by Jill Nojack
Natalie leaned in to the table, her left hand to her mouth, then took it away and said, “I don’t know how it’s even possible. I’ve never seen a spirit do what he did before. William was solid. Solid as you or I. He grabbed the arm that held the rope and forced that arm to move. Everything I know about the separation between the worlds says that cannot happen.”
Gillian shrugged. “Stranger things have happened in this town. The dead that walked through from the Summerlands when Anat created the rift between the worlds sure looked solid to me. But we were all a little too occupied to check that one out.”
Natalie nodded, pensive. “It’s true. The shades I saw that day didn’t have the sheen of ectoplasm. But it’s not the same. There’s no rift here now to mix things up. I’d feel it. Without my ward, it would prickle like heat rash.”
Gillian inclined her head and raised her shoulders in a small shrug. “The goddess works in mysterious ways. Maybe she owes you one.”
Anyone else would have looked grateful, but Natalie was unmoved. “Given what this town’s been through because of the goddess’s relatives, I’d say she owes all of us. Although I’m sure you’ll happily defend her.” She looked at Gillian pointedly.
Cassie caught Tom’s eye, shaking her head. “Are you two ever going to get over your stupid rivalry? We’re united now, right? Maid, Mother, and Crone. Three strong witches working together. So let’s act like it.”
Gillian smiled at her fondly. “The wisdom of the Mother.”
At that, Tom’s head went to the side and one eyebrow came down. He looked at Cassie. “The wisdom of the Mother?”
Cassie looked back at him, her face a picture of innocence, like she’d just been caught sneaking a cookie. “Ummmm . . . Natalie and Gillian think that, you know . . .”
“We’re pregnant?” His shoulders stiffened and his eyes widened.
Cassie nodded her head. “At least that’s what these two say. But I was waiting to tell you until I could take an actual medical test. It’s really early—”
“Pish toddle!” Natalie interrupted. “I know what I know. You’re having a baby in something less than nine months.”
Cassie waited for Tom to say something, but he just looked blank.
“Tom?” she asked, in a small, cautious voice, “Is it . . . are you . . .”
All at once, his face broke into a massive smile, and he completed her sentence with, “…having the grooviest day of my life? Yes. Yes, I am.”
He stood, then stooped to pick Cassie up from her chair, swinging her legs up and capturing her in the basket of his arms. It was a neat trick to accomplish in the small space around them. She protested weakly as he said, “Sorry, ladies, you’ll have to battle on alone. I’m taking my wife and my child-to-be home for a celebration.”
“Tom!” Cassie squealed. “I’m as happy as you are, but let’s wait until Natalie tells us the rest of what she’s learned about the murders.”
“Not today. There will never be another today. I reserve my right to be a caveman just this once. Good night, ladies.”
He swept out with her into the hall, and she settled against his chest, all her objections gone.
***
Tom moved Cassie’s long brown hair out of the way and raised himself up on his elbows to look down into her face. She beamed back at him, tired, relaxed, and happy.
His hands held her head gently on each side, his eyes met hers. Contentment. That’s what she read there. He was going to make an amazing father. Amazing.
“If I’d known what my reward was going to be for being pregnant, I’d have told you about it right away.”
He moved to the side and lay his hand protectively over her stomach. “Just wait until you get your punishment for letting me be the last one to know. Although it will probably be an awful lot like your reward.”
She turned over to face him and ran a finger down his chest. It glided smoothly over the rise of his pectoral muscle, then circled a nipple until she snuggled her head against him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. But I wasn’t even the first to know! You know what Natalie’s like. She just burst out with it, and then Gillian’s all feeling me up with her magic hands.” Cassie wiggled the fingers of her free hand in the air while she made a goofy face.
He pulled her tight and his chest vibrated with his laughter. “That sounds about right. Those two . . . I’m sorry I ever got you involved with them.”
“No you’re not! And I’m not, either. Plus, I knew Gillian long before I knew you. I think it’s wonderful that with both of our mothers gone, this baby is still going to be blessed with two of the most devoted grandmothers any kid has ever had.”
She could feel his head nodding in agreement above hers. “And that also sounds about right,” he said as sat up and turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ve worked up an appetite. How about you?”
“I could eat.”
“I warn you, it will have to be something healthy. No bacon for you. Not anymore. Beet and ricotta grilled cheese? You’ll like it. It’s a lot better than it sounds.”
Cassie grimaced. “It would have to be.”
“Did I mention it also involves honey?”
“Bring it on.” Cassie grinned. “I’ll be here.”
Tom pulled on a pair of pajama pants, then planted a kiss on her forehead. “You better be. Then again, I can’t remember you ever refusing a meal.”
She giggled.
When he was gone, she got out of bed and moved a few knick-knacks from the round table next to the bed up to the fireplace mantle to make room for dinner dishes. As she did, she couldn’t help admiring the picture that had pride of place there. She was glad that Lou Frank had turned out not to be a jerk after all. She still couldn’t believe that the amazing watercolor belonged to her. She picked it up for a moment, peering into the frame. Wiggling back down beneath the bed’s warm covers, she felt sure that she must be the happiest woman in the world.
