FAMILY MAGIC (THE FLOWER FARM MAGICAL MYSTERY SERIES Book 1)

by Lucia Kuhl

  One good thing about Lizzie's visit, I had momentarily forgotten about the strange encounter on my earlier walk. I told myself it didn't happen. But I knew it did. And I had a hunch I knew what the voice was talking about when it said The In-between.

  As a high schooler, the band director used to say the music happens between the beats. I never really understood what he meant until I started to practice Feng Shui. I learned to trust a nanosecond after opening a door, a void existed before the energy hit me. There was another nanosecond before I named the energy. Others didn't seem to notice, but I felt it. The more I practiced, the more notable and longer I was in the energy, but not the physical room.

  A wise set designer who worked in my aunt's store told me once, "I know the vignette is correct when I feel a brush of peace."

  I didn't understand her either, but her comment haunted me. I researched and found Feng Shui, and the rest, as they say, is history. Over the years, I'd come to understand what she meant. There's that place where magic slips in.

  So why did I need to notice it? I worked with it almost every day.

  And why was I even having this discussion with myself? Because while I wanted to write the incident off as temporary insanity, I knew I couldn't. I knew it happened. I knew it was real. I knew I'd been called home for a reason. And while I'd like to think that reason was to start a flower farm, I sensed it was more. Much more.

  "All will be revealed in good time," said the voice. "Rest now. You've been through a great deal."

  CHAPTER 19

  Despite my day yesterday and spending my night on the couch, I'd slept like a baby. When I awoke, I knew what I needed to do.

  I needed to call Lizzie. I could not stand the way we left things. We'd been good friends. You don't let that kind of friendship go that sour. It's not good for the energy of the cosmos. Take a deep breath and call Lizzie. You can do this.

  On the other hand. Why was I such a wimp lately? With this deep scared of everything sort of persona. Like my brain had to push away the anxiety to think. Every time another body dropped, it got harder and harder to think. What the heck was wrong with me?

  But it didn't matter right now. Right now, the only thing I needed to think about was calling Lizzie. I could contact her through social media. But I wanted to talk to her voice to voice and face to face. Did the phone at Raymont Manor still work? Were Lizzie and Charles staying there? There was only one way to find out. Strange, in my new reality, I couldn’t remember if I took my morning vitamins, but I could remember the phone number for Raymont Manor.

  Pulling out my phone, I dialed the same number I'd called daily as a tween. Only then I used a rotary phone. Lizzie, to my surprise, answered on the second ring.

  "Lizzie, don't hang up. It’s Faith."

  "Yes," Lizzie said in a broken voice. At least she was talking to me.

  "Lizzie, I feel terrible about the way we left things." Before I had the last word out of my mouth, she answered.

  "I know. Me too."

  "Do you suppose we could have lunch and talk? We are friends. We were best friends. I want to be there for you."

  It was quiet on the other end for a few moments. Should I go on talking or wait? Finally, Lizzie responded.

  "Charles has an appointment in Chicago this afternoon. I don't suppose there is a Bonnie Doon Restaurant around anymore?"

  I laughed. "No, sorry, I already checked. I so wanted one of their burgers last night."

  "Me too. How about Doc's at 1:00."

  "Sounds good. I'll see you there."

  "Thanks for calling," Lizzie said before hanging up the phone.

  "Thank you, Mr. Raymont, for keeping your landline," I said to the air.

  "You are welcome, Faith," a voice said. It wasn’t the voice from earlier. I looked to my left. I looked to my right. No one was there. "Is that you, Mr. Raymont?"

  No response.

  "Who said that?"

  No response.

  So now, I was not only anxious with a serial killer dogging me, but I was also crazy. Great. None of this happened. I was just running on too little sleep.

  I ran upstairs to find Sampson in the middle of my bed in a pile of pillow stuffing. He'd torn apart two pillows already this morning and was working on the third. I wanted to yell at him, but he was so darn cute with a piece of white stuffing still attached to his black nose. If we were going to be partners, Sampson needed to learn some manners. I googled Dog Obedience Classes.

