by Sharon Pape
“Well, circumstances change, and one has to accommodate to those changes or face the consequences,” Bronwen said, clearly measuring her words.
“But nothing has changed,” I replied.
“It’s my understanding that she’s a suspect in her husband’s death.”
“Tilly and I are too, in case my mother forgot to mention that.”
“Statistically speaking, most murders are committed by people who are close to the victim,” Morgana put in.
I was being double-teamed. My mother and grandmother didn’t often agree, but when they did, it was usually easier to admit defeat than to argue with them. At least it was, back when the arguments were over my curfew on school nights and whether I could have a study date up in my room. This time the issue was too important for me to retreat or hoist a white flag. “Elise couldn’t have killed Jim any more than I could have killed either of you. If she and I work together, we all stand a better chance of proving our innocence. I have no intentions of writing her off.”
My mother’s cloud had started pulsing with a disturbing maroon light I’d never seen before. “There are things you don’t know about Elise,” she said grimly.
“I’m listening.”
“She had a little trouble with the law in her teens. It involved a boy.”
“Doesn’t it always?” Bronwen remarked. “Good girls fall for bad boys. Some things never change.”
“Let’s stick to the facts, Mother,” Morgana said. “This is messy enough without a running commentary. Now where was I? Oh right, the boy ran with a crowd who were into drag racing, vandalism, shoplifting. Most of them had records. Then a new girl appeared on the scene, and the boy broke up with Elise. Her parents thought their prayers had been answered. But Elise was inconsolable. One night she threw a kitchen knife into her purse and went looking for them. She attacked the boy and the new girlfriend. She was lucky the rest of them pulled her away before she could really hurt them. Her parents agreed to send her for therapy in exchange for expunging the police report. Most of the town stood by the family. They knew it could just as easily have been one of their overwrought kids. So, the story got swept under the town’s carpet, and life went back to normal.”
“That must have been when I was really young,” I said.
“That’s what you took away from the story?” my mother asked incredulously.
“It seems to me that she’s spent the last twenty-odd years living a decent, law-abiding life and raising two great kids, which doesn’t happen by accident. She shouldn’t have to keep answering for an impulsive moment back when she was a teenager. You knew all about it, and it didn’t stop you from hiring her to babysit me. Weren’t you worried she’d go crazy and hack me to death?”
Morgana was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Bronwen stepped in for her. “Given Jim’s death, perhaps we should have been more concerned.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” I said. “Elise is the most stable, ethical person I know.” Since I didn’t want their visit to end on such a strained note, I asked them how things were going in their new realm. They assured me everything was fine. We chatted for a few more minutes, before they left to do whatever spirits do on the other side of the veil.
My noodles were cold and starchy, beyond saving, and I didn’t have the energy to make another bowl. Instead I finished off half a pint of chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream and crawled into bed. I hated to admit it, but that story about Elise’s past was nagging at me. What if Beverly was right about Jim cheating? What if Elise found out, and it dredged up all of those painful teenage feelings again? I lay there staring at the ceiling, my heart beating a tattoo that asked—what if . . . what if . . . what if?
Chapter 14
“The wood must be elder,” Merlin said, his arms folded over his chest in a pose that dared me to argue. He’d gone back to wearing the clothes he’d arrived in, which had benefitted greatly from a spin in Tilly’s washing machine. With his hair once more untethered and wild, he could easily have played the part of Don Quixote. “Elder is a sacred wood,” he went on, “and may only be used in the practice of white magick.” We were in my shop, discussing the fact that he needed a new wand. In spite of being told about the problems my family had been having with our magick, he was convinced that his problems were due to not having his wand. Since he’d had no time to prepare for his sudden journey to the future, he’d left both of his seasoned wands behind. He’d tried a dozen times to summon one of them, only to end up with a pile of wood shavings in the palm of his hand. Rather than risk destroying the one that remained back in medieval England, he decided to create a new one.
I couldn’t offer him mine, although I rarely used it. A wand was as unique and personal as a sorcerer’s familiar. Bronwen had been a great proponent of their use and never went anywhere without hers. Mine, on the other hand, had never seemed to enhance my powers to any appreciable degree. “Elder wood it is,” I said. “I’m sure Tilly will be happy to take you on a field trip. And while you’re at it, you can gather some of the plants I need to replace.”