11
Sean slid the chain lock back and opened the door. Natalie stood there, wearing a large, colorful silk scarf draped high around her neck and shoulders. It wasn’t a great look for her. Against her pale skin, it was overpowering.
He smiled, although he hoped her early morning visits weren’t going to become a regular thing. “You should have let me know you were coming.”
“So you could prepare a rope?”
“Say what?” His head pitched to the side while he held her gaze from the corners of his eyes. He stepped to the side of the door so she could enter.
“You heard me. I won’t be coming in. We can talk through the door. In fact, why don’t you step out here?” She raised her keychain. “This red thingamajig here was forced on me by a well-meaning friend. I’ll be keeping my finger on the panic button while we talk. I understand that when the alarm sounds, it’s piercing. You wouldn’t want to upset the neighbors.”
“Sure.” He shrugged, stepping into the hall. “But why do you think you need it?”
“Where were you and your hooded sweatshirt yesterday afternoon around 3 p.m.?” she asked.
“I was at the Frank house most of the day, but I guess I left there around two to go downtown. I put in a set of shelves at that new vintage boutique that’s going in. Nice stuff. You should check it out. I bet some of their gear would be right up your alley.”
Natalie mapped the downtown quickly in her head. The only spot that had been empty was on Bishop street, close to where she’d been attacked. She moved back from him reflexively in a swaying motion. Maybe this had not been her best idea this week.
He noticed the sway and said, “You okay?” He looked genuinely concerned.
“Did anyone see you there?”
“Sure. What’s his name, the gallery guy? He was dishing with Ling Li, the owner. I was in his sights the whole time, if you know what I mean. Just so you know, though—I go a little older, but I’m not interested in crossing the gender divide. You can
check with them if you want.”
Natalie remembered Sean’s tank-topped display while working at the shop. She expected the scene would have been every bit as entrancing for Dash.
“You can be sure that I will.”
“So, why do you want to know this?” he asked.
“Haven’t the police been here to talk to you? I was attacked yesterday.”
“Wow. No, I didn’t know. Is everything all right? Were you hurt?” He seemed genuinely concerned again.
She would have thought he’d ask about the police, not about her health. “I’m fine.” She realized if it hadn’t been him, perhaps he’d told someone else that she’d been investigating. “One more thing. Did you tell anyone that I’d been here asking questions?”
“Cinnamon, but that’s it.”
“And what did Ms. Brown have to say about it?”
He looked sincere when he said, “Ms. Taylor, I respect you too much to tell you what Ms. Brown might or might not have said about you.”
Natalie gave him a last glare before she walked away.
She only put the alarm button back in her pocket when she was safely back in her car.
***
When Cassie arrived at the gallery, a huge display of flowers nearly hid the counter. They were gorgeous. Dash hurried out from the back when he heard her enter.
“Those are nice,” Cassie said, inclining her heard toward the flowers in the crimson vase. “A gift from Jon?”
“I wish they had my name on them, but sadly, they’re for you.”
“Really? Omigoddess, I can’t believe he did this!”
“Special occasion?” Dash asked as Cassie picked up the card tucked into the foliage.
She beamed. “Yeah. Very.” She slipped the card out of the tiny white envelope and was surprised when she didn’t recognize the writing. It was cursive, big, and full of flourishes—a far cry from Tom’s round, right-leaning block letters. Her eyes dropped to the signature.
“This is from Lou Frank, not Tom. Congratulating me on—oh, you might as well know since apparently everyone does now. I’m pregnant!”
Dash made forgive-me eyes when he said, “I know! Lou told me when he dropped them off. I’m so excited for you! How long have you known?” He hugged her, then pushed her away, scolding, “And more important, why did you tell Lou before you told me?”
“I didn’t—even Tom only found out yesterday.” She set the card back into the flowers. “Is it okay if I leave these in the shop? That way everyone can enjoy them.”
“And your husband can’t find out that Mr. Frank has taken a special interest in you?” Dash replied, rearranging a few of the flowers, then stepping back to view his improvements. “They really are lovely.”
“My husband can find out whatever he wants. Like he has anything to be jealous about! I just don’t want to encourage anything. I mean, I like Lou and all, but even if I wasn’t married, I’m into guys who are a little earthier, you know?” She was thinking about Kit and Sheba’s romp through the forest after dinner last night, and she couldn’t imagine how anyone could be earthier than Tom was.
She couldn’t get mad at Dash when he immediately picked up the phone to pass the news on to Jon, but the opportunity to make announcements to good friends should have been hers and Tom’s—it bothered her a little that Nat or Gillian had put the news about the baby out into the community, even though she couldn’t imagine either one of them doing it on purpose.
12
With Cat’s Magical Shoppe closed on Mondays, Natalie took some of her day off to catch up with the details of life. Between working and investigating, she’d let things go around the house.
She plopped the wicker laundry basket on top of the dryer, started the water filling, and poured a carefully measured amount of detergent in. While she waited for the basket to fill, she went through pockets to make sure she wouldn’t be adding unwanted ingredients to the mix. Not that she could accidentally turn her underthings into toads and her overthings into princes, but she didn’t want her laundry to dye itself green and smell minty fresh.
