Magick & Mayhem

by Sharon Pape

  Duggan extended his hand, looking like he’d prefer to shake hands with a serial killer. Merlin bowed slightly from the waist, which left the detective in an awkward position with his arm in midair. I’d personally taught Merlin that a handshake was the norm in our society, so I knew he was having a little fun at Duggan’s expense. I shot him a glare, which he pretended not to notice.

  “Is there a place we can talk in private?” I asked Duggan.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” he said grudgingly, letting his hand fall to his side. Merlin and I followed him out of the squad room and down a narrow hall. He stopped at the first open door, with the lettering INTERROGATION ROOM 1, turned on the light switch with the swipe of his palm and waited for us to file in. Compared to this room, the squad room positively sparkled. There was a table in the center with two chairs, all gray metal. I was surprised there wasn’t a naked light bulb suspended above the ensemble. Duggan told us to have a seat and ducked out long enough to locate another chair and drag it into the room. Opting to be contrary, Merlin eschewed the chair to pace around the small room as if there was something of interest to be found on the scuffed and dirt-smudged walls. Duggan sat down opposite me, arms crossed at his chest. “What can I do for you today, Miss Wilde?”

  “It occurred to me that you might not know about the feud that was going on between Harkens and Silver, the dentist who shared the building with him. Given the fact that Harkens was murdered, I thought you might appreciate the heads-up.”

  “Do you?” he said, not looking the least bit appreciative. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t already know about that. Not to mention the fact that they both called us to complain about each other on a weekly basis. Curtis handled the calls, but the paperwork came across my desk too.”

  “Sorry. I was trying to be a good citizen,” I murmured. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.” It hadn’t occurred to me that Duggan might take offense at my input. He’d asked the public to call the hotline if they had information pertaining to the case. I almost said as much, but given his foul mood, I decided against it.

  “Anything else you wanted to get off your chest?” Duggan asked, pointedly looking at his watch.

  “Just that Silver told me he was at the bank at the time Harkens was killed. Of course I have no way to find out if that’s true or not.”

  “Maybe you think I should deputize you, so you can poke your nose into more places where it doesn’t belong?” His face was as impassive as stone.

  “No, of course not,” I replied, trying to remain polite in spite of his jabs. “May I ask if the bank corroborated his story?”

  “Ask away, it’s a free country,” he said expansively, “but you ought to know that I have zero intentions of releasing that information at this time.”

  “Well, I guess I should let you get back to work then,” I said, standing. I was getting dizzy from watching Merlin circle the room anyway. Why had I ever thought I could trick the detective into revealing whether or not the alibi panned out? Hubris, plain and simple. Duggan pushed his chair back from the table, the legs screeching across the tile as he rose. Halfway up he froze, his flinty eyes glazed over. I whipped my head around to find Merlin. The sorcerer had stopped pacing and was staring straight at the detective.

  “Merlin, don’t you dare!” I snapped, hoping Duggan couldn’t hear me in his present state. “No black magick—you promised.”

  “Nary a soul will suffer by my actions,” he replied calmly, still holding the detective in his thrall. “You have a lot to learn, my dear. Not all magick is distinctly black or white. As in life, most magick falls within areas of gray.”

  “No!” I filled the word with all the gravitas I could muster. I couldn’t afford to let Merlin run wild. He was far too powerful, and I’d be setting a dangerous precedent. The world he came from had vastly different rules about what constituted acceptable behavior. “You play by my rules,” I said, “or you can find someplace else to live.” If he called my bluff and went off on his own, he’d have no one to guide him through the mine field of the modern world. There was a good chance Tilly and I were all that stood between him and disaster. Was there even a penal code for crimes of magick? Merlin must have reached the same uncomfortable conclusion, because he released Duggan a moment later. He did it so abruptly that the detective pitched forward and almost succumbed to gravity, before regaining his balance. He looked at me, then at Merlin, with questions he clearly couldn’t put into words. Instead he straightened his shoulders, hardened his jaw, and strode out of the room. He was standing at his desk when we caught up to him.

