Elizabeth’s boss at the Torn Sails Bar and Grill said she did come to work that day. The chubby man with the overgrown mustache said the girl was in pretty high spirits, smiling a lot and laughing more than she usually did. He did mention her particular side gig she had, which the bar owner didn’t approve of necessarily, but he didn’t reprimand her at all.
Their murder victim was a known whore, taking extra money from guys she met at the bar who were looking for a good time. In Goldcrest Cove, there might not have been a big outlet for that kind of business. Elizabeth was popular with the men who needed a little extra release that alcohol couldn’t give them.
Her boss said that last night, she was approached by a potential client, but she turned him down. It was pointless to interview the guy, because Elizabeth’s employer confirmed that he stayed at the bar. He was getting shitfaced until two in the morning, long after they found the body. It would have been the perfect motive, but once more, they were at a dead end.
The body was found around nine o’clock at night, far too early for a barmaid to be leaving work, and the medical examiner said she was killed approximately around eight o’clock. Her employer said that she had to meet someone, but she wouldn’t say who. However, she seemed pretty happy about it. From what he could tell, there were no other men who made a proposition to her that night. Nor anyone to his recollection that were going steady with Elizabeth. She didn’t have any regular “customers”. They continued down the list of interviewees until about halfway when they talked to Elizabeth’s landlady. She hadn’t talked to Elizabeth since the beginning of the month, but she did recall something specific on the previous Saturday. She saw Elizabeth talking with Father Frank for a long time at the festival. As she said, they looked to be in a rather emotional conversation and Elizabeth seemed upset at first.
When they probed further to ask if Father Frank might have been the one upsetting her, the landlady quickly denied it. If anything, Father Frank was encouraging her. She didn’t see how the rest of the conversation went. If Father Frank had anything to do with Elizabeth’s good mood, if he had been the one she went to see last night, they needed to confirm it.
They pulled into the relatively empty parking lot of the church. Father Frank’s little Toyota was there, along with the vehicles of other church officials that would be there on a Monday afternoon. “I think the after-school youth group will be meeting soon, so we need to make this quick,” Aaron said as he shut his car door.
Devin could tell that his partner didn’t enjoy the idea of putting his priest under a microscope. He didn’t like it either, but if he could at least give them more to go on, Devin was more than willing to grill him.
The sanctuary was empty and deathly quiet, but Devin could hear the low rumble of voices coming from the offices and additional rooms down the hall that branched off from the left side of the altar at the front. As the two cops walked down the aisle, their keys and other police standard equipment slapping against their hips with each step, Devin felt that strange spiritual energy that seemed to suffuse the sanctuary. It only intensified as they came closer to the altar. There was something sacred about this space. He knew that yesterday when he sat in the pews and listened to Father Frank speak.
Though it wasn’t unthinkable, Devin would have hated to put the priest on the suspect list. He seemed like a pretty upstanding guy. But, he kept his mind open. After all, the sign of the cross was carved into Elizabeth Thatchman’s chest. Was it coincidence or a clue?
Father Frank walked through the hall doors, carrying a cardboard box. At least they wouldn’t have to go far to find him. Aaron hurried forward.
“Need some help with that, Father?” he asked, but took the heavy load from the priest anyway. He seemed surprised to see the two cops, but not afraid. That was in his favor.
“Thank you, Aaron,” he said. “I was taking this out to my car. The canned food drive just started, and I was going to take these donations down to the distribution center.”
“How many more are there?” Aaron asked, taking a peek into the box of soups, canned veggies, and other non-perishable foods.
“Just a few. They’re in my office.”
Aaron looked to Devin and jerked his head toward the hall. “Why don’t we help him out a bit?”
Father Frank didn’t see the frown Devin gave his partner, but he agreed anyway. They didn’t exactly have the time to help out, but perhaps doing a good deed for the priest would help loosen his tongue for a little later.
When the priest said there were a few boxes, Devin imagined two or three left. There were ten. Though he could easily take two at a time, the task of lugging them across the sanctuary and to the parking lot had worked up a good sweat.
By the time all three of them sat down in one of the front pews in the sanctuary, Devin thought he had used up all that extra energy the espresso had given him earlier that day. Father Frank passed each of them water bottles he had grabbed from the church’s kitchen. “Thank you, boys. I appreciate your help.”
“Anytime,” Aaron said as he took a long gulp.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” the priest asked as he slipped a finger under his stiff collar and tugged to let some cooler air in.
Devin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looked to Father Frank who sat on the other side of Aaron. “Yes, we actually came to ask you a few questions.”
He frowned. “Is this about the murder from last night?”
Damn, word did travel fast. Even all the way to the church. “Yes. Do you have some time to talk?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. I’m always happy to help out the police whenever I can.”
Aaron pinched his water bottle between his knees and pulled out the notebook from his back pocket. “We heard that you were seen with Elizabeth Thatchman at the Fall Festival this past Saturday. Is that true?”
The blood seemed to drain from Father Frank’s face. “Is Elizabeth your suspect?” At least one thing hadn’t gotten around already.
