There’s another gasp. “You received so much praise for the footage you had during the qualifying games,” I say. “So you arranged that again. Only this time, you staged the whole thing—almost like a movie. You told Boris to remove the trophy and go up the stairs. You were planning on framing him and collecting the money when you sold this exclusive footage to your company.”
Boris growls. “Marve?”
Marve is looking wildly around the room. I know he’s going to try to bolt soon.
“How much did he pay you to take the trophy out of the bag and climb the stairs?” I ask Boris. “A thousand? Two thousand?”
“Ten thousand,” Boris says. “He told me... it’s symbolic! He told me that he needs footage so that the public would know I was ready to ‘steal’ the title of champion from Henry and Beth. He said that I hike upstairs to show that I go all the way to the top! Boleslava and I are true champions!”
“That’s what he told you...” I say. “But really, he was trying to frame you. Isn't that right, Marve?” I look over towards where Marve was standing. But he’s not there.
He’s bolted.
Crap.
For the third time this evening, I break into a run.
Chapter Sixteen
I run out of the living room, down the hallway, and into Cora’s entryway just in time to see the front door swing closed. I rush to the door and open it.
Marve is escaping down Cora’s walkway. His beret slides back on his bald head and then flies off as he runs, but he doesn’t stop to pick it up.
“Hey!” I shout. “Stop right there!” I’m chasing after him, but boy are my legs sore.
Swish, swish, swish go my snow-pants, as they rub together at my thighs. The cold air burns in my lungs.
Marve reaches the sidewalk in front of Cora’s house, turns, and takes off.
Swish... swish... swish.... The sound slows as my stride slows. I can’t go chasing this fit-as-a-fiddle professional spirit athlete all around Hillcrest. No way. I’m too tired for that. Too cold. Too sore.
But I do need to capture him.
How?
I reach into my snow-pants cargo pocket. I can feel my handcuffs there—right where I put them earlier this evening. I pull them out. I’ll have to catch him if I’m going to slap these steel rings around his wrists. To catch him, I’m going to have to run. There’s no other way, is there?
If I had thought to grab a broomstick from Cora’s closet, I could have flown, but I forgot and it’s too late to turn around now. By the time I get back to the sidewalk with the broom, Marve will be out of sight.
Swish... swish—I stop short.
Hm. What if—?
I look down at the cuffs in my hand, and then up at Marve. Then I lift the handcuffs up and fling them, like a boomerang, towards Marve. They whirl through the air, reflecting the moonlight as the spiral towards Marve’s head.
Then, bonk! I hear the steel hit Marve’s bald skull with a sound that’s surprisingly loud, given that Marve is only partially solid.
“Ooh!” I grimace under my breath. “That’s going to leave a mark!”
Marve goes down like a sack of potatoes.
Now I don’t have to move so fast. I walk to where his body is lying. He rolls over so that he’s on his back. He’s groaning.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head.
“That was justice, Marve,” I say. “You can’t get away with killing two beings. Everyone has the right to life—it’s not up to you to take it away.”
“Hrmm,” is all that Marve has to say to that. He struggles to a sitting position and rubs the back of his head.
I reach down for the cuffs that are laying on the ground next to him. With one swift motion I pull his arms behind his back and slap the cuffs around his wrists.
“Hey!” he protests.
“I’m going to make absolutely sure that you serve time for your crimes,” I say. “You’re not going to go back to the Spirit Realm a free citizen. You’re not going to kill again.”
“Why do you care so much about what goes on in the Spirit Realm?” Marve asks.
The crowd of spirit athletes, my coven sisters, Silas and Max have now migrated from Cora’s cozy living room out to the sidewalk. As they cluster around us, I answer Marve.
“I may be a witch of the Terra Coven, but I care about all realms,” I say, spreading my arm dramatically. “Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Spirit. I am a woman of the multiverse. I’m a diplomat. I may even be in the running for the Magical Nobel Peace Prize.”
“Is that really a thing?” asks Marley.
I don’t answer her. Instead, I haul Marve to his feet.
The sun is coming up. The sky is now a pale, silvery gray.
“It’s Monday morning,” I say.
Fred speaks up. “We better get going before our density starts to become affected. I’ll notify the police and have them meet us at the portal.”
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s get you all back to the portal. It’s time for you spirits to go home. And it’s time for this guy...” I try to hoist Marve to his feet. He’s heavier than I expected. Must be all those muscles. I keep talking while I work, “It’s time for this guy to go to jail—for a very long time.”
Fred and Boris join me. Together we manage to drag Marve to his feet.
“And it’s time for me to deep clean the bathroom again, now that this whole thing is over with,” Cora says happily.
“And that too,” I say. “Everything can go back to normal now.” As if normal is a real thing.
“I can’t wait to get some more bleach into that tub,” Cora says with a smile.
“You mean—get some more white vinegar into that tub,” Marley says.
“I suppose it’s time for our first ever Walterdon to come to a close,” says Annie. “I think it was a huge success.”
I look at Marve, in handcuffs.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “I do too.”
*****
Tink, tink, tink! I tap my fork against my champagne glass.