  “I want to apologize if I overstepped the bounds, Detective,” I said, feeling that I needed to do some damage control. “I hope you’ll write it off as an innocent desire to help.”

  He gave me a stiff nod. “Leave the investigating to the police, and you and I will get along real fine.”

  “Got it.”

  He sat down in his swivel chair and turned to face his monitor, which most people would have taken as a dismissal. But I still had one card left to play and I was too stubborn to leave bad enough alone. “There’s been so much death in my life lately,” I said, “first my mother and grandmother and now Jim. Not that I can really compare losing a friend with the loss of my family. I think it’s a matter of reaching a tipping point.”

  Duggan nodded again without looking at me. He was probably hoping if he didn’t engage me further, I’d run out of steam and leave.

  “You know what it’s like, Detective. Losing your wife the way you did was so awful. My Aunt Tilly was telling me that Jim helped you sue that doctor for malpractice.”

  Duggan turned back to me, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “You’ve been checking up on me?” he demanded, more like an accusation than a question.

  I did my best to appear taken aback, as though I had no idea this would be his reaction. “Checking up on you? No, not at all. Tilly mentioned it in light of Jim’s death. You know, she was thinking about all the people whose lives he’d touched over the years.” I left it at that. If I added the rest of what I’d discovered, it would be as good as saying, you had a dandy motive to murder Jim. Shouldn’t someone be investigating you?

  Duggan’s face was flushed a deep red, and a vein in his temple was pulsating. “Harkens and I parted company years ago,” he said through clenched teeth. “Count yourself lucky he won’t be around to screw up your affairs.” And there it was. Years had passed, but the detective still carried a deep and abiding hatred for Jim. In other words, a perfect motive for murder. But who had the guts to say that to Duggan’s face or place him under investigation? For now I intended to tuck the information away in a well-lit corner of my mind. It was ammunition to be used if Duggan decided to arrest Elise, ammunition to be given to a defense attorney and private investigator. Elise was the only one I planned to tell about this exchange with the detective. I hoped it might give her some much needed peace of mind. I had one more thing to do before I left the police station. A bit of fence mending.

  “I . . . I am so sorry, Detective,” I said. “I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth today. My grandmother used to call it hoof-and-mouth disease,” I added with a thin, nervous laugh that I didn’t have to fake. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Duggan didn’t say a word, but I could feel his eyes boring into my back as Merlin and I walked out of the squad room.

  Once we were in the car, I slumped back in my seat, wilted. The bravado that had enabled me to stand up to Duggan left my body in one long, shaky breath. Merlin, who seemed completely unperturbed by his first encounter with modern law enforcement, gave me a wholehearted and enthusiastic thumbs-up. It was one of the many things he’d learned from watching TV, not all of which were as commendable.

  “If your goal was to enrage the man, your aim was true.” He clearly meant it as a compliment, but it made me laugh. I hadn’t thought about it in quite that way before, but I suppose that had been my goal. Make the man angry enough
to ignore discretion and he might let something slip that I couldn’t have pried out of him under normal circumstances. I turned on the engine and backed out of the parking spot.

  “Don’t forget, you promised not to repeat anything you saw or heard in there,” I reminded Merlin. It was a promise I’d extracted from him on the long ride to the county seat.

  “You have naught to worry about, dear girl. My word is my bond. Ask anyone who knows me.” Not the best guarantee, since everyone he knew had been dead for centuries. As I drove home, my initial sense of victory lost its luster. With the clarity of hindsight, I knew that I had not just tested Duggan’s feelings about Jim; I may also have added my name to the top of the killer’s hit list.

