Down the Hatch

by Constance Barker

  “Have you heard the news?” Gwen asked.

  “What news is that?”

  “Why that Thomas Jamison died. I heard he had an arrow through his eye. And that his face was covered with blue Chinese runes.”

  “There was no arrow in his eye, and his was not covered in blue Chinese runes,” I said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I found the body.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope. I was walking home, and I spotted his blond hair behind the dumpster.”

  “Well, that’s wild. You have to tell me all about it.”

  I gave Gwen the details as I knew them. And I didn’t know much. The lone arrow had been in his chest, and his face was covered with red lipstick kisses. Gwen frowned at that. She thought her version of the body was substantially better than mine, and I had to agree with her. The only thing was her version wasn’t the truth.

  “So, who did it?” Gwen asked. “Jennifer?”

  “Jennifer certainly had reason,” I said. “As Thomas’ wife, she couldn’t have been happy with his flirting and drinking.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard clients talk about Jennifer’s language. It seems that she has hated her husband for a long time. But Jennifer isn’t the only suspect. I imagine there are more than a few women who would like to get even with Thomas Jamison.”

  “Not to mention husbands,” I said. “Thomas was pretty harmless really, but he did make some rather shameless passes.”

  “We have our share of jealous men. After all, New Orleans has always been a place of honor and duels.”

  “It wasn’t a duel, unless it was a very strange one. Bow and arrows at twenty paces?”

  Gwen laughed. “It wasn’t suicide either. I can’t imagine a more difficult method of suicide.”

  “You’re right there. You know Jennifer. Did she ever take archery in school? I don’t remember her ever doing any shooting.”

  “All the more reason it could be her. I mean, it’s not that difficult to shoot an arrow, is it?”

  “Not if the person is standing right in front of you. But I don’t see how Jennifer could shoot him and then plant kisses all over his face.”

  “No, that doesn’t sound like Jennifer, does it?” Gwen looked at the threesome in the corner. “Are they still at it?”

  “You know Roxanne’s history. She’s not going to quit until she finds that lost necklace.” I nodded at the ceiling. “I like to send them upstairs, where they can’t cause a problem. But Roxanne likes to see everything that’s sold, just in case, someone discovers the missing necklace.”

  “Don’t look now, but here comes your knight in shining armor.”

  I looked at the door, just as Jacob entered

  Jacob Brody had been my friend since sophomore year in high school. He was the nerd who knew everything but rarely shared that knowledge. Shy, thin, with those inevitable black rim glasses, he always sat close to me—when he could. Sometimes, the jocks muscled him out of the way. He was too shy and too weak to fight them. Then, he started seeing.

  It started with Lawrence, a troubled boy with a lisp and a stutter. He was hounded by a lot of kids, and, not being a strong, personality, he managed to find his father’s pistol and fire a bullet into his skull. Jacob and Lawrence had been friends, sort of, and Lawrence stayed behind to talk to Jacob. And once, Jacob sort of learned about spirits, he started seeing and talking to them all the time. He was pretty sure he was going crazy. He couldn’t believe that there were real ghosts. I found him behind the bleachers after school one day, and he was talking to Lawrence. When he saw me, he tried to cover up what he was capable of doing. That was when I said “hi” to Lawrence. That changed everything for Jacob. Once he was sure he didn’t have a brain tumor or was absolutely bonkers, his life became almost easy. We became fast friends, and I sort of showed him how to handle spirits. After high school, I went to LSU, and he became a policeman. Rising through the ranks, he had become a detective, the best detective on the force...and not bad looking either.

  “Jacob,” Gwen said. “What brings you here? As if I didn’t know.”

  Gwen winked, and Jacob smiled. He had been taking ribbing from Gwen for years.

  “I need to talk to Helga,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “I’m all ears.”

  “Privately,” he added.

  “You two go have fun,” Gwen said. “I’ll handle everything in here.”

