Hex Marks the Spot

by Madelyn Alt

  A pensive look came over Liss’s features. “Bertie can’t be holding Helen there. She died first. Her spirit had already decided not to leave, for whatever reason. It could even have been a case of simple confusion, the swiftness of the fire; perhaps she didn’t realize right away that she had passed on. No, I think that Helen’s and Bertie’s reasons for staying are quite separate and individual.”

  “I think he loved her.” The words popped out of my mouth, unbidden.

  “Who, Elliott?” Marion said, frowning. “Well, I’m sure he did; they were engaged, after all—”

  “Not Elliott. Bertie. I think it was more than just infatuation. I think he loved her.”

  “Enough to kill her,” Liss asked, watching me closely, “by setting the fire?”

  “It was never proven to be deliberately set,” Marion said.

  The three of us fell into a moment of silence, each absorbed in her own thoughts.

  “I don’t know,” I said at last. “All I get when I think about Bertie is love. He loved her. Pure and simple. I don’t get jealousy, I don’t get rage. Just love.”

  “And what do you get when you think about Helen?”

  “Fire. Just the fire. Thick, choking, traumatic.” I didn’t want to close my eyes again, I didn’t want to turn inward. But…“No, that’s all. Nothing else.”

  “What we need is something that belonged to the librarian. You know, for some good old-fashioned psychometry.”

  “Psychometry? You mean, you touch it, you feel it or think it?” I asked, frowning.

  “The very same.”

  “I thought that sort of thing was just a joke that magicians do for a captive audience.”

  Liss gave me a patient, if inscrutable, smile. “Has anything that you’ve experienced with me been ‘just a joke’?”

  Ooooh, good point. Touché.

  “Marcus is especially good at that sort of thing,” Liss was telling Marion conversationally.

  I felt my cheeks go hot against my will. I did not need to hear that Marcus was good at touching and feeling anything. Really I didn’t.

  Oblivious to my embarrassment, Marion said, “I might have just the thing for that, back at the library. You say Marcus has this talent? That nephew of mine is just full of surprises.”

  I could second that, but instead I changed the subject.

  Well, I was about to. The ringing of the store phone eliminated the need.

  I was only too happy to say, “I’ll get it!”

  I picked up the line. “Enchantments Antiques and Fine Gifts. This is Maggie. How can I help you today?”

  “Maggie, oh, good, it’s you. I was hoping it would be. This is Louisa Murray. Listen, I have a proposition for you. You mentioned that your boss was one of the ladies bidding for the big armoire in the auction up at the market the other day. Is that right?”

  “Hi, Louisa. It’s good to hear from you. Yes, that’s right.”

  “Perfect. How would she like to own it after all?”

  I blinked into space. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’ve been reconsidering the purchase. Buyer’s remorse, I guess. It’s too big for my little house, really, and I couldn’t really afford to pay what I paid—I suppose I just got caught up in the excitement of the auction. And…well…if you think your boss might like to buy it from me…”

  “Hold on one sec.”

  I set the phone down on the counter and put the call on hold. Liss and Marion stopped talking and looked expectantly at me.

  “It’s Mrs. Murray on the phone,” I told Liss.

  “Louisa Murray from St. Catherine’s?” Marion asked.

  “She’s the person Mom called for help with our charitable efforts for the Metzger family. We met with her yesterday.”

  Marion nodded her approval. “Louisa’s always been very organized, a key member of the Necessities for the Needful team.”

  “She has a proposition for you,” I said to Liss.

  “For me?”

  “Mmhmm. Remember the armoire?”

  “Eli’s armoire?”

  “The very same. Louisa is the person who outbid you at the auction. She wants to offer it to you.”

  Taken aback, my usually unflappable boss could not conceal her surprise. “Really?”

  “Something about not having enough room for it, and all.”

  Liss picked up the phone. Marion excused herself, saying she needed to get back to the library, but I made no bones about listening in.

  “This is Felicity Dow. Yes, hello. Congratulations on your winning bid at the auction. Very well done, indeed. I understand from Maggie that you’re reconsidering your purchase. Yes. Well, obviously that would suit me. It really is just the thing for the store, and as the piece was built by a friend of mine, it has special significance as well. Yes. Certainly. I’ll have someone come by tomorrow—Oh, no problem whatsoever. This afternoon, then. Yes, thank you. I’m sorry it didn’t work for you. Thank you again. Good-bye.”

  She set the phone down gently on the receiver, lost in thought.

  “Well?” I prompted.

  She glanced at me over her crescent-moon glasses. “I don’t suppose your father is available with his pickup truck this afternoon?”

  Smiling, I shook my head. “No, he’ll be at work. But I might be able to borrow it. We’re picking up the armoire?”

  “Aye. We’re picking up the armoire. She’d…Mrs. Murray would like us to come out as soon as we can.”

  “What’s the rush?” I asked, curious.

  “I’m not sure, but there was most definitely a sense of urgency on her part.”

  I had gotten that same thing from the conversation. Hurry winging its way along the phone lines. Maybe Grace’s comments about the spirit of a dead person clinging to an object that was important in life had gotten to Louisa more than she’d let on. That wasn’t the kind of thing that Liss would be superstitious about though.

