by Leanne Leeds
“Daddy, you’ve been through a lot, and it’s clear that Karen was messing with your head. I know everything, and I’m not angry. She’s a terrible person. It wasn’t your fault. You’re only human.” She reached over and grabbed her father’s hand, pulling it to her and enclosing it with her other hand. “Right now, though, we need you to tell us what you know. You and I will have plenty of time to talk about the past now that you remember.”
“You didn’t kill your first husband, did you?” Chief Clutterbuck suddenly asked, his eyes narrowing.
“You couldn’t have left some things hidden, huh, sis?” Angie said to Dalida in a defensive tone.
“Sorry.” Dalida shrugged. “When you’ve got it, you got it,” she added with particular pride.
Angie and her father continued talking.
Chris was a master at being patient, but as they continued discussing their family history and forgiveness, I watched his patience slowly run down like a weak battery on a phone. After ten minutes, he sighed loudly—even though he didn’t technically need to breathe air. As the conversation turned to yet another topic that promised to be long-winded, the vampire stepped toward the pair.
“Chief, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we really need that bottle. Did you bring the witch bottle from evidence?” Chris asked in a neutral tone. Martin stood behind his vampire bodyguard, trusting him to direct the situation where it needed to go. Their interplay was interesting—as if they passed a leadership baton back and forth depending on the situation.
For a few seconds, I wondered who, exactly, was ultimately in charge of whom.
“The bottle, the one in Conrad Noble’s hand,” Chief Clutterbuck said as if just remembering its existence. “I didn’t bring it here, no. I went into the evidence room to get it, and I saw it on the shelf, but then I…I don’t really know what happened. I just turned around and walked away without it. I was sure, in my mind, it wouldn’t be needed.”
Martin and Chris glanced at one another and nodded, but I overheard no telepathic words pass between them. “Can you check the chief before we decide on our next steps?” Chris asked me. “I want to make sure that there’s absolutely no one else in his mind other than him.” Martin smiled and nodded.
“Sure,” I nodded. I reached out, lifted Clutterbuck’s chin, and gazed deep into his clear eyes. Sensing thoughts, sensing feelings, going through memories…I’d been doing it so often that the inventory took little time. “There’s no one in there but him,” I told Chris, standing back up straight.
“The way I see it, we have three things we need to concentrate on,” Martin said, stepping forward. “One is the witch bottle. Chris and Fortuna can accompany Chief Clutterbuck to the police station so we can get it. The two of them are the strongest in the group—”
“Hey, I have a gun,” Gabe objected. “Fortuna still pales around firearms. And I used to work there, so I know the place, and I know the people.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to insult anyone’s prowess,” Martin told the detective. His voice held a hint of amusement. “Chris and Fortuna are the most adept magical users in the group—”
“I can make anyone happy just by touching them with the teeny tiny tip of my finger,” Angie protested, crossing her arms. “If someone stops us and is suspicious or questions us about what we’re doing, don’t you think that would come in handy?”
“Like I said,” Martin repeated slowly, sounding a little more impatient. “We have three things we need to concentrate on. One is getting the witch bottle, so Chris and Fortuna can accompany Chief Clutterbuck to do that. The second thing we need to do is find out what’s going on at the Holy Grove Church.” Martin turned toward Ollie. “Are you comfortable bringing Pepper over to the church to do a little reconnaissance? I know Reverend Kane is your father, and so I wouldn’t ask you—”
“I’m fine,” Ollie replied confidently. “It will not be a problem.”
Pepper rummaged through her bag. “I can wire us up so we can get audio of everything.”
“I really do like you, but sometimes you scare me more than Fortuna,” Angie mumbled.
Pepper beamed.
“And the third thing?” Uncle Vito asked raspingly.
“The third thing we need to figure out is where this land is and why it’s so important that someone would shoot Conrad Noble to get it in the hands of the church,” Martin said finally. “Since an attorney that used to work for the complex signed the papers, I think Angie and I would be the best people to handle that.”