  Jacob held the door open for me, and we walked out into the New Orleans heat. In the summer, the temperature and humidity combined to make things more than a bit uncomfortable. Those of us who grew up in the city complained mightily, but we were generally thankful when someone mentioned Minnesota in January.

  “What do you want?” I asked. I always enjoyed talking to Jacob. He was the kind of friend everyone wanted, as loyal as the day was long. No one could ask for someone better.

  “It’s about last night,” he said. “We need to go over it.”

  “Finding Thomas? Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “I am.”

  “But I told the police all I know.”

  “I know you did, but I’m the detective on this case, and I always interview everyone involved. That includes you.” He smiled for a moment. “Look, Helga, I know you had nothing to do with the murder, but you didn’t give the police any kind of alibi.”

  “Because I don’t have one,” I said. “I closed early because of the storm that didn’t happen. Then, I did some work and walked home in the near-dark. I spotted Thomas behind the dumpster and had to investigate.”

  “About that, how did you manage to find him? I mean, the body was pretty well hidden.”

  “His hair,” I said. “Thomas had distinctive blonde hair.”

  “I can buy that. Now, about that ruckus you had with him.”

  “Ruckus?”

  “I’ve been told you tossed him out of on his ear.”

  “It was more like his butt, but the answer was yes, I did. He deserved it.”

  Jacob looked at me, as if I owed him something more.

  “I didn’t kill him,” I told Jacob. “And I sure as hell didn’t plant kisses on his face.”

  “Don’t get riled, Helga. I believe you. But I have a job to do.”

  “Then, do it somewhere else. You know, you’ve been my friend since high school, and if you think I could have killed Thomas Jamison, then, I had better solve this murder myself.”

  “Don’t be that way. I know you’re capable of solving the murder, but you shouldn’t start. I’ll do it. I’ll prove you had nothing to do with it.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, and I half agreed to do nothing. But I was a bit miffed. He was my best friend. If he had doubts, what about everyone else in the quarter? What must they be thinking about me? That I was some kind of Robin Hood, shooting arrows into people I didn’t like? I felt like joining in the screaming with Roxanne.

  I walked into the store and found Gwen showing a seventeenth century ruby necklace to a woman who gushed over it. Gwen wasn’t using magic, but she was certainly selling the necklace.

  “I’m leaving,” I called out.

  “I’ll take care of things until you get back,” she answered. “And I knew the woman was about to buy the necklace, which would probably make Roxanne cry harder.

  Shear Magic was the best beauty shop in the quarter. It was the best because it was owned and run by Hazel, who never let a customer leave dissatisfied. Sometimes, it took a bit of magic to change an attitude, and sometimes, it took a bit of whimsy, which was a specialty for Hazel. As a fairy, she loved a good practical joke. While some people didn’t appreciate Hazel, I was a fan.

  But I hadn’t come to see Hazel. I had come to see Penelope, the woman with the spiked, purple hair.

  Chapter 3

  I had known Penelope since second grade. She was the girl who brought pink and black cupcakes for her birthday. Everyon
e brought in a cake or cupcakes for their birthday. But I had never seen pink and black before. I still remembered just how tasty those cupcakes were. They were good enough to give a second grader a super memory. Of course, part of that memory was Penelope jumping around in a pink tutu with black leggings. I had never seen a girl in a tutu before, and I thought she was part of some ballet or something. She danced around the class, like some sort of ballerina—until I accidentally tripped her. Another girl might have gotten angry, considering she fell into a stack of cupcakes, ruining her tutu. Penelope just laughed and smashed a cupcake in her own face.

  Which was sort of like having spiked, purple hair.

  “Helga,” Penelope said as soon as I entered. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “I hope they were good thoughts,” I said.

  “The best. Sit down and tell me all about it.”

  “The murder?”

  “What else? The word on the street is that you found Thomas as he was staggering down the alley, bleeding to death.”

