May Day Murder

by Jennifer David Hesse

  “Billy!” I said, when I finally found my voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hello, DDStarSpirit.”

  It was like a blow to the stomach, robbing me of my breath. “What?” I squeaked.

  “I know it was you. Can we talk?”

  He stepped forward, as if he expected me to invite him inside. There was no way that was going to happen. I dodged past him, pulling the door closed behind me.

  “I was actually on my way out. Sorry.” I trotted down the steps, with Billy close behind.

  “Keli, please. I need to know what you’re playing at. Why would you pull such a cruel prank?”

  That stopped me in my tracks. He thought I had played a prank? Now that I thought about it, perhaps my impersonation of Denise’s spirit over the Internet wasn’t that different from the radio caller who’d done the same thing. Reluctantly, I turned to face him. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I headed down the sidewalk toward Fieldstone Park. Billy made an exasperated sound, then fell into step beside me. This was definitely not the response I’d expected to my provocative message. I had a lot of questions for Billy, not least of which was how he’d found me out. Were there hidden cameras in my home, too? Before I could ask, he provided the answer.

  “You did send that message, right? I’m a website administrator for the Witches’ Web. I traced DDStarSpirit’s IP address to your house.”

  I mentally slapped my forehead. Nothing was secret, or sacred, on the Internet. I would have argued that he’d committed an invasion of privacy, but that seemed well beside the point now.

  We entered the park and followed the winding concrete path with no particular destination. It was a chilly morning. Several people were out taking advantage of the sunshine, from retirees fulfilling their daily exercise to young mothers pushing baby strollers. I led us away from the noisy playground and toward a cluster of weeping willows that marked the edge of the park pond.

  “Okay, you’re right. I sent the message. But it wasn’t a prank. I was serious about what I wrote.”

  He stopped and gave me an incredulous look. “Wait. You mean—were you channeling Denise?”

  I hesitated for half a second, then decided to go with it. “Maybe I was. I’ve seen her in my dreams and visions.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “We had a pact. We agreed. There’s no point in breaking it now. We can’t undo what happened. We can’t . . . bring anyone back.”

  It wasn’t quite an admission, but it was good enough for me. “Billy, come on. I know this has been weighing on your conscience. If you tell the truth, you’ll be free from the burden of a terrible secret.” He remained silent, so I pushed on. “Has Viper threatened you about keeping quiet?”

  “No. He knows I would never break the pact.”

  “The pact has already been broken! Denise wanted the truth to be known . . . and now I know it. Erik has been trying to contact her spirit as well. Denise won’t rest until justice is served. She won’t allow her death to have been in vain.” I heard myself speaking in clichés, but it seemed to be working. Billy took a step back as if I’d slapped him, and his face underwent a series of contortions.

  “Justice? For Denise’s death? What are you saying? You think I killed her?”

  “You and Viper had a lot to lose if she came forward. And I saw Viper’s comments on the Witches’ Web. They sounded very threatening.”

  “Hold up, hold up. You’re way off base. Whatever you think you know, I had nothing to do with Denise’s death.”

  “What about Viper?”

  Billy shook his head. “No. Viper didn’t touch her. I mean, yeah, he wanted her to drop the issue, so he did what he always does. He cast a spell and asked his patron gods to handle it. Then he let the Universe take care of the rest. That doesn’t mean her death was his fault. That’s not the same thing as . . . as murder.”

  Clearly agitated, Billy was breathing heavily and shifting his weight from side to side. I took a quick assessment of my surroundings. A lone fisherman sat on the bank at the far side of the pond. A young couple lounged on a blanket several yards away. From somewhere behind the trees, I heard the repeated thwap of a tennis ball in an impressively sustained rally. Then it fell silent.

  “How can you be so sure?” I asked gently. “Denise was killed sometime between eight-thirty and nine o’clock. Viper wasn’t picked up by the cops until nine-thirty or so.”

  Billy didn’t respond, so I continued, “By the time he was booked and allowed a phone call, you were already in Edindale with Erik. So, you dropped off Erik at Moonstone and turned around to go bail out Viper. What time did you pick up Erik, anyway? That was probably around nine-thirty, too, wasn’t it?”

  I didn’t say it, but the implication was clear. Billy would have had as much time as Viper to poison Denise that morning. So would have Erik, for that matter.

  “No way. I think I’d know if Viper had done something so heinous. He wouldn’t do that. Neither of us would.” Billy gave me a plaintive look. “You have to believe me.”

  Suddenly, I didn’t know what I believed. I began to wonder if I’d rushed to judgment. While I was still fairly confident that Denise, Viper, and Billy had some involvement with the armored truck accident, I realized I had no proof to connect the incident with Denise’s murder.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead. When I opened them, Billy was staring across the pond.

  “I gotta go, Billy. I’m sorry about the Witches’ Web thing. I’ll delete the bogus account.”

  He turned to me with pleading eyes. “What about—I mean, are you going to tell anybody about—”

  I shook my head. “It’s none of my business. You do whatever you think is right.” Without another word, I did an about-face and hurried away, hoping he wouldn’t follow me. He didn’t. When I spared a glance over my shoulder, he was gone.