  As I’d expected, my dad wasn’t home, but my mother told me it would be fine to use his pickup. I was just trying to think who I could get to help with moving heavy furniture when Evie and Tara arrived at the store after school, trailed by a strong, muscle-bound jock, complete with letter jacket.

  “Hey, Liss! Hey, Maggie!” Evie called, heading straight for the back office to hang up her things.

  Tara followed at a more measured pace, focused on ignoring the boy who was hanging on her every nonuttered word. Upon second glance, I recognized him—Charlie Howell, one of the best and brightest on the high school basketball team. A scant five months ago, Charlie had been completely (and tragically, as it turned out) enamored of Amanda Roberson. Her death had launched him headlong into an emotional loop that I worried he might never find his way out of.

  If the soft look lighting his eyes as he gazed at the back of Tara’s head was any indication, my worry had been for naught. Time, it seemed, was the great healer of all wounds, especially when one had youth on one’s side.

  “Hi, Tara. And Charlie—I haven’t seen you in quite a while,” I said by way of welcome.

  He waved at me. “Hey, Ms. O’Neill. How are ya? You seem to have gotten over that bump on your head.”

  I put my hand to my scalp, the lump long forgotten. “I did, at that.”

  Tara slid her glance sideways at her companion, as though trying to make sense of the exchange. I couldn’t help noticing that her usually enigmatic smile burned a bit brighter when it turned in Charlie’s direction.

  It occurred to me that the kids could be the answer to the impromptu change in plans. “Charlie, could we enlist your help while you’re here? We have a big armoire we need to pick up and bring to the store. We could use some help, if you’re interested. We’d be happy to pay you for the trouble.”

  Tara quirked her shoulder at him, a pretty movement meant to beguile and intrigue. I wondered where she had learned it. “Do you think you could take the time to help us?” she asked, her voice soft and somehow helpless.

  One look at
her, and he was a goner. “Sure. Not a problem. Count me in.”

  “Oh, good,” Tara said, winking at me. “That’s so sweet of you.”

  “Okay, great. Thank you. Evie, what about you?” I asked as she parted the velvet curtains. “I need to get my dad’s pickup, and then we’re going to be picking up a cabinet from a house across town. Wanna come with?”

  “Oh, I’m in, too. The three of us should be able to handle it, shouldn’t we?”

  I retrieved the handcart we used for boxes from the back-room. Charlie took one look at it and squinched up his face.

  “Um, you know, I don’t think that’s gonna do the trick.”

  I frowned down at it. “Really?”

  “Huh-uh. But hey, I’ll bet we have something at the hardware store that could handle it. Let me call my boss and see if we could borrow it for a little while.”

  He whipped out his cell phone before I had a chance even to say thank you. Tara caught my eye as if to say Isn’t he perfect? I had to admit, he did seem to have a lot going for him. I was glad for both of them that Amanda’s death had not dealt too harsh a blow.

  We commandeered the pickup truck from my dad’s garage, the cart from the hardware store, and Tony, a friend of Charlie’s who seemed to have nothing better to do with his time, and the lot of us drove to Louisa Murray’s home on the edge of town. I stepped out of the pickup and stood on the street, looking at the house while I waited for the kids to leap down out of the truck bed. The house and property looked even darker today, even more overgrown beneath the gray sky.

  At least there were no smears of manure or egg yolk to deal with today. Louisa must have worked her butt off.

  Speak of the devil. Louisa stood just inside the front door, watching us. She looked as though she’d been there a while. I held up a hand in greeting. Seeing me, she backed away from the door. To clear a path for us, I presumed.

  Charlie and Tony pulled the handcart out of the bed of the pickup. The two boys were already proving their worth beyond their muscles—they’d thought to bring a number of thick boards to use as a ramp up into the back.

  “This the right place?” Charlie asked, looking at the house.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Someone needs to hack the woods back—it looks like it’s going to swallow up the house if they’re not careful.”

  I’d had that same impression.

  My four chatty teenagers fell silent as we approached the house.

  Louisa opened the door as we drew near. “Thank you for coming so soon,” she said to me. “I’m sorry to have to push the transaction on such short notice, but I’m glad it worked out.”

  “Is everything okay, Mrs. Murray?” I asked her. I sensed a change in the atmosphere in the house from my previous visit, one I couldn’t seem to put my finger on. It didn’t feel good. I couldn’t help wondering what the poor woman had been going through.

  “Fine. Everything’s fine. In here.”

  She led us to the craft room off the hallway. The boys stopped and raised their eyebrows.

  “Whoa,” Tony said.

  “Too big for us to handle?” I asked, grimacing as I waited for the answer.

  “I’m not sure,” said Charlie, circling around the armoire on three sides to get a good look at it. “I hope not.”

  He braced his hand on the corner and tested the weight by trying to shimmy it back and forth. Tony followed his example, and the two of them set to work.

  Evie and Tara stood back and let the boys do their thing while I stood by, worrying and fussing and directing traffic like any mother hen worth her weight in chicken feed. “This way. Mind the door frame. Okay, now, a little to the left. Good, good. Okay, wait. Maybe a little to the right. Watch out for the”—too late—“plant stand.”