  Chapter 18

  Providing daycare for Merlin turned out to be a more difficult assignment than I’d imagined. He was like a toddler, endlessly curious about his new world. But unlike a toddler, he had an arsenal of magick with which to explore it. In other words, he required a lot of supervision. I had to keep finding jobs to occupy him, because a bored sorcerer can be a dangerous thing. The first problem cropped up with my customer, Marge Stucky. She’d moved to the area from out-of-state about a year ago and had visited my shop on several occasions. A recent widow, she’d traded the climate of Florida for the comfort of being near family. She was friendly and chatty and short; the latter should have set off a warning in my head as she chirped “hello” on her way past the counter where I was ringing up another sale. Too late I realized she might need assistance in reaching the upper shelves. In the past, she’d come to me for help, but that was before Merlin’s arrival. As it happened, he was in the aisle she went down, restocking the various teas we make. Having lived in an era when chivalry was second nature to men of the upper classes, he gallantly offered his services when he saw her trying to get ajar off the top self. Unfortunately the product was pushed too far back and beyond the reach of his long arms. Frustrated, he did what came naturally and floated the item off the shelf and into his hand.

  “Good lord,” I heard Marge exclaim. She had an unexpectedly loud voice for such a diminutive person. “How did you do that?” My heart sank. At that point, I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but since it involved Merlin, I was pretty sure it also involved magick. I didn’t have long to wait. Marge strode up to the counter with a jar of depilatory cream in her hand. Merlin must have gotten it down for her without bothering to grab the stepstool or telescopic arm, both of which we had for that purpose. Now I had to come up with an ordinary explanation for the extraordinary stunt Marge had witnessed. I handed the first customer her receipt and tote bag and wished her a nice day. She stepped away from the counter, but lingered at a nearby display of healing crystals. It was obvious she was sticking around to hear what had caused Marge’s outburst.

  “What a clever trick,” Marge cooed at Merlin, who’d followed her up to the counter, looking like he expected to be named employee of the month for helping her. “You have got to tell me how you did that. My grandson loves magic, and if I can teach him that trick, I’ll be his favorite grandma.” Great, I thought, and tomorrow the other grandmother will be in to learn a better trick.

  Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “It’s actually a complicated thing,” I said. “It’s not something you can easily duplicate at home.” Marge’s smile evaporated. “You wouldn’t want us to give away trade secrets, now would you?” I cajoled her. “It could put us right out of business.”

  She issued a sigh. “No, I suppose not. I don’t know what I’d do without your creams and lotions.”

  After she and the other woman left the shop, I went over the rules again with Merlin. Although he didn’t argue with me, he was huffy for the next couple of hours. By the time Tilly closed up and came to fetch him, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. The constant worrying about what he might do next was like living on an active volcano that could blow at any moment. Tilly was better at dealing with him, no doubt because she wasn’t much of a worrier. I’d inherited that useless trait from my mother who’d had plenty to spare. And no amount of logic or clever spells had proven sufficient to banish it.

  That evening I dragged myself home. I made the cats their dinner in slow motion, which netted me a chorus of yowls. Once their bellies were full, I made myself a sandwich of peanut butter and apricot preserves. Much as I wanted to collapse on the sofa and watch some mindless TV while I ate, I marched myself over to the computer to resume going through Jim’s files.

  The phone startled me awake. Who would be calling in the middle of the night? With that thought, a shot of adrenalin kick-started my brain. I must have fallen asleep at the computer, which was in hibernation mode, with one of the cats out cold on the keyboard. My neck was stiff, my right hand numb from bearing the weight of my head. When I tried to use that hand to pick up the receiver, I knocked it off the base and onto the floor, waking the cat, who took off for safer quarters. I swiveled the chair around and grabbed the receiver with my left hand. “What’s wrong?” I said tersely, positive either Tilly or Merlin was on the other end with a tale of woe.

  “Is this Kailyn Wilde?” a man asked tentatively.

  I didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes, who is this?”

  “Travis Anderson.”

  It took me a moment to match the name with the voice. “Oh hi. Why are you calling so late?” My sleep-addled brain was having trouble catching up to real time.

  He laughed. “Late? My grandma doesn’t even go to bed at eight-thirty. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I said, finally realizing that the sky was not fully dark yet. “I was working on the computer and I must have dozed off.” I couldn’t remember how much I’d accomplished before my eyelids brought the curtain down.