  * * *

  When Wes returned home, he found me up to my elbows in yard work. I’d mowed the lawn, pulled weeds, planted carrots and beans, filled the bird feeders, and washed out the birdbath. I was watering the flowers when he came out of the house. Scratching his head, he remarked that the garden seemed to be rubbing off on me—literally. I looked down at my clothes and saw that he was right. From my dirt-covered gardening gloves and grass-stained jeans to my mud-caked boots, I was quite a sight. I had to use my inner forearm to push the hair out of my eyes.

  “I guess I lost track of time,” I admitted.

  “How did it go at the police station?”

  “It didn’t. I didn’t go.” I set down the garden hose and walked over to the faucet to turn off the water. Wes followed me.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, to avoid making a false accusation.” I pulled off my gardening gloves and met his eyes. “I had a surprise visit from Billy this morning.”

  “What? He came here?” With a dark look, Wes scanned the yard as if Billy might be lurking behind the bushes.

  I told Wes everything, including the doubts I had after talking with Billy. “The whole thing left me more confused than ever. I couldn’t think straight, let alone speak coherently. I was in no condition to go to the police. Knowing Langham, he’d probably suspect me of making up stories to deflect attention away from myself.”

  “Aw, babe, I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you today. I’ll go with you to the station tomorrow. You still need to file a police report.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. But today turned out all right, after all. The fresh air and physical exertion cleared away the cobwebs in my mind. I think I’ve finally figured out the thing I’ve been overlooking all this time.”

  Wes frowned as his phone jangled in his pocket. “Dang. That’s the security people. They’re probably at the front door.”

  “Do you mind meeting them without me? I need to clean up and make some phone calls.”

  “Of course not. You go ahead.”

  We went inside, and I t
rotted upstairs before Wes answered the front door. As I peeled off my dirty clothes and turned on the shower, my mind returned to the pivotal question I’d been mulling over for the past few hours. It was the one question I’d neglected to ask until now: Why me?

  Why was I targeted after Denise’s death? Someone was interested in me from the very beginning. Someone took it upon him- or herself to find out where I live, where I work, and what my phone number is. They’d kept tabs on me enough to know I’d be a guest on a radio call-in show—and they disliked me enough to sabotage my law practice, scare me with bizarre, threatening phone calls, set a fire outside my back door, and try to frame me for murder.

  Oh, and they left a dead bird on my doorstep, too.

  Why?

  It was tempting to imagine the murderer thought I was getting too close to solving the case. Some of the episodes certainly felt like threats to back off. But it didn’t really make sense, if I thought about it. The first music box phone call had happened the day after I’d found Denise’s body. I hadn’t even started asking questions about Denise yet, let alone found any clues or pieced together any useful bits of information. No one could possibly have called me a meddling kid at that point. Later maybe, but not then.

  Having scrubbed my body and lathered my hair, I now let the hot water stream over me as my mind continued to wander. I recalled all the descriptions I’d heard of Denise’s moodiness, and the email to Poppy in which Denise had said something had been bothering her. And then there was the banishing spell she’d left in the fire lookout tower. When I’d put two and two together about the armored truck accident and the three teenaged witches, I’d assumed that was the cause of Denise’s poor attitude. I figured she felt guilty over the incident and frustrated that Billy and Viper didn’t agree with her desire to come clean. And maybe that was part of her problem. Yet all the evidence, such as it was, pointed to something else—something a little closer to home.

  I had pondered this idea once before, and now it seemed all the more compelling. Could Denise have been experiencing the same kind of harassment that was happening to me? We both wrote banishing spells, after all. Evidently we both had someone dogging us and trying to make our lives miserable. If someone out there didn’t like me, someone really didn’t like Denise.

  But again, why me? What did I have in common with Denise? I had never even heard of the woman before I met Erik.

  And there was my answer. Erik. He was the common denominator. He was the only thing—or person—connecting me to Denise.

  As soon as I toweled off and pulled on a robe, I sat on the edge of the bed and called Erik. He didn’t answer, so I left a message asking him to get back to me. A scratch at the door drew me out of my brooding thoughts. I let Josie in and listened for a moment to the sound of men’s voices drifting up from downstairs. Evidently, Wes was still working things out with the security guy. I hoped he wasn’t turning our home into a second Fort Knox.

  I gave Farrah a call and filled her in on my brilliant deductions and not-so-brilliant charade on the Witches’ Web.

  “OMG, Keli! Why didn’t you call me first? I would have told you to send the message from a computer at the library. Then he couldn’t have traced you to your house.”

  “That would have been smart,” I said sheepishly. “But it’s just as well that Billy tracked me down. It gave me a chance to hear his denials firsthand. I have to say, he sounded pretty convincing.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know, Kel. I don’t think we should underestimate sweet, young Billy Jones. Viper told me Billy’s a shrewd operator when it comes to money matters. Part of the reason he can afford to be so generous is because he’s a wise investor. According to Viper, Billy doesn’t even need to work for a living. That job he has at an electronics store? It’s purely for fun.”

