by E. M. Moore
Mrs. Ward’s eyes twinkled, and I realized I’d been smiling. No doubt she was taking that so far out of context it would make my ears burn. I looked up, making sure to frown. “If I run the program, I don’t think I should be bidding on anybody.”
Mrs. Ward just shrugged, but she looked far too pleased with herself. “I had Teddy and Ray load your car up already. They feel awful about the toner, by the way. So, you’ve got the folding table, your flyers and brochures, laptop, donation box, everything you need for the sidewalk fair.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ward,” I said, standing. Now all I had to do was run home, change, and get Maxie ready.
She hesitated near the office entrance. “Maddie…?”
I blinked at her. “Yeah?”
She contemplated me for a few seconds, then smiled. “Nothing.”
After making a pit stop at home, I drove my way through the heart of Historic Downtown and up to the parking garage. As I pulled up to the ticket booth, a shiver coursed through me. Just a couple weeks ago, John Williams had stood on the top floor threatening to kill himself because his mistress had wanted to break off their affair. It turned out he really was crazy. He didn’t kill himself that night, but he did hold a gun to my head a few nights later. The parking garage would never feel the same again.
With my hands full of the folding table, bags of flyers, and Maxie’s leash, I made my way to the sidewalk fair, Maxie striding along happily beside me. I was nearly there when I noticed a group of Salem police officers blockading off part of the cobblestone street. My stomach dropped. A siren whined in the distance, and at the very end of the road, I noticed an ambulance skid to a stop. Two EMT’s jumped out and pulled a gurney out of the back. I pushed my way through the crowd until my feet just stopped as if they’d cemented themselves into the sidewalk. I blinked up at the scene, not believing what I was seeing.
Josh Destin, or Dezi as Jackson called him, stepped into view. “Maddie,” he said, trying to shield me, “you shouldn’t be here right now. We’re trying to clear the street.”
“Is that…?”
His voice lowered, resigned. “Yes, it’s Pepper Long.”
“I thought so.”
Pepper’s still, lifeless body was propped up like a mannequin in the front window of her occult store. Her shop was a favorite amongst tourists. She sold candles, bags of herbs to make real spells, and books on witchcraft. She was a Wiccan, like a small number of the Salem population, including myself. Unlike me, however, she was a devout practitioner. A good witch, but even that couldn’t save her.
Eyes wide open, her unseeing eyes stared out the window and straight into mine. Maxie whined and clawed at my feet as people pushed in around us.
What in the world happened to Pepper?
Chapter 2
The ever-adaptable Salem Business Association decided to move the sidewalk fair further down the street so the Salem police officers could work on poor Pepper without an audience. After standing there frozen, Dezi had finally shooed me away for good and I continued down the sidewalk to set my table up where I was directed. I tied Maxie’s leash around the end of the table and set up the rest of my display in a daze.
The sidewalk fair wasn’t of interest to any of the tourists yet though most of them hovered around the storefront as the officers took Pepper down and hid her where there weren’t any prying eyes. A flash of purple hair caught my eye, and I strained to see through the crowd. Mel was on the outskirts of the gathering of people, staring at the gruesome scene. She and Pepper had gone to school together, I remembered.
It was odd to see her at this time of day. She should’ve been at her own shop down near the wharf where we lived. Last we spoke, she’d decided against getting a table at the sidewalk fair. I waved my hands in the air and called out to her. She froze and looked around. I called again. This time, her neck craned toward me and I waved her down. Her shoulders relaxed as if she let out a big whoosh of air, then she made her way toward me, her face screwed up into a frown. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.
“It’s Pepper,” I said as she got a little closer. “Not sure exactly what happened, but it wasn’t good, Mel.” For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to form the words ‘She’s dead’.
She rubbed her temples, her face ashen. “Oh my Gods.”
I placed my hand on her shoulder and squeezed. I had no idea she and Pepper were that close. “It’s okay. If I see Dezi again, I’ll ask him, okay?”
Then, Mel asked the question that had plagued me ever since I saw Pepper’s body in that window. “Was she…?” She took a deep breath and swallowed before starting the question over again. “Was she killed, Maddie?”
I nodded, not needing a police officer to confirm it. No way Pepper would’ve been propped up like a mannequin in her own store if something else happened. If she’d died of natural causes or, Gods forbid, taken her own life, there was no way she would’ve ended up in that position. It was obvious.
Mel just nodded her head slowly. “I see.”
She shivered even though it was summer and the sun was high in the sky. The heat beat down on us from above. I hadn’t realized she’d spoken to Pepper much since they graduated. Because they had similar stores in town, maybe they spoke more than I’d thought. “Did you keep in contact with her, Mel?”
Her eyes widened as she looked around us. The tourists were still crowding around the scene and the officers were still trying to push them back. A few uniformed policemen walked up the street with barricades that looked like sawhorses with the bright orange and white stripes taped on them.
“A little,” she said. “Not much. Here and there, I guess. It’s just a shock. This is the second murder in a month, Maddie. It’s just…crazy.”