  “Well, it was an alley, but the rest of it is just conjecture. He wasn’t bleeding or staggering. He was just dead.”

  Penelope laughed. “That’s my girl. So, why the long face?”

  “It seems a lot of people think I killed him.”

  “Well, you did kick him out of the shop, if that story is to be believed.”

  “I did,” I admitted. “But that was because he was being obnoxious and drunk. I don’t suffer drunks in my store.”

  The woman in Penelope’s chair was not known to me, but she chimed in at that moment. “Sugar, no woman should have to abide a drunk man. I’m pleased someone had the gumption to put that sot out in the street where he so justly belonged. Not that I believe any man or woman should be sent to their maker unnaturally.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure, what she meant, but I knew she was probably on my side.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Well, don’t go dry now,” Penelope said. “Tell us how you found him?”

  “I was walking home,” I said. I told them what I could about finding the body. I put in the arrow because that made sense. I even added the lipstick kisses. I knew the information was already available.

  “We should have a kiss-off,” Penelope said.

  “A kiss-off?”

  “Yes, have every woman in New Orleans put on red lipstick and kiss paper. Then, we can compare those kisses to the ones on Thomas’ face.”

  “That might work,” I said. “But I’m not sure lips are unique. I mean, they change all the time. Those full, pouty lips of youth become the thin lines of old age. And people are always plumping up their lips with botox or something.”

  “You’re right,” Penelope said. “But a kiss-off would be fun.”

  “Loads of fun.”

  We laughed together.

  “You’re certainly happy about committing murder.”

  I turned to the voice. Two chairs down, Dalmer Rence was having her hair colored jet black. Dalmer was an older, local witch who never seemed to get along with anyone, including me. She had stopped in my store a few times but had never purchased anything, as she thought my prices were outrageous. When I checked with some of the other antique stores in the city, I discovered that Dalmer said the same thing about all the antiques she shopped. We were all “too damn high”.

  “What was that, Dalmer?” I asked.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she said. “The man hasn’t even turned cold, and you’re laughing about how you did it.”

  “No one feels worse about his death than I do,” I said.

  “Let’s not assume things,” Penelope said. “Thomas Jamison was not a perfect or even a good person. Not that we wished him ill. Helga was just the unlucky one who found him.”

  I looked up and down the line of customers, and I knew I couldn’t put Penelope in the role of defender. I was certain that some of the women weren’t that sure of me. I thought Hazel was on my side, but she hadn’t spoken up, so I knew it was time to leave.

  “I’ll tell you something,” I said to Dalmer. “People who jump to conclusions are often very wrong. That’s something to remember.”

  I left Shear Magic more angry than when I arrived. More than ever, I had the feeling that I was responsible for my own exoneration. If the murder wasn’t solved, my reputation and my business would suffer. I knew Jacob wanted me to stay out of the investigation, but he was talking from the police side of things. I was on my side of things, and I needed to act.

  I hadn’t walked twenty yards before Andromeda showed up. He was my familiar that I trusted implicitly.

  Follow me.

  Andromeda didn’t give many commands but when he did, I had learned to heed them.

  Lead on.

  Chapter 4

  Andromeda led me back to the alley where I had found Thomas. I was headed that way on my own, but it felt good to have Andromeda on the same wavelength. I entered the alley and walked around the dumpster.

  The police had left a chalk outline of the body, and I pictured it in my mind. The arrow, the blood, the bizarre kisses. I looked around, trying to remember if there was anything else at the scene, something I had glimpsed and forgotten. A footprint, a cigarette butt, someone moving away from me. No, the killer was long gone. The body was cold and blue. I hadn’t interrupted anything. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember any more than I already knew. I stared at the chalk and wondered when the next rain would wash it all away. I supposed that as long as the chalk was there, Thomas would still be around, in a sense. Once the chalk disappeared, so did Thomas.