“Why don’t you take me right now?” he demanded petulantly. “That was my purpose in walking over here. Tilly was still asleep, and when I tried to wake her, she nearly bit my head off.”
I knew he wasn’t exaggerating; Tilly did love her sleep. I was trying to explain to him why I had to keep my shop open, when a customer walked in. I whispered a hurried reminder to Merlin to say as little as possible and not to focus his thoughts on anything in particular.
The customer was Beverly Ruppert of all people. After I told her off at the wake, I assumed I’d never see her in my shop again. So much for assumptions. When she came up to the counter, I nodded and waited for her to speak first. She gave Merlin a disparaging look, then nodded back at me. “Kailyn,” she said, “I know we’ve had our differences, but I don’t see why that should stand in the way of business. I need what you sell and, from what I hear, you can use the commerce.”
“The last time you were in, you complained about the product you’d bought,” I reminded her
“The one you gave me in exchange worked better,” she said, “although it still wasn’t up to Morgana’s original standards. For the sake of your reputation, you might want to look into that.”
Merlin was standing close enough to me that I could sense his body tensing like a cat gathering itself to pounce. I gave his shin a sharp, warning kick. “If you’re here to buy something, Beverly, you should get on with it before I decide I don’t need your business that badly.” The reason I was tolerating her at all, was because she owned a popular hair salon that gave her access to the ears of most of New Camel and its environs. Essentially, she and I were locked in a strange pas de deux. She needed what I sold, and I needed good press. Without another word, she plucked a basket from the stack of them and spent the next ten minutes roaming the aisles. Merlin shuffled beyond reach of my foot, muttering under his breath. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I sent him a “don’t-you-dare” glare in case he was tempted to punish Beverly or me for that matter.
When Beverly returned to the counter, her basket was overflowing with multiples of everything from under-eye smoother to suntan lotion. She was probably stocking up in case I ever decided to bar her from the shop.
“I suppose you heard about Jim’s interesting lunch date two weeks before he was murdered,” she said in an offhand manner.
I kept ringing up her items without missing a beat. “I’m not interested in your gossip.”
“Right, how could I forget? Well, rest assured you won’t hear another word about it from me,” she said dramatically. “My lips are zipped.”
She’d said enough to bait me, but in spite of my curiosity, I had no intention of biting. I packed her purchases into two canvas totes with the store logo, maintaining my stance against the use of plastic. “Have a nice day,” I said, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t mean to off
end,” she said smugly. “But I know that if I had a stake in the outcome of the case, I’d want all the information I could get my hands on.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “People never fail to surprise me.” She picked up a bag with each hand and was walking away from the counter when she froze in mid-stride and her eyes glazed over.
“Doreen waited on Jim and a young, blonde hottie at the Garden Grill,” she said in a flat, robotic tone. “And they were awfully chummy.” Then her mouth fell shut and she blinked rapidly, like someone startled from a nap. She looked at me with a bewildered expression, shook her head and walked out of the shop.
“Merlin,” I said in a menacing tone, though I really wanted to kiss him.
“That hateful woman deserved some comeuppance,” he said without a trace of regret. “And don’t try to deny that you were curious. In deference to you, I applied considerable restraint. At least this way she’ll never know she told you.”
I had to admit that I liked the idea of picking Beverly’s brain without her knowledge. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too happy about what I’d learned. Evidence was definitely piling up against Elise. I had to find out if she knew about the not-so-discreet luncheon before Jim was murdered.
“Now will you take me or call Tilly?” Merlin asked, stuck on his own agenda.
I was punching in my aunt’s number, when she hobbled up to us from her shop.
“There you are,” she said to Merlin, clearly relieved to have found him. “I didn’t know what to think when I got up and you were gone.”
“And yet you found me,” he said dryly. “I need wood for a new wand, and Kailyn has offered me your services. Shall we go?”
Tilly looked from Merlin to me. “Right now?”
I shrugged. “He isn’t the patient type, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“But I haven’t had my morning cup of tea yet,” she protested.
“I know, why don’t you two stop for breakfast along the way?” The suggestion immediately brought smiles to their faces. I handed Tilly the list of plants I needed and sent them merrily on their way, discussing breakfast options across the centuries.
