by Madelyn Alt
“Chief has named me the SMPD’s Special Task Force Investigator, to work in conjunction with all other agencies in the investigation and resolution of the problems facing Stony Mill, including the recent murder but not exclusively that. What this really means is, anything beyond the scope of traffic tickets, family disturbances, and general peacekeeping falls to me and my team.” My gaze fell to his hands, which were making a shredded mess of his baguette. “It also means whatever hours are needed to see it done, will be done.”
It didn’t take a lot of imagination to see what might be required. It sure didn’t leave much room for deepening the connection between us, should we—I—so choose. “I see.”
“It’s important, Maggie.”
But I wanted to be important, too. Was that too selfish of me? I supposed it probably was, but knowing that didn’t seem to change the wanting inside of me. “I know. It has to be done.”
He nodded, absentmindedly stirring the bread crumbs that had fallen from his baguette into the lower reaches of his soup. “Did you know…one of my cop buddies said his pastor has been preaching that the devil has descended upon Stony Mill? That the Old Deceiver is the reason behind the craziness we’re experiencing? The violence? The unrest?” He paused a moment to add emphasis to his main point. “The murders.”
I shrugged. “Everybody is entitled to an opinion. What church does he go to?”
“It’s a newish church that started up just a few months ago. First Evangelical Church of Light.”
The name of the church rang a bell, and I knew why. It was Reverend Baxter Martin’s baby. “Ah. I’ve heard of Reverend Martin. From what I understand, that seems to be par for the course. He sees devils in everyone.”
“Yeah, but…as far as theories go, that one seems just as good as any other I’ve heard lately. You have to admit it, Maggie. The weird sign thing that you found out at the crime scene could just corroborate that.”
“The sign,” I echoed. It flashed before my eyes again, black and white and somehow menacing. Liss thought it was magical in nature. I didn’t know much about the symbolism used in the various traditions of magical practice, but based on the amount of energy emanating from and surrounding it, I would have to say I agreed. But to what purpose? “How could it possibly—”
“Be satanic?”
My brows shot up, and I gaped up at him. “Beg pardon?”
“There’s a theory being bandied about at the station that this symbol, and other things that have been found around the county, all point to satanic worship.”
I choked down the bread that had gotten stuck in my throat. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know what to believe right now. Three murders in this town in the last six months. Three. That’s not right. That’s not normal. You yourself have said something is going on, Maggie. There has to be an explanation.”
Yes, but one not rooted in superstition and fear, I was about to say, then realized that my own experiences in the months just behind us hadn’t been above what most would label as rooted in superstition and fear. Even I was having difficulty coming to terms with it, thanks to all that I had been taught as truth when I was growing up.
“Tom, just because something is a part of a ritual used for magic doesn’t make it satanic. Nor does it make it dark. Or black. Or whatever you want to call it.”
He looked out the window, his expression closed and unreadable. “You know, I have to say this. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but…I think you’re a little biased when it comes to this subject.”
My mouth fell open. “Biased? How can you say that?”
“Biased because of your boss and…some of your friends. I’m trying to be nice about this, Maggie. Because even you have to admit, things started happening about the time they came to town.”
Chapter 10
For heaven’s sake, he made it sound like a conspiracy come to life. Which was ridiculous. I might be a trusting soul at times, but I was not blind. Unlike Tom, apparently. It was not the first time he had been in danger of allowing his prejudices to get in the way. “Well, you seem to be full of answers,” I said, trying my best to keep my tone level, even if the words themselves were not. “I hope this doesn’t mean that you’re jumping to conclusions again. Because I have to tell you, the tendency to jump to conclusions isn’t exactly conducive to impartial investigative techniques.” Or to potential relationships.
His eyes snapped in annoyance, and he clamped his lips together. “Maybe it was a mistake to talk about this.”
“Good.”
“Because you’re obviously not in the mood to listen to me, even though I say it because I worry about you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve seen the results firsthand. Jesus, Maggie, I don’t see why you can’t see that weird things happen when your friends are around.”
“Amanda Roberson didn’t have anything to do with my friends,” I retorted, referring to the teenager who’d been murdered in December. “If you’re going to bring up ancient history. And neither did Luc.”
He exhaled loudly, heavily. “I hope you’re right. I really hope you’re right.”
We both dipped into our soup, which was cooling, to alleviate our tempers, which were not. But even after a few bites filled with nothing but stilted silence, I could not let it go completely. “I do hope you realize that Liss was actually a Stony Mill resident for years before any of this started.”
“Maybe so. But you know, I’m having a hard time believing that Luc Metzger was a simple mugging gone terribly awry. I want to believe that, I really do. More than you can know. But something—call it that sixth sense that you want so much to believe in, if you like—something has got my radar up big time. Now, I don’t have any proof to that end. But if it’s out there, I’ll find it.”
It worried me that he could be so closed-minded, that he could not see the good in people as easily as he could see the potential bad. That he could not believe in the things he could not see unless he imagined evil incarnate right there with them, orchestrating all. Truth be told, this was the main reason I was hesitant to move forward into a genuine committed relationship, and I had to admit it was a biggie. All I could do was hope that he might come around eventually.