  I considered this bit of information. “That’s interesting, but it doesn’t really change anything. I already know—or strongly suspect—where Billy acquired the money to invest in the first place.”

  “All I’m saying is, no matter what he told you, we can’t rule him out. I mean, he’s super cute and witchy—Viper said Billy used to go see Denise for tarot readings like some people go to the salon—but he’s also very practical. He’s not going to risk his neck if he can help it.”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t rule out Viper either. I was thinking about the time line again, and Viper was arrested well after Denise was killed. He didn’t have an alibi that morning.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “Have you heard from him since, uh, the other night?”

  “You mean since the grand rescue op you masterminded? No. And I doubt if I will. I’m sure he’s decided I’m a hazard to his health.”

  “That’s probably not a bad thing.”

  “I suppose . . . though, I was really looking forward to seeing him play the bongos—or is it the congas? Percussion instruments are so sexy, don’t you think?”

  I snickered. “Sure, if you say so.”

  We chatted a few more minutes, then I let her go with a promise not to post any more clever bluffs without consulting her first. Erik still hadn’t returned my call. I wondered if he was miffed after our last phone conversation. Maybe I had been a tiny bit cold.

  I paced to the bedroom window and looked outside. Shadows lengthened in the late-afternoon sun as birds flocked to the highest branches. Josie wound herself around my legs, and I reached down and absently pet her.

  Erik had said he wanted to try to contact Denise’s spirit again, but it hadn’t exactly gone well the last time. The air in that tower had been thick with heavy emotions. I had thought it was anger, but it could have been more than that. Jealously, loss, regret?

  Denise had loved Erik. Based on the attraction spell she’d penned, I knew she was the one who had pursued him—even though he was apparently involved with someone else at the time. And they had been together for about two years—“off and on,” according to Erik. But I had the impression they were close during that time. In spite of how things ended, I was sure Denise had cared deeply for Erik. Wouldn’t she have confided in him?

  Erik had to know more than he’d told me. To give him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps he didn’t even realize it himself. But something told me he possessed the key to unlocking this mystery. Maybe he was the key.

  For the rest of the evening, I kept checking my phone, anticipating Erik’s return call. I texted him twice, sent him an email, and left another voice message. Eventually I concluded he must be avoiding me.

  Oh, well, no matter. I knew where to find him the next day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I was up with the dawn on Saturday morning. Moving quietly so as not to awaken Wes, I slipped outside for a solitary sun salutation. The damp grass prickled my bare feet, and the gentle breeze cooled my face, but the vivid crack of sunlight breaking above the horizon promised a warm, beautiful day.

  Standing among my flowers and shrubs, I pressed my hands together and raised them to the sky. Feeling like a priestess, I murmured words that came to me in the moment.

  My body awakens like the greening earth;

  My blood quickens like the rushing river;

  My heart fills with the soul of Gaia,

  Divine Mother

  Divine Feminine

  Divine Lady, who today joins with the Lord, in the sacred dance of life.

  Blessed be.

  I was excited about witnessing the Beltane Festival. Of all the sabbats, this was the one that seemed most to call for a communal celebration. But I was nervous, too. Gazing around the backyard, I spied a pair of white butterflies performing a fluttery pageant in the purple phlox. Their movements mirrored the subtly anxious dance in my heart. I took a deep breath.

  “This will be a good day,” I said firmly. In my experience, affirmations were often as effective as magic spells. As long as I kept telling myself everything would be fine, it would be. Probably.

  Besides, whatever might happen today—with Eri
k, Billy, Viper, or anyone else connected with Denise—I wouldn’t be alone. Not only would I have lots of friends and acquaintances at the festival, but Wes had promised to meet me there later. He had to go into the newspaper office for only a few hours this morning.

  I was only sorry Farrah couldn’t make it. She had been toying with the idea, but when I phoned her after breakfast, she bowed out.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Yeah, more or less. My leg is acting up today. I think I twisted it in my sleep. Also, I Googled the festival to look at pictures—you know, to see what people wear to these things—and I learned all about the private nature preserve that hosts the festival every year. The place is huge! It’s on this huge swath of grassy, hilly property—probably muddy in low areas. It’s not a good place for crutches. I would just be a drag.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind walking slowly.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Tell Wes to take lots of pictures.”

  I knew I wouldn’t have to tell Wes. He always took lots of pictures. However, as I wound my way “over the hills and through the woods,” taking back roads I never even knew existed, I hoped he wouldn’t get lost. I had the detailed directions Erik had sent me days ago, and I still had to backtrack twice after missing my turn. Luckily, signs pointing the way began to crop up along the side of the road. I knew I must be getting closer as traffic picked up. Vehicles merged from left and right onto the same country road I traveled.

  More than once, I thought I must be taking the very definition of scenic route. At one point, trees gave way to meadows, and, soon after, I passed a tidy, sprawling apple orchard. A faded pastel archway bore the words Red Gate Hollow.

  So this is where it is. It was the organic farm for sale by Gretta Harrison and coveted by Neal Jameson. I’d tried to help Neal acquire the property at a fair price—and instead wound up being blamed for his dashed plans. I still bristled at the unfairness of it all.