“Then the world is truly upside down, Carol.”
Pine pulled to a stop down the street. “The place looks dark.” She checked her watch. “I don’t see the hours posted, but she’s probably closed for the day.”
“It doesn’t look large enough for Desiree to live there, too. And I doubt this area is even zoned for residential.”
“You’re probably right—she may very well live somewhere else. And she may not have a home landline. More and more people don’t.”
“I guess there are ways we can find out where she lives.”
“It’s all a matter of speed and finding the point of least resistance.” Blum eyed her keenly. “Why does that make me think you’re about to do something not quite legal?”
“Oh, Carol, you know me like a book. Wait here.”
Pine hopped out of the SUV and walked back down the street. She looked around and found this section of the street pretty empty. Good. She tried the shop’s front door and found it locked. She looked through the door glass for evidence of an alarm system, but didn’t see any. Maybe Desiree had put a protection spell on her shop in lieu of contracting with ADT, thought Pine.
Pine walked around to the back of the building and sized it up. One door, two windows. Large, mature trees ringed the small, park-like area that ran behind all the shops here. An old picnic table sat under the tree canopies.
She tried the back door but it was locked, as were the windows. Until Pine worked her knife through the gap on one of them and pushed the simple lock back. She slowly lifted the window, ready to run if an alarm sounded, but fortunately none did.
She slipped through the opening and closed the window, after lowering herself softly to the floor. Her nostrils were instantly breached by mingled pungent scents. She slipped a small flashlight from her pocket and manipulated the lens opening so that only a small, core beam was produced. She shone it over the walls. They were covered with shelves, which, in turn, were loaded with all sorts of things, many of them grotesque, at least to Pine. A bottle of fake shrunken heads was a real eye-grabber.
At least I hope they’re fake.
Boxes of tarot cards were stacked haphazardly on a table. And they were on sale! A full-sized skeleton coated with dust hung from a holder in one corner. One could take it home for the sale price of $599. Astrological charts in various sizes and colors hung in lopsided, chaotic patterns on the walls, along with prints of creatures that Pine did not recognize. There were books with titles like Witchcraft at Home and Self-Healing Tonics. Pine looked through the latter one and doubted that the FDA would have approved. The place was disheveled and unorganized and there was junk piled around, including unopened cardboard boxes with the shipping labels still on them.
She moved into the next room. It was small and looked to be the office. This space was also littered with papers and boxes; a laminated desk was wedged into one free corner with a computer on it. The computer required a password, so Pine ignored it and went through the desk drawers. She found some stationery with the store’s name and address. And under a stack of junk she also found a checkbook with the name Dolores Venuti printed on it, along with another address in Asheville.
Pine certainly believed that Desiree and Dolores were one and the same, although she would have liked absolute confirmation of that. She found it when she looked at some photos taped to the wall. One was of a person who could only be Desiree. She fit the description Pine had been given and, more important, the DMV photo. She was standing in front of the occult shop and was smiling. Written in Sharpie at the bottom of the picture was the inscription, “Welcome to the neighborhood, Dolores.” It was signed by various people, and the shops named under those signatures were probably part of the local retail community.