Our edgy silence was interrupted when Annie Miller came bustling up to our table. “Maggie!” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hey, girl! I didn’t see you come in.”
I smiled up at my N.I.G.H.T.S. friend, happy for the interruption. “Hey, Annie! Long time no see. How’s that god-baby doing?”
Proud godmother that she was, Annie rolled her eyes heavenward in pure joy. “I have never seen such a little angel. Have I shown you a picture?”
She had, but I let her have her fun, even when she snapped out a fat wallet-sized bundle that would have been excessive from any new mother. I oohed and aahed over them appropriately. “Aw, she’s beautiful. You have every right to be proud.”
“You know, I’ve been a little worried about you,” Annie admitted, giving me a maternal little pat on the shoulder. “You haven’t been in here much, and with you missing the meetings…well, I’ve been meaning to call. Sorry I’ve been so tied up.”
I wrinkled my nose in embarrassment. “No worries. I just…I’ve been busy, that’s all.”
“So I see,” she said, darting a meaningful glance at Tom. “Well, if there’s a good reason for a girl to miss seeing her friends, a handsome guy has got to be it. How are you, Deputy Fielding?”
He held out his hand to her. “Tom, please.”
“Been keeping our girl busy, have you?”
Tom and I looked at each other, our gazes bouncing away as soon as they met.
“Annie,” I said, changing the subject, “I think I’m in the mood for dessert today. What’ve you got?”
Food was Annie’s favorite subject. It was her life, but it was also the way
that she communicated with the world: Everything under the sun could be fixed by a good meal. With her fuzzy red hair drawn back into matching Pippi Longstocking braids, her open face, and her lighthearted approach to life, she was one of the most feel-good people I knew. Especially when combined with her killer desserts.
“Hmm,” Annie said, pretending to think. “Are you in the mood for chocolate? Because if so, I have just the thing to tempt your tastebuds: a Black Forest torte with eight layers and a goodly helping of whipped cream. Not to mention the raspberry filling.”
“We’ll take two,” Tom said before I had a chance. I looked at him. He shrugged. “They say chocolate is good for you.”
Annie laughed. “Chocolate is always good for you. Trust me on this.”
When Annie had moved away, Tom shrugged again. “I just thought we could both use something to sweeten our dispositions.”
I made a face at him, but the interruption had diffused the tension between us, and my face metamorphosed into a smile. He grinned back at me. We were both relieved, so much so that when Annie returned with two huge slices of the torte, we pushed aside our uneaten soup simultaneously and tucked into our cake.
Annie surveyed our faces with immense satisfaction. “See? What did I tell you? Works every time.”
“She’s right,” I said, licking the frosting and raspberry preserves off the tines of my fork. “God, this is good.”
“Mmph” was all Tom could get out.
I was willing to make the first move. Somehow it was easier over chocolate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our lunch date.”
He reached out and took my hand. “You didn’t. I could have been more sensitive. I guess I’ve been hanging around the guys for too long.”
My lips quirked; I couldn’t stop them. “You were a little…heavy-handed.”
His right eyebrow followed my lead. “And you were a little…”
“Overbearing?” I supplied.
“Too forgiving, I was going to say.”
He squeezed my fingers, and my stomach went all squishy and warm. Even warmer and squishier when he lifted my fingertips to his lips and brushed a soft kiss on them.
“So,” I said, trying to find balance in a topsy-turvy world, “how is the investigation going, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He gave me a look.
“What? I’m just making conversation.” I couldn’t help it. It was curiosity, mostly. Morbid? Probably. The curse of small-town life? Definitely. “I mean, I’m not asking for specifics.”
“It’s going fine. We’re waiting for results to come back from the coroner’s office right now.”
“Mm. Have any witnesses come forward?”
“None whatsoever. Just now we’re trying to put together the time line of where Luc Metzger might have gone after leaving Heritage Park. There seems to be some discrepancy between where Metzger was supposed to have gone and where he actually did go.”
I couldn’t help wondering what that might mean, but I couldn’t ask it. Not without him thinking I was dipping my tippy-toes where I had no business interfering. “That makes it a bit difficult.”
“Potentially. We’ll get it, though.”
I nodded, content to leave the investigation to the professionals. Namely, Tom, Special Investigator Extraordinaire.
I glanced at my watch. “I’d better be getting back.”
“I’ll walk you to your car, just as soon as I take care of the bill.”
I waited with him, remembering to ask for a serving of the vegetable barley for Liss at the last minute. Annie handed the cup of soup over, neatly packaged within a paper sack.
“You tell Liss I said hello, okay? And tell her I’ll call her about the May Day celebration. Just as soon as I’m done with Easter prep for the Latter-Day Saints.”
“Sure, no problem,” I told her.
Tom held my hand as we headed for my car, wrapping his fingers tightly around mine. “So, what’s on your plate this afternoon?” I asked him.
“I have to respond to a call from the director of Black-hawk Juvenile Hall, for one. He thinks a few of the boys have been involved in a theft and wants me to take a look at the evidence. What about you?”
“Just work. Call me when you get off tonight?”
