Magick & Mayhem

by Sharon Pape

  From his window seat, Sashkatu greeted us with a disinterested yawn. I hiked myself onto the counter and started to unpack our lunch, while Elise stowed the tote under my desk, away from potential prying eyes. Then she joined me on the counter. The smell of turkey had caught Sashkatu’s attention. He stepped down from the windowsill onto my desk chair to better view the proceedings and possibly wheedle a bite.

  “I have no idea,” Elise said in answer to a question I hadn’t asked. Now that we were in the seclusion of my shop, she’d given up any pretext of composure, her shoulders slumped as if this were the final straw she could carry. “I mean, where could he have gotten all that money? And why keep it a secret? What did he intend to do with it?”

  I’d been going over the same litany of questions myself. “One thing is clear,” I said, addressing the most positive aspect I could find, “although Jim didn’t want you to know about the money yet, he wasn’t trying to keep it from you in the long run. It wasn’t like he was squirreling it away because he was planning to leave you. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of forging your signature and all to add you as a signatory.” I unwrapped my sandwich and took a bite to make my stomach stop grumbling.

  Elise perked up a bit. “You’re right. I didn’t think of it that way. But it still doesn’t explain why he was keeping it a secret. He knew how worried I’ve been about having enough money for the boys’ education. So why not tell me? Give me some peace of mind?”

  “I’m afraid that part’s got me stumped too,” I said, which wasn’t entirely true. But the one reason I’d come up with, pointed to criminal activity and I didn’t want to go there. Once Elise had a chance to process everything, she’d figure that out for herself. Most people would have invested the money or, at the very least, secured it in a government-insured savings account. The fact that Jim had hidden the money away supported my fear that it was ill-gotten gains. Maybe he’d planned to keep it a secret until the statute of limitations ran out on whatever crime he may have committed. It was hard for me to think of Jim in that light, but based on the facts I had at the moment, there was no other light on the horizon. “You should try to eat something,” I said to Elise. She was staring off into space, her sandwich on the counter still neatly wrapped up.

  She unfolded the paper, took a bite, and chewed listlessly. “What am I supposed to do with all that cash now?” she mumbled around a mouthful. “I’m nervous just carrying it around.”

  I’d been so focused on the provenance of the money that I hadn’t considered the more immediate concern of safeguarding it. “I guess you could rent a new box to keep it in, until you have a chance to talk to someone like a financial planner.” I opened the chips and offered them to Elise, who dug in with more enthusiasm than she had the sandwich. Together we polished them off in no time, their salty, fried goodness as comforting in their own way as chicken soup.

  “I don’t think I’ll rent the new box at the Schuyler,” Elise said, after washing down the chips with her iced tea. “Now that they know how much money is involved . . .”

  “Given the circumstances, you’re entitled to a certain amount of paranoia.” I assured her.

  She tore a bit of turkey from her sandwich and held it out to Sashkatu, who considered it for a moment before deigning to take it. “Do you think the money has something to do with Jim’s murder?” she asked.

  That possibility had been running around in my head from the moment the first packet of bills hit the table. “We can’t discount it, but until we know for sure, why not think of it as a windfall that will put your kids through college? Maybe that will help you sleep better.”

  Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “A sledge hammer is about the only thing that might help me sleep better at this point.”

  “Do you remember the spell I gave you a couple of years ago to help calm and center you?” I asked.

  “The one that’s more like meditation than magick?”

  “That’s the one. Give it a try tonight.”

  “Thanks, I think I—oh no,” she interrupted herself, “do I have to tell the police about the money?”

  That question had also eluded me until that moment. “I think you need to ask Scott about that.”

  Elise nodded. “I’ll call him when I get home. I’m afraid the money would give the police a motive to pin on me.”

  “Let me play the devil’s advocate for a minute. What if they find out about it on their own? Won’t you look guiltier for trying to hide it?”

