Magic, Mayhem and Murder

by January Bain

  “Did you see Boyd the night he was murdered?” he asked.

  “No, not at all.” She shook her head so emphatically her mahogany curls swung and swiped me across the chin. I leaned sideways to get out of the line of fire, casually pulling a strand of loose hair from the corner of my mouth and letting it drift to the floor.

  “The blackmail angle is important. I’ll need to go through all her bank records and check.”

  My stomach somersaulted and landed somewhere out in the lake a quarter mile away. Well, if confession was good for my new friend… Maybe Ace wouldn’t throw my butt in jail. Yeah, right. And Ling Ling can’t spell.

  “Ah, is there any leeway for some amnesty for me too if I make a confession? Or maybe a pardon later, after things calm down and cooler heads prevail?”

  Ace swung his penetrating stare my way. “Go ahead, Miss McCall. Shoot.”

  I felt like a butterfly pinned in place. Christine reached over and took my hand. The gesture caught me unprepared and a tear actually escaped. I looked down at my lap, finding a piece of fuzz on my jeans of extreme interest. I added it to the bright hair on the floor.

  “I have Mrs. Hurst’s banking records for the past year.”

  Silence.

  I risked a peek through lowered lashes. Oh boy. He was livid, his skin stippled in shades of varying shades of red. I admired his control as he pressed his lips firmly together, lips that I had enjoyed kissing less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “I want those records on my desk. Today. Understood?”

  “Yes, they will be.”

  His desk phone buzzed and, with a second glare in my direction, he answered it. “Constable Collins here. How may I help you?”

  I nudged Christine, giving her a nod at the escape hatch, the open doorway. She gave a quick thumbs-up and we got to our feet in tandem.

  Ace put his hand over the receiver. “Thank you, Christine, for coming forward.” What? No thanks for me? “And I’ll be expecting those stolen documents from you, Charm, within the hour.”

  My eyes narrowed at the offensive word, wanting to debate it hotly since I’d planned to return the records, but instead I let Christine propel me out of the room.

  I stormed down the hallway, my boots ringing satisfyingly on the tiled black and white floor. I gave Delores a pasted-on smile to offset my apparent rush and made it out to Thor in record time. Christine got in the other side and leaned back in the seat.

  “I think that went well.”

  “Yeah, really great. I got called a thief.” I could barely get the word out, my chest walls squeezing in from all sides. Can someone get asthma all of a sudden? Or maybe this is what a panic attack feels like? Or do I have heart problems?

  “Oh, I don’t think he was all that serious about it, Charm. He’s a very nice lawman.”

  “Phttt, yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath, feeling put upon. “About as serious as a heart attack. He’s got it in for me, I tell you. You know he was going to give me a ticket for doing a U-turn on Main Street? Can you believe that?”

  “I think he likes you. He didn’t actually give you a ticket, right?”

  “Not the point. He stopped me, and I had to bribe him.”

  “Oh really, with what? A lot of women in town would like that secret.”

  “Dinner, what else?”

  “Good one. What are you cooking?”

  “Aw, well, he’s bringing the steaks and wine,” I admitted. “Guess I’m to make some sides as my contribution.”

  “Oh, Charm, the guy’s got it bad for you!” Christine laughed out loud, not helping my mood at all. “Well, you’d best get me home. You have an errand to run, remember?”

  “Yeah, and a murder to solve.” I gave a deep sigh.

  She nodded sagely, not looking at all like the old Christine. I had to admit, I liked her far better now. Maybe some day I’d be able to help her too.

  I dropped her off at home few minutes later, then set my sights on getting back to my suite to retrieve the folder. The clock was once more blasting away in my head. Tick tock. Tick tock.

  I pulled in behind the café and leaped from Thor’s front seat, intent on my mission. I missed seeing Mrs. Smith in the alley until she was planted right square in front of me.

  “I need your help! It’s my daughter. She’s in town and has lost her engagement ring, of all things. Do you think you could give her a reading right now? Help her locate it?” The words tumbled out of the woman, highly unusual for someone who prided herself on her composure. And it was beyond weird to accost me in the alley.

