What? Is it a ticket?”

“No.” Oliver passed the paper to Demetrius before he pulled out onto the road again. “Guess we know where we’re going next.”

The ticket was actually a blank book catalog card from the Parson’s Hollow library. Written across the front of the card in bold black ink was the message: Margie’s. Now.

* * *

When he entered Margie’s ahead of Oliver, Demetrius saw Tracey at their usual booth in the back. A woman sat there facing the door. She wore a baseball hat pulled low and the kind of large, plastic sunglasses people wore after eye surgery.

“She’s in the back,” Demetrius whispered to Oliver.