  “You’re right,” she said miserably. “It’s a no-win situation. I can see the headlines in the tabloids—GREEDY WIFE KILLS HUSBAND FOR SECRET STASH OF CASH.”

  “It does have a certain ring to it,” I said, eliciting a little laugh from her.

  “You are bad,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’d better get going.” She hopped down from the counter and stuffed her sandwich back into the bag to take home. “Thanks for holding my hand today.”

  “Anytime,” I said, cleaning up the remnants of my lunch. She retrieved the tote from under the desk and was heading to the door when the phone rang. She mouthed a “goodbye” as I picked up the receiver.

  Tilly was on the other end. “Kailyn, dear, we’re having a bit of a problem.” Although my aunt was given to hyperbole when things were going well, she tended to minimize when it came to trouble. Other itty bitty problems over the years had included a fire in her toaster oven that nearly roasted her shop and ours along with it, a large, rabid raccoon who’d gained entrance to her house through the fireplace flue, and an allergic reaction to peanuts that had landed her in the ICU. Given that history, I really wished I didn’t have to ask her what was wrong.

  Chapter 13

  I closed up the shop for the second time that day, without waking Sashkatu, and ran home to get my car. According to Tilly, she and Merlin had stopped at The Rescued Pet several miles from town to buy Isenbale more cat food. It was the one pet store she or I would frequent, because the puppies for sale came from shelters and rescues, not awful puppy mills. While Tilly was paying for the food, Merlin wandered off to look at the puppies, and the next thing she knew there were puppies running everywhere. The manager and all the employees jumped into action, but before anyone thought of locking the front door, other patrons arrived, inadvertently providing the two dozen puppies with an escape route. Since Tilly wasn’t much help in the running department, she called 911 and then me. In a high pitched, semi-hysterical voice she assured me that things were under control and that the police were on their way. She seemed to have forgotten that the police force of New Camel amounted to Officer Curtis. I told her I’d be there as soon as I could. The problem was that the puppy roundup had brought traffic to a standstill. By the time I made it to the strip mall where The Rescued Pet was located, there was one puppy still at large and he was in the parking lot surrounded by Merlin, Officer Curtis, the pet store staff, and half a dozen good Samaritans who’d pulled over to help in the rescue. All those people trying to catch one tiny beagle-mix would have been comical if it weren’t for the danger the puppy was facing. The lot was large, cars coming and going, pulling in and out of spots, the drivers focused on getting to their next destination. To minimize the risk to the puppy, I positioned my car to block the entrance into the lot and jumped out to join the circle. I found myself standing opposite Merlin, who was almost unrecognizable. His long hair was pulled back in a rubber band and he was wearing a pair of chinos and a striped polo shirt that had once belonged to Tilly’s husband. Years ago when I’d asked her why she was keeping his clothes, she’d told me she was going to need them one day.

  The puppy seemed to be having a grand old time. He would let someone get nearly close enough to grab him, before dodging under one of the parked cars. Tilly, who’d been watching from the sidewalk in front of the stores, disappeared into the pizza parlor next to the pet shop and reemerged with a slice that had been cut into small pieces. She handed bits of it to me and the ot
hers encircling the puppy. The smell brought him out from under the SUV where he’d last taken refuge, but in the end he chose freedom over food. A collective groan arose from the rescuers. Tilly was watching the drama from the sidelines, popping bits of pizza into her mouth as if she was eating popcorn at the movies. She looked surprised and a bit embarrassed when she realized she’d finished it all.