  CHAPTER 20

  I arrived first and was shown to a table in the back. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed the restaurant's atmosphere with the wooden booths and the Tiffany Lampshades. The building's depth and the darker ambiance worked to create a sense of walking away from your cares and treating yourself to fantastic food.

  When it was warm, the open-air patio was an excellent option too. The front step was my only Feng Shui issue, typically, you want as few barriers between you and your customers as possible, but in Doc's case, the step only added to the feeling of escape.

  Years ago, I'd run away from the area so fast and so far, I'd forgotten what I'd run from. Yes, my family was crazy, and at the time, I needed a market for my skills, but in my mind, I'd run away from everything Michiana had to offer. I didn't realize what I'd left.

  I'd decided on a juicy cheeseburger, fries, and a salad when I saw the door open, and Lizzie floated through it. She'd always moved with an athletic grace I envied. While I communed with nature, Lizzie conquered it. It was no surprise she'd become a sports photographer, specializing in out of arena sports. Her photos of long-distance runners, sailboats, and fishermen appeared on the most prominent magazines' covers.

  With tears in both our eyes, we hugged as she reached the table. It felt so good to hug my old friend and lend her any healing energy I had. Not that my energy was the best right now. But the Magic could funnel what I had and give it to her in a healing manner. Anyhow, that was my belief.

  "I am so glad you called," Lizzie said. "I felt horrible about all the things I said. Charles had me so wound up. I am so sorry." She fiddled with her napkin as she said the words.

  "And I am so sorry about your father. Once I realized who I was going to see, I couldn't wait to surprise your dad. He meant so much to me as a child."

  She reached across the table and took my hand.

  "He always loved having you around. After the divorce, my mother found numerous ways to keep me from him. We grew apart. About two years ago, we decided to try to start over. And it was good. Charles didn't care for my father, and dad knew it, but I vowed I would not let another person keep me from my father. But someone did."

  "What didn't Charles like about your dad, if I may ask?"

  "My father is," she paused. "My father was larger than life and loved everyone. Charles is a behind-the-scenes type of person, and he doesn't like people. The two clashed. Charles and my stepfather have a good relationship."

  I couldn’t help thinking Charles liked her stepdad’s money and position more than he liked her stepfather.

  "How’s your mom?"

  "Mom’s failing. Her mind. She and my stepfather had a rocky relationship. She’d never admit it, but she was happier with my dad. Private duty nurses care for her around the clock. It gets harder and harder for me to see her." Her voice trailed off for a second. "But enough about me. How have you survived? Charles learned a killer is stalking you."

  "Do you know where he heard that?"

  Lizzie’s eyes shifted from side to side for a few seconds.

  "I believe the owner of your company was Charles's client. He heard the news from the client’s wife."

  "So, Linda told Charles about Greg's death."

  Lizzie nodded.

  "I believe that's correct."

  This was a lead worth following up.

  "You still haven't told me how you are doing?" Lizzie said.

  "Well, I'm taking some time off. I decided to come home and re-establish my relationship with Arie.
I realized today. I'm having trouble with anxiety. It's clouding my thinking, and I'm afraid it's stunting my gift."

  I hadn't meant to share that. I hadn't realized I'd felt that way until the words were out of my mouth. But there they were out in the open.

  Lizzie's phone rang.

  "It's Charles."

  Her whole body tensed. Reading her body language, my intuition told me her relationship with Charles was not all wine and roses. She'd grown pale all of a sudden and was holding her stomach. I'd had a few of those relationships. Thank Goodness my fear of commitment had scared me off before I made any rash decisions and married one of those jokers.

  CHAPTER 21

  After Charles's call, Lizzie's whole demeanor changed. Her posture slumped. She avoided eye contact. Gone was the spark in her. The conversation came almost to a standstill. She'd gone on the defensive.