  I looked up and found Andromeda sitting further down the alley. He stared at me, his tail twitching. It was a familiar pose. I moved toward him. In some sense, Andromeda was part bloodhound. He could find more lost things than any cat I had heard of. And the things always seemed germane to what I needed. He wasn’t the kind of cat that brought home a dead bird or mouse as a prize. No, his gifts were decidedly more useful.

  As I moved closer, he got up and walked away. He wasn’t such a bloodhound that he would point to something. Next to where he was sitting was a mound of trash, the flotsam and jetsam of the good ship New Orleans and its people. I knew that in time, the trucks would arrive and clean up the alley. But for now, it was my mound of trash.

  I kicked aside an empty water bottle and a hamburger wrapper to reveal the feather.

  It wasn’t a bird feather, or even a normal feather. It was a silver feather, the kind found only on magical beings. That made it odd. I couldn’t see what a magical being would be doing in the alley. And how did it lose a feather. Magical beings weren’t in the habit of leaving behind part of themselves.

  I picked up the feather and looked at Andromeda, who had stopped to watch.

  What do you think? Cupid? A seraph?

  Either or both.

  And were they involved in the death?

  That is not possible to know from just a feather.

  Feathers, even magical feathers are not like fingerprints, are they?

  Even if they were, what would it mean?

  You’re right, the feather could have been left behind at any time. Not necessarily the night of the murder.

  Or, it might be something.

  I laughed. Andromeda had a way of pointing out the obvious without being snooty about it.

  We can only take it and see what it brings.

  With that Andromeda moved away. Likely to head out to 'cat around' I suppose. I turned, feather in hand, and walked back to the dumpster. Certainly, a good bowman could have hit Thomas from the site of the feather. It wasn’t that long a shot. And Cupid was known to possess the power and accuracy needed. Many people could testify to that. But why would Cupid shoot Thomas? And to kill? I didn’t have an answer for that. I needed to dig deeper—if I was going to dig at all.

  At the mouth of the alley, I walked into two police officers. The man and woman looked at me, even as they sipped their coffee, a b
ag of beignets between them. I could tell from their faces that they were wondering what I was doing in the alley.

  “Shortcut,” I said quickly.

  “Aren’t you the one who found the body?” the female officer asked.

  I nodded.

  “Why did you come back?” the male officer asked.

  “Like I said, it was just a shortcut.”

  Their faces said they didn’t believe me. So, I smiled, my best smile.

  “Most people would avoid the place where they found a murder victim,” the female officer said.

  “Most people wouldn’t want to remember,” the male officer said.

  “I was in the alley before I recognized it,” I offered. “That’s why I was hurrying away.”

  I had half a feeling that they were going to run me in and question me, but I nodded and started off before they could decide.

  “I have to get back to the store,” I said. “Have a nice day.”

  I tried not to walk too fast. I didn’t want them to think I was running away, although I was. But I could feel their suspicion chasing me. I guessed that if I had waited another two minutes, they would be escorting me back to the station to talk to Detective Brody. That was not something I wanted to do.

  Even as I walked, I felt the anger bubbling up inside. I had done nothing wrong. Not when I tossed Thomas from my store. Not when I discovered the body. In a way, I wished I had never found the body. Now, that I had, I had become the object of the investigation. I was the person everyone else thought had committed murder. There was only one way to get around the accusations. I had to solve the mystery. I had to bring a murderer to justice. Because if the murder went unsolved, I would be the person eyed with suspicion everywhere I went. No one would turn their back on me.

  That would be a very ugly existence.

  Back in the store, Gwen was trying to talk an elderly couple into buying a mirror. It wasn’t a very good mirror, as it was old, but it had a unique heart shape, and the frame was decorated with cupids. I thought perhaps that it had been a young girl’s mirror at one time, but I had not used a spell to discover the secrets of its origin. I could tell that Gwen was about to use a spell and nudge the couple into buying the mirror, and I shook my head at her. That was when Gwen laughed, excused herself from the couple and came to me.