Down the Hatch

by Constance Barker

  If you see any police...

  I will let you know.

  In the prep room, I stopped and looked around.

  No cameras.

  Again, it wasn’t the camera you could see that caused all the problems. It was the little one hidden where you couldn’t see. I didn’t have time to look closely. Something was calling to me, and I knew what it was. Before I left the prep room, I found a stepladder I could use.

  The bow and arrow on the wall seemed to glow as I approached, and that encouraged me. Perhaps, Eric had imbued the bow and arrow with some sort of magic, something I could detect and use. As I climbed the ladder, I whispered a spell that was designed to bring forth whatever memories the bow might hold. Most people never realized that things saved some of what happened to them. It wasn’t really a memory. It was more like an aura, something attached to the item.

  As I reached out my hand, I felt it even before my fingers touched the wood.

  Chapter 11

  The bow sent a flash to my brain, and I saw the piece of wood it came from. It was a fine piece of maple, with a beautiful grain. It was the sort of wood that expert bow makers searched for. But that wood wasn’t the real gem that I learned. A second bow had been made from that maple, a sister bow to the one on the wall. Two bows, one a killing bow. I knew that, and I waited for the bow on the wall to offer more.

  It was mute.

  The bow had nothing more to give. But I had learned enough. The bow on the wall was clean. I was searching for its twin. That was a good thing, but it certainly wasn’t the only thing. Someone in New Orleans possessed that twin bow.

  Who?

  That was the problem. I had no idea who had the bow, or who could use the bow effectively. That didn’t mean that Eric couldn’t be the killer. He might well have the murder weapon. After all, he had placed the twin on the wall. Did he own the other? Was it hidden in the flower shop?

  No, the spell would have elicited that information from the bow on the wall. I would have to search other places for the murder weapon. I had learned a great deal, but I had a great deal more to learn.

  You need to leave.

  What is it?

  A police cruiser. It’s been by...twice.

  I’m coming out. Keep a lookout.

  The alley was empty when I crawled out the window and replaced the pane. I skipped away, hoping I would get to the street before the cruiser came by again. And I did make it. I was strolling along, with Andromeda by my side when the cruiser passed. I waved. A broad-faced woman waved back. I felt immediately better. I had managed to break in, learn something, and get out, all without a mishap. That was pretty good for me.

  Worth the risk?

  It was, Andromeda, it was.

  At home, I poured myself a glass of wine and settled into my favorite chair. As I sipped, I asked myself if Jennifer had a bow, and if she did, could she use it? I didn’t remember any bow while I was inside her house. But that was to be expected. Jennifer was hardly stupid enough to display the bow on the wall or something. No, the bow would be carefully hidden somewhere—if it wasn’t already destroyed. A smart killer would have reduced the bow to ashes and thrown those ashes into the Mississippi. I had to prepare myself for that possibility. And unlike a firearm, a bow didn’t leave identifying marks on an arrow. While my spells might link an arrow and bow, my spells weren’t admissible in court. No judge worth the robe would accept witchcraft.

  I had finished my glass before any great ideas popped into my head. I heard my bed calling my name. Sleep was just a few steps away. I hoped I wouldn’t dream—too much.

  Richardson’s Antiques greeted me in the form of Roxanne, crying loudly by the counter. Despite my success with the bow, I was not feeling good about my chances of avoiding jail. No doubt I was still the number one suspect, and sooner or later, Jacob’s protection scheme would break down. The police would come for me. It was that simple—and that depressing.

  “Roxanne,” I said. “I’m not in a terribly upbeat mood this morning. Think you can take your tears upstairs?”

  “I am sorry,” Roxanne said. “But I was so hopeful yesterday. And now, I’m back to where I started. It’s so unbearable.”

  “Well, unbear it upstairs, please.”

  She nodded and disappeared. I knew she would be up with the inventory, and I chided myself for taking out my frustrations on her. I needed more patience, but I didn’t have any left. I needed to solve the case. I needed to find another bow, or another bow maker, or something that would keep me from wearing an orange jumpsuit. I never looked very good in orange.