  “Uh, I have something really important I’m supposed to do. Could this wait a bit?” I ventured. An image of Ace at his desk, mad as a buck about to stomp a competitor, drove me forward.

  “Please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” she begged. “I’ll pay you double your usual fee if you’ll do it right away. Everyone is just so upset by this. Her fiancé just can’t know. He’s such a catch too.” She lowered her voice and added in a conspiratorial tone, “One of the Davidsons. She did so well by herself and then this has to happen.” Our Mrs. Smith was fine after all—perfectly self-absorbed as usual, if I didn’t take into account the harried look in her eyes. “Alison’s already inside speaking with your granny. I just wanted to touch base with you and tell you how very important this is to our family. We can’t have a whiff of this getting back to the Davidsons. My goodness.” The woman shook her head. “Could you just imagine the scandal?”

  Not really, but the woman was being sincere in her own way. But oh shoot, Granny was back. And the murderer was still on the loose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I sighed out loud. “Okay, but I don’t have much time. There’s something I have to take care of that has a very, very sensitive timeline.”

  “Thanks. I’m certain that it won’t take you but a sec.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  I followed Mrs. Smith inside the back of the café into the kitchen, noting how she managed to keep her hair so perfect all day long, while mine, I knew without looking in a mirror, needed a thorough redoing from all the running around. It had strands coming loose and moving about willy-nilly. Well, that had to wait as well. Do a reading. Get banking records. Then have a tantrum. And maybe not in that precise order…

  “Granny,” I said, embracing my favorite person in all the world when she came forward to greet me.

  “Sweeting. You’re looking a bit stressed.” She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, giving my cheek a gentle pinch.

  “I’m okay.” I hid my worry, giving her a bright smile.

  “Hi, Charm,” Alison greeted me, getting up from the kitchen table and walking over to join us.

  “Alison. How are you?” A carbon copy of her mom, Alison gave me a meek look from under her perfect brown bangs and ponytail.

  “I’ve been better. Seems I’ve misplaced my engagement ring and Justin—my new fiancé—is expected to visit later today. Can you help me?”

  “I’ll try. There’s never any guarantee, but I have a good record.”

  “Charm can find anything,” Mrs. Smith added her vote of confidence with an edge to her tone that suggested I’d better live up to her prediction.

  Alison nodded. “Is here okay?” She gestured around the room. “You know, to do the reading?”

  “Sure, why not?” It would be faster. Tick tock. Tick tock. “Let’s sit at the table.”

  We sat and I took her cool hands in mine. “Okay, close your eyes and think of the last time you saw the ring.”

  She closed her eyes, her hands trembling a bit. An image of the ring on her left hand came to mind, not helping at all.

  “Think of the last time you took it off,” I encouraged her, worrying that nothing was coming up.

  Alison shivered, a grimace creasing the smooth skin of her face. She was blocking the image for some reason. Very strange. Maybe her mother was more enamored of her daughter marrying a Davidson than she was?
r />   “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what do you see, Charm?” Mrs. Smith’s impatient voice cut through the room, making her daughter open her eyes, the expression within their deep pools of blueness worried and upset. And was that a touch of fear?

  “Please, give me a moment,” I murmured. But the impatient mother pulled up a chair in her efforts to encourage results, and her settling in so close threatened to derail things. Alison tugged her hands away from mine, hugging them close to her sides.

  “Alison,” her mother chastised. “You must try harder. We must protect the family’s reputation. If this gets out…”

  I reached out and slipped my right hand over Mrs. Smith’s, encouraging her to pull back a bit. A terrifying cold seeped into my hand when our fingers touched, one almost burning in its intensity. I lurched in my chair when an image sprang fully formed in my mind, blurring my vision. I closed my eyes, unable to see anything but Mrs. Smith doing the unthinkable. Sour bile rose in my chest. What to do?

