Murder Under a Mystic Moon

by Yasmine Galenorn

  As I took my seat and pulled my bowl of soup closer, I thought about what she’d said. True, nothing like this had ever happened in Seattle. Then again, Chiqetaw was proving to be quite the strange little town. There were energies here that I’d never felt in my life before we moved here.

  “Maybe there’s some reason I’m supposed to get involved. Maybe the victims need me to help them find some sort of peace. Chiqetaw seems to be a quirky town, so maybe it’s just the energy here that draws me into these cases. Or maybe this is all coincidence. Whatever the reason, please remember that I’ll always protect you from anything that tries to hurt you.”

  With a ghost of a smile, Randa scooped up a spoonful of soup and swallowed it. “Sometimes I think you should have been the cop and not Murray. My mom the cop!” She sobered. “I’m glad you aren’t, though. I’d always be afraid you’d get hurt.”

  Kip bobbed his head in agreement. “Can I have some toast?” he asked.

  I fetched the bread out from the fridge and popped three slices into the toaster, then set the butter on the table, along with a knife. “What are you planning to do for the rest of this afternoon?”

  “The Chiqetaw Museum has a lecture on space flight that starts at five o’clock. I thought I’d go,” Randa said. “That is, if you’ll give me five dollars for the entry fee.”

  “I’m going to Sly’s house,” Kip chimed in.

  I fished the money out of my purse for Randa, eyeing Kip with trepidation. No doubt my morbid son was aching to spill my latest news to his buddy. This kind of thing racked up big-time points in the world of nine-year-old boys.

  “All right. Take your bikes, and both of you be home by eight-thirty. And don’t you eat anything over at Sly’s. I don’t trust his mother to make sure the food’s cooked right.” Sly’s mother had about as much common sense as a lemming. The last time Kip had dinner there, he’d gotten a mild case of food poisoning and that had put an end to dinner exchanges, at least on Kip’s end. As for Sly, I always gave in and fed the pint-sized runt whenever he showed up on our doorstep.

  Kip planted a quick peck on my cheek and took off. Randa followed suit, with me close behind. I crossed the street to Horvald’s place, as she grabbed her bike and headed down the road.

  Horvald was in his garden, hoeing. Ida Trask was there, too, kneeling beside the main tulip bed. Horvald Ledbetter was a retired security guard and one of the best neighbors I could hope for. He had the most colorful flower gardens in town and kept busy with them night and day, in memory of his late wife.

  “How goes it?” I gave him a quick hug.

  He leaned on his hoe and wiped his forehead while Ida went on with her thinning. “Could be a tad cooler for my taste,” he said. “But we’ll miss the sun come next month, once the rains hit. Is everything okay? You look beat.”

  Ida leaned back, dusting her hands off on a towel. How she managed to keep her linen pantsuit clean while she mucked about in the dirt was a secret known only to her and her laundry basket, but somehow Ida managed to never appear in public with a single hair out of place. Her clothes were always wrinkle-free, clean, and neatly tucked in all the right places.

  She beamed at me. “Emerald, sit down! We haven’t seen much of you the past few weeks.”

  I flopped on the grass, thinking that if I took better care of my yard, it would still be a vibrant green field instead of a tangled maze of jungle. “What with getting ready for the Early Autumn Breeze Celebration, the past few weeks haven’t left me much time for anything else.”

  “When’s the street dance? Tonight?” Horvald glanced hesitantly at Ida, then said, “I’ll be escorting Ida, but we lost track of the flier.”

  Each year, at the end of the Early Autumn Breeze Celebration, the downtown Business Owners’ Association closed off two blocks, including one right in front of my shop, for a street dance. This year I was taking an active part; I’d keep the tearoom open, and Margie Wilcox, who owned the Corner Street Café, would stay open. Together we’d feed the masses descending onto Main Street. Several local bands provided music, and everybody in town was invited to “Come on down and dance the night away!” to the music of The Barry Boys and the Don Wan Kodo Drumming Group.