“What about Dalida and I?” Gabe asked. He sounded a little sullen if you want to know the truth.
“You guys go round up the ghosts,” I said, cutting off whatever Martin would say. Chris looked at me, quizzically. “We know where the last bottle is so they can stop looking for it. We need some of them to go monitor Karen in jail and tell us if she’s performing any magic or if anybody looks like they’re under her spell.”
“And the rest?” Dalida asked.
“Have them look for Conrad Noble’s ghost.”
The entire group looked slightly taken aback.
“I thought the ghosts in Mystic’s End disappeared somewhere?” Gabe asked, confused. “Isn’t that part of the whole weirdness of the town? That there should be ghosts, but there aren’t?”
“And yet there’s a border at the edge of town keeping the freed witches from getting out of here,” I told Gabe. “The more ghosts we’ve had checking out that barrier, the more suspicious I’ve become that the ghosts in town couldn’t leave even if they wanted to.”
“I agree with Fortuna that something is off. Spike and Plum have been working diligently on trying to get through the barrier, finding a break in it, finding a hole in it,” Dalida explained in her soft voice to Gabe. Turning to the rest of the group, she tilted her head. “They have found no such weak spot. It seems unlikely anything incorporeal could go through it anywhere.”
“Can’t they just get through the barrier with magic?” Pepper asked. “Like, maybe there is some kind of phantasm ejection spell?”
“Ejection spell?” Ollie asked, trying to cover a laugh.
“Well, I don’t know what to call it! I don’t know the limits of this stuff.”
“It’s a legitimate question, but I don’t think so. I haven’t been able to get the ghosts we know out, even with magic. Like I said, it’s just a hunch, but I think they’re still here. Somewhere. I hoped—well, I hope—when we open the last bottle that they’ll be…” I struggled to find the right words. “Look, like I said—it’s just a feeling based on what we’ve learned.”
I had dealt with these magical bubble barriers before. The Magical Midway had been in one of them. I knew from my friend Charlotte that specific people could be allowed in, also allowing particular people out. She told me, though, if you were dealing with many, many people crossing the barrier each day—like, say, a town—it was much easier to allow and disallow people by type. Based on that, I believed it likely no ghosts could leave Mystic’s End.
Also based on that, the fact that there were no ghosts other than the freed witches…
Well, there was Miss Bessie. She and I had talked about it, and she believed the mystic power had protected her from whatever curse might be at work on the dead. Joe, a dead mailman, also lived in the town as a specter, but he’d gotten caught in a quartz crystal when he died. That seemed to have prevented him from disappearing to wherever everyone seemed to go.
“Gabe, I agree with Fortuna. I think it’s worth looking into, and I also think that none of us should wander off doing these things alone,” Martin admitted. “They already shot someone in the head this week. We need to make sure we stay together in pairs and that at least one person is armed.” He looked pointedly at Ollie. “Do you have a gun?”
Before Ollie could pull out his weapon, Pepper yanked out her own substantial black handgun.
“You definitely scare me more than Fortuna,” Angie told the reporter, her eyes wide.
“Yeah, but I have my charm, right?” Pepper chirped as she stuffed the pistol back into her knapsack.
“I think she’s been casting spells on me,” Clutterbuck huffed from the backseat as Chris drove a huge Cadillac Escalade toward the police station. “Whenever I came to talk to her in her cell, I put my hands on the bars. She’d always reach out her hand, you know? I thought nothing of it because we used to be involved. I thought she was just trying to get me on her side.”
“You thought nothing of it because she didn’t want you to think anything of it,” I responded, glancing back at the chief in the rear-view mirror. “Telepaths are very tricky magical users,” I admitted. “Considering all three of her daughters have some type of telepathic ability—”
“I thought Angie was a healer?” Clutterbuck asked.