  Across from me, Merlin made no effort to mask his feelings. He was clearly growing more impatient and disgruntled by the second. Alarms started blaring in my head, but before I could warn him not to use magick, the puppy suddenly appeared in his arms. Tilly and I were the only ones who understood what happened. Everyone else looked stunned, including the puppy. I tried to think of a reasonable explanation to offer them, one that didn’t include magick, but nothing came to me. I told myself to be grateful Merlin hadn’t accidentally changed the puppy into an elephant or a fire-breathing dragon. That would have caused a whole lot more consternation among the onlookers. As it was, instead of going about their business, they were talking to each other, trying to make sense of what they’d witnessed. I needed to put an end to their speculation, preferably before they decided to ask Merlin himself. It was one thing for people to buy my beauty products that worked a bit too well or to ask Tilly for a glimpse into the future. But asking them to accept that honest-to-goodness sorcerers were living in their midst would no doubt be pushing our luck. My grandmother had warned me from an early age not to ever give people cause to fear me. So I did the one thing I could think of to defuse the situation. I started whistling and applauding the puppy’s safe capture. Tilly realized what I was doing and immediately chimed in. Soon everyone was clapping and whistling, their bewilderment temporarily forgotten in their triumph. Merlin handed the puppy to the store manager and executed a low bow with a flourish, from which he had some trouble straightening himself. Apparently old was old, even for the greatest sorcerer who’d ever lived.

  Officer Curtis was working the crowd, reminding them that they were making it impossible for cars to enter or leave. When he reached me, he smiled and asked how I was doing, before pointing to my car, which still blocked the driveway. “I’ll have to ask you to move it, so folks have access,” he said pleasantly.

  “I’m on it,” I said, already on the move.

  “Nice seeing you again,” he called after me. I hopped into the car, pretending I hadn’t heard him. I couldn’t truthfully have said, “likewise,” because seeing him was a troubling reminder of my suspect status.

  With the puppies safely back in the pet store, I was torn between going right back to my shop or having a little chat with Merlin. The chat won. There wouldn’t be much point in trying to keep my business alive if the three of us were eventually run out of town. I knew I was probably overreacting, but I wasn’t willing to take the chance.

  “You cannot practice magick like that out in public,” I said sternly and without preface. The wizard and I were seated at my aunt’s kitchen table. Tilly was in her pantry trying to decide which tea to brew. She believed that the right cup of tea could help you get through most of life’s problems, especially when paired with freshly baked goods. She popped her head out of the pantry to give me a wide-eyed look that plainly said, Good Lord, remember who you’re talking to!

  But I was past trying to spare Merlin’s sensibilities, past worrying that he might turn me into a toad. “I’ve told you before that this world is nothing like the world you came from, and you are going to get all of us in trouble if you’re not more careful.”

  Merlin straightened his shoulders. “I have done nothing untoward,” he said lifting his chin in stately indignation.

  “You used magick twice today.”

  “Was it not your aim that the pup be saved?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course it was.”

  “Well then, had I not intervened, we might still be standing there like a pack of imbeciles under the thrall of a one pound dog. So yes, I saw fit to use magick for everyone’s benefit.”

  “The next time you think about using magick, you need to clear it with me or Tilly first. Do you understand?” I prayed he wouldn’t contest the edict, because I didn’t have an “or else” to throw at him nor any means of forcing him to comply.

  He bulldozed right over my question with one of his own. “What other instance of magick would you accuse me of?”

  “Those puppies didn’t let themselves out of their cages.”

  “I had no part in it,” he said, a smirk of satisfaction curving the edges of his mouth. “I was simply standing there, thinking how nice it would be to hold one of the pups when all the cage doors flew open.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, very slowly. I believed him. But if his errant thoughts could produce such results, we were in bigger trouble than I’d imagined. Over cups of Tilly’s passionflower and red bush tea mixture, I told him what I suspected, and we went around and around that thorny bush without coming to any solution.

  “How does one go about in the world without thinking?” Merlin finally demanded in exasperation. I had no answer for him.

  “Oh dear,” Tilly said, her brow furrowed. “I may not have put enough red bush in the mixture. I know, I’ll make some apricot scones. They always give my spirits a lift.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” I said, standing and taking my purse from the back of my chair, “but I’m afraid this is one time scones won’t help solve our conundrum.”