The day flew by with a small but steady stream of customers. Some of them were locals whom I knew, but others had made the trip from as far away as Seneca and Cayuga counties. It was one of the best days I’d had in months. I attributed the uptick to the beautiful June day. It was finally beginning to feel more like summer, and folks were in the mood to go for a drive. I propped the shop door open with the three-foot-tall, brightly hued dragon statue that Morgana had bought for that purpose. The statue was a great attention grabber and also allowed fresh air to circulate through the shop.
Between answering questions and ringing up purchases, I didn’t have time to eat more than a few bites of my peanut butter sandwich. Sashkatu didn’t budge from his window seat all day, no doubt worried that someone might try to pet him. He had a firm no-strangers policy.
Although I’d been busy, the question of how to broach Jim’s lunch date to Elise had apparently been simmering in my mind all day, my subconscious debating the pros and cons of various scenarios. The last thing I wanted to do was cause her more pain or distress. By the time I turned the sign in the shop window from OPEN to CLOSED, my decision was fully formed. There was no good way to ask Elise outright if she knew about the lunch date and, if so, when she found out about it. My one viable option was to call Ronnie again. Although she’d already told me that to the best of her knowledge Jim never cheated on his wife, maybe she could shed some light on who had shared that table with him. I was still holding out the hope that it was a perfectly innocent business lunch.
Tilly and Merlin returned from their day of plant picking as I was leaving the shop with Sashkatu. They hadn’t been able to find everything on my list, but they’d accomplished quite a bit for one day. Tilly had stopped at a store for paper bags, in which to place the different flora, and a tote emblazoned with cute cat images to hold all of them. One by one, she pulled the plants out of the tote bag and piled them on my counter. There was Hobblebrush, Creeping Spike-Rush, Worm Seeded Spurge, and Northern Witchgrass. Some, like Calf’s Snout, Eye of Newt, Hawk’s Heart, and Gosling Wing, were fairly common plants, their fanciful names bestowed by sorcerers over the centuries to make them sound more mysterious. We’d never actually used the eyes of newts in our potions.
Merlin waited until Tilly was finished setting out the spoils of their trip, before showing me the elder branch that was destined to become his new wand. It was grayish-brown and slender, without knots or other blemishes. He held it along his right arm to demonstrate that it was the correct length, reaching from his elbow to his fingertip.
“Perfect,” I said, since he seemed to be waiting for my reaction.
“Why of course it is,” he said grandly.
Tilly declared that her feet were aching like rotten teeth. She was going home to soak them in warm water and a concoction that helped to somewhat ease the pain.
* * *
When I called Ronnie to ask if I could stop by, she said she was about to order Chinese takeout, so why didn’t I join her? I offered to grab the food on my way there if she didn’t mind waiting for me to feed the cats. Half an hour later I was in my car, headed to the China Castle. It was a grandiose name for a little storefront takeout place with four tables, but the food was always well-prepared. Another five minutes and I was pulling into the driveway of Ronnie’s townhouse with the Moo Shu Chicken and Pork Lo Mein. It was a good thing I didn’t have to drive farther with it, because I’m pretty sure the aromas filling my car were more powerful than the Sirens who’d beckoned to Odysseus. One more red light and I would have been shamelessly digging into those containers.
Although I’d known Ronnie most of my life, I’d never been inside her home before. When I’d seen her socially, it was generally at Elise’s house or in town. From the outside, the townhouse was nothing special, but inside was a different story. There was a dramatic vaulted ceiling in the living room and dark, gleaming hardwood floors. I didn’t know if Ronnie had used a decorator, but the place was elegantly furnished down to the smallest detail. I loved all the clean lines and contemporary style. Someday, when I was no longer a murder suspect and my business was once again flourishing, I intended to redecorate my home in a similar fashion. Maybe I’d ask her advice when the time came. But for the present, that was all pie in the sky, as Tilly liked to say.
Ronnie had brewed a pot of tea and set the table, so we sat right down to dinner. We chatted about safe things like the long-awaited warm weather, the newest fashions, TV shows and her job search. As if by prior agreement, we avoided more difficult subjects until the leftovers were stored in the fridge and the dishes were stacked in the washer. “So, what can I help you with?” Ronnie asked. We were back at the table with our tea cups replenished and an open box of Mallomars.
