The Swedish Days Swindle

by J. B. Michaels

  Millie exited the car, careful not to hit the wood shelving next to her door.

  “Millie, what’s wrong?” Hank asked.

  The door shut. Millie opened the rear passenger closest to Mac’s feet. “He is out cold and has been for a long time. He had a major hex put on him.”

  “A major what?” Hank asked.

  “A hex, Hank. Dark Magic. Not good. How Millie?” Becca rubbed the back of her neck. She opened the other door near Mac’s head.

  “I tried using a lifting spell to bring him up to his bed and was thrown back across the parking garage. Whatever type of hex it is, it has a powerful expulsion defense,” Millie said.

  “How did this happen anyway? Who did you run into?” Hank asked.

  “Mac was kidnapped for a short while and I was forced to rob the bank and now I’m afraid I put you guys in danger, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “What?!” Hank yelled, his eyes wide.

  “I know, Dad, I know. It’s messed up. The night just took an insane turn. I will fix it, I promise.” Millie was hesitant to mention the leprechaun she summoned and let loose on Swedish Days. She didn’t want to overwhelm her parents even more.

  “We have to figure out a way to lift his hex and get more info from Mac on who did this to him.” Becca, surprisingly, was more relaxed than Hank.

  “Yes, Mom. It happened when we were on the phone last. I turned around after ending the call with you and he was gone. How do we fix this, Mom? Do you have what we need or do we need to head to Sycamore to the Morris shop?”

  “I definitely don’t have what we need. You tried to move him physically?” Becca asked.

  “Yes, I did and I couldn’t pull him at all. You try it and see if you can budge him.”

  “No. No, no one touch him. We don’t know if the hex is making him weaker every time we touch him. Dark magic takes—it never gives. What did the people who did this say to you? Anything else that could help us?” Becca examined Mac.

  “The man on the phone said not to touch him. Let him be and I assume he will come out of it. Well, we can only hope that is what will happen. Can we really trust them? Hell, no.” Millie paced the dirty concrete garage floor.

  “Yes, so if we try and break the hex there is a definite risk involved.”

  “Meaning Mac could die. Maybe we just leave him be?” Hank asked.

  “Yes. Maybe. Mom, they definitely used some sort of weight or gravity spell. He feels as heavy as the car.”

  “We should drive the him to Sycamore and to the Morris shop. They have what we need.”

  “Aren’t they closed now?” Millie asked.

  “Yes, but Marie will open it in an emergency. I will call her on the way. Hank, you should stay here.” Becca walked inside the house to grab her purse.

  “I’ll stay here. I will be watching the Cubs game.” Hank nodded. “So, just let me know if you need anything—and be careful.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vince felt good about the night’s development and returned to the blue Geneva police station with a prime suspect who wanted to confess. Vic Sabatini sat in an interrogation room, ready to give his statement of the murder he supposedly committed.

  “Okay, you want to go in there? Or should I? I mean, we could both go in if he is ready to confess. No need for good cop, bad cop.” Vince looked at Vic through the observation room’s window.

  “Yes, I suppose we could just both go in. This may be a smooth open and shut case.”

  “Jackson, don’t jinx us. Let’s make sure the details all connect and corroborate and hope this guy hasn’t caught the disease of certainty.” Vince rubbed his chin.

  “Already invoking the disease of certainty. He said he did it. He probably, did Vince.” Jackson shook his head.

  “Believe me, I have a good feeling about this. Let’s get in there and remove all doubt by allowing him to open his mouth.”

  “Let’s do it.” Jackson left the observation room, took a quick right turn in the hallway, and opened the door.

  “Wait, is the videotape going? If he is going to confess, we have to record it.”

  “Vince, the camera is going. Let’s go. And, by the way, it’s not an actual VHS tape anymore. We upgraded to a digital camera.” Jackson laughed and entered the room where Vic Sabatini sat.

  “Right, whatever.” Vince followed him.

  Vic Sabatini had a bald head and thick stubble, not quite a beard yet but close. He was muscular and average height. He had big bags under his eyes. He didn’t appear nervous, just exhausted and ready to get on with his confession.