Nothing harmful was revealed: a particularly smooth, round stone she thought might eventually find a use, the angelica root she’d been carrying for protection since the attack, and a folded piece of paper from the pocket of the pantsuit she’d been wearing on the day it had happened. That was odd. She didn’t recall tucking away any notes that day.
She opened it up and smoothed it out. In a fancy hand, embellished but scrupulously legible, someone had written “impicciona.” She had no idea why she would have picked the thing up or what it meant. It went into the small wastebasket next to the dryer.
She scooped up the angelica root and whispered to it to strengthen the protection spell it carried and tucked it into her bra when she realized she didn’t have a pocket in her slacks or lavishly beaded, black vintage sweater set. It can never hurt to be prepared, she thought, as she remembered how William had come to her aid. Especially when one’s guardian angel is no longer waiting in the wings.
She meant to harrumph at herself for the thought—she could most certainly protect herself—but she found herself sighing instead. “Oh William . . .” she muttered, “where have you gone?”
***
The bus that delivered the Giles high school students back from Salem would be dropping Twink off at the end of the street any minute now. That, thought Natalie, would explain the presence of the black teen in the old Ford across the street from Cat’s Magical Shoppe.
She tapped on the window and he reached across to roll it down.
“Are you Marcus Wilkerson?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah. That’s me.”
“Twink Johnson’s friend.”
“That’s me again.”
Natalie sized him up. Black hoodie, sensitive brown eyes. He certainly didn’t look like a threat. He also had that look that said he wasn’t done growing up yet; his hands and feet looked too big for his thin build. But he was tall, and he might be strong despite his size—Chief Denton was certainly no slouch in the take-a-man-down department despite being slight.
“Do you know who I am?”
He shook his head. “No ma’am.”
And polite, too, she thought. “My name is Natalie Taylor. I’m looking into the murder of a local woman you and your girlfriend came into contact with a few days ago.”
“Are you with the police? Because they already talked to me.” He didn’t look like he thought she could be with the police. Probably just being polite again. “I was with Twink all night that night, just like I told them.”
It looks like Twink had gotten to him before anyone else had. She laughed as she opened the car door and sat on the passenger side, closing the door behind her. “Bees in a blender! Of course you weren’t. Not by a long shot.”
He looked surprised. Not just sensitive, this one, but an inexperienced liar as well.
“I was!” His voice went up high and made him sound much younger. “You don’t know nothin’.”
“I know your friend Twink was covering for you. Now I want to know why. Where were you really on the night that Caroline Akers was killed?”
“You leave Twink out of it. I don’t need to answer any questions from you.” He looked straight ahead, avoiding her eyes.
She said, “I know what you’re worried about. You think Twink started the fire in that woman’s purse, don’t you?”
He turned back to her, his eyes narrowed. “Like the girl could start a fire with her mind.”
“Some girls can.” Natalie held a hand out toward him and a yellow-orange flame shot up for a second and, just as quickly, extinguished. She hadn’t exactly done it with her mind, although that was certainly involved, but the description was as good as any.
Marcus gaped.
“I can help her,” Natalie said quickly. “I understand how trouble can follow an innocent person around. But I need to sort this out before I’ll even think about it.”
“
You can help her, for real?”
“Oh for the goddess’s sake, how old are you anyway? Do I have to cross my heart and hope to die or double-pinky swear or something?”
“Yeah, no . . . just that nobody believes she didn’t do all that stuff her mother said she did. I’ve been real worried about her. I mean, maybe she did it, but maybe she didn’t know she did it.”
“I’ll believe her, and my friends will too. And one of them is good friends with Twink’s cousin Daria. But I need to know that she isn’t covering up for a murderer. Because I’m not helping her if that’s the kind of person she is. Is that why she lied to give you an alibi?”
“I’m no murderer. I can’t even go fishing because I don’t like to kill the fish.” He looked down at his hands fidgeting on the steering wheel. Then he said, “I was visiting my mother. My foster parents and my social worker wouldn’t like that—they’d rather think I was with Twink. They could pull me out of the home if you tell where I was. My mom’s got problems . . . she’s like . . . she drinks a lot and maybe does some drugs. But she’s still my mother. It’s not right not to let me see her.” He didn’t meet her eye.
The kid was telling the truth, Natalie knew. She felt it all the way down to her bones. But she’d still have to put in a visit to his mother to verify. No slacking on her part. She wouldn’t be fooled by a child.
“Start the car, young man,” she ordered.
***
What Natalie really wanted after a long day of putting her house in order and driving around Boston with a teenager was to put her feet up over a steaming herbal concoction and relax while her Cat’s Magical Masque worked its miracle on her appearance. She could even do with a little light reading.
Instead, she watched Gillian kiss Robert on the cheek before they parted ways at the front of the conference room at City Hall. She still sometimes felt prickly about those two ending up together, although she knew it would be difficult to separate that feeling from her normal, daily prickliness.