“Have you heard the latest gossip Beverly Ruppert’s been spreading all over town?” I asked.
Ronnie frowned. “What is she spewing now?”
“Jim was supposedly spotted having lunch with a ‘young, blonde hottie,’ as she put it. If it’s true, and Elise knew about it, the police are going to think it’s an awfully good motive for murder.”
Ronnie stunned me by breaking into a huge grin.
“Am I missing something here?” I asked, feeling as if I’d followed Alice down the rabbit hole.
“Jim was having lunch with his niece, Ella,” she said, reaching for a Mallomar.
“Oh . . . oh wow,” I stammered as her words sank in. “But are you sure we’re talking about the same time and place?”
“Yes. He told me that Doreen’s eyebrows nearly took flight when she saw them there.”
“Then why didn’t he introduce Ella to her to prevent this kind of gossip?”
“At the time, he thought it was funny. In fact we both had a good laugh about it. He certainly didn’t expect to be murdered a couple of weeks later and have his whole life taken apa
rt and scrutinized.”
“Then I guess Elise knew all about it,” I said, relieved that she wouldn’t be blindsided by more of Beverly’s malicious gossip.
“She said she wished she could have been a fly on the restaurant’s wall.” Beverly nudged the cookies closer to me. “You’ve got to have at least one or I’m going to feel guilty for indulging.”
* * *
I was exhausted when I got home, but instead of going to sleep, I made myself some strong coffee and sat down at the computer. I was determined to start looking through Jim’s files for other possible killers. If I waited for the perfect time to do it, I’d never get it done. After an hour’s work, I was almost at the end of the Ds and hadn’t found anything the least bit suspicious. Most of Jim’s clients were local, their legal affairs as mundane and dull as I’d expected. From what I could tell, his practice dealt primarily with business contracts, tax issues, and estate planning. Of course I still had a lot of the alphabet to go through, but my fatigue was starting to win out over the caffeine, and if I didn’t call it a day soon, I’d risk missing something important. That didn’t turn out to be a problem though, because I was wide awake the instant I opened the last D file to find Detective Phillip Duggan’s name.
Chapter 15
Adrenalin is definitely better than caffeine for keeping you on your toes. Although I didn’t expect to learn that Detective Duggan was a closet serial killer protected for years by attorney-client privilege, I couldn’t help being a little excited when his file popped up on my computer screen.
I skimmed through the file, then went back and read it more carefully. The detective had retained Jim’s services in March of 2010 for the purpose of suing neurosurgeon, Robert Kane, for malpractice in the death of his wife. From what I could tell, it was one of those sad instances when the operation was a success, but the patient died. I couldn’t make much sense of the detailed legal and medical jargon, but the verdict was easy enough to understand. The jury found the surgeon innocent of any wrongdoing. Based on the emails Jim and Duggan exchanged in the aftermath of the trial, it was obvious that Duggan blamed Jim for the outcome. In fact he went on to retain a second attorney to sue Jim for malpractice. And once again, Duggan lost. Feeling that he’d been twice denied justice, had Detective Duggan taken things into his own hands? It wouldn’t have been the first time that an officer of the law committed a crime. There were plenty of cases in the news about police, lawyers, even judges who thought they knew the system and its loopholes well enough to get away with any number of crimes, including murder. But how on earth could I go about investigating the detective? If he was the killer, all he had to do was pick the most plausible suspect and frame him or her for the crime. The cards were clearly stacked in his favor. I doubted that he’d choose Tilly or me to be the fall gal. He would be too hard-pressed to come up with a believable motive. Elise, on the other hand, would fit nicely into his plans. And he knew enough about breaking and entering to have been the intruder who’d stolen Jim’s gun from the house and planted it in the dumpster. I reached for the phone to call Elise, but set it down again before dialing. What was I doing? I had no proof of anything. The fact that Duggan had a good motive didn’t automatically make him the killer, any more than ownership of the gun made Elise the killer. It was late, and I’d left tired in the dust hours ago, not the best combination for rational thought. Seven hours of uninterrupted sleep would surely give me a clearer perspective. At the very least it would be a salve to my nerves and keep me from being grouchy to customers. No business could survive for long with two grouches, and Sashkatu had cornered that market ages ago.