“I’ll try.”
The kiss he gave me left me a little wistful, because I didn’t know when I’d be seeing him next. And while I understood, it didn’t make me any less lonely. Good boyfriend material was hard to find. And apparently even harder to find regularly.
Liss was just finishing up with a customer when I walked in the store. “Here you are, a nice cup of vegetable barley soup, and I think Annie threw in an oatmeal scone,” I told her, jiggling the bag enticingly before me.
“Wonderful! I’m famished,” Liss said, holding her hand to her stomach. “How was your lunch date?”
I smiled. “It was nice.”
“Nice?”
Her eyes searched mine. I scratched the bridge of my nose in embarrassment. “Yes, nice. It was good. Tom has been promoted.”
“Oh?”
“His new title is Special Task Force Investigator. He’s been put in charge of the investigations of all things unusual that happen around Stony Mill.”
“Well, well. He’s going to be busy.”
Her British sense of irony might have struck me as funny if I hadn’t been the unintentional butt of the joke. As it was, I had a hard time keeping the disappointment from settling in my throat.
Self-pity serves no woman, Margaret. The words rang through my brain as surely as though I’d heard them spoken aloud. But then, if there was anything to be learned from growing up in a rural working-class society, that was number one, and it was a lesson my Grandma Cora had drummed into my head whenever the opportunity presented itself. I busied myself straightening the piles of old linens that had been rummaged through during the course of the morning while Liss tucked into her soup.
“Mmm! Excellent, as per usual.”
“Annie says hello, and she’ll call you about the May Day celebration. She has a job she needs to finish first.” I paused. “Um, what May Day celebration?”
“Oh, my dear, haven’t I told you? No, of course I haven’t. I mentioned it at the meetings, but with you being busy…Well, May Day—Beltane—is very important to my beliefs, and I hold a gathering to celebrate it every year, just as I do the end of the harvest. And of course you’re welcome to come. In fact, I had hoped I could ask you to play a part, if you’re willing.”
“Play a part?”
“A simple part. Important, but simple. I think you’d enjoy it. But of course, if you’re not comfortable…”
I didn’t know what I thought, or what I was or wasn’t comfortable with, anymore. “And when will this be?”
“The first of May, of course. It’s a Saturday this year, which is perfect for an evening ritual. We have a couple more weeks in which to square away the plans. It’s a very special day to me, and if you’re at all interested in taking part, it would make it that much more rewarding. Think about it?”
I nodded, not certain what my decision would be in the end. It looked like I might need to do a little quiet research into what comprised a May Day celebration, just to set my mind at ease.
“Have you given any more thought to what we could do for the Metzger family?” I asked. “I know my mother has done things like that before. Maybe the Ladies Auxiliary from St. Catherine’s would like to work with us.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. Why don’t you give her a call?”
I should have thought to mention it to my mother this morning. Phone call number two, coming right up.
While Liss began to straighten the counter from the lunch rush, I dialed my mom. The phone rang in my ear, once, twice.
“Hello, Margaret.”
Caller ID, of course. “I have a favor to ask, Mom.”
“Well, considering that you’ve finally agreed to bring your new friend to lunc
h with us, I’m feeling generous. So, what do you need help with?”
Oops, I had forgotten to mention that to Tom. Mental note: Must call Tom later. I cleared my throat. “You’ve heard about the Amish man who was found on the side of the road this weekend?”
“Of course. The whole town is buzzing about it.”
No doubt all of her friends were as well. “Liss and I want to do something for the Metzger family. One of our friends is Amish, and he said that it would be helpful and welcome. I was wondering whether your Ladies Auxiliary might want to join forces with us. Kind of give the effort more bang for the buck. What do you think?”
She was silent a moment. “I think my daughter is growing up at last. Of course the ladies would love to help. This is just the sort of project we should be undertaking.” I could see the proverbial lightbulb turning on in her head. “In fact, I think I know just the person who can help us most. Why don’t I give her a call and set up a meeting of like minds?”
“Sure, that would be great. I’ll tell Liss. Thanks, Mom.”
I pressed End. “My mom is certain her friends would like to be involved,” I told Liss. “She’s going to make some calls and set up a meeting. I told her that would be okay.”
“Perfect.” Liss beamed. “I’ve already been mentioning it to our regular customers. I think we’ll find a lot of help coming in from all circles. Stony Mill has a very giving nature when the going gets tough.”
It did, at that. It was the main thing that the town had going for it. If a family found themselves on hard times, everyone stepped up to give what they could to get them back on their feet. Unless the hard times were due to stupidity or self-destructive tendencies in the hearts of the “victims.” In that case, the idjits were on their own.
We mapped out our plans in between customers, and then Liss retired to the office to send e-mail announcements to all of her friends. I remained up front, taking care of business.
Afternoons at Enchantments are typically slower until after four o’clock, so I found myself with plenty of free time on my hands. I ran the dust mop over the antique floorboards, polished an entire display of Irish crystal, and plotted out a new display for our front window. Eventually everything was done that could be done, so I sat down on the tall stool behind the counter and waited, trying not to twiddle my thumbs.