  Oooh!

  I decided that running a bit of interference with Louisa might be a better use of my time.

  “By the way, Louisa, I did find the owners of that dog,” I told her. “I was so glad not to have to drop it off at a shelter.” I didn’t mention the Metzger connection, just in case the poor woman was too freaked about the armoire thanks to Grace Mansfield’s wagging tongue.

  “Did you?” Louisa’s gaze cooled measurably. She had a real thing against that dog, that was for sure. It was a shame, really. I had the feeling she could use a little companionship in her life, and a pet seemed the perfect solution. “I do hope they learn to keep the dog under control on their farm now and not allow it to run all over God’s creation, threatening innocent people. It was nothing but a pest.”

  Ah, well. So much for that.

  The boys broke a clay pot on their way down the manure-free front steps. Okay, so maybe this interference thing wasn’t going to work out as well as I’d hoped. I sent Evie and Tara out to lead the boys through the front yard before they managed to take out what was left of Louisa’s prized roses and the picket fence as well.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you with the armoire,” I told Louisa. “Marion Tabor had mentioned how excited you were to win it, and I know you must have felt very strongly about it to pay so much for it.”

  Louisa nodded crisply. “Yes, well…It’s all for the best. As I told Mrs. Dow, it was simply too big. It didn’t fit my room at all, and it was too much a reminder of what had happened to that poor man. I just didn’t want it around me anymore. Grace Mansfield was right. Who needs a reminder of tragedy such as that? I’m happy to let your boss take it off my hands. I can find something else to suit my needs elsewhere.”

  Something that didn’t have a memory of blood and violence attached. I saw her point.

  “Well, it looks like the boys are almost through. I think I’d better go out there and be sure they get it into the back of the truck without mishap.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. They look like very handy boys,” Mrs. Murray said, assessing them thoroughly through critical eyes as they strained and shoved, rocked and maneuvered. “You know, I could use a little help around here from time to time.”

  Poor Mrs. Murray. She was a woman who had lost her husband and who was now striving to make sense of her world without him. It wasn’t that she was incapable of understanding about lawn care and home repairs and automobile upkeep. It was just that those things fell outside of her area of comfort. I could totally relate.

  A couple of forceful growls, a whoop, and a high five later, the boys had settled the armoire into place. Bungee cords and an old blanket protected the piece from moving too much as we rolled slowly through the streets, avoiding the areas where after-work traffic congregated. Finally we made it downtown and down the hill toward River Street

  , and I pulled to the curb in front of the store.

  “Whew!” Charlie stood up and clapped his hand against the side of the armoire. “I was a little scared going down that last hill, there. This puppy is tippy because it’s so tall.”

  The kids were in the process of hopping down, chattering animatedly among themselves, when a police cruiser pulled up behind us. My heart leapt as Tom got out of the cruiser and started walking toward me.

  “Maggie.” He nodded.

  I smiled at him. “What a surprise—I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon.”

  “I’m not here for pleasure. I have to ask you for your license and registration, Maggie.”

  “My—what?”

  “License and registration. Please.”

  Chapter 15

  He was wearing that no-nonsense, authoritative attitude that drove me crazy—and not in a good way. “Sure. Did I do something wrong…Officer?”

  The kids were watching with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment and cringing empathy. I sighed. “Why don’t you all go inside? Unless Deputy Fielding here is going to need you as witnesses.”

  Tom was busy writing down my driver’s license number and the pickup truck’s vehicle registration information, and he barely noticed. “No, that’s fine. I’ll come and get you if I need you.”

  “All right
, big guy, what’s going on?” I asked as soon as they’d disappeared behind the glass door. I wasn’t fooled, though—I knew they were there, their noses resting just behind the lacy sheers.

  “What’s this here in the back?”

  I turned my gaze to the left. “Lessee. Wood, heavy, carved. Looks like furniture to me.”

  “I see that. Maggie, did you know it’s a moving violation to transport people in the back of a pickup truck?”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip. “In my defense, I don’t usually drive a pickup truck, as you well know, and actually, we were just trying to transport the cabinet safely. Mrs. Murray wanted us to come and get it straightaway, which left us precious little time to plan, and…none of this makes a difference, does it.”

  “Unfortunately, no.” He scribbled some more. “You know what they say about ignorance of the law.”

  Crap.

  “I, uh, suppose you’re going to give me a ticket.”

  He leaned a hip against the truck. “I should. If the chief, or one of the other deputies, saw you trail through town, it would have been a done deal. Especially since we’re dealing with minors here.”

  “But you’re not going to?”

  He shrugged. “No harm, no foul. I’ll give you a verbal warning and leave it at that. But if you do it again…”

  “I won’t. Promise. I wouldn’t have this time, except we had no other choice.” I leaned against the truck, too. “You know, if you weren’t in uniform, I could kiss you right now.”

  A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, but he stared at the storefront across the street. “Trying to bribe or coerce an officer of the law, Miss O’Neill?”

  “No, sir. Not me. Tell you what, how about if I buy you a cup of coffee instead? I have an ‘in’ with the owner.”