My sister was a strong woman. She was a witch, like me, and like Pepper. Technically, we were all Wiccans, but Mel and I came from a long line of witches who had actual powers, not just powers garnered by religious beliefs. Mel had even saved me from that lunatic John Williams with a spelled bracelet.
We’d had a heart-to-heart since then. For years, I’d abandoned my witchy side. I’d become afraid of it instead of embracing it. It wasn’t like cold hard facts. I couldn’t touch it. I couldn’t even dissect it or catalog it. It was only a feeling. I could feel the witchcraft, but I could never show evidence or proof that it existed. I guessed if I was being honest with myself, I really could show proof, but it wasn’t the kind of proof everyone else would understand.
My sister had saved my life, but I couldn’t prove it to anyone. The bracelet I wore that day burned John Williams when he tried to hurt me. If it wasn’t for that bracelet, and the magic in that bracelet, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to my sister right now. As the days after the incident passed, she’d spoken to me often about coming back to witchcraft. I’d been gradually getting used to the idea. It wasn’t a sure thing yet though.
“There’s Jackson,” Mel said as she waved her arms frantically in the air.
He strode toward us with a somber expression. “I was hoping I might find you two here. Or at least one of you. Would you guys mind coming into the store to help us with something?”
Mel and I exchanged a worried glance. What could he possibly need us for unless it was… Well let’s just say it had to have something to do with being a witch. I was about to tell Jackson I would come so Mel wouldn’t have to see her friend like that. She beat me to it though. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward Pepper’s store. I shook my head. Mel was stubborn if nothing else.
We followed Jackson through the crowd. Dezi opened the blockade for us and we walked through the entrance to Pepper’s store. She called it an occult shop because occult was a buzzword. It was something fancy tourists would look at and be like, ‘Yes, that’s what I need.’ Honestly though, her shop didn’t have anything to do with the occult. It was just a plain ol’ Wiccan store. There were herbs, witchcraft paraphernalia, and no evil magic anywhere. We had to make a living
somehow in Salem and this was how Pepper made hers.
The scent of cinnamon and sage filled my nostrils as we walked through the store. In front of us, a bodybag lay on a gurney. Thankfully it was all zipped up and Pepper’s body was hidden away.
“What happened?” Mel asked, her eyes trained on the black bag in front of us. “Was she killed?”
“Yes.” Jackson took out a notepad and began to read from scribbled notes. One could say he was just merely doing his job, but his mother liked to point out that Jackson turned moody when he was in the middle of an investigation. After being questioned by him, I had to agree with her. “Pepper Long is a homicide victim. There were superficial cuts on her chest in the shape of a pentagram, but we think what actually killed her was poison. We’re not sure what yet. We’ll have to send evidence off to get a toxicology report done, but so far, the evidence suggests poisoning by mouth.”
I was staring at one of the candles shaped like a skull when a blast of cold hit me in the back. I spun, my eyes narrowing at the empty space around me. I really didn’t like being in places where someone was murdered. In order to make it feel okay in the library again, I made a shrine to poor Mr. Sanders. This place was giving me the creeps. It didn’t help that she really laid the occult motif on thick. Skulls, black lace, and black and orange candles were everywhere.
I turned to Jackson, fighting the shiver that threatened to take over my body. “What did you need us for?”
He motioned further into the store and we followed him toward the counter where a pewter bowl and stick lay. Herbs were all over the counter. The bowl lay on its side, the contents of it spilled out in front of it, all reds, browns, and greens. To my untrained eye, it looked like there was a bit of a struggle, or at least she’d been interrupted while putting together a spell bag.
“It looked as if Pepper was making something,” Jackson said. “This is beyond our realm of comprehension and we wondered, well, I wondered, if you might be able to tell me what she was doing in case it’s important to the investigation.”
Mel moved closer. Her fingers hovered over the spilled contents, but she didn’t touch. “They’re herbs and spices. There are lots of different ones here.” She licked her finger, touched some of the herbs, and brought them to her nose. “A lot of different ones.”
“Was she putting together a spell?” Jackson whispered, his eyes darting around the empty store. There was no one else in here but us, but I could understand his apprehension. The words made him sound like a lunatic. That was exactly why I wanted to get out of witchcraft in the first place. If you were Wiccan, or if you called yourself a witch, people thought you were crazy. Jackson, however, had seen the other side of it. He saw what happened when John Williams touched my bracelet. It wasn’t something he could explain away so easily and I didn’t think his detective brain was taking it too well.
Mel looked at me from the corner of her eye. I moved forward and glanced at the contents, too. It had been far too long since I tried to do anything like this. If she were truly making a spell, I didn’t know how much help I could be. I frowned down at all the things out on the counter. “I’m not sure. I mean, it would make sense. It’s not like she was cooking right here in her store, but it just looks like a mishmash to me.”
Jackson pointed at the upturned bowl. “What’s this?”
“That’s a witch’s bowl,” I explained. “That’s where they crush up things to put in their spell bags.”
“And this?” He pointed at the thick stick, his eyebrows raised in complete ignorance.
Mel said, “You crush up the herbs and spices with this in the bowl. Afterward, you put them in spell bags, or sometimes in a drink. I’m not sure what Pepper was trying to do. There are so many herbs out here…”
Jackson sighed as he whipped out a baggie from his pocket. He stared at the scene and frowned before he started to place everything in the evidence bags. “I just feel like it’s something important,” he muttered.