  “Thanks, officers. I am ready to confess.”

  “Did you record the Miranda warnings to him and the no-coercion statement yet, Jackson? I will be right back.” Vince stood in the doorway and pulled out his phone.

  “I will do it now. Go ahead. Get Bermudez in here as witness.”

  “Bermudez! Come in here and witness the Miranda and statement with Jackson. I will be right in there.” Vince walked down the tight hallway. He wanted to call Mac. He just felt that maybe Mac should, at least, be here to observe the confession from the other room. See if he could catch anything strange.

  Vince dialed his brother’s phone—it went straight to voicemail.

  He did actually want his brother there, no matter how annoyingly energetic and cheesy he could act. He was still a damn good detective. He did like having Mac around.

  Vince walked back to the interrogation room.

  “He is ready to go,” Bermudez squeezed past him and out of the room.

  “Let’s do this.” Vince patted Jackson, who sat across from Vic, on the back.

  “Vic. Go ahead, you are all set.” Jackson said.

  Vince pulled out his small notepad in addition to the recording. He just wanted to take notes as Vic talked and review them later.

  “Terry got caught up with the wrong guys. I was helping out wit da shop. Fixin’ cars wit him. One day this old beat up Dodge Charger drives into da shop. Terry finds a bunch of cash stuffed into a compartment underneat’ da floor mat. You know, like some real old school Prohibition shit. I tell him ta leave it alone and forget he saw it and found da shit. He can’t help himself. Shop ain’t doin’ so hot and he was low on money. Hell, I was workin’ for practically free. He dropped it at dat point. Or at least I thought.”

  “He didn’t drop it. What do you mean? For clarification.” Jackson pressed.

  “I mean I thought he wasn’t going to do anything wit da cash. Turns out he used da cash to carve out a spot for himself to run with a professional den of thieves from Chicago. I heard ‘a da guys from a few guys I used to run wit. Deez are bad guys. Da kinda guys who get shit done. Real pros.”

  “What exactly is a spot in a den of thieves?” Vince asked. His look of surprise probably showed on the recording.

  “Terry didn’t tell me exactly what his job would be. I assume it had somethin’ to do wit hidin’ money in cars or whatever. Or maybe he was just part of da crew. Maybe a driver. He asked me if I wanted to be part of it. I told him no and then we got into a fight. I was so mad for rollin’ with da Bucs dat I lost it.”

  “The Bucs?” Vince asked.

  “Yes, Buccaneers ya know like pirates and shit.”

  “So, you lost your temper…” Vince waved his hand to maintain Vic’s focus.

  “We argued at the shop for a while. I punched him in the face. Gave him a black eye. Then he stormed off. I waited a bit to calm down Denise and apologized even though I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to calm my sister down for a few minutes. Then I went after him. I found him at the Nutty Fox in downtown St. Charles. Dat was his bar of choice. I dragged his ass out into the street and we argued some more. I tried ta reason wit him, I promise. He started to run and I chased him down to da riverbank. He got a bit more serious and pulled out a knife. I took da knife away from him and I was so pissed at dat point. I-I…”

  “You did what?” Jackson cast a furtive look at V
ic.

  “I slit his troat. I did it. I killed him. In a panic I just kicked him into da river. And now, now I’m here.” Vic’s eyes teared up—he actually shed a tear.

  “Let’s get a couple guys to the riverbank to corroborate this detail. There should be blood to confirm. Okay Vic. That it?” Vince asked.

  “That’s all I got, officers.”

  “Jackson, can I see you in the hallway please?” Vince stood up and put his pen back in his pants pocket. Something didn’t add up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vince made sure to shut the door after Jackson walked out into the hallway.

  “What is it? Seems pretty cut and dry,” Jackson said.

  “The tongue. He didn’t mention the tongue. I think Vic is lying. Someone put him up to this,” Vince whispered.

  “Shit. You are right. He had his tongue cut out. We could just ask him?” Jackson put his hands in his pants pockets.