  The Barry Boys were pretty good—playing covers of 70’s and 80’s hits. They were scheduled to play until 10:00 P.M., then Don Wan and his drummers would take over and the entire dance would turn into one huge, disorganized, Stomp-like rave for an hour or two. Everybody brought drums and bells, or pots and pans and had one heck of a good time jumping around and making noise. With a strictly enforced policy forbidding alcohol, there were rarely any problems.

  “The dance is tomorrow night, from seven until midnight.”

  Horvald frowned. “On a Monday?”

  I shrugged. “Don Wan’s playing at a wedding tonight, so we extended the festival by one day.”

  “Ah, I see.” Horvald nodded. Don Wan’s group was an institution at almost all of Chiqetaw’s festivals; complaints would run like melted butter if we excluded the drummers from the program. Not only were they great musicians, but Don’s wife made the best egg rolls in town, and she always fried up a huge platter of them for all the shop owners during the hours preceding the dance.

  I yawned.

  “Tired, dear?” Ida asked.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t the best of mornings.” I filled them in on what had happened. Ida paled; ever since that business with her nephew, she wasn’t handling talk of murder—especially messy murder—very well. I glanced at Horvald, who gave me a subtle nod and asked Ida to bring him some lemonade and his medicine.

  As she disappeared through his front door, he turned back to me. “I don’t like it, Emerald. Strange things have been going on in these parts for years. I can tell you that we haven’t had a cougar or bear attack in a while, not since a young bear cub got cornered by a nosy tourist and mama decided to intervene.”

  Pausing, he shaded his eyes and squinted at me. “I remember hearing about the Klakatat Monster some years back… story went that it killed some farmer who’d gone up to the mountain to hunt for mushrooms one autumn. Hunters found him. Coroner said it was a bear attack, but there was just something odd about it.”

  “I don’t believe that Scar was killed by an animal, and I really don’t think any monster did it. There’s a certain feel to the energy of a body when the person’s been murdered. Scar… he had that feel.”

  “Hmm.” He gave me a keen look. “You know, Miner’s Lake is an odd place. Some wicked things went on there a ways back. A couple of brothers—prospectors, I think they were—named Luke and Jake Wiley, decided that the best way to get hitched was to kidnap their brides. They picked up a couple of young Indian girls, thinking the law would look the other way. Well, the law did look the other way, and the girls were found out near Turtle Rock, beaten to death. Their families showed up to avenge them, and… well… let’s just say that there wasn’t much left of Luke and Jake when they were done.”

  He squatted and began weeding where Ida had left off. “A lot of abandoned mines up there in those mountains. A lot of bad blood and old bones. Sometimes skeletons from the past just don’t want to rest.” Horvald smiled then, and stood up, reaching out to push back a lock of hair that had fallen in my eyes. “Go home and take a nap, Emerald. You look like you need it.”

  I yawned again. “Yeah, I think I will. Give Ida a hug for me, would you? Though she looks like she’s getting plenty of that already.” I snickered and, blushing, he shooed me toward the sidewalk.

  “You just mind your p’s and q’s, young woman!” He chuckled and turned back to his lawn. “I’ll have a passel of bulbs for you in a couple days, so get those flower beds ready.”

  “Aye, aye sir!” I saluted him, then wearily trudged back to my house and headed up to my room. Though I’d already showered, the memory of Scar’s decomposing body made me itch. I shuddered and stripped off my clothes, then padded into my bathroom, where I dr
ew a tub-full of rose-scented bubbles. As I soaked in the soothing water, I replayed the afternoon in my mind.

  Fact: Ghost-hunting is not necessarily the most pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Case in point: One dead biker found in the woods near Jimbo’s place. Even more nerve-racking fact: Said biker looked downright nasty. Add to that the knowledge that Jimbo was getting it on with my best friend, and I was ready for a steaming cup of raspberry tea. Damn it, why had my favorite magazine gone out of publication? I needed pretty mind-candy right now, and Victoria Magazine had always provided that for me.

  My thoughts drifted back to the woods around Miner’s Lake. Though I wanted nothing more than to just stay out of the whole mess, a rumble in the pit of my stomach told me I didn’t stand a chance. In for a penny, in for a pound. Fretting, I stepped out of the tub and reached for my towel. The master bath was a luxury I’d grown to cherish. I yawned and meandered naked into my room.