Mel shrugged. “Maybe she was just making up one of the spell bags she sells here in the store. There’s one for happiness right over here on this shelf. See,” she pointed out, “One to be happy, one to make someone fall in love with you, one for good fortune, one for money…”
Jackson’s eyebrows shot the air. “Do they work?”
Mel laughed and I joined her. I hadn’t been that far removed to know most of this was just for the tourists. “You can’t just make a potion or a spell and give it to a regular person and think it’s going to work,” Mel said through a big smile. “Your intention has to be set. I suppose someone who didn’t know anything about witchcraft could have a bit of luck, but this is just novelty stuff, Jackson. These are just things we sell at the store because that’s what tourists want. We’re selling them the possibility. Sure, would they like the good fortune and the money and the happiness? Obviously, but they’re just as happy buying the premise. I bet most just buy this in the store, show it off to their friends, have a good laugh, and then don’t even use it.”
“Was that what Pepper was doing? Can you tell if this is one of her bags she makes up for the store?”
Now Mel acted as if she didn’t want to answer. She chewed on her lip and stared at the floor, her eyes deliberately moving away from the bodybag.
I looked up at Jackson. “All witches do things a little different. We have our own ways to make things. Different ingredients, if you will. My idea of whipping up a protection spell would be different from what Pepper would do, and Mel’s would also be completely different.”
“But Mel’s worked,” Jackson said, his voice earnest. “I saw what it did, Maddie.”
“Of course, it worked,” Mel said, “I’m a damn good witch.”
Jackson side-eyed her and I bit back a laugh. “Although that’s true,” I started, “Another witch would’ve done the spell differently. A different recipe, you might say. Like making a chocolate cake. There are a bunch of different ways to make chocolate cakes and some of them are good and some of them are bad. You could have two delicious chocolate cakes and both be made differently with different ingredients. There isn’t one way to go about doing things. It’s hard to tell what an individual witch is trying to make. I can tell you that it smells an awful lot like sage in here and sage…” I chanced a look at Mel. “Well, sage is mostly used for protection.”
Jackson crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his thumb against his lips. He thought for a moment and then locked eyes with me. “So are you saying it’s possible Pepper could’ve known she was in trouble, kind of like how Mel knew you were in trouble?”
“It’s possible,” Mel said dismissively. “It’s also possible she was just making something for the store that she was running out of. It could all be coincidence. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what it is. It’s hard to tell anything from all this.”
Jackson looked at me and I shrugged. Mel had been a mystery to me my whole life.
“Well, thank you for taking a look, both of you,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”
Mel ran her hands through her hair. “I have to get back to my shop. I closed it for far too long. Probably got a line out the street…”
I looked at her, my eyebrows raising. I didn’t know when she’d ever had a line out the street. Maybe during Haunted Happenings when everyone and their mother came to Salem, but that wasn’t for another few months. I shrugged as we watched her walk quickly through the store, dodging all the occult paraphernalia and pushing the front door open.
Jackson turned toward me. “Is Mel okay?”
“She and Pepper were in the same class,” I explained, hoping that was it. She did seem a little jumpy, and that had to be the answer. She’d sounded fine on the phone earlier.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows pulling together in concentration, in memories.
I stared him dead center in the eyes and nodded once. “Yeah.”
He nodded and looked around the store again. “You know, gro
wing up in Salem, I hardly came went into the stores like this. For me, it was just a way we made money. It made me mad we capitalized on something so tragic. I don’t know now though…”
“Regardless, it’s all about tourism. It will always ever be about tourism.”
Jackson hugged his arms to himself. “Pepper, was she a bad witch? Is that even a thing? It sounds so Wizard of Oz.”
I shook my head. “Pepper was good. As with anyone, there are good and bad Wiccans, but if you’re a true practitioner, you aim for the good side. We believe in the power of three. No one should intentionally do bad or evil to someone else because you get it back three times worse.”
He lifted his hands and turned around in a circle, motioning toward the walls. “Then why are there so many pentagrams in this place?”
“Just a way to bring in the crowds, Jackson. She had to be different from the store two doors down and the store four doors down from that. So instead of just calling her store a regular magic store, she called it an occult store. I can tell you there’s nothing evil in here. Yes, there are skulls and pentagrams, but they’re not calling any bad spirits or anything. Trust me, she was good.”
He tapped his pen against his pad of paper. “I’m just trying to figure out a motive.”
“And you thought it’d make your job easier if she was an evil witch and everyone wanted to hurt her?”
He lifted his shoulders. “You caught me. Plus, it would not only make my job easier, it would make it—I want to say warranted, but I kind of don’t want to say warranted. If she wasn’t an evil person, then something evil happened to her, and that makes it ten times worse.”
How true. This was, as Mel said, the second murder within a couple weeks. I wasn’t an expert on crime in the city, but I could say things like this didn’t happen, especially in the historic section of Salem. That was where the tourism machine lived and breathed. If anything, this was where they tried to have the least amount of crime possible.