  I was amazed when she allowed me to take her arm. We walked arm in arm out the back door to our cars in the municipal parking lot. The thought struck me that if I was going to stay, I needed to buy a car. I'd been taken care of by my company for so long; I needed to rebuild my independence.

  As we rounded a row of cars, a loud noise sliced through the roar of the traffic. A windshield broke behind us. Another noise. This time I knew what it was. I pulled Lizzie behind a car.

  Special Agent Harvey Wallbanger came from the back door of Doc's.

  He raced towards us, "Get down. Take cover."

  One more shot. Harvey went down. Police officers from the station across the street appeared. They'd taken cover behind the Fallen Officers Monument. Two officers ran across Union Street, dodging traffic as they moved. Unless they'd moved the fire station since I'd lived in the area, paramedics were only a couple blocks away. I reached for Harvey's hands and pulled him towards us. He had a pulse. That was good. And then we were surrounded by police officers. My body stayed wrapped next to Lizzie's as my hands held Harvey's.

  Another body. Lizzie had been right. I was death waiting to happen. Anyone near me was doomed. The best thing for me to do was leave. Disappear. Even Sampson wasn't safe with me around.

  The question was, when should I leave? How should I leave? Where should I go? Arie would take care of Sampson. Should I leave a note? Or just go home and pack. And what about Lizzie? Now, not only had her father been killed, but someone had just taken a shot at us. Who had I hurt so much they wanted me dead? There were no jilted boyfriends or angry clients in my past. Not that I knew of anyhow. My clients loved my work based on feedback reports.

  I never took a commission. I was the highest-paid consultant in the company. My nemesis at the company hated me. Did she hate me enough to murder people and set me up to take the fall? That was a bit extreme. Why shoot at me now? I'd already resigned. What would be her point?

  Linda, my murdered boss’s wife, said if I'd been on time, her husband might not be dead. But she knew me. I got lost A LOT, and they'd started telling me the wrong time, so I'd be on time. So, I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary on his consult.

  Lizzie. I needed to think about Lizzie. Would she be safe from Charles when she arrived home? There was no way he wouldn't learn she'd been with me.

  I snapped back out of my stupor.

  "Lizzie, are you going to be safe going back to Raymont Manor?"

  She hadn’t moved since we’d crouched behind the car.

  "Physically. Charles doesn't hit me. He has other tactics," she said.

  Somehow Blake and Arie were now on the scene. A paramedic took Harvey's hands from mine before they moved him onto a gurney.

  "What are his chances?" I asked.

  "As long as there's a pulse, there's always hope," The paramedic said, stretching his neck.

  Unfortunately, his body language told another story. The paramedic didn't think Harvey would make it.

  A part of me felt grief for the man I'd known. A part of me felt relief. He wouldn't be dogging me anymore. Yet, he'd taken a bullet to protect Lizzie and me.

  CHAPTER 22

  A few hours later, I walked up the steps to my house. Someday, fate would let me live in my home in Abracadabra. But not now.

  Arie and Blake were still tied up at the crime scene. Arie wanted a guard on me constantly, but we compromised on extra patrols in the neighborhood after a small battle. Now, all I needed to do was figure out the patrol's timetable, and I could disappear before anyone became aware. I couldn't live like this anymore.

  Someone used my West Coast Trail of Death to cover up the murder at Raymont Manor. I was convinced. My money was on Charles. When I was away from here, I'd find out more about Charles Makey.

  I needed to know if Charles and Lizzie flew in on the same flight. Once I was hidden away, I'd call Arie and give him the information I'd gained from Lizzie. When I'd left her an hour ago, she'd said almost nothing about the shooting—only answering the officer’s questions with yes and no answers. An officer drove her home at Charles's insistence. Supposedly, he'd seen the story on the news while on a break from his meeting in Chicago.

