by Sarah Kelly
“That will be the Jamaican,” she said, getting up.
“Good ting, mon,” Xavier said.
She looked back with a withering glance. “Don’t embarrass yourself, babe.”
“Hey!” he said. “My granddad is Jamaican.”
“Then you don’t visit him enough,” she said with a giggle, then opened the door to the delivery man. “Ah, thanks so much.”
“Let me get that,” Xavier said, rushing up with some bills.
“Generous tip,” the delivery man with a smile. “Thanks.”
Xavier and India took one bag each. “You’re welcome,” Xavier said.
Soon they had their Jamaican feast laid out on the coffee table. They piled up their plates with rice and black eyed peas, India’s favorite, plus spicy chicken wings, a whole load of complimentary salad and grilled vegetables, and even a creamy chickpea curry that was thrown in.
“Wow, they’ve really gone to town on us,” India said.
“I know!” Xavier said, delighted, taking up a spoon of chicken and chickpeas and rice. “Do you think they sensed we had a sucky day and did it specially? Woo, spooky!”
In the past, India would have given him a playful slap and told him to stop being so ridiculous, but somehow she couldn’t rule that out. She was slowly discovering there was a world beyond the normal senses, and that there were techniques and strategies you could use, not to manipulate it exactly, but to have it work in your favor. All you had to do was tap into them. That was what magic truly was. Spells were nothing more than that – tapping into an invisible reality and saying or doing the right things to align yourself with it.
Having said that, it was much harder than it sounded. Luis himself could conjure just about anything he wanted to at will – at one of their secret meetings, he even made an elephant appear out of thin air, and just as quickly, made it disappear again. He had taught her how to master the art of conjuring clothes, just because she thought it was cool, but the rest of the magic had been more psychological. Psychosorcery, he’d told her it was called. She’d found just the clue she needed in the last case by using an influencing charm that turned an aggressor into an ally, and also knew how to lift people’s spirits in the blink of an eye, and to make someone who was skeptical believe her.
“But watch out,” Luis had said. “If you make someone believe a lie, you’ll pay for it later, unless it’s for the greater good. If you use any magic to harm someone else, there’s always a price for it. A hefty price.”
“Like what?” India had asked, not that she had any intention of doing so.
“Brace yourself, mami,” Luis had warned, then had lifted up his lilac silk shirt. A huge scar ran across his abdomen, like someone had made a deep slash with a blade. “Don’t ask,” he had said, his eyebrows raised. “Just don’t do it.”
“You’ve gone quiet,” Xavier said, biting into his saltfish fritter. “Something on your mind?”
Oh, man. It tore her apart not being able to share her secret with him. “Nah, just thinking about the case. Do you really think it was those two boys?”
Xavier shrugged. “Time will tell, I guess. You have any bread? I feel like a jerk chicken sandwich.”
India grinned. “You look like a jerk chicken sandwich.”
***
India was getting pins and needles in her leg. She hadn’t even touched her Miss Marple – the dogeared book remained in her crossover bag, as her mind mulled over the current situation. She hesitated to call it a case, because then it really sounded like she’d taken it on. But then… she couldn’t help her brain whirring, thinking of all the possibilities.
She slipped down from her lifeguard post to give her leg a rest. It was 6.30am, as she was on an early shift, and the light still had a pinkish tinge. The breeze was refreshingly cool, but the water was warm up to her ankles as she walked along the shoreline, stretching her legs and arms as she went. It was the smell she loved best at that time of morning, somehow more intense than at any other time of the day – the scent of sea and sand and fresh air, streaming past her face and through her hair on the gentle wind.
She chanced to turn, and saw Will Tremblay walk toward her. He looked truly awful, his face a picture of anguish, his clothes rumpled and unkempt, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He had his head to the ground, and kept rubbing his eyes. She wondered if he was crying. Eventually he looked up, and froze when he saw her. He then turned away and made back for the complex. It struck India that the previous evening should have been his wedding night. The best night of his life. Instead, it had turned out to be a nightmare.
But then he stopped again, and turned back toward the shore with a resigned look. He took long, meandering steps toward where India stood.
“Hello,” he said.
“Good…” India replied, then realized how wrong it was to wish him good anything after what had happened. “Hello.”
He looked even worse up close, with huge dark circles under his eyes, and an unshaven face. But what was worse was the complete look of deadness in his eyes. It made India shiver. Were those the eyes of someone pushed to the brink by tragedy? Or the eyes of a killer?
India didn’t know what to say. The only sound for a while was the gentle rush of the waves.
Will tentatively approached the water, and then walked in. “You were there, weren’t you? At the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Do you suspect me?”
Wow. What a question. “No,” India said. “You were at the beach when she… when it happened. But why?”
He kicked up water with his toes, agitated. “Everyone will, won’t they? I spoke to the murderers yesterday, and I’m the one who would get money out of it. I don’t want you to think I did it. I didn’t.”
