The Chakra Outline

by Angie Cabot

  When I let myself drop back to the pillow, Nico grumbled again.

  I lay there in the dark wondering if I’d really locked the door. I was pretty sure I had, but maybe I only meant to and then didn’t do it. If the killer was out there with an athame, I would be the most likely target.

  My heart raced, and I took a series of deep breaths, holding each, and letting them out slowly to calm myself down.

  It helped a little.

  After what felt like an eternity, I reached for my phone and checked the time again. 2:47.

  Great.

  Some people count sheep. Some people count backward from a hundred. Some people try to clear their minds and will themselves to slumber.

  I tried all of them. Then I checked my phone.

  2:56.

  I shifted again, and Nico got up. She walked up and sat on my chest. After a moment, she lowered herself and placed a paw on my chin.

  “You’re heavier than you look,” I whispered.

  As I spoke, she dug her claws into my chin just enough to hurt, but not enough to break the skin. She was a professional.

  When I closed my mouth, she retracted her claws.

  She allowed me to pet her for a time. Then she got up and moved back down to my legs. She kneaded my left leg for a bit, then went back to sleep.

  Ah, the life of a cat.

  Things are so much easier for our friends of the feline persuasion. They don’t care about things so much. I’d been pretty good at that until Aunt Liz died. I didn’t want to go there because I’d been feeling too much today. I focused instead on cats. They do what they please. Order your human to feed you. Get your human to open the door so you can choose to go in or out.

  Command your human to lay down to be a kitty bed.

  Then just sleep.

  If I were a cat, I could sleep.

  I must have been thinking about that when I finally slipped into dreamland. I dreamt that I was a cat and Nico and I were on a mission to knock things over.

  Crash!

  My eyes snapped open.

  The noise was not from my dream. Something had been knocked over.

  I listened.

  Someone moaned.

  Or was that part of my dream still clinging to me?

  No. Nico was visible in the snowy moonlight as she got up and stared at the door. She’d heard it, too.

  I checked my phone again. 5:22.

  “Hey! Keep it down. People are trying to sleep!”

  Someone yelled it, but I wasn’t sure whose voice it was.

  “Be quiet out there,” Morgan said.

  I knew it was her because her voice came from the next room.

  Something had made a noise. There was no denying it.

  I got out of bed. Nico complained when I moved her. I wore a T-shirt and sweat pants. My feet were bare.

  When I reached the door, I moved to unlock it, and thought, what if the killer is right outside?

  That seemed unlikely.

  But I didn’t want to risk it. I went to the nightstand, clicked on the lamp, and grabbed my athame from its case.

  Blade in hand, I took a deep breath, went back, unlocked my door, and flung it open.

  Light spilled into the hallway.

  No one there to murder me.

  Good.

  I chanced a glance down the hall.

  The lights were on in Morgan’s room, and in Sandra’s room.

  I knocked on Morgan’s door. “I know you’re awake,” I said. “Did you hear a crash?”

  She opened her door, and she, too, held her athame. “I did,” she said, eyes wide.

  I pushed her knife hand away from me, and we went to Sandra’s room.

  “Sandra? Come on out.”

  She opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Are you two going to stab me?”

  “No,” Morgan and I said at the same time.

  “Okay,” she said, and joined us in the hall.

  Nico padded over to us and meowed.

  All three of us jumped.

  Nico chuffed, and darted down the stairs.

  “Do we dare?” I asked.

  Across the foyer at the top of the other stairs, Carl, Zen, and Diana appeared. They were unarmed, of course, because their blades were outside or in the Jeep.

  “Where’s Balthazar?” I asked.

  Carl looked at Diana.

  She shrugged.

  “He’s not up here,” Diana said.

  “He could be down there with an athame,” Morgan said, her voice low. “Just waiting to kill us all.”

  I leaned over the banister.

  Enough light spilled on the floor to tell me he wasn’t in the foyer.

  “Let’s go look for him,” I said.

  The trio on the other staircase moved down at the same time we did.

  Morgan and I led the way because we had blades. Not that either of us knew how to use them beyond stick the pointy end at whatever moved.

  The light from the rooms wasn’t enough to see well, so Sandra pulled out her phone and used the flashlight feature to illuminate the steps. It helped a little.

  Down the steps we went, hearts pounding so loud we could hear them. Sandra kept a hand on my shoulder, and held the phone up between me and Morgan.

  At the bottom of the steps, Sandra moved ahead and went to the light switch. She flicked on the lights, and the chandelier lit up, as did the overhead light in the drawing room.

  Morgan and I gasped when we saw the body.

  Balthazar lay face down on the broken table with a bone-handled athame in his back.

  Morgan shook her head. “I guess we can rule him out as the murderer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Diana raced down the stairs, pushing Zen and Carl out of her way. She fell to her knees in front of her dead husband, and wailed like a lost child.

  It hurt to stand there and watch her, so I turned away.

  Carl and Zen looked in. Zen turned away and put a hand over her mouth.

  Carl shook his head. “Before anyone asks, I didn’t do this.”