I’m seated at a long table in the space that will one day become Cora and Silas’s dining room. Max is on one side of me. Marley and Annie are across from me. At either end of the table Cora and Silas are seated. It’s an intimate little gathering, made complete by Turkey and Blueberry Muffin, who are sharing Blueberry Muffin’s doggie bed. I have to say, they’re getting along quite well these days.
Turkey has even been warming up to Max the past few days. It helped when Turkey and I had a heart-to-heart chat. I told my furry familiar that he’d always be my number one, no matter what guy—or vampire—I happen to be dating.
That made Turkey a very happy kitty.
A happy, rich kitty, to be more precise.
Over the past week, he’s brought in another five thousand dollars with his consulting work. We paid back Annie, plus all my debts to my online PI program. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling financially secure.
At the sound of my fork hitting glass, all eyes turn to me.
“Ahem,” I say.
Should I stand?
Yes. Might as well. My chair scuffs against the unfinished, plywood floor as I push it away from the table.
Though the dining room is far from finished, Cora’s transformed it into a magical place. White lights drip from the ceiling, and together with the candles on the table, they cast a soft glow over the room. The plastic panels keep the cold air out, and heaters going full blast have made the space nice and toasty.
I look around at my friend’s faces. Everyone is smiling up at me; we’re all relaxed and happy to be in one another’s company.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” I say. My voice is a little bit shaky. I’ve never been good at public speaking. Sure, this is an intimate gathering; I shouldn’t be scared. Nonetheless, I feel myself begin to sweat. I push on anyway. This is Cora’s engagement party after all, and I’m going to be her maid of honor. I must give a speech.
“To Cora and Silas,” I say, raising my glass. “Cora, since you met Silas, you’ve been happier than ever before. And that’s saying a lot because you were already the most cheerful person I knew.”
There are chuckles around the table. This is going well!
“Watching both of you fall in love has taught me a lot,” I say sincerely, looking first to Silas and then to Cora. “You each took a risk on each other. You weren’t afraid. This past week, we all had a choice. We could keep the portal closed, or we could open it up. We chose to open it up and host the first ever annual Walterdon.”
“The first of many to come!” says Annie happily.
I nod. “Yes. The first of many.”
I pause dramatically. I have the table’s rapt attention. Maybe I’m good at this! “We let in unknown spirits. And you know what? There was trouble. There was some bad with the good. But there was also good. That’s important. We had fun; we learned more about each other; we learned about ourselves. We became stronger.”
Marley chimes in. “I can’t wait for next year’s tournament,” she says.
“Fred’s already talking about ordering tee shirts,” Annie says happily. “We’ve been communicating in the evenings some. He says that he’d like to come visit.” She smiles.
I smile too.
“My point is,” I say before we get so side-tracked that I forget altogether, “Is that we have to take chances. We have to let each other in. Just like we did with our spirit friends. Just like Cora and Silas did for each other. Yes, being closed off might be safer. It might be more comfortable. But if we stay closed off we’ll miss out on all of it—the bad and the good.”
“So true,” murmurs Max.
I look down at him and smile. Then I raise my glass up again. “May we stay open in our hearts and our minds. May we stay open to each other. May we take chances on each other—just as Cora and Silas did for each other.”
“Here, here!” Annie says, raising her glass to meet mine in the middle of the table.
“Amen,” says Cora.
Silas’s voice is deep. “Yes!”
Marley smiles as she raises her glass “Forever and always,” she says.
Max nods, raising his glass as well. “And so it is,” he says.
“And so it is,” I repeat.
We all tap each other’s glasses. Clink, clink, clink. Soon the conversation turns to the construction of the house. Silas talks about the old schoolhouse that was on the property that he bought. He’s jacked it up on risers and is going to move it to a shaded cove of trees, instead of tearing it down like he previously planned. He and Cora chatter excitedly about homeschooling.
Silas then begins discussing when the rest of his werewolf pack will move to Hillcrest, but I’m having trouble concentrating on his words.
I find that my mind keeps going back to Annie’s comment. She said that she and Fred have been communicating. I noted the blush on her cheeks. She likes Fred. She has feelings for him.
What does that mean about Walter?
Has she stopped trying to find him? Or did she find him, and he told her that he’d be happy if she dated other men?
I told Annie that I’d ask Max about life after death, but I never did. I wasn’t ready.
Am I ready now?
I watch Annie across the table as the conversation continues. She looks so happy. Her eyes sparkle in the candlelight. She laughs often.
There’s a lull in the conversation. Annie stands. “Silas, dear, did you say there was more water in the kitchen? I believe the pitcher is dry.” She lifts a ceramic pitcher from the center of the table.
Silas reaches for the pitcher. “Yes,” he says. “Right in the kitchen area, on the table in the middle. A five-gallon jug of spring water with a spigot at the bottom. I can fill the pitcher.”
Annie stands. “No, no. You stay here. I’ll get it,” she says.
I watch Annie walk toward the plastic divider that separates the dining room and the kitchen. As she disappears behind the filmy flap of plastic, I stand too. “I’ll go help her,” I say.
