Shaking my head, I looked over at the stacks of files on the table. I realized there wasn’t much I could do to make them any more orderly or more sensible. I grabbed a yellow notepad and scribbled some labels for the broad categories Crenshaw and I had identified. On the piles we hadn’t gotten to yet, I slapped on a sheet of paper and wrote Not Yet Reviewed. That done, I scurried on over to the workroom.
This time there were two other employees besides Zeke: a motherly looking woman and a heavyset young man who appeared to be about Zeke’s age. All three had swiveled their chairs to face one another, with their backs to their computers. When I entered they looked my way.
“Well, there she is,” said Zeke. “The prettiest lawyer in town.”
The older woman cast her eyes heavenward, then smiled at me and turned to her computer. The heavyset guy gave me a curious stare.
“Uh, good morning,” I said. “Any coffee left? Or shall I start another pot?”
Zeke stood up and strolled over to the table by the window, where he lifted the carafe and shook it. “Come and get it,” he said. When I joined him, his eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “How do you like it? Hot and sweet?”
I snorted. It was impossible to hide my amusement around this guy. “Just hot, please.”
He poured me a mug and held it out. As I reached for it, he pulled his hand back. “You know, I never got my dance with you at the ball. Every time I looked for you, you were dancing with a different guy. Was it something I said?”
I spread my palms wide. “What can I say? You snooze, you lose.”
“Ouch,” he said, handing me the mug. “You wound me.”
I smiled and lightly touched his arm. “On a more serious note, I’d like to extend my condolences to you and the rest of the staff. I’m sure this must be a really difficult time.”
“Thanks,” said Zeke, bowing his head. Then he turned to help himself to some coffee. I took a sip of mine and studied him. He didn’t appear to be overly distraught. Of course, he was new to the office, so he probably hadn’t had an opportunity to grow close to Edgar. On the other hand, if he was the blackmailer, he didn’t seem to be upset at the loss of his cash cow, either. Maybe Edgar had been wrong to suspect him after all.
Casually I sauntered down the aisle along the windows and pretended to look at the Christmas cards someone had displayed on top of the cabinets. As I did, I thought back to what Beverly had told Crenshaw and me in her office last week. If I recalled correctly, she had said Edgar had “a couple” of suspects in mind. Not just Zeke. Who else did he suspect?
I glanced over at the other two workers. The heavy guy was eating cookies from a gift box while scrolling through Facebook on his computer. The woman appeared to be typing a text message on her cell phone. Evidently, not much work was going to happen today.
Zeke came up behind me and lowered his voice. “These poor saps have no idea what’s in store,” he said, jerking a thumb toward his coworkers.
I widened my eyes. “What do you mean?”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you know Annabelle?”
I thought for a moment. “Annabelle Harrison? Edgar’s daughter?”
Zeke tipped his chin in a subtle nod. “Edgar’s younger daughter. Eighteen years old. Rumor has it he was gonna hand over control of this office to her if he won the election. And now? I guess it depends on what his will says.” He gave me a questioning look.
I smiled tightly. “My boss handled his will. I suppose we’ll all know soon enough.”
Zeke looked over his shoulder, then back at me. “Either way, things are going to get messy around here. Allison won’t give up the helm without a fight.”
“Allison? Are you saying she wants to run the office?”
“She practically does already. She just doesn’t have the title.”
I took a step back to regain a bit of my personal space. Apparently, Zeke just wanted to gossip, and I didn’t have time for that. “I’m sure it will all get worked out,” I said. “Beverly will make sure Edgar’s last wishes are honored.”
Zeke flashed a doubtful smile and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’m not gonna hang around and watch. I’ve got another job lined up.”
I looked at him in surprise. “You’re quitting already?”
“Soon.” He put his fingers to his lips and retreated to his cubicle.
Hmm. I wasn’t sure what to make of the information Zeke had shared, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. According to the wall clock, I had only twenty more minutes to spare before I had to head back for my appointment. Dang it.