  “Well they certainly can’t hurt,” she said brightly, already assembling the ingredients, the mixing bowls and baking pans. “I think better when my hands are busy.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a scone or two,” Merlin put in, “and apricot does sound delightful.” I don’t think they noticed when I left.

  I parked my car in front of my shop. I hadn’t bothered with the clock sign when I got the call about the puppies, because I didn’t know when I’d return. As it happened, it was almost time to lock up for the night. I walked inside, surprised that Sashkatu wasn’t asleep on his window seat. A moment later, he was snaking in and out of my legs as if he was on a slalom ski run. I was so unprepared, I tripped over him and lost my balance. It was a good thing the counter was there. I grabbed onto the edge of it and managed to stay upright. If I’d gone down, neither Sashki nor I would have fared well. Oblivious to his brush with disaster, he continued using my legs as a rubbing post. Once I was steady, I crouched down to stroke the length of his furry body and was treated to a rare purr of contentment. Maybe he’d been worried I was never coming back to feed him. Or maybe he’d finally made peace with the fact that I was in charge for the long haul and he ought to work his way into my good graces. Regardless of his motive, it was nice to connect with him again. He let me know our moment was over by stalking off to hide beneath my desk. I knew not to take it personally. He’d always been very much his own cat. I reset the alarm system, then came around the counter to my desk and scooped him into my arms before he knew what I was up to. He could be fussy about being carried, but this time he bore the indignity in stoic silence. Since I had my car there, I needed to drive back home, which meant going around the block to the front of the house. Sashkatu was dead set against getting in the car.

  I opened the car door and tried to put him in the front passenger seat, but he grabbed onto my arms with his claws. He yowled. I swore. After several minutes of wrestling with him, I decided to use my brain. I started to put him down on the sidewalk, and the second he felt the cement beneath his back paws, he let go of my arm. Before he realized what I was doing, I grabbed him around the middle, tossed him gently onto the front seat and shut the door. So much for the detente in our relationship. At least his distress would be relieved in less than a minute when we arrived home. The scratches I’d received would take considerably longer to heal.

  After I fed all my four-legged companions, I made myself some comfort food. Egg noodles with butter and cottage cheese was an old standby from when I was a kid. It was equal
ly soothing to an ailing tummy or a troubled soul. I sat down at the kitchen table and turned on the small flat screen on the wall across from me. I’d bought it for company, now that I was eating most of my meals alone. I found a rerun of the Bewitched series from the long-ago sixties. It was always good for some laughs, mostly because the magick in it was so silly. I was a few forkfuls into my dinner, the muscles in my neck starting to unclench, when I suddenly found myself with company. In the form of two little energy clouds.

  “There you are,” my mother said. “Where have you been all day? You weren’t in the shop when we popped in.” For some reason, Morgana and Bronwen could travel through the ether to reach me at the house and the shop, but nowhere else.

  “You have to actually open the shop in order for customers to come in and buy the merchandise,” my grandmother added as if I’d become too addled to figure that out for myself.

  “I spent half the day getting Aunt Tilly out of trouble,” I replied. “And trust me, you don’t want to know the details.” In any case, I didn’t want to rehash the whole story.

  “My sister can be such a ninny,” Morgana lamented.

  “That may be,” Bronwen said, “but you can’t deny how talented she is.”

  “I’ve always been her greatest fan,” my mother said crisply.

  “Mom, Grandma, did you stop in to say ‘hi,’” I asked, before they veered off on a tangent, “or is there something you wanted to discuss?” I immediately felt bad about the impatience in my tone; I was tired and my noodles were getting cold.

  “Oh yes, yes.” My mother said, back on track. “We’ve been discussing this murder investigation you’re embroiled in and we agree that you should stop associating with Elise Harkins.”

  Where had that come from? “I’ve known Elise all my life. You hired her to babysit me. Now you’ve decided you don’t trust her?”