  “Glad to hear you’re all right,” he said, more relaxed. “For a second there I was worried one of your magic spells had gone awry and changed you into a unicorn or something.”

  “Like I said, I’m fine.” I didn’t mean to sound testy, but his remark had punched a particularly sensitive button of mine. I made a conscious effort to soften my tone. “Are you calling to tell me you’ve figured out how to do my magick trick?”

  Travis laughed again. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t had any success so far.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “But I’m not giving up yet. As a general rule, I don’t give up easily. On anything.”

  “Then you called to give me a progress report?” I asked dryly.

  “No, I called to ask you out for coffee.”

  “You should know upfront that I can’t be bribed or maneuvered into revealing any secrets.” After all, there was nothing but magick involved.

  “I’ll spring for the coffee,” he said. “Maybe a donut too.”

  “In that case, how can I say no?” As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them. Why did I want to spend more time with someone who mocked the possibility of real magick? Whose mind was slammed shut to anything he couldn’t quantify? The irritating answer was that my heart seemed to have a mind of its own, doing a little somersault when I realized Travis was the caller. Well, maybe chatting at length with him would cure my heart of its ill-conceived desire. This wasn’t the first time I’d been infatuated with the wrong kind of man. In fact it had happened often enough that I called it my personal catch-22. By their very nature, cynics attracted me, daring me to prove them wrong. But there was the rub, as Shakespeare might have said, because I wasn’t supposed to let on that I came from a family of honest-to-goodness sorcerers. I felt like Captains Kirk and Picard of the Starship Enterprise, arms always tied by the Prime Directive.

  “Name the time and place,” Travis said, “keeping in mind that good, strong coffee is a must.”

  I decided to get our mini date out of the way as soon as possible. “How’s eight o’clock Wednesday at the Morning Glory?” The kitschy little breakfast place was close enough to my shop that I wouldn’t be late opening, they were wel
l-known for their coffee, and I was hooked on their Morning Glory muffins.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Travis said. “And in case you’re harboring any thoughts of standing me up, remember—I know where to find you.”

  By the time we said goodbye, I was wide awake. I tapped my computer back to life. The file that came up had to be the one I was reading when I fell asleep. I’d made it all the way into the Rs, which was impressive, but I hadn’t jotted a single note on the legal pad I kept beside the computer. Boredom must have been the culprit that sent me into dreamland. It would have succeeded again an hour later if Beverly Ruppert’s file hadn’t popped up on my screen, instantly reenergizing me.

  Her professional relationship with Jim had begun in May of 2000 with a consultation about estate planning, which struck me as odd. She was probably in her thirties at the time, single with no dependents. Maybe she stood to inherit a large sum of money and wanted to make sure it went to the person of her choice should she die suddenly. Jim had met with her several times over the wording of the will. I could tell by the tenor of his notes that he became increasingly annoyed with her nitpicking changes. After three months, the will was finally signed, witnessed and notarized. She went back for another consultation less than a year later. I wondered if Jim cringed when he saw her name in his appointment book. This time she wanted to sue her neighbor, because his dog barked incessantly. Jim advised her to file a complaint at town hall. There was no need for her to pay attorney’s fees. But Beverly insisted he take care of it. The upshot was that the neighbor couldn’t leave his dog outside barking for more than half an hour three times a day. As I read on, I could see a pattern emerging. Beverly was clearly manufacturing reasons to spend time with Jim. From what I could glean, her feelings were not reciprocated. On multiple occasions, Jim referred her to other attorneys better suited to her various issues. She refused to deal with any of them. It seemed to me that a psychiatrist would have been better suited to her needs than any attorney. Her file ended with the sixth, and most ridiculous, of her trumped up legal problems. She wanted Jim to sue her dentist, because he didn’t get her teeth as white as the model in the ad. She claimed it caused irreparable damage to her self-confidence. According to Jim’s notes, he told her outright he was too busy to take her case. Although Beverly was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, as Morgana used to say, she must have finally gotten the message. And since unrequited love was often a hop, skip and jump away from unqualified hatred, her efforts earned her a spot on my hit parade of suspects.