Without any other ideas, I left the work area and wandered down the back hallway to use the restroom. Afterward, I passed the mailroom and noticed a stack of mail in a bin just inside the door. On a hunch, I ducked inside the room and pulled the door closed partway behind me.
Moving quickly, I thumbed through the envelopes and noted that they were postmarked late last week. I assumed last week’s shortage of staff was to blame for the undistributed mail. A lot of it was addressed to Edgar, but nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary—that is, until I came to a plain white envelope with no return address. Could it be?
I held the envelope up to the light. Nothing. Tapping the edge of the envelope on my palm, I argued with myself about what to do. It’s a federal offense to open someone else’s mail. However, this envelope could very well contain a letter from the blackmailer. And blackmail was a crime, too. No matter what Crenshaw said, I still thought our original assignment was worth pursuing.
The sound of a door opening down the hall made me flinch. That’s it, I thought. I’ll let Beverly decide. I hastily tucked the envelope in the waistband of my trousers under my blazer, and stood quietly behind the door. Peering between the hinges, I saw Allison walk by toward the restrooms. I waited a second, then slipped out and dashed back to the conference room, where I stashed the envelope in my purse. Then I pulled on my coat. I needed to get back to my own office and my real job. Until I could talk with Beverly, there wasn’t much more I could do here.
With a last wistful glance at the untouched files, I started to leave the conference room. That’s when my eye fell upon a turquoise bead on the table. Did I drop that? I did a quick scan of my simple jewelry and confirmed I wasn’t wearing any beads today. It certainly didn’t match Crenshaw’s style. Still, there was something familiar about the pretty, marble-sized piece. I snatched it up, tossed it in my purse, and sped out of the room—bumping smack-dab into Zeke.
“Oh, sorry!” I said.
He grinned and grabbed my arm for balance. “Guess I got my dance after all.”
I chuckled politely and made a move for the door to the lobby. “I have an appointment, so—”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I heard I might not be seeing you again. Allison told us another firm is taking over the audit.”
“Mm-hmm.” I didn’t feel the need to elaborate. I didn’t owe Zeke any explanations.
“So, I figured I better give you your Christmas card now.” He handed me a large red envelope.
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “That’s really sweet of you. Thank you.” I slipped the card in my purse and gave Zeke a more genuine smile than I had before. “Who knows?” I said. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
* * *
After my morning appointment, I thought about taking a break, but then my phone rang. And it pretty much didn’t stop ringing all day. Between work-related calls and all the friends and acquaintances who wanted my firsthand account of finding Edgar’s body, my day flew by like the flock of blackbirds outside my window.
It was dark when I finally left the office. Moonstone Treasures was already closed, so I called Mila and told her I’d stop by her house a bit later, after dinner. First, I headed to the gym for a quick workout. After sitting at my desk for so many hours, I wanted to get my blood pumping on the treadmill and shake off all the stress of the day.
The gym was only a few block
s from my office, so I decided to walk. Halfway there, I began to regret that decision. The temperature had plummeted throughout the afternoon, and the frigid wind stung my face. On top of that, the weather had driven everyone inside, leaving the streets dark and deserted. With my head down and my hands clutching the scarf at my face, I scuffled down the sidewalk as fast as I could without falling.
A sound behind me caught my ear. It was hard to make out through the whistling wind, but it might have been a footstep. For no good reason, my heart beat faster. I craned over my shoulder and peered into the misty gloom. There was no one there.
I continued onward, but a few seconds later, I heard it again—a shuffling, scraping noise. Before I could react, the nearest streetlight burned out, shrouding the path in darkness.
Chapter 9
With a tiny yelp, I whipped around to confront the source of the noise behind me. Again, the sidewalk was empty. Suddenly, a clatter echoed from the adjacent alleyway. Utterly spooked, I took off running—and sliding—the rest of the way to the fitness center.
Who needed a treadmill to increase blood flow? My own jumpy nerves could do the trick.
