I smiled. “You’re incorrigible. You still have to tell me about your evening with Tucker, by the way. But first, before I forget, how did Edgar look when you saw him leaving the hotel? And did he leave alone?”
Farrah scrunched her brow in thought. “He was alone. I saw his wife board a wheelchair van earlier, when we left for the nightclub. As for how he looked? I’d say he looked like someone who had stayed until the end of a party. I guess he was sort of disheveled and red in the face.” She shrugged. “I didn’t exactly study him.”
I chewed my popcorn thoughtfully, overlooking the fact that the last several pieces I’d grabbed had ended up in my mouth instead of on the thread. I was still thinking about Edgar. “So, if he did have his driver bring him back to the hotel an hour or so later, the driver might know why he came back.”
“Yeah, maybe,” said Farrah, reaching over to help herself to some popcorn. “But what does it matter anyway?” She made a face. “This popcorn needs salt.”
I leaned over to grab my purse from where I’d left it on the floor. “You know me,” I said, in response to Farrah’s question. “I like to have answers. Plus, I was the one to find him. Maybe I need closure.”
Farrah watched me curiously as I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. “I’m going to call Edgar’s assistant,” I told her.
Allison picked up on the first ring. After expressing my condolences, I asked her if Harrison Properties would be closed for a few days.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “We still have a business to run. We’ll probably just close on Thursday for the funeral. And maybe we’ll close early on Wednesday for the visitation.” She told me the name of the funeral home, which I jotted down. Then I cleared my throat and prepared to employ one of the oldest tricks in the book: act like you already have more information than you really do.
“I feel so bad for Edgar’s family,” I said. “There were so many unanswered questions last night. Do you know if Edgar’s driver was able to at least tell them why Edgar went back to the hotel?”
“I spoke with Bob myself,” she said without hesitation. “He said Edgar didn’t call him for a ride last night. Bob didn’t bring him back to the hotel. Edgar must have driven himself.”
“Oh,” I said. “You don’t think Edgar called a cab?”
“No. Edindale cabs won’t usually drive that far out of town, especially in the middle of the night. Anyway, Edgar’s BMW is still in the hotel lot. It will probably remain there for a while, until Gretta decides what to do with it.”
I repeated my sympathies and ended the call. When I relayed our conversation, Farrah had one word to say: “Baloney.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean baloney. Edgar didn’t drive his BMW back to the hotel, because his car was already there in the parking lot. Tucker and I walked right past it on our way to his truck. I even pointed it out and asked Tucker if he would ever drive something so luxurious. He drives a Ford pickup, so, of course, he just laughed. A deep, throaty, toe-tingling laugh, I might add.”
I rolled my eyes. “You really must tell me everything about your date with Cowboy Tuck. But . . . this is so strange. If Edgar’s BMW never left the parking lot, then he either drove something else from the ranch, or someone else picked him up. Both scenarios seem unlikely. If Edgar had another vehicle, you’d think Allison would have seen it in the parking lot. And—”
“There is another possibility,” said Farrah. “Maybe his driver—”
“Lied.” I finished her sentence, grabbed my phone, and hit REDIAL. When Allison answered, I spoke carefully. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but I have a quick question. Could you give me Bob’s phone number? It occurred to me that he’s out of a job now, and I might be able to throw some work his way.” I crossed my fingers and silently vowed to find a way to turn my fib into the truth.
After a moment’s silence, Allison told me to hold on. A few minutes later, she came back with the number. When I hung up, Farrah handed me one end of the cranberry garland she had just tied off. “Help me with this,” she said. “And while you’re at it, explain to me why the driver would lie . . . and why we care.”
We walked around her Christmas tree, a nice, fat white pine, and draped the garland from the top to the bottom. I decided to answer Farrah’s first question and stall on the second. “Maybe he felt guilty about driving Edgar to the scene of his death,” I suggested. “Maybe Edgar was in no condition to leave the house again, and the driver felt bad?”
“If that’s the case, how are you going to get him to tell you anything different?”
“I have my ways.”
Farrah froze, her eyes wide. “Wiccan ways? Are you going to cast a spell on him? Can I watch?”
I laughed. “I’ve told you before, we don’t cast spells on other people. Usually. However, I might just cast a teeny tiny spell on myself, to help me be more persuasive. And, you know, give me confidence.”
“Oh,” Farrah said, “that’s not as fun,” before she threw some popcorn at me.
Chapter 7
Monday morning, I left home extra early so I would have time to stop at Moonstone Treasures before work. I liked to visit the occult gift shop before Mila opened to the public, and thus avoid being seen by anyone who might recognize me. As clean and charming as the shop was, some of my more old-fashioned clients would definitely raise an eyebrow to find out their lawyer frequented the place.
Leaving my car in the municipal lot, I cut through the alley in back of the shop and tapped on the steel door. It swung open even before I lowered my arm.
“Good morning,” Mila sang out. “I’ve been expecting you.”
I followed her inside, through a storage room lined with boxes of inventory, and into Mila’s exotically adorned divination parlor. A teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of cookies sat in the center of the cloth-covered round table. Mila waved me toward one of the chairs and poured me a cup of tea.