  “No, we can’t ask him. He will just say yes. Cut the tape. Or the recording or whatever you call it. Then we ask him what the hell is really going on,” Vince said.

  “Okay, good idea.” Jackson opened the door and walked back to the interrogation room first. He turned the camera off.

  Vince walked back in then shut the door. “What is really going on here Vic?”

  “Whaddya mean? I told ya everything.” Vic looked confused, nervous, and more upset.

  “Vic. Tell us.”

  “If I tell—”

  “Tell us what?” Vince moved closer to Vic.

  “They’ll kill Denise if I get outta here clean.”

  “The Bucs?”

  “Yes. They told me the only way that me and Denise live is if I confess to killin’ Terry.” Vic started to bob his head up and down. Tears dropped on the stainless steel table in front of him. He was clearly overwhelmed with fear.

  “What really happened?”

  “I never went after Terry after I punched him in da face at da shop. How did you know I was lyin’?”

  “Terry had his tongue cut out of his mouth. You forgot to mention that minor, grisly detail.”

  “Shit! Shit! I am so fuckin’ stupid!” Vic yelled.

  “Vic. Vic. Listen. We can figure this situation out. You won’t be going anywhere. We’ll charge you and file all the necessary paperwork. You won’t be let out. As far as the Bucs know, you were successfully arrested. Were they tailing us from your apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pretty good tails. I didn’t pick up anybody following us.” Jackson shook his head.

  “Neither did I. Vic, tell us the rest. What happened?”

  “They busted into my condo last night and threatened me. Told me this is da way it had ta be should Terry be found or Denise would die and I would too if I didn’t come here. They gave me da story I told you and I forgot to mention da tongue. I was supposed to say, ‘Dead men tell no tales.’ The mantra of da Bucs. Apparently, anyone who crosses dem gets dere tongues cut out.”

  “I am guessing that means Terry wanted to back out of the job they were planning. Which was?” Vince asked.

  “Terry asked me to help him without dem knowin’. He wanted me to help him steal from a festival dey got goin’ on in Geneva. Swedish Days. I refused and dat is what started our fight in da first place. Dat and me tryin’ ta convince him not ta do it. I told him we all had ta get outta here. Leave town. He refused and thought he could just tell them he didn’t want ta do it anymore. Said he trusted one of dem guys. Dumb. Ter’ was not meant for da thug life.”

  “The Bucs killed your brother-in-law. Not you.” Vince leaned over and removed Vic’s cuffs.

  “Yes, they did. You can’t let me outta here.”

  “We won’t let you out. In fact, you should stay in here. Don’t worry, we have a unit assigned to Denise. Nothing will happen to her on my watch. Understand? Did Terry say when they were going to hit the Swedish Days fest?”

  “Yes, yes tomorrow.” Vic stayed seated.

  “Jackson, we have our work cut out for us.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Becca called Marie, the owner of the Morris shop. “Hey Marie, Millie and I sort of have an emergency. Um, would you be able to open the shop for us tonight? I know, it is so late…so sorry about that. It’s past ten, but like I said it’s an emergency.”

  “That is complicated, Becca. You and Millie are banned from buying anything from the store until further notice. The Coven’s orders.” Marie’s voice burst through on speakerphone.

  “What? What did we do? That is ridiculous!” Millie chimed in, slamming her hands on the steering wheel. She was livid.

  “Not my call. Although, I just shipped out your last purchase of essence of hummingbird before I closed tonight. What could you possibly need? I even warned you that if you bought anymore, the Coven’s banning spell would be cast on you.”

  “Did you order any?” Becca looked at Millie.

  “No, I haven’t ordered any since last month! Marie, we did not order any essence of hummingbird in the last twenty-four hours. This is some sort mistake! Or we’re being set up! Marie, you have to listen to me. We have an emergency. Screw the Coven. Please let us in—Mac has been hexed.”

  Marie didn’t respond.

  The pause lasted too long.

  “Marie? Hello? Why would the Coven ban me from buying anything? I’m not Millie.”