By the time I changed and joined the other exercisers in the brightly lit gym, I was able to laugh away my jitters. I spent the next forty minutes on the aerobic machines, and another ten minutes of gentle floor stretches. Then I showered and changed into the clean jeans and sweatshirt I kept in my assigned locker, and hit the center’s café for a post-workout protein smoothie. As I sipped the thick, filling shake, I texted Wes and Farrah, making plans to see each of them the following day.
It was nearly 8:30 when I finally left the fitness center. The weather outside hadn’t improved. I shivered at the prospect of another dark, lonely walk all the way back to the parking lot near my office building. Recalling Edgar’s driver, I realized it really would be nice to have a car service at my disposal. Not having that option now, I bundled up and took the long, but more-traveled, way back. When I reached my car, I drove straight to Mila’s house.
Mila and her husband owned a charming redbrick bungalow in an established subdivision on the edge of town. As I made my way up the shoveled path to their front porch, I admired their Yuletide décor. Twinkling lights in the trees reflected in a series of red gazing balls in the front yard, while wreaths of holly and pine brightened the front door. Mila came out to meet me and ushered me inside.
“Come on into the kitchen,” she said. “I just took a loaf of banana bread out of the oven. And don’t worry—it’s vegan.”
I kicked off my shoes on the doormat and followed Mila into her spacious, country-style kitchen. Her plush gray cat, Drishti, sauntered into the room and rubbed up against my legs. I was fond of the friendly kitty, especially after our shared adventure in the Edindale tunnels last winter. I reached down and petted her smooth fur before tossing my coat over a chair.
“It smells marvelous in here,” I said, taking a seat at the square wooden table.
“I’ll slice the banana bread as soon as it cools off a bit. In the meantime, have some fruit salad. Alex made it earlier tonight.”
“I would love some. I actually didn’t have much of a dinner,” I admitted.
“I figured as much.” Mila smiled, and set a bowl and fork in front of me, as well as a cup of hot herbal tea.
“Where is Alex?” I asked.
“Getting ready for bed. He’s on the renovation crew for the old civic center, so he was up at the crack of dawn today and will be again tomorrow.”
I put down my fork. “I shouldn’t have come over so late. I won’t stay.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Mila, sitting down across from me. “It’s not that late and, anyway, Alex always goes to bed before I do. You relax and tell me what’s going on in your life.”
We chatted for a while as I polished off my bowl of fruit. Then she sliced the banana bread, and I helped myself to a generous piece. While we talked, Mila absently played with an assortment of smooth flat stones that were lying on the table.
“Are those runes?” I asked.
“They are,” she affirmed. “I’m brushing up on the symbols for a client of mine.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn rune symbology, but I’m not sure I have the patience. It seems like something you’d have to study for years to become really adept at them.”
Mila smiled. “You and I are a lot alike. The Goddess usually speaks to me in visual images, so I’m most comfortable with tarot cards. I also like palm reading, because of the personal contact. Of course, palmistry employs your sense of vision as well as touch.”
I considered my own experiences communicating with the Divine. “You’re right. I do tend to receive messages from the Universe most often through imagery, especially dreams and visions. Although, sometimes I hear them, too, through random songs on the radio or directly from another person—like the messages you delivered to me on Friday.”
“Ah, yes,” said Mila. “That was an interesting vision. I don’t often receive messages for other people when I’m not directly working with them, but I saw you so clearly. Then again, my intention was to be of service, so hopefully I was.”
“Hmm. The Universe does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?” I took a sip of tea and thought about a question I had been wanting to ask. “Mila, those two messages, about the visitor and the death, were they connected? Was Edgar’s death connected to the visitor from my past? To Mick MacIntyre?”
Mila furrowed her brow. “Not necessarily. Or . . . maybe. But the connection may not be direct.”
I must have looked confused, because Mila gave me an apologetic smile. “I don’t mean to be vague. What I mean is that the two events may not necessarily be connected to each other, but they are both connected to you. You are the common denominator.”
“Oh. I suppose that’s true, in a way. If I hadn’t been going to meet Mick that night, I wouldn’t have been the one to find Edgar’s body.”