“No, Father,” Devin replied. “She was the victim. We’re trying to form a list of suspects.”
Father Frank’s mouth hung open and Devin went to studying his reaction. It appeared to be genuine. The way his pupils dilated, his loss of speech, the way he sat so perfectly still. It was the same look Elizabeth’s boss had given when they questioned him earlier that day. The priest didn’t see this coming.
“Please answer the question,” Devin gently requested. “Were you with Elizabeth on Saturday?”
His mouth closed, and he slowly nodded. “I was.”
“May we ask what you two were talking about, or was it confidential?”
Father Frank’s throat worked as he took a moment to collect himself. “We were talking about the Lord. We had run into each other on Friday and she mentioned that she had been meaning to talk with me. We met at the festival, because we agreed it was a nice, public place… I’m sure you know about her reputation.”
Both of the cops nodded.
“Anyway, Elizabeth said she had been struggling with some personal dilemmas, and she asked me for help. Of course, I gave her the best help that I could. She came to church on Sunday and I believe she and the Lord made a real connection.”
That lined up with what her boss had said about her being in a more chipper mood.
“When you say she was struggling,” Devin began, “did she mention anyone who might have been trying to hurt her? Was she struggling with anyone in particular?”
Father Frank gave him a weak smile. “Only with herself. She had a troubled life. She seemed very encouraged after our talk.”
“So, you don’t think anyone would have a reason to harm her?” Aaron clarified.
Father Frank shook his head and looked to the carpet in front of their pew. “No, I don’t. God rest her soul,” he said as he made the sign of the cross over his chest.
Devin let a few beats pass before he asked the one question he dreaded. “I have to
ask where you were last night around eight o’clock.”
The priest’s eyes went wide when he looked to the cop. “You don’t suspect me of killing Elizabeth, do you?”
He held up his hands in a placating manner. “We’re trying to eliminate all the possibilities. We know that Elizabeth was going to meet someone and the medical examiner said she was killed around eight o’clock. Since she had made meetings with you before, we are just trying to ascertain if she tried to meet with you last night.”
After the shock wore off, Father Frank shook his head. “No, I was here at the church. We host Bingo night for the senior citizens. I was here until nine.”
Aaron spoke up. “And you have witnesses that can confirm this?”
Father Frank nodded. “At least fifteen came to play last night, not to mention some of the other church deacons.”
Devin was satisfied. Father Frank didn’t kill Elizabeth. He had an alibi, and no motive whatsoever. He stood from the pew. “Thank you for your time.”
Aaron wasn’t so ready to leave. “Father, I hate to ask this, but do you think any of your congregation are capable of doing this? There was a… a cross cut into her chest and down her torso. Do you think that has any religious significance?”
Disclosing so many details to a civilian wasn’t smart, but Devin listened for Father Frank’s answer. The priest blanched again, but shook his head. “It could, but I don’t think anyone in my church would do such a thing. As for the cross, I don’t know. I would hate to think that anyone who belongs to the body of Christ would think this sort of behavior was righteous.”
The cops looked to one another. Devin was satisfied with that answer, but Aaron probably held firm to his suspicions. He hadn’t seen the kind of psychotic, senseless murder like what happened in Boston. Devin did. He thought this had as much to do with religion as it did with anything else. It might have just been a coincidence, rather than a symbol.
“Thanks for talking with us, Father,” Aaron said as he stood to join his partner. “I trust our conversation won’t be spread around.”
Father Frank made a gesture toward the towering crucifix behind the altar. “Only the Lord will know we had this talk. I hope you find the murderer, boys. I really do. This isn’t something that belongs in a town like Goldcrest Cove.”
Devin couldn’t agree more, but once again they were without a lead. Now, at least, they knew they could rule out the community’s religious leader.
Krystal was glad for one thing. The house was big enough to accommodate a lot of witches. Krystal and Sierra were in the living room with their mother, moving furniture while Valerie and Amber were busy in the kitchen fixing drinks and snacks for later. The only two they were waiting on were Alexa and Taylor. The latter had called earlier to say she was having trouble finding her candles, but then she would be right over. Valerie said that Alexa was stuck at the coffee shop with a late customer. Poor Artemis, disgusted by the noise and bustling around, retreated upstairs to one of the bedrooms to sleep through the commotion.
“We have to make the circle big enough for everyone to sit around you,” Catherine said as she directed her two daughters to push the sofa against the far wall. The coffee table with its heavy slab of marble was a little tougher to pick up and move across the room.
“Move the carpet too,” their mother advised. “That was a souvenir from your great-grandmother when she came back from Persia.”
“We know,” Sierra and Krystal said in unison as they rolled up the heavy woven rug. It took both of them to lift it over their shoulders and set it down in the foyer.
From the kitchen, Valerie called out, “Don’t you have anything stronger than wine?”
Krystal opened her mouth to deny it, but Sierra beat her to it. “Check in the cabinet above the refrigerator.”
She shot her older sister a glare. “I thought we agreed not to keep any hard liquor in the house?”