I scoot out of the dining room.
When I join Annie in the kitchen she looks up, surprised.
“Penny!” she says.
“I came to help you,” I say.
“Help? I think I can fill a pitcher with water,” she says. “I’m only seventy, you know.”
“I know.” I laugh and say, “Really I wanted to have a word with you. How is it going with Fred?”
Annie is holding the pitcher right below the water jug. She pulls the spigot towards her and water starts pouring out of the jug into the pitcher.
“Oh, it’s just wonderful,” she says. “He’s a very kind man. And funny, too! How he makes me laugh. He’s going to come for a visit soon, you know. He promised to help me brush up on my tennis skills.”
“That’s... great,” I say. I bite my lip. How am I going to bring up Walter?
“What is it, dear?” asks Annie.
“Well... are you and Fred dating?” I ask. “I mean... were you able to get in touch with Walter? Did he give it the go ahead?”
The pitcher is full. Annie sets it on the counter.
“You know,” she says carefully. “I did connect with Walter. It wasn’t with a séance. It was... it was much simpler than that. No black candles. No sage. It was... here.” She lifts her hand and places it on her chest. “He spoke to my heart. It’s difficult to put into words. All I can say is that I didn’t have to search anywhere out there for him. He was in here.” She pats her chest again.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I say.
Annie is quiet for a moment. She studies me. “You’re wondering about your mother, aren’t you dear? You want to know if you can reach her?”
I nod.
“You don’t have to search for her in other realms,” Annie says. “At least that’s my experience. I’m afraid that’s the only way I can explain it. I wish I could put it in some way that you’d be able to understand, but my sense is that you just have to feel it.”
I nod again.
Annie walks towards me. She’s holding the pitcher with one hand. With the other, she reaches out and pats my arm.
“Maybe people leave for a reason, you know?” she says. “Maybe things are meant to be the way they are. Maybe we can trust that things are perfect. I’m grateful for my time with Walter. And now, I’m grateful that Fred has come into my life.” She smiles.
I want to say something back to her, but I don't know what. Instead, I stand paralyzed by her words.
No.
That can’t be.
My mother wasn’t supposed to leave me.
That couldn't be a part of the plan.
That wasn’t meant to happen.
Things aren’t perfect without her here. That can’t be.
Annie pats my arm again. “I’ll see you back at the table?” she asks.
Perhaps she senses that I need a moment alone.
I nod.
As she walks off, I feel my knees go all wobbly.
For so long, I worked on accepting the fact that my mother was gone. Now, the prospect of contacting her in any way has hit me like a ton of bricks. I feel my worldview changing, and this makes me feel as if I’m trying to stand still while the ground beneath me shakes and cracks.
What is death? Is my mother gone? Is ‘gone’ even possible? What does ‘gone’ mean?
If I tried to feel her presence, could I? Could it be as simple as Annie just said that it was?
Could her passing possibly be part of a plan? Could it possibly be perfect?
I’m not sure how much time passes like that. I sit on the rough, plywood floor, barely noticing the little splinters of wood that poke into my palms. I stare at my knees, trying to put my world back together.
It’s not working.
I’m lost.
I hear someone clear their throat.
I look up.
It’s Max.
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“You okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean... yes... of course. This is a wonderful night. I’ll go back out there to join the party soon, I just... I just needed a minute.”
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, sliding to the floor so that he’s at my side.
I feel a hitch in my throat. “My mom,” I say. Then I turn to Max. Now is the right time. I’m ready to ask him. I need to know.
“Max, what happens when a human dies, here on the Earth Realm?”
“Ah...” he says, slowly. “I see. This is very normal, Penny—what you’re going through. It can be confusing to learn about magic and then try to fit everything you used to know into a new model.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Confusing. That’s for sure. I feel like my world is spinning around.”
“It will pass,” Max says with a laugh.
“That’s good to hear,” I say. “I thought I understood everything. I thought I knew what was what. I believed everything that I was told, you know, about how the world works. Now I feel like I don’t know anything. I feel like I’m starting over.”
“You are,” Max says. He places a hand on my knee. “And that’s a good thing.” He gives my knee a comforting pat.
I let his words sink into me. A good thing.
It is a good thing, isn’t it?
We sit in silence for a minute or two.
Then Max speaks. “There are certain things that humans believe, and certain things that magical beings believe,” he says. “As you transform from a human to a witch, you’re going to have to let go of your human beliefs. It can be hard because you’ve believed them for so long.”
“My whole life,” I say.
“Right,” says Max. “It’s disorienting.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. It’s solid and comforting. It vibrates a little bit as he talks.
His voice is deep. “Death is one of those beliefs,” he says. “As a human, you believe that you know what death is. You think you understand it perfectly, but you don’t—not at all. Are you willing to let go of everything you think you know about death?”
I consider his question. Am I?
“Yes,” I say. As I say it, I feel every shred of information that I’ve ever known about what dying is, completely fall away from me.
The Case of the Trust Spell: A Hillcrest Witch Mystery (Hillcrest Witch Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 16