  “Hi gorgeous!”

  Holy hell! I jumped about two feet before I realized that it was Joe sitting on my bed, not some renegade spirit come calling. “Nitwit! You scared the heck out of me!” Laughing, I held out my arms. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  He grinned, leaping up to encircle me in a bear hug. I melted into his embrace as I pressed against his chest, basking in the warmth that filtered through my body, through my heart. Oh, I was a lucky woman. His shirt rubbed against my breasts, setting off a tingling I couldn’t ignore. I reached up, locking lips with him and held on for dear life as he enveloped me in a kiss that ran from the tip of my nose to the tip of my toes.

  “Oh God, I missed you,” I said, diving back in for another kiss before I reluctantly broke away. Heaven forbid the kids might accidentally wander in and find me naked in his arms. They knew Joe and I were involved, and it was obvious that we were sleeping together, but they didn’t need the details spelled out in living color. I reached for my robe. Joe handed it to me, his fingers lingering on my own.

  I slipped into the bathrobe and sat down beside him, taking his hand in mine. “How was the conference? When did you get back?”

  “Good, and about two hours ago. I called but you were out, so I stopped at Aunt Margaret’s and had lunch. I decided to drive by on my way home and saw your car in the driveway. You know, you should lock your doors, Ms. O’Brien, before some pervert sneaks in and takes advantage of you.” He winked and ran his fingers up my thigh. “What do you think?” he whispered. “Should I take advantage of you?”

  I gazed at him, feasting my eyes. Joe was an easy man to get hooked on. Everything between us felt so comfortable. He liked the kids and treated them with respect. He didn’t interfere with my parenting. In fact, he went out of his way to include them in some of our activities so they wouldn’t feel like he was trying to take me away from them. My only disappointment was that he seldom got the chance to stay more than a couple times a week; his schedule was so hectic.

  I held my breath as he traced a route up my leg. “Well, how about if you take advantage of me tonight? Kip’s over at Sly’s, and Miranda is at the museum, they’re supposed to be home by eight-thirty.”

  He sighed, but dropped his hand. “Oh, all right. I’ve had to wait an entire week, I can wait a few more hours.” He looked closely at me. “Are you okay? You look a little pale. Been spending too many nights awake, pining for me?”

  “I might have been pining for you, but that’s not why I look ragged.” I sighed, planting myself on the bed. “I found a dead body today.”

  “Crap!” He leaped to his feet. “You what?”

  So I told him the whole story, excluding the part where I found Jimbo and Murray in a lip-lock. When I finished, Joe snorted.

  “Good grief. What next? I swear, Emerald, if they dropped you on a deserted island, you’d turn over a seashell and come up with a murder. So Murray’s boss isn’t taking it seriously?”

  I shook my head. “Go figure. Remember, we’re talking about the king of jerks here. He’s a paper pusher, and about as energetic as a sloth.”

  “And this Scar was one of Jimbo’s friends?” Joe had grudgingly entered into a truce with Jimbo once the mess back in April had been sorted out.

  “Yeah… and Jimbo’s convinced the Klakatat Monster’s the culprit.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter if the monster is real. There’s somebody loose out in those woods who’s dangerous.” He sighed, his breath whistling through his teeth. “I suppose this means you’re going to be out there, trying to figure out who did it.” Before I could protest, he held up one hand. “No—don’t even pretend with me. Just promise me that if you need help, you’ll call me before you get yourself into trouble.”

  With a laugh, I agreed and went back to giving him welcome-home kisses. As I stared into his brilliant green eyes that mirrored my own, he wrapped his arms around me and laid me back on the bed, breathing softly into my mouth. Tongue flickering against mine, he fumbled with the belt on my robe.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, and he paused. I locked the bedroom door. At least we’d have some warning if the kids came home early. As I returned to the bed, Joe opened his arms, greedily drinking me up with his eyes. I leaned over and began to unbutton his shirt, sliding it away from his muscled chest, licking his neck as I did so. He slipped out of his jeans and I eyed his naked body hungrily. Wahoo—he really was happy to see me.

  “Oh, Joe.” I whispered, not wanting to disturb the stillness between us.