  While we were waiting at the crime scene, Lizzie had received a text from her daughter, Evie. Evie was fifteen. Since I was sitting next to Lizzie with her hand grasping my arm, I could see the texts. If I had talked to my mother, aunt, or Grams the way Evie talked to Lizzie, I'd have been tied to a fence post for all eternity.

  With the death of Mr. Raymont, Lizzie lost the only family member in her corner. In contrast, I seemed to be gaining corners with my family. Somewhere in the cosmos, a reason must exist. I didn’t have time to think about the universe. I needed to be on my way out of Abracadabra before my serial killer found their next target.

  Two hours later, I finished a note to Arie and left it on the counter. When I was far enough away, I would send him a text and ask him to water Sampson and tell him there was a note on the counter. Tears ran from my eyes, and I realized how much I wanted to stay and be a part of my dysfunctional family. I told him about the flower farm I would someday come home to start and how I wanted to be there for my niece as she grew into a woman. But that would have to wait until the killer had been caught. Or had killed me. I didn't put the last sentence in the letter.

  I couldn't let that killer get to my family. I just couldn't. I needed to get away so they'd be safe.

  After I was all packed, I sat on the step outside and threw stick after stick for Sampson to fetch. He ran and panted and made me chase him with a stick in his mouth. I was going to miss this little guy. We'd only been together a short time, but already he owned a considerable part of my heart. How could I leave such a cutie?

  How could I stay? He'd be a target, and I couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting him to get to me. As I played with Sampson, I realized the patrol passed by every twenty minutes. I would wait until dark. Just in case Arie had someone in place I couldn't see.

  Sampson and I ate supper, and I petted him until my arm was sore.

  As soon as darkness fell, I closed the door to the bedrooms and let myself out of the house. It was time to make my getaway.

  CHAPTER 23

  After the next patrol passed, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the front door.

  With tears streaming down my face, I tried to open the trunk. A note was stuck between the lid and the bumper.

  "Check Driver's side rear tire." It was written on the back of a card reading, "Vito Bracken."

  I peeked around the car and threw my keys at a tree. My tire was gone. Another business card said. "Come see me. No me, no tire."

  This was why I didn't do family.

  CHAPTER 24

  "I'm going to kill him," I told Sampson on the walk to Dad's. I figured he could help me bury the body. Sampson was glad to be able to explore new territory. I thought the half-mile walk to my father's house might cool me off. It wasn't working.

  "Be careful, Faith. The wind has ears," said a voice. I looked around. Again, no one. I was getting tired of something I couldn't see commenting on my tho
ughts. It was like social media, except at least there you had names and icons. Many were fake, but it was better than a disembodied voice.

  "Who are you? What do you want?"

  A brown rabbit scurried across my path. Sampson tried to chase. I pulled back and almost lost my balance on a thin piece of ice. Great, I could have broken my neck out here, and no one would know. It would be Dad's fault.

  He dared to wave from his porch as I approached. Dad was 4'10", bald, and round, but his presence invaded your space ten feet away. He, like Mr. Raymont, was larger than life.

  He held out his arms for a hug.

  "Don't even think about it," I said, standing at the bottom of the steps.

  "I see you got my notes." He sat in his chair—a pleased smirk on his face. He was enjoying this. He gestured towards the chairs.

  "Sit, Faith, Sit."

  In response, Sampson sat.

  "Good boy, Sampson. Good boy," Vito said. "Your dog is well trained."

  "Yeah, except he doesn't know his name."

  "He will. Please, Faith, sit down."

  "Not until you tell me why you took my tire."

  "I took your tire because I knew you'd try to rabbit. I wanted to see you first. You need to meet your niece, and your mother would like to see you."

  "If I stay, none of you may live to see another day." There I'd said it. "I won't be responsible for another death. Special Agent Harvey Wallbanger died protecting me."

  "He's not dead," said Vito.

  I climbed the three steps and sank into the chair on the porch. "What. Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. I have connections."

  "Will he live?" tension knotted in my body again. Relief he was alive. Fear he'd keep on dogging me.