  “You don’t look well,” Zephyr said.

  “That’s a fine hello,” I answered. “How am I supposed to look?”

  “Like you actually enjoy your work,” Orchid said.

  The two ghosts stood close by, and while I appreciated their concern, they weren’t helping. I needed information, actionable information, as army officers were wont to say.

  “I do enjoy my work,” I said. “I don’t enjoy waiting around for the sword of Damacles to chop off my head.”

  “Oooh, I like that tale,” Orchid said. “I always wonder when the sword is going to fall.”

  “Yes, well, when it does, you may have to look for another place to haunt.”

  “Don’t say that,” Zephyr said. “Not even in joking. Orchid and I enjoy it here. Well, we could do without Roxanne, but other than that, it’s quite pleasant.”

  “And your customers are very interesting,” Orchid added. “They come looking for all manner of old things, things that we remember enjoying.”

  “I know you mean well,” I said. “But the road to hell is paved with the well meaned, if that makes any sense. Now, if you’ll leave me be for a while, I’ll go about my business.”

  At that moment, the bell over the door rang. I looked up and found Penelope smiling at me.

  “Oh my,” Penelope said.

  “Don’t say it,” I said. “I know I don’t look quite up to snuff this morning. So, leave it at that.”

  “I’m your friend, Helga, and I’m not going to leave it at that. You’re coming with me.”

  “Not a chance. I have a business, and I can’t run it from some place else.”

  “You can spare an hour. And you can use a decent breakfast. I bet you haven’t had a thing, except maybe a cup of weak coffee. So, don’t argue with me.”

  I looked at her face, and I knew I wasn’t going to talk her out of her idea. So, if I was going to waste an hour with her, it was better in the morning, when the tourists were recovering from their late nights in the quarter.

  “One hour, max,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  “The Shifty Bear. You probably don’t know it, but they have a terrific breakfast biscuit, and their coffee can wake up the dead. Well, not quite like that. So, let’s go.”

  Penelope was right about one thing. The Shifty Bear had a great cup of coffee. The biscuit was good too, although I wouldn’t rank it over some I had tasted in the Creole restaurants. We ate at the bar, as Gigi was the only person on duty, the pub being an unknown jewel. Most of the stools were empty, although some filled up as we ate and drank.

  “Have you found the necklace?” Penelope asked.

  “Why do you ask? Because you didn’t see Roxanne?”

  “That was a clue.”

  “The answer is no. I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

  “You’ll find it. I’m sure of it.”

  Gigi moved closer. “You’re looking for a necklace?”

  “A particular necklace. Pearls with sapphires,” I said.

  “Well, I’m into crafting,” Gigi said. “I know a number of jewelers who design and make all manner of necklaces. You’re looking for an antique?”

  “I am,” I said. “My client has particular tastes.”

  “Well, if you can’t find it in your collection, there are crafts-people who will fashion any sort of necklace you can imagine.”

  “That’s int
eresting,” I said. “I suppose a new necklace that looked like an antique could work.”

  “Trust me,” Gigi said. “You want it to look a hundred, two hundred years old? They can do it.”

  “Thank you very much, Gigi. That’s very thoughtful. I hadn’t thought about having a necklace created.”

  “Stick with me,” Gigi said. “I’ll steer you to the best artisans in New Orleans.”

  Penelope walked me back to the shop.

  “Feeling better?” Penelope asked.

  “I am. I may have found a source for Roxanne’s necklace. That’s great, because I’m pretty sure that once Roxanne gets her necklace, she’ll stop weeping. And she may well leave. Wouldn’t that be nice.”

  At the door, we hugged, and Penelope hurried away, already late for her first appointment. I entered the store, hoping to tell the ghosts that, if worse came to worst, we could make a copy of the original necklace. I thought the ghosts would be happy to find any way to meet Roxanne’s needs. I knew, for a fact, that Orchid and Zephyr were close to the end of their patience. Had I not been facing jail, I would have probably tried to oust Roxanne myself.