“How are you, Mila?” I didn’t bother asking how she knew I’d be stopping by this morning. It could have been her intuition, or a premonition, or perhaps just an educated guess based on the news of Edgar’s death. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was I was grateful to be having tea with a sympathetic friend.
“I’m fantastic,” she said. “I just completed my year-end accounting, and I’m happy to say we made up for all the lost days and bad publicity at the beginning of the year. We are firmly, happily, in the black—which, as you know, is a great color to represent a reversal in fortunes.”
I smiled and took a sip of tea. “I’m happy to hear it.”
Ten months ago, around the February holiday, Candlemas, Mila had almost lost her business when vandals repeatedly broke in and left threatening notes. Recalling the anonymous notes reminded me of the blackmail threats Edgar had received. I wondered if there was a way I could seek Mila’s counsel about that mystery without breeching my confidentiality obligation.
Before I could pursue the matter, Mila leaned forward and took my hand. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said.
Uh-oh. Not again.
The alarm must have shown in my face, because Mila’s expression took on a note of concern. She peered at me closely. “What’s the matter? Have you had a premonition?”
I laughed. “Not me. It’s your premonitions that have me worried. Those two messages you gave me Friday morning came to pass already. In less than forty-eight hours!”
“Oh, that,” said Mila, relaxing. “I’d love to hear how Mercury’s communications helped you, if you don’t mind sharing. But that’s not the kind of news I have now.”
“News?”
“Yes.” She withdrew her hand and clapped her palms together as she bit back a smile. “I’ve decided to take the next step in my spiritual evolution,” she said.
“You have?”
She nodded. “For some time now, the other members of Magic Circle have been pressing me to step up and become Hi
gh Priestess of our coven. I’ve resisted, preferring to maintain our group as a collective without a single leader. Then, a couple months ago, something shifted. I felt the winds of change and noticed signs cropping up everywhere I looked. The Goddess is calling me to enter into a new role.”
I smiled. “Then you have to answer.” I had received signs and omens myself over the years. I knew it was futile to ignore them—they would only grow bigger and more persistent.
“And so I have,” she said. “My initiation is scheduled for New Year’s Eve. I would be honored if you would attend.”
“Oh! Gosh. Wow.” I hadn’t seen that coming. For as long as I had known Mila, I had politely declined all her offers to attend rituals and meetings with her coven. Mine was a private religious practice, and I liked to keep it that way. Swigging my tea, I tried to think of a plausible excuse without appearing so flustered.
Mila smiled kindly and sipped her own tea. “Think about it,” she said. “You wouldn’t be committing to anything if you attend. We won’t make you sign a blood oath and pledge your undying allegiance to our cause.”
I chuckled softly and looked down at my hands.
“An-d,” said Mila, drawing out the word until I looked up. “I won’t be offended if you don’t come. Nor will I be offended if you don’t come to our Yule celebration tomorrow night. You know you have a standing invitation.”
“I know. And thank you for that,” I said. “Speaking of Yule, that’s one of the reasons I stopped by. I was thinking of treating myself to a new ceremonial robe. Something for indoors.”
“Ooh, I’ve got just the thing. Let me show you what we have.” Mila hopped up and disappeared through the gauzy purple curtain that separated her divination parlor from the main shop. I followed her, and we climbed upstairs to the second-floor clothing section. We passed several racks filled with colorful arrays of blouses and skirts, dresses and trousers, until we reached the back wall, which featured a wide variety of robes, cloaks, and capes. Some were dramatic, such as the full-length hooded capes with cascading folds of velvet. And some were simpler, made from cotton or wool. Mila selected an elegant white gown with a matching satin-lined cloak and held them out for me to see.
“Lovely,” I said, touching the soft, loose sleeves.
“With the plain, unadorned neckline, you can change the look by wearing different necklaces. You can also add different colored belts, if you’d like, to suit the occasion.”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “I’ll take it.”
Back downstairs, as Mila boxed my package behind the counter, I browsed the shelves of herbs and tonics. “If you’re looking for Yule plants,” Mila called, “they’re over here. I’ve got fresh juniper berries, bayberries, and holly berries.”
I joined her at the cash register. “Actually, I’m looking for something else. Something to help draw out the truth from someone who might be inclined to lie.”
Mila looked up from the shopping bag she had just opened. “Someone is lying to you?”
“Not yet. I plan on asking someone a question, and I’d like to do whatever I can to encourage a truthful answer.”
“Hmm. Is this related to your law practice?”
“No, but . . .” I trailed off, uncertain how to explain what I was up to. I wasn’t even sure how to rationalize it to myself. It was just a feeling I had that there was more to Edgar’s death than a drunken accident.
“Say no more,” said Mila. “I do have something, only it’s not on the shelves. I’ll have to mix it up in the back room. Can you come back later?”
A rap on the front door drew our attention. “Oh, gosh, it’s time for you to open,” I said. “I’ll come back this evening, if that’s okay.”
“That would be fine,” she said. “I’ll have it ready by closing time. If you don’t make it, then I’ll take it home and you can stop by my house tonight.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Mila.” I gave her cash for my purchase and slipped out the back.