  I opened my eyes and found Mrs. Smith staring at me, her blue eyes colder than the thick ice that remained frozen year-round circling the Artic Circle. I forced my face into some semblance of order, not wanting the woman to know about the scene she’d just exposed of her hitting her daughter. And her slanderous thoughts about Star being too popular for her own good. That her daughter should have been given her gifts.

  “Alison, sit up and cooperate,” her mother demanded, taking her hands away from mine and tugging at her daughter’s shoulder to grab her attention.

  Did she know what I had just seen? She appeared to be more interested in the engagement ring than anything else. Thank the goddess. I didn’t want to be in on such dreadful family secrets, or the disgusting envy of others. But, too late for that.

  I reluctantly took her daughter’s hands again. We were both trembling. My teeth ached from the effort not to allow them to chatter with the dismal shock.

  I closed my eyes, trying to see what I needed to see. The sooner I could get them out of here the better. Tick tock. Tick tock.

  The ring flashed forward in my mind, the large solitaire faceted diamond gleaming in the darkness before the scene lightened a bit, showing it lying under something.

  “I see it. It’s under a bed, tucked just between where the carpet is joined. It’s caught there, between the threads. Oh, and the bed is one with pink ruffles and an overhead canopy.”

  I opened my eyes, relieved, but my body was still roiling from the ordeal. I could not imagine such a thing happening in our little town. In some ways, it felt as bad a murder. Does it matter more if the spirit or the body is harmed? Alison gave me a wan smile. I wanted to hug her close, not let her go. Was the hitting still happening? What should I do? What should I say?

  “Thanks, that’s my bedroom,” Alison said.

  “Oh, thank the good Lord above.” Mrs. Smith was all smiles, the coldness of her demeanor covered up with satisfaction. But I knew I would never see the woman in the same light again.

  “Alison, please, if you could give me your hands one more time.”

  Surprised, she did what I asked, offering them freely. I went back to the trance, seeking entry to any problems in her body. Finding none, I nodded. The hitting had not been recent. Maybe not for years. Still, it gave me a sense of disquiet. What should I do about it? “Thanks, it’s all good now. Let me know how things go, okay? If you ever need a friend, I’m here for you.”

  Mrs. Smith gave me a mistrusting look through the wreath of smiles, tugging her daughter to her feet. A chill sluiced through me.

  She pushed a few bills at me and hurried Alison from the café.

  “What did you see, child?”

  Granny took Alison’s seat at the table, her kind eyes concerned for my welfare. I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. In the end, I just spilled it.

  “June has always had a bit of a mean streak—needing to control everything and everyone around her,” Granny said after absorbing the information. “Too worried about social conventions by half. It’s been hard on her family. And I believe Alison has taken the brunt of it.” She sighed and patted my hand. “But she’s a big girl now. Time for her to make her own life. You said it hadn’t been recent abuse, yes?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shook my head, pondering.

  “There’s something else we need to talk about, sweeting.”

  “Okay.” I glanced at Granny, a frown knitting her brow. Oh boy, now what?

  “Helen came by the café just after your aunt dropped me off. Oh, and don’t think I don’t know what you were up to, missy, sending me away on a fool’s errand. My sister could not act her way out of a wet paper bag.”

  I blushed. “I wanted to solve the murder—murders,” I corrected. “Before you were touched by them. I didn’t want you hurt.”

  “I’m a strong woman, Charm Mary McCall. You need me more right here—you all do. This affects our whole family and we will figure things out together.”

  I nodded, properly chastised. Granny almost never used my full name.

  “Now, there’s something else needs mentioning first. Helen has told me what you did for her.”

  I fidgeted in my seat. There was no time for this discussion right now, but I couldn’t get up for the life of me, pinned firmly in place, revisiting my recent experience.

  “It just happened.” I shrugged and glanced at the clock. Forty-five minutes had passed. Tick tock.

