Spells and Scones by Bailey Cates

her.”
    â€œUm,” I said. “Are you talking about Angie Kissel?”
    They both glared at me. “Of course!” Phoebe said.
    I pasted a noncommittal look on my face. “Well, your sister did mention something about a restraining order.”
    Phoebe nodded vehemently. “We hadn’t gotten one yet, but after that horrible creature showed up yet again last night, I was going to apply for one today.” She faltered.
    â€œAgain? So Kissel had been a problem before?” I asked. Leading the witness. And I would have felt bad about it if Phoebe hadn’t seemed to be so willing to talk about it. She certainly seemed more energetic, thinking about someone to blame.
    â€œOh, Lord yes. Dana had seen that woman following her three or four times, and she showed up at a previous signing. She didn’t say anything to my sister then, though, or I would have tried to have her removed before Dana began speaking last night.” She passed her hand over her eyes, and when it dropped they were blazing. “And that’s not all. Kissel harassed her in other ways.”
    I leaned forward. “Like how?”
    Croft’s eyes narrowed. “Katie, don’t you have a bakery to run?”
    I smiled at him.
    But Phoebe jumped at the chance to tell me more about Angie. “She was starting a letter-writing campaign. First it was just her. She wrote letters to the station manager at WMBK-AM, where Dana recorded her show, trying to get him to drop her. Like that was going to happen! Even if it did work, another station would have stepped in. Dana was terribly popular, you know? But that woman just kept trying. She threatened to solicit other people to write to affiliate stations across the country, too.”
    â€œReally?” I asked.
    Croft took the bag of cookies and set them on a nearby table. “Thanks, Katie.”
    I was being dismissed.
    A small smile tried to find a place on Phoebe’s face. “I’d better be going. There are arrangements to make, and I’m the arrangement maker, you know.” Her expression turned thoughtful, and she said as if to herself, “Some kind of memorial—I wonder what would be the most appropriate thing to do? Maybe something her fans could participate in? And then there are all those cancelations . . .” I could see Dana’s sister had thrived on her job administering her sister’s day-to-day activities. Thinking about logistics seemed to center her.
    The phone rang. Croft looked torn.
    â€œI have to get going,” Phoebe said, and headed for the door. “Thanks, Mr. Barrow.”
    Croft grabbed the phone, calling after her, “You take care, now. I have your number.” And then into the phone: “Hello?”
    I grabbed the cookies and trotted after her. “Here. Take these.”
    She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks.”
    I pushed the door closed behind her and turned back to Croft.
    His tone was dangerous as he spoke into the handset. “I have no interest whatsoever in talking with you, or anyone else, about what happened last night. Now, stop calling!” He slammed the phone into its cradle, making me jump.
    â€œWho was that?” I asked.
    â€œReporter. He’s left four messages on my voice mail. Maybe he’ll get the hint now.” His eyes met mine. “What a mess.”
    I wanted to give him a hug, but he was not a huggy kind of guy. So, I plunged in with the other reason I’d come next door.
    â€œCroft, you remember the big guy who confronted Dr. Dana? The one who said he’d almost lost his fiancée?”
    He nodded.
    â€œDo you know his name?”
    â€œHe’s not a regular.”
    â€œHe bought a book,” I said. “Can you look up the transaction and see if he paid with a credit card?”
    His lips pressed together. “Maybe. If I knew what book it was.” A wry look crossed his features.