  He reached out and pulled me down, lightly running his fingers over my body, playing me as if I were a violin. “Do we have any condoms?” he asked.

  I handed him one from the nightstand, watching as he opened the foil-wrapped package. Leering at me, he was comical and sexy, all rolled into one. With a sudden hunger, I pushed him back on the bed and slid atop him. He grinned, cocky and joyful and lusty, as his lips and hands sought to stroke my aching body. And so, I rode my strawberry-blond Viking, and we celebrated his homecoming in the most delicious way two people can.

  Chapter 7

  THE KIDS CAME trooping in within the hour. Knowing how tired I was, Joe offered to fix dinner. Kip wanted to help, so they decided to stage a “Man’s Night” in the kitchen and chased Randa and me out while they set to clanging pots and pans, and whispered over the various beneficial effects cheddar and Monterey Jack had on pasta.

  While I balanced my checkbook, Randa channel surfed. She stopped. “Uh-oh!” She turned up the volume.

  I glanced at the television. “Uh-oh” was right. Cathy Sutton and a picture of me from their files. What the hell was she up to now?

  “Ms. O’Brien found the body near Miner’s Lake.” The picture changed to a photograph of Scar, standing next to his bike, a blissful look on his face. “Fingerprints have positively identified the biker as Scott Anderson, fifty-two. Mr. Anderson disappeared from Grand Rapids, Michigan, during the summer of 1986, where he was wanted by police for taking part in a series of convenience store robberies. Also a suspect—though never charged—in the Tempah City Credit Union robbery, he managed to elude police while his accomplice, Ian Hannigan, a janitor at the Freeman Academy for Boys in Grand Rapids, was arrested. Police believed that Anderson may have fled the country. The stolen money was never recovered.”

  Scar had been a thief? A bank robber? Jimbo better find himself a better class of buddies.

  After a brief commercial, the camera zoomed out to show George sitting in a chair, next to the anchor desk. Oh joy, what now?

  “Tonight we welcome George Pleasant, an intern with KLIK-TV, and an amateur parapsychologist, to the studio. Mr. Pleasant was at the crime scene when Anderson’s body was discovered.” The camera cut to George, sitting there looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Mr. Pleasant. What can you tell us about this case?”

  He straightened his tie, fidgeting in his seat. “Well, the body was off the path, buried under leaves and debris. The moment I laid eyes on it, I could tell tha
t the man was murdered.”

  I snorted. Like George had even had the guts to look at Scar’s body. He’d been shaking in his boots.

  “Police aren’t calling it a homicide. What makes you think this is the case?” Cathy made sure to cover her bases, all right.

  George gave the camera a pompous smile. “Because I saw the murder!”

  “You saw it?” Cathy’s eyes widened.

  I straightened up, staring at the television. What the hell was this pipsqueak up to now? George was claiming to be a witness to the crime? No doubt this would go over real big with the cops. Murray would have his head for dinner. Parboiled, no less.

  He nodded, his face serious with a capital “S.” “I had a psychic vision while watching the police sort out the evidence. Scott Anderson was murdered by the Klakatat Monster.”

  “Oh my God! Did he say what I thought he said?” I dropped my checkbook and rushed over to the sofa, where Randa handed me the remote. I gawked at the images flickering on the screen, both fascinated and repulsed. Yes, George showed evidence of possessing some form of psychic ability, but surely he had to know that he was on shaky ground making this kind of claim? But then again, he had already proved himself to be both arrogant and stupid, a dangerous combination.

  Cathy asked him what he saw and he went on to describe a gigantic, manlike creature that had ripped poor Scar to shreds. Feeling ill, I leaned back and watched as George distorted the facts and basically exaggerated his way through the rest of the interview. Finally, I threw the remote at the television, missing it by a mile. “Doesn’t he realize that he’s making the psychic community look like a bunch of raving idiots?”

  Joe peeked in to see what the commotion was about. I motioned for him to hush as both he and Kip edged into the room to see what was going on.

  Cathy asked, “Emerald O’Brien, Chiqetaw’s resident tarot reader and china shop owner, was the one who discovered the body. Do you know if she had the same vision as you had?”