  “Where is she?” I asked as Orchid and Zephyr arrived.

  “Upstairs,” Orchid said. “Where you sent her.”

  “Roxanne thinks you don’t like her any more,” Zephyr said.

  “She knows better,” I said. “But I wanted to run this idea past you. What do you think of creating a new necklace for her?”

  “New?” Orchid said. “I don’t think she wants a new one. She wants the one she had”

  “I know,” I said. “And I wouldn’t want to try and fool her. But I found out there are a number of jewelers who can fashion a necklace exactly like the one she’s searching for. They can even make it look old. No, it wouldn’t be hers, but it would be hers, if you know what I mean.”

  “We do,” Zephyr said. “And I think it’s a wonderful solution.”

  “I applaud you too,” Orchid said. “And if Roxanne doesn’t like it, I’ll toss her out myself.”

  I laughed. “No, leave that to me.”

  “What other kind of crafts-people are there?” Zephyr asked.

  “All kinds,” I said. “From jewelry to ceramics to art to glassware to leaded windows to baskets, practically anything you can think of. Why?”

  “Well, to my way of thinking, you might meet a bow maker among all those people.”

  I stared at Zephyr, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that.

  “You’re a genius,” I told Zephyr, who beamed.

  “And I’m not?” Orchid asked.

  “You, my dear,” I said, “are a genius in another way. I could hardly run this place without you.”

  At that moment, a raft of tourists entered, bent on fingering my merchandise and perhaps buying something that would help them remember their vacation to the French Quarter. That was fine with me. I would smile and praise their excellent tastes, and I was sincere about that. A fine antique was a far better keepsake than some beads. Well, I thought it was. The shoppers spread out, and for a while, I forgot all about the crafts-people and the possibility that that there might be a bow maker in the mix of artisans. When I remembered, I smiled. I had a lead. I had a mission. I need a woodworker, a person who could make a bow out of fine wood. It might not be easy, but there had to be someone. It was just a matter of investigating. I could do that.

  A call to Gigi informed me that there was a huge crafts fair every Saturday at a parking lot near the Superdome—when there wasn’t some kind of sporting event. I could find anything I needed there, or so Gigi said. After speaking to her, I wondered if I could wait till Saturday, which was one whole day away. I laughed at that. My second call was to Gwen. Would she work Saturday morning for me? I scored a bingo on that one. For the first time in a while, I was almost happy. Perhaps, I could avoid jail, perhaps.

  Andromeda joined me on my walk home.

  You walk happily.

  I feel better, Andromeda. I have hope.

  Hope is a good thing.

  A very good thing.

  When I reached the house, I felt something was amiss.

  You feel it?

  I received no answer. Andromeda had disappeared. I knew I was going to miss him. Still, I couldn’t wait outside. I unlocked the door and turned to the bushes.

  “Want to come inside, Dalmer?”

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t offer Dalmer a drink, as I didn’t want her to stay. I was being more than hospitable in letting her come in. We could have settled our business on the porch, but I sensed she wanted some sort of confidentiality, as she had been hiding in the bushes. A confident person would have waited on the porch.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I need a favor,” she said.

  Dalmer was not a young witch. In fact, she was an older witch. That wasn’t bad, except in her case, she was an irritant. Not many other witches liked her. Not many people liked her.

  “What favor?” I asked.

  “I know I don’t deserve a favor,” she said. “I mean, I was wrongly outspoken at the beauty salon.”

  “And pub,” I added.

  “Yes, that, well, I am sorry for that. Sometimes, my mouth gets ahead of my mind. I really do regret what I’ve done. I hope I haven’t offended you too much.”

  “I can live with it. What do you want?”

  “Well, there is a new coven being organized, and well, I’d like to join.”

  “And you need recommendations.”

  She nodded. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I am a competent witch, as I’m sure you know. So, it’s not as if you would be lying or something.”