  “The experience with Helen, the gift of healing, that only comes with the firstborn of our bloodline. Your sisters, on the other hand, may receive different abilities. I have never shared your heritage with all of you, and that’s on me. I had hoped perhaps it would skip this generation. Prayed to the goddess about it. Such heavy responsibilities come with it for one so young.” She shook her head, her lips pressed together. “So much will be asked of you, child, once word spreads.”

  “What do you mean?” My breath froze in my lungs. A sense of impending information that would shift the entire direction of my life had me ready to leap up. Escape. I wanted to block my ears. Turn away. But some part of me needed to hear it. That part made me stay, glued to my seat. The ticking second hand no longer seemed to matter.

  “We haven’t always made our home in Canada, sweeting. Before we emigrated here, we lived in Salem, Massachusetts. In the seventeen-hundreds. Back in the time of the accursed witch trials.”

  “Witch trials?” Confused, I shook my head, the words falling out of me unbidden. “What? Are you saying we came from that horror?”

  “Yes, our family was persecuted by their neighbors. At that time, it was too easy to point fingers. Superstitions and ignorance reigned in the New World. It was a brutal time to try to scratch out a living. It was far too easy to covet what good people had worked so hard to build—try to tear it all down or take it for your own.” Her eyes glazed over as she spoke, reliving a personal horror. “A terrible black mark on history. I only bring it up now to explain your heritage.” She stopped to take a deep, shuddering breath.

  “What happened to our ancestors? Who were they?”

  “Your eighth-removed great-grandmother was a renowned midwife and healer from the old country. One of the last witches to be accused. Mary Sarah Toogood. Fortunately, she managed to escape with the help of her jailer, who took pity on her while accepting a substantial bribe. We are her descendants. Her blood runs through us. It gives the first female born of each matriarchal family the gift of healing in various degrees of strength. Yours is very powerful, sweeting. Thank the goddess you were born in this century.”

  A relieved expression came over her gentle face and she reached out to pat my hands where they were clenched on the tabletop. Her touch soothed me, giving me space to think.

  I hesitated. I needed to know so much more. But where to start? But Granny continued without prompting.

  “The part I hesitate to tell you, that I wish I didn’t have to share quite yet—well, this part is a bit more difficult to explain.”<
br />
  “Harder than burning so-called witches alive at the stake?” The shock was wearing off, filling me with indignation for the plight of innocents. It didn’t matter that it had been long ago. And unlike what the bad mobster guy always parrots in the movies, it was personal.

  “Yes, because it concerns a certain aspect of your gift.” Granny sighed heavily and shifted in her chair.

  “What about my gift?”

  “Do you wonder why I don’t have it—being firstborn?”

  Confused, I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking. “But you have other gifts. You’re the kindest, biggest-hearted person I know. Everyone loves you, Granny. Everyone.” I nodded emphatically.

  She smiled, a twinkle gleaming in her beautiful eyes. “Not everyone, sweeting, but it’s nice to be appreciated.”

  “I’ll never forget that you took us in.” I wiped a tear threatening to run down my cheek. My best guess was that the last two days were catching up with me.

  “You three have been the biggest blessings of my life.” She patted my hand once more. “Now, the gift only passes to the firstborn if they reach the age of twenty-one and remain chaste.”

  “Chaste.” The old-fashioned word challenged me. I shook my head. “You mean stay a virgin?”

  “Yes, and she only keeps the gift if she marries her one true love. And never goes with another. Ah—physically, I mean, as well as spiritually, of course.” Granny didn’t meet my eye. I was suddenly too hot and as red as a beet from blushing. Yikes, but this conversation had taken an unforeseen twist.

  I bit down on my lip, harder. “Does that mean that you—” I couldn’t find the words. This was my granny, not some sex therapist. We never talked about such things. Rule number three, in fact. No swearing, no speaking ill of the dead and definitely no sex talk.

  “I married your grandfather at eighteen and then met a man who was my one true love many years later, but that is another story for another day. And something I must share with you all before I pass on to let you know that what comes after this life—that it’s all good. But, suffice to say, my ancient history took me out of the running to be a healer in this lifetime.”