“She is, but she makes people think they’re happy, feel bliss. Her first husband was suffering from cancer and in a lot of pain. When she touched him, that pain went away—the cancer didn’t. She couldn’t heal the actual disease, but she could make it, so his brain didn’t interpret the pain that his nervous system was telling him was there. Telepaths mess with people’s brains in different ways, so really, Angie’s just a specialized telepath.”
“Well put,” Chris said.
“This is all so strange,” Clutterbuck mumbled. “I’m happy to have my memories back, though, so thank you. I feel totally in control of myself.” Just before we reached the main road, we spotted a patrol car parked. Clutterbuck waved happily through the window, not realizing the tint wouldn’t allow his cheerful wave to be seen. “I feel really safe. Secure. I mean, you’ve got this, right?”
“If your sister could bottle that, she’d make a fortune in the pharmaceutical industry.” Chris glanced in the rear-view mirror, raised his eyebrow, and shook his head. “Chief Clutterbuck, sir, you may be feeling a little overconfident. Residual effects from the ritual, sir.”
“Oh, yeah?” I could practically hear Clutterbuck’s smirk. “This is better than a massage out at the complex. I should have one of these once a week. I feel great. Hey!”
“Sir?”
“You not really a vampire, are you?”
“Yes. I really am, sir.” Chris’s tone was polite.
“I didn’t think there were any vampires. You don’t drink blood, do you? That’s a myth, right?”
“No, sir, that’s not a myth. Vampires drink blood.”
There was a long pause. “Not going to drink my blood, are you?” Clutterbuck asked apprehensively.
“No, sir.”
“Good, good, good,” the chief answered nervously.
Chris glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back.
A few minutes later, the silence was broken again.
“So, ah, not even if you get really thirsty?”
Twelve
When the three of us entered the police station, the officers on duty greeted Chief Clutterbuck with friendly nods and pats on the back. “Evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he called out jovially. “How’s the evening going so far? Everything pretty calm? Calls about average for the middle of the week?”
“Yes, sir. It’s been a good night, sir,” the young, fresh-faced Officer Corbin answered from behind the reception desk. “Officer Locke took a complaint from the Mayor about her neighbor’s dog barking, but other than that, it’s been pretty quiet.” He glared at me as if it was my fault the mayor had complained about her neighbor’s dog. “Most of the guys are out on patrol. Detectives left a few hours ago.” The young man glared at me once more and then moved his eyes toward Chris. “Oh, Mr. Jeeves, sir. I didn’t see you there.” Officer Corbin stood up straight and nodded. “Good evening to you. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea, maybe?”
“Evening, Blake. Nothing for me, thank you.”
Blake? First name basis with the police?
Of course.
“Boy, Martin’s money really buys you the red carpet reception, huh?” I mumbled, annoyed at Blake’s apparent preference for my companions. The officer’s self-important smirk after overhearing my comment grated on me even further.
“It does, in fact,” Chris responded with a chuckle. “I’ve never understood why someone having money changes the behavior of those that don’t have it or makes those that don’t have it more respectful of people that do. My lack of understanding doesn’t change the fact that I have realized it’s more often the case than not.”
“That you get a red carpet?”
“Indeed.”
Officer Corbin struggled between a smile and a frown as he listened. I could tell he thought he should be insulted by what Chris said, but he wasn’t sure why. Glancing between the three of us, he noted my annoyance. “I’m sorry, were you thirsty?” He asked more out of obligation than concern, as if just realizing he’d been ignoring me.
“Officer Corbin, when I was in here before, you mentioned that your mother wasn’t fond of me. Or, more specifically, that her church wasn’t fond of me. Is that right?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Officer Corbin grabbed his mug and turned, covering the six feet between him and the coffee machine in record time. “Are you sure you don’t want a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot about a half-hour ago.”
“I’m sure,” I called across the space. Clutterbuck opened his mouth to say something, but I reached out and touched his arm. “I’m just curious because it seemed like your church was really interested in getting me to come worship there. At least originally. It doesn’t seem like—if you thought I was evil—your Reverend would be interested in that.”