  “Not now, Carl,” I said.

  He turned to face me. “But it’s going to look like I did it after our argument. And I didn’t do it. I swear. Oh, man, you guys are going to try to pin both murders on me.”

  He ran up the stairs to his room and slammed the door.

  Diana cradled her husband’s body in her arms, rocking back and forth, tears flowing down her cheeks. “No,” she cried. “You can’t leave me, baby.”

  Sandra and Morgan watched her. I felt like I should go to her, offer condolences. It was the right thing to do, but I feared that if I did, I’d start crying and wouldn’t be able to stop. But people need other people to care about them. They need a human touch. They need at least a modicum of kindness. Finally, Sandra entered the drawing room, and placed a hand on Diana’s shoulder.

  Diana swatted at her. “Leave me be,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sandra said, and backed away.

  So much for kindness.

  Morgan sighed. “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never dealt with one murder, let alone two.”

  “I thought he was the killer,” Morgan said. “Shows what I get for thinking. Wait. Maybe he killed Elizabeth, and someone else killed him.”

  “Two murderers?” I asked. “I sure hope not.”

  “This is freaking me out,” Sandra said. “What are we going to do? Todd was the strongest person here, and the killer got him. We don’t stand a chance.”

  Footsteps sounded toward the back of the house. Sandra squealed and ran toward the door. I glanced over as Emma and Jenn came out of the darkness past the kitchen. Jenn wore pajamas with Dalmatians on them. Emma wore a night gown with little flowers on it.

  “What’s all the noise about?” Emma asked.

  “Someone killed Balthazar.”

  They stopped and backed up. “Maybe we’ll just go back to our rooms and we won
’t come up until the police can get here.”

  “No one’s going to hurt you,” I said.

  “You don’t know that,” Emma said.

  “She’s right,” Jenn said, continuing to back away. “Two people have been murdered, so pardon us if we don’t believe you.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Emma said.

  They rushed downstairs. A moment later, I heard two doors close.

  I couldn’t blame them. I studied everyone with suspicion. No one here looked strong enough to kill Balthazar. Sandra was right. He was the biggest and the strongest. My heart beat faster, and I struggled to breathe, but then I stood up straight. Since we couldn’t get the police up here, I needed to take charge. I forced myself to breathe, and concentrated on slowing down my heart rate. No one would kill us while we were all together.

  Zen sat on the stairs, head in her hands. I walked over to her.

  “You all right?”

  She shook her head.

  “You liked him,” I said.

  She nodded, and wiped tears away. She sniffled. “I did. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I knew he was never going to leave her no matter how many times he said he would. I just kept clinging to the fantasy. You know?”

  I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway.

  “Now he’s left us both.”

  She wiped her nose on her sleeve, pulled herself up using the banister, and looked at me.

  “Do you mind if I go to my room?” she asked.

  “Do you want someone to talk to?” I asked.

  “Not really, but I also don’t want to be alone.”

  She wiped her eyes again, but the waterworks kept flowing. She sniffled, turned, and slowly ascended the stairs.

  I looked at Sandra and Morgan. “Can you two stay here for Diana? I’ll go with Zen.”

  Morgan shook her head as Sandra nodded. Sandra glared at Morgan, so Morgan sighed and nodded, too.

  “Thank you,” I said, and followed Zen up to her room.

  She sat on the bed. I closed the door so we could have some privacy, and sat beside her.

  She leaned into me, and I put an arm around her. Tears stained the shoulder of my T-shirt.

  I let her cry, not trying to engage in conversation. I wanted to ask questions, but I didn’t think she was a murderer. It was more important to treat her as a human being. Someone hurting because they just lost a loved one. She felt things I seemed incapable of feeling, and I envied that, but at the same time, I wished she didn’t have to feel it.

  After a time, she cried herself out. She brushed at my shoulder. “Sorry,” she said.

  “It’s all right.”

  “Life is cruel.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I’m so tired,” she said.

  “Sleep,” I said.

  “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

  “I’ll stay right here.”

  She curled up on the bed, hugging her pillow. Thirty seconds later, she was out.

  I sat there with her until the sun poked its head above the horizon. When she opened her eyes, she gave me a sad smile.

  “Thank you for staying with me,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  “I wish it was a dream,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  “But he’s gone. He’s really gone.”

  I put a hand on her shoulder, and gave her a squeeze. “You should get cleaned up. A shower will help.”

  “Just the act of doing something?”

  I nodded. “Exactly.”

  “We’re two peas in a pod,” she said. “We both lost loved ones this weekend.”

  “Not a club we want to belong to,” I said.

  “So true,” she said.

  “Change of subject,” I said. “Someone said you were thinking of opening your own store.”

  “Maybe someday. I don’t have the money for that. Your aunt offered to let me put a sign over my reading room.” She spread her hands out above her as if unveiling a neon sign. “The Zen Room.”

  “Aunt Liz did that?”

  “No. Clara did. Clara thought the idea of me opening my own place was a good one, but that until I could save the money, I could at least build a clientele. She helped me set up a file in the computer to separate my personal clients and everything. I adore her. She’s always been there for me.”