Sierra propped her hand on her hip. “You try dealing with girls who don’t know what they want for their hair all day and see if you can come home without taking a shot or two.”
Catherine clapped her hands to get their attention. “Girls, where are the candles?”
Krystal motioned toward the two boxes sitting on the hall butler bench. “Those are from Valerie and Amber.”
The purple-haired witch came from the kitchen, a half-eaten cracker between her fingers and a few more tucked into her palm. “I brought my own ritual candles and snitched a few from the guest rooms that I use for decoration.”
Catherine rolled up her black sleeves and gave her the thumbs up. “Excellent. Where are ours?” she asked her daughters.
Sierra rolled her eyes and trudged up the steps to the second floor. “I just got home, mom. I haven’t had time to get them.”
“Hurry up,” her mother insisted as she took one of the boxes. “We don’t want to be here all night.”
“Do we really need that many?” Valerie asked as she came back with a tumbler glass in one hand and the frosted bottle of vodka in the other. “We don’t want to set the house on fire.”
Krystal followed her mother into the living room with the other box of candles. They were of many colors and sizes, but according to Catherine, this training didn’t depend on the type or shade of red in the candles like some required.
“We won’t set the house on fire, dear,” Catherine, the senior witch replied. “We just need lots of tiny flames to manipulate.”
“Why does this still sound like a really bad idea?” Amber mumbled to Valerie.
“Because I think it is,” she agreed.
Sierra came bounding down the stairs with a meager box of candles to contribute. Compared to the donations of the others, it was unimpressive. As soon as Catherine took a look, she made a face.
“Girls, I taught you better than to let your supply go this low.”
“We don’t do that many rituals, mom,” Krystal said as she and Sierra began to evenly space the candles in a circle in the middle of the living room.
“Still, a witch should never find herself without a good candle when she needs one.”
“That’s what my mama always said,” Amber remarked with her mouth full of cracker.
Krystal stuck her tongue out at her, as if to say that the innkeeper wasn’t helping. She stuck her tongue out in return.
Everything about this had her on edge. All day at the coffee shop, she couldn’t help but go over how all of this could go terribly wrong. She tried to convince her mother to just tell her how to do the training and she would take care of the rest. She didn’t want to burn anyone by accident or do just as Valerie suggested and burn the house down. If she did any damage, she would have rather done it by herself.
Then again, there hadn’t been a big meeting of the witches like this in a while. They hung out with Amber and Taylor on occasion, but to have all the girls together really instilled a new energy in the house. It was like having all this magic in one place was going to bring about some wonderful things. At least, she hoped so.
Krystal knew she needed to get this fire under control or her relationship with Devin would be nonexistent. She still hadn’t told her mother about Devin and as long as Catherine didn’t ask what provoked the fire in the first place, Krystal would not tell her. There was no need to give information when it wasn’t asked for, after all.
The front door opened, and Krystal heard Alexa and Taylor come shuffling down the foyer.
“We’ve got the goods!” Alexa shouted as she came to stand beside the two other girls. “Oh, I see you already have the goods.”
Taylor came in with her own heavy box and her messy braid looking especially tousled. “Oh, you’ll need more than that, though.”
“We’re all going to catch on fire,” Valerie muttered. She had already poured herself a tiny bit of vodka and was downing it. She handed the glass to Amber, who proceeded to take a swig herself.
“You girls put that down and come help,” Catherine reproache
d.
Krystal had already taken her place in the center of the ring of candles as Alexa and Taylor came in to assist. “Did you kick the customer out or did they leave on their own?”
Alexa seemed mildly entertained by what she was about to tell her friend. “They left on their own, but guess who it was.” She didn’t wait for anyone to ask. “Father Frank and Harry Middleton.” “Excuse me?” Sierra questions, sitting back on her heels with a look of utter bewilderment.
“You heard me right,” Alexa said as she began to set the candles in a third row around Krystal. “Father Frank and Harry Middleton had a coffee date… Well, not a date, but they had coffee.”
Amber came back from the kitchen after she put away the rest of her crackers. “Did you see Harry pull out his flask to spike the coffee?”
Alexa shook her head. “Nope. He was sober for a change. He even looked like his clothes were clean for once.”
“What did they talk about?” Taylor softly asked from where she squatted next to Catherine, passing candles and placing her own. They were starting on a fourth row already.
“I couldn’t tell, but whatever they were talking about, it made Harry cry after just a few minutes.”
Krystal’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Cry? I didn’t think he could cry. Just stumble through the streets asking for money.”
Catherine was the first to scold her. “Watch your mouth, young lady. Harry’s a good man… Or, at least he was. He and your father got along very well. They had long talks outside the hardware store.”
“So, they were just talking?” Valerie asked as she came in to help, but there were already too many hands snatching up candles from the boxes and positioning them. She sat cross-legged at a distance and seemed to be content to stay out of everyone’s way.
Alexa nodded. “Yep, just talking, and crying, and maybe a bit of praying. They had their heads down for a while anyway and Father Frank was muttering something.”
Bewitching Fire Page 18