The officer turned, holding his mug in one hand and the coffee pot in another. “Reverend Kane wanted you to worship with us?”
“He sure did.” I nodded. “So, I’m kinda confused why you seem to be…I don’t know, unnerved by me somehow.” I kept my tone level, conversational even. The officer tilted his head like a confused puppy.
“Well, for a while, we thought you stole the sacred orb. It turns out we had misplaced it, and you didn’t. But while we were looking for it?” He made an angry face and paused long enough to pour his coffee. “We had a lot of not so very nice things to say about you and your kind. But like I said, it turns out we were wrong.”
“How sacred could the orb be if you misplaced it?” I asked wryly.
“Pretty sacred, ma’am,” he responded. “It looks just like the one you have in your shop. That’s why we thought you took it. But, like I said, it just got misplaced. See, everyone in the men’s group takes a turn caring for it. A few of us are a little more responsible than others, and one guy—Saul—accidentally left it in his toolbox.” Officer Corbin took a sip of the coffee and looked up. “Or was it Seth that left it in the toolbox?”
“It’s not important. Why is it sacred?” Officer Corbin looked back down at me. He seemed confused why someone like me would want to know about the orb.
“The mystic orb? Well, gosh, ma’am, it holds the history of the town.”
“An orb?” Chief Clutterbuck, Chris, and I glanced at each other. “How can an orb hold the history of the town? Is it some kind of electronic device? Like a computer or weirdly shaped tablet?”
“No, ma’am, it’s not electronic at all. Like I said, it looks just like the one in your shop.”
“The one in my—”
“The crystal ball,” Chris whispered so low that only I could hear him. “The one on your front table.”
My mind flashed to Reverend Dexter Kane’s reaction the first time he spotted the crystal ball. He nearly turned white, even though it was nothing more than a run-of-the-mill spherical selenite ball. I’d like to claim there was something special about it, but there wasn’t. I bought it because it looked like a moon, and it was pretty. I charged it with protection spells, and that was that—just a crystal ball.
“Just one more question, Officer,” I said. “Was Conrad Noble in your men’s group?”
“Well, sure he
was.” Corbin’s face fell as he remembered the recently deceased accountant. “He and his wife Prunella come to church all the time, ma’am, and she insisted he join the men’s group. Duty, you know.” Officer Corbin looked around as if checking to see who else could overhear the conversation. Then he walked back to the counter and leaned forward, glancing at his boss. “I don’t think Brother Noble really enjoyed the men’s group, though. Actually, I don’t think he really enjoyed church at all, if you want to know the truth. At least not lately.”
“Why would you say that, Officer?” Clutterbuck asked.
“I know I’m not supposed to listen to people when they talk, but last Sunday?” Clutterbuck, Chris, and I leaned forward. “I heard Bond and Conrad fighting. They were just outside the auditorium doors. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were furious. Well, angrier than they usually are. Like I said, I don’t think Conrad Noble enjoyed church too much.” Corbin’s face fell. “His brother seemed to always waylay him after services, and they always got into an argument about something.”
“So it wasn’t the church that Conrad had a problem with?” Chris asked.
“No, Mr. Jeeves, I don’t think so. But the fighting got a lot worse a month ago, and I heard Prunella talking with Reverend Kane about how she thought Conrad was going to quit. She asked him—the Reverend—to talk him out of it.”
“Quit church?” I asked.
“I think so. I guess it doesn’t matter now that he’s dead, but it seemed like they were having problems.”
Just then, an older woman stormed into the station. “I want to report my neighbor! Who do I talk to? They keep parking their stupid truck three feet over into my property line, and I want somebody to get them for trespassing if they do it again!”
“Ma’am, I can help you right over here,” Officer Corbin called out with a wave. “I sure hope you find out who killed Mr. Noble. He was such a nice man. He was always kind to me. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