  That sounded like Clara. I got up. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll have a cup waiting here when you get out of the shower.”

  She thanked me, and I opened the door to go downstairs.

  Nico lay at the top of the stairs. She looked up at me and meowed.

  “Yes, yes, I know you’re hungry. You’re always hungry.”

  She followed me downstairs.

  The body was no longer on the table in the drawing room. Pieces of the table were still lying there, but the body was gone, replaced by a rainbow chalk outline.

  I heard soft talking in the dining room. Nico meowed at me, and raced ahead.

  Sandra and Morgan sat at the table drinking coffee. Morgan had a bowl of cereal in front of her.

  “How’s Diana?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Morgan said. “I had Carl help me move the body outside. Todd is sharing a snowdrift with Elizabeth.”

  “What about the knife?”

  “Still in his back.”

  I nodded. “Is there any more coffee?”

  “Half a pot.”

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “Diana? Sleeping.”

  “And Carl?”

  “In the game room, sulking.”

  Nico came out of the kitchen, looked up at me, and meowed loudly.

  “Sorry, Nico.”

  I went into the kitchen, opened her a can of food, and watched as she devoured it.

  Then I poured two cups of coffee. I forgot to ask how Zen liked it. I poured some milk and sugar into my cup, and took a sip.

  The warmth slid down my throat into my empty stomach, and I realized I was hungry.

  While I much preferred real butter to margarine, toast with margarine sounded worlds better than cereal. I put two slices of bread in the toaster, pushed the handle down, and carried Zen’s coffee out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  The shower was still running, as I expected, so I put the coffee on her nightstand, and glanced out the window.

  The two cases were no longer sticking out of the snow. At first I thought maybe it snowed again and buried them, but I could see the holes where they’d been.

  Great. Two more athames to worry about.

  I went down to the kitchen just as the toast popped up.

  Nico turned on the counter at the sound, then went back to eating.

  I spread margarine on the toast, and took a bite.

  It was edible, but butter would have been so much better.

  But who was I to complain? At least I was alive. That was more than Aunt Liz and Balthazar could say.

  I took another bite of toast, and went back to thinking about the people who were still alive, and who could be the real killer. After all, like Morgan, my money would have been on Balthazar. He was the biggest, the strongest, and the most prone to confrontational behavior.

  That made me think of Carl. The only other man now ticked to the top of my prime suspect list. After all, women were more likely to poison someone than stab them.

  I looked at the margarine on my toast, and thought that Aunt Liz had practically poisoned me by not bringing some butter. But I’d trade butter for margarine for the rest of my life if it would bring her back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The cue ball smacked into the balls on the pool table, scattering them.

  Carl looked over at me as he rose with cue stick in hand.

  “I didn’t do it,” he said.

  “Well, you didn’t sink the eight ball on the break,” I said.

  “I didn’t kill Todd.”

  “I know
what you meant,” I said.

  He planted the stick on the floor, and leaned on it. “But you don’t believe me.”

  “Game?” I asked, pointing at the table.

  He shrugged. “I can rerack them,” he said.

  “No need.” I walked over to the rack of cue sticks against the wall, and selected one.

  “I know we had that argument,” Carl said. “And I know it wasn’t pretty.”

  I chalked the tip. “Solids or stripes?” I asked.

  “Table’s open,” he said. “You have to believe me that I wouldn’t kill him. I would never kill anyone.”

  I leaned down to line up a shot. “Even if your life was on the line?”

  “Todd was stabbed in the back. He would never turn his back on me.”

  I tapped the cue ball. It rolled into the two ball, which bounced around the corner and bumped into the nine. Unfortunately, the cue ball dropped into the other corner pocket. “That counts as a solid, right?”

  He shook his head, and placed the cue ball on the table. He knocked the two ball into the corner, walked around, lined up another shot, and cracked the four ball on a long diagonal trip to the opposite corner. It dropped like it was meant to be there.

  Carl chalked his stick. “I was more scared than mad.” He walked around the table, leaned down to get a better look at the angles, then lined up on the three, aiming for the side pocket. The thirteen looked to be in the way.

  He took the shot. The three slid past the thirteen without touching it, and dropped into the side pocket. Carl stepped around to get a bead on the seven.

  “He’s always punching my buttons,” Carl said, sinking the seven in the corner. “Picking at me. He’s done that for years. Last night wasn’t any worse than any other night or day.”

  He sank the six in the side.

  “Excuse me,” he said, coming around the table. I stepped aside to give him space as he studied the one ball, and the six ball. Both were blocked by the multitude of striped balls still scattered across the green real estate.

  He shook his head. “It’s embarrassing to have him threaten me in front of everyone, but it would be more embarrassing to get beat up, and even though he’s twenty years older than me, I know he can take me. One in the corner.”

  He lined up a bank shot. He hit the cue ball hard, and it bounced off the rail, sailed toward the one, but smacked the fourteen and careened wildly into a group of other balls.