  “Nice, Mom, way to worry about yourself in this situation.” Millie drove faster without even realizing it.

  “Okay. I will get you what you need, just don’t come near the store. Meet me at the Sycamore woods picnic grounds. Understand? What kind of hex is it?” Marie sounded frustrated, yet willing to help.

  “It is a consciousness hex combined with a gravity spell. He weighs a ton and we can’t lift him out of the backseat of the car.”

  “Okay, I have something we can try, but it will take some time. Again, meet me at the picnic grounds in thirty minutes.” Marie ended the call.

  “Thank you so much Marie. Thank you. Thank you!”

  Millie shook her head. “Mom, she hung up!”

  “Well, that was rude. Did you lie to her and order more essence of hummingbird?” Becca asked.

  “Mom, no, I knew I had a warning on my account and would be flagged for buying too much essence of hummingbird. Besides, now I know that whoever hexed Mac probably bought the stuff and is going to use it to rob more banks. There’s no better escape than fast travel magic. That explains the need for more cash bags.”

  “More cash bags?”

  “Yes, you know the zipper bags they use to put cash in at the bank and lots of other places? Whatever. Whoever did this must have really done their homework to pin this on me.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening. Let’s hope Marie gets the right stuff and can help us.”

  “Picnic grounds are ahead. She will help us. We have known each other for forever. Hang on Mac. We will get you out of this soon.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sycamore Woods picnic area was not well-lit. Becca’s wand light illuminated the grassy area near where they parked Mac’s car. The old wooden shelter and concrete slab showed signs of wear and tear. The wood was in need of a paint job and some sealant for all cracks in the concrete. Weeds burst through to find the sun, making it appear even more run down and abandoned.

  “It’s been a half hour. Where is she?” Millie knelt down to Mac’s head and the open rear passenger door.

  “Millie you are usually the patient one, unlike your sister and brother. She’ll be here. Please don’t worry.” Becca waved her wand around and checked the area for critters.

  Two headlights made their way down the dirt road towards them.

  “There she is.” Becca pointed.

  “Great.”

  Marie drove her black pick-up truck into the picnic area. From the bed of the truck, a cauldron with several paper bags overstuffed with sundries, floated up and over to the shelters’ slab.

 
; “Whoa! We need a cauldron? This is serious.” Becca marveled at the iconic witchy vessel.

  “Yes, Mother. Mac is unconscious and under a debilitating hex—it’s definitely serious.” Millie couldn’t believe her mother’s lack of coping skills.

  “Yes, we need a cauldron. We will need to keep a boil of chameleon skin to stay hidden and untraceable.” Marie hopped out of the truck, dressed in her usual black. She held a duffel bag.

  “That is a good idea. Didn’t think of that,” Becca said.

  “It may not work for long, but should give us enough time to break the hex.”

  “What do we need to do to break the hex?” Millie asked.

  “We just need some time. It’s a good thing there are three of us. It will make the process quicker. Becca, if you could man the cauldron and keep the vapors strong and filling up the area. We need to have a fog around us to block any trace magic.”

  “Did you bring enough chameleon skins?” Becca looked through the contents of the cauldron to gather what she needed to start the blocking vapors.

  “Yes, there should be enough if Millie and I can perform the counter-spell in time.” Marie grabbed a large, heavy, leather-bound book from the cab of her truck.

  “Oh boy, so, I take it this spell is multiple pages long and probably needs to be recited multiple times.” Millie looked at the book Marie held with two arms, like a textbook.

  “Correct, but we are both strong, able-bodied witches. We should be able to do it with no problem.” Marie laid the book down next to the open door of Mac’s vehicle.

  “We don’t have a choice. We can and will do it. Thanks, so much, Marie. I am sorry this happened and we ruined your night like this.”

  All three of their phones buzzed simultaneously.

  “What the heck is going on?” Millie fished her phone from her purse.

  The trio of witches examined the screen of their phones.

  “Uh oh. How do they know?” Becca asked.

  “I was afraid this may happen.” Marie shook her head.