“Precisely.”
I reached for a second piece of banana bread. “I guess I was meant to find him,” I mused. “And now I have this sense of responsibility . . . or, at least, curiosity. I want to know why he fell, and why he was even there. That’s why I want to talk to his driver. Other than Edgar’s wife, whom I wouldn’t dream of questioning, the driver was probably one of the last people to see him alive.”
“Do you think so?”
“Well, I know he drove Edgar home, because Farrah saw Edgar get into the car. I also think there’s a good possibility the driver brought him back to the hotel later that same night. The only problem is, I’m not so sure he’ll be forthcoming with me.”
Mila stood up and retrieved something from the counter. When she placed it on the table in front of me, I saw that it was a clear glass vial with a stopper made of cork. It was filled to the brim with a cloudy amber liquid. “Here’s the ‘truth serum’ you ordered. A couple of drops ought to loosen your driver’s lips.” Mila chuckled at her own joke, but I was beginning to feel a little nervous.
“What exactly is in this, Mila? And do I need to drink it, too? You know, to open the lines of communication between myself and . . . my subject?”
“Well, it won’t harm you, but I wouldn’t drink it unless you’re with someone you trust. Otherwise, you might wind up revealing secrets you didn’t plan on telling.”
I lifted the vial and held it up to the light. “Um. There’s not actually a narcotic in here, is there?”
“Heavens, no. It’s only stinging nettle, powdered caraway, and vanilla. Besides, it won’t work until you say a spell over it. I can give you some suggestions, but your own intention will be the key.”
“Got it,” I said, breathing a little easier.
“Now then, can you arrange to have tea with this driver fellow?”
“Tea? I don’t know about that. Will alcohol work?”
Mila smiled. “It depends on the person. For many people, chamomile tea is the most relaxing beverage. For others, a
nice wine or even a cold beer will do the trick.”
Trick is an interesting word choice, I thought sardonically. The question was, could I pull it off?
* * *
The next morning I woke up bright and early, threw on a coat, and headed out to my backyard to fill the bird feeders and greet the morning sun. Today was the winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. For Wiccans, it was also known as Yule. According to the old mythologies, the sun had completed its cycle and would be born of the Goddess once again after the longest night. Ultimately, this was a day of hope and comfort. As cold and dark as the season might seem, this day marked a turning point. Little by little, the sun’s rays would lengthen every day, and the warmth would return. After death, there is rebirth.
Contemplating these truths, I took a handful of birdseed and walked slowly around the fir tree near my dormant garden. As I scattered the seeds on the snow-covered ground, I murmured a chant under my breath:
After circling the tree three times, I became aware of the sounds of my neighborhood waking up. A door slammed after someone had retrieved the newspaper. Down the block, someone’s ride honked impatiently on the street. And from the St. Johns’ yard, I heard Chompy tear out of his doggy door, yipping ferociously at a squirrel. I took this as my cue to go inside. My fingers and toes had begun to feel numb anyway, so I went in and prepared a nourishing bowl of oatmeal with walnuts, flax, and raisins. As I was getting ready for work, my doorbell rang. It was Mila.
Before I left her home the night before, Mila had mentioned she was in a bit of a bind. Her sister-in-law was coming to visit and the woman suffered from terrible allergies. Being the sweetheart that she was, Mila decided to find a cat sitter for Drishti. However, her usual helpers were either out of town or busy with company of their own, and her assistant, Catrina, lived in a strict pet-free apartment. The minute I heard about Mila’s predicament, I volunteered to host Drishti. I thought it might be nice to have a pet around the house, at least for a couple of days.
“Good morning!” Mila said, as I let her inside. She set down a pet crate, then hurried back to her car for a box full of supplies: cat food, water dish, toys, litter box, and a scratching post. “Drishti isn’t a terrible scratcher,” she said, unpacking the bag, “but she’s wearing temporary nail caps to be on the safe side.”
Yuletide Homicide Page 7