* * *
The law office buzzed with talk of Edgar’s untimely death. Half of my colleagues hadn’t even made it past the lobby. They gathered around the reception desk reading the online version of the Edindale Gazette over Julie’s shoulder. As soon as I joined them, all eyes turned to me.
“Oh, Keli! You poor thing,” said Pammy. “We heard you were the first on the scene after Edgar fell.”
“That must have been awful,” said Julie. “Isn’t this, like, the second time you’ve found a dead body this year?”
“Yeah. Lucky me,” I said. “Wait. The newspaper didn’t say that, did it?”
Kris Rafferty, one of the firm’s partners, patted my shoulder and shook her silky bobbed hair. “No, the paper didn’t mention you. Beverly called me yesterday and filled me in. How are you holding up?”
“It was quite a shock, but I’m okay.” I looked around. “Is Beverly in yet?”
Before anyone could answer, the office door opened and Crenshaw entered with the firm’s third partner, Randall Sykes. They had been laughing about something, but they each sobered quickly when they saw me. Randall gave me an arch look. “Hey there, Keli. Are we going to have to start calling you the Grim Reaper?”
Pammy gasped. “Randall! That’s not nice.”
I pursed my lips. “Please don’t,” I said to Randall.
“Aw, I’m just kidding,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about your experience.”
Crenshaw gazed at me in an uncharacteristic silence. I stared back, then said, “Um. Did you make that appointment with Beverly? So we can discuss our special assignment?”
“Oh,” said Kris. “I was about to tell you. Beverly isn’t coming in to the office today.”
“I know,” said Crenshaw. “I spoke with her, too.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, I think Crenshaw and I should go on over to Harrison Properties then, and work on—”
“Ms. Milanni,” Crenshaw interrupted. “May I have a word with you in my office?”
I frowned at him. Why did he always have to act like he was my superior? “Sure, Mr. Davenport. Just as soon as I check my messages.” I brushed past him and headed to my office. As I opened the door, I saw him come down the hall after me.
“Sorry,” he said contritely. “I didn’t mean to sound so rude.”
“Thank you,” I said. “So, what’s the big deal? Don’t you agree we still have a job to do at Harrison Properties? I already spoke with Allison, and she told me they’ll be open today.”
Crenshaw gently pushed me into my office and closed the door behind us. “Actually, no. I don’t agree. With Edgar’s tragic demise, I think it’s safe to say he will no longer be receiving any demands for hush money.”
“But, what about—”
“As for the audit, I’ve already contacted a commercial lawyer I know at another firm. We often make referrals to each other. He agreed to take the job for the same fee Edgar planned to pay us.”
“I see.” I bristled at Crenshaw’s taking the lead without at least consulting me. “Don’t you think that should be Beverly’s decision?”
Crenshaw glanced away. His eyes fell absently upon the row of crystals I had arranged on my desk in front of the window. He looked back at me with a somber expression. “Beverly’s in no condition to make decisions right now. She’s still quite upset at the loss of her friend.”
“Understandably,” I said. “All the more reason why we shouldn’t make any hasty decisions right now.”
He crossed his arms and gave me a dour look.
I hitched my purse onto my shoulder. “I mean, I agree with you about passing on the audit to another firm. But don’t you think we should still look into the matter of the blackmail threats? That was our real job.”
Crenshaw shook his head. “Unless someone else receives a blackmail letter, we have no client.”
I sighed. This man might be the most stubborn person I knew. “Fine. But I’m going back to Edgar’s office one last time. I’ll stra
ighten up the files we left and write a note for the new attorney.”
Crenshaw hesitated, then acquiesced. “Very well. I don’t think it’s necessary, but if it makes you feel better, then by all means.”
Now that I knew this might be my last time at Harrison Properties, I was anxious to get over there. I locked up my office and returned to the lobby. As I passed by the reception desk, Julie stopped me.
“Keli, are you leaving? I thought you’d be in the office today.”
“I’ll be back later. Why?”
“Didn’t you check your e-mail? I made an appointment for you at ten-thirty. A couple wants to come in and update their will. They called this morning and requested you specifically. I thought your calendar was free. Did I mess up?”
“No. That’s okay.” I checked the time. It was just past 9:30. “I’ll be back by then.”
Before anyone else could stop me, I hurried out of the office. I had less than an hour to get to Harrison Properties, find some answers, and get back to the law firm.
If only I knew what I was looking for.
Chapter 8
The atmosphere at Harrison Properties was heavy and subdued. When I entered the lobby, I saw that the receptionist was speaking quietly on the telephone, so I used my cell phone to call Allison. She came out shortly and led me to the conference room.
“You’re on your own today?” she asked.
“Yes, and I won’t be here long.” I explained about the new attorney taking over. I wondered if she would think it was odd that we were handing over the project to a different firm.
She clenched her jaw. “Well, let’s hope the auditor finds everything in order. Because it sure won’t be for long.” With that, she stormed out of the room.
I stared after her, perplexed. Well, that wasn’t the reaction I expected.
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