  “There’s more to being a good member of a coven than competence. Covens are formed to produce certain kinds of magic, beneficial magic. They require cooperation and camaraderie. Those are skills you seem to lack.”

  “I recognize my shortcomings,” she said. “And I like to think I can hold my tongue when I need to.”

  I studied her a moment. I knew she had come to me because most of the other witches had turned her down. After all, she was not a model of friendliness. And since she hadn’t wanted to be seen at my house, she expected to be turned down. Then, she could deny she ever asked.

  “Give me the names of the other witches involved,” I said. “Covens are powerful, and I would not wish to help one form that shouldn’t be one, if you know what I mean.”

  “The coven is dedicated to good works. I can assure you of that.”

  “Then, you won’t mind giving me their names.”

  She didn’t hesitate, which was a good sign.

  “Of course, I will. I’ll write them down and send them to you.”

  “Good. So, here’s how we’ll work this. I’ll look over the names, and if I find the others worthy witches, I’ll give you a qualified recommendation.”

  “Qualified?”

  “I’ll tell the others that you’re competent but are in need of improved people skills. That’s fair. It’s up to you to demonstrate that you have worked on those skills.”

  Dalmer’s face twisted, and I was certain she was about to say something nasty.

  “Before you say it,” I said. “Think a moment. You do not have to utter every little thing that pops into your head.”

  Her face relaxed. “You are correct. See? I am getting better.”

  I wasn’t convinced that Dalmer had turned over a new leaf, but that wasn’t something I was going to dwell upon. After Dalmer left, I made dinner and planned my visit to the craft fair.

  Craft fairs were always tributes to individual ingenuity. I was always amazed by what the human mind and hands could fashion. As I worked my way up and down the aisles, stopping here and there, I was joined by a lot of lookers and some buyers. I stopped at all the jewelry sellers and searched for Roxanne’s necklace, but I didn’t come across it. Some of the sellers offered to create something for me, but I had not yet reached that stage. I was still hoping to f
ind the necklace. The antique dealers at the fair possessed estate sale merchandise but not the necklace. I was chasing a unicorn.

  Wherever I stopped, I inquired about woodworkers, specifically bow makers. The furniture sellers were indeed woodworkers, but they didn’t craft bows. That was a specialty item. There weren’t many visitors to the fair who were looking for a bow. I was told to try a sporting goods store. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I wasn’t looking to go hunting. I needed to find the person who had created Eric’s bow. I left, having gained little insight into the murder or the necklace. I did manage to find someone who created engaging Christmas ceramics. That was something.

  On the way back to the store, I happened by the flower shop. As I passed, I wondered if I could get more information from Eric about the bow on the wall. If he could point me in the proper direction, I would be ahead of the game. Surely, he knew people who created bows. As I entered the shop, I found Jennifer standing at the counter with Eric. Her laugh told me they were having a very nice chat. They looked like old pals, or perhaps something more. There was always a vibe between people who liked each other, or loved each other. It was always difficult to hide.

  “Hello, Jennifer” I said as I approached. “I didn’t know you knew Eric.”

  “Oh, Eric and I go back at least...three months.”

  They both laughed.

  “Actually,” Eric said. “We got to know each other when I started calling her about Thomas. Sometimes, he stayed beyond his welcome, and well, Jenny, here, was kind enough to come and take Thomas home.”

  “It wasn’t all me,” she said. “There were nights when I needed Eric’s help to get Thomas into the house and passed out on his bed.”

  “A drunk is dead weight,” Eric said. “And very difficult to get to the second floor.”

  Jennifer smiled at me. “In case you didn’t know it, Eric is the unofficial matchmaker of the Quarter. It seems he can find someone for anyone.”

  She gave me a wink, as if I needed a matchmaker. I smiled, trying my best not to be offended.

  “Since Jenny is single,” Eric said. “I’ve been on the lookout for the right man for her. She’s had her fill of bar flies, so I’m looking for a gentleman.”