“You sound pretty honest to me,” India said. “That’s not usually the top quality of a man who got his wife… well…”
“Murdered,” he said. “There’s no use skirting round the issue. She was murdered. Shot in the head. And if I’d reported those boys, like my mind told me to, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I knew they looked suspicious, that’s why I went up to question them in the first place.” He looked like he was just managing to hold it all together.
“No,” India said quickly. “It might have happened anyway, some other time. You cannot blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.”
He looked at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. “You’re not saying that just to make me feel better, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” India said. In truth, she had felt a pang of guilt about not reporting the boys, too. But there was no way of them knowing, she soothed herself. They weren’t psychic. She made a mental note to ask Luis if that was a skill witches could develop.
The answer came back right away. Some, but it takes years of practice. I’ve been in this thing twenty years, and I can just about guess whether my cat will jump on the couch or the table. Beyond that, the future’s a mystery to me, girl.
“You weren’t to know,” India said. Her feet were beginning to get cold, and she stepped up on the shore. “Who do you think those boys were?”
“I have no idea,” he said. He began to shake his head, over and over. “I don’t know if they’re to do with the threats, or what. Or… maybe someone else.”
“Like who?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over to the left. “I said I don’t know.” There was more stress in his voice.
India knew instantly he was hiding something.
He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. “I don’t want to say this, but maybe Cecelia has something to do with it.”
India began to pace forward and backward along the shore. It helped her process her thoughts when her brain couldn’t stop buzzing. “Why do you say that?”
Will blinked. “You’ve never seen the show? They had a big fight. That’s why Aleister canceled it.”
“I thought it was canceled because of the threats.”
/> “No, no,” Will said impatiently. “Anyhow, Cecelia and Katriane have always hated each other, but Cecelia’s the one who initiated it. Katriane only ever acted in self-defense.”
“Why did Cecelia hate her so much?”
“Jealousy,” he said, crinkling up his nose. “Katriane’s sensitive. She always has been, ever since she was a little girl. Any little thing would make her jump, or cry, or be scared. So she needed a lot of looking after as a child.”
And as an adult, no doubt, India thought. “And Cecelia got neglected?”
“No,” Will said strongly. “She was more resilient and independent. She didn’t need as much attention. When their mother died, Cecelia became like the mother to the whole family.”
“Oh,” India said, beginning to feel compassion for the model who had been so rude to her. “How old was she?”
“Katriane was five.” Will shook his head. “I don’t know how old Cecelia was. Cecelia was jealous of my princess, ever since then, and it’s never stopped. And Katriane’s done nothing to provoke it. She can’t help being sensitive. That’s just how God made her.”
India nodded, though it sounded to her like ‘princess’ Katriane had everyone exactly where she wanted them.
“Cecelia was so jealous that Katriane had found true love,” Will said. “Now not only was she adored by her father, but by me, too. But, I mean, how could you not adore Katriane? She was… she just drew me to her like a magnet.”
India nodded. “She wanted a savior-type man, didn’t she? Someone to protect her, and take care of her?”
“Yes,” he said, looking happy at first, but then his face crumpled. “And I failed her. I failed her. I failed her so bad. I’m sorry, Katriane. I’m so sorry.” His shoulders began to shake. India’s first instinct was to go over and comfort him, but she stopped herself. He looked like the kind of guy who preferred to fix things alone. And sure enough, in a couple of seconds, his head was back up and he was looking stoic again. “I’m determined the make the best of all of this,” he said. “Katriane and I started a charitable trust for children together, but it was all her idea. She wanted to give inner city children access to good quality, hopeful books that will help them imagine a brighter future. I will work the rest of my life for it.”
“That sounds like a good cause,” India said.
Will nodded, with a renewed strength. “I will continue her legacy. I’ll funnel all of the money into that.”
All of the money? India immediately wanted to ask how much, but that was too uncouth.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, a new light in his eyes. “I’m going to go make plans. I want to make Katriane proud.”
“Sure,” India said.
He gave her a small wave, then ran back up to the complex.
India climbed back up to her post and watched him. Even though he seemed to be telling the truth, there was something off about him. She couldn’t put her finger on what exactly, but she made up her mind to do some digging. Maybe she could accidentally on purpose bump into someone who could tell her more…
In the meantime, she had nothing to but sit on top of her post and think. First she thought about Cecelia. Though there was certainly a motive, India still thought the motive didn’t match the murder. If Cecelia killed out of hate, she’d have snapped during an argument and strangled her to death, not sent in some boys to shoot her with a silencer, surely? Though maybe she could have, if there was a concrete reason for wanting Katriane out of the way. Money, perhaps? Even attention from their father?
But it wasn’t Cecelia she’d spied talking to the boys – it was Will, and Harry. Maybe one of them had recruited the boys to kill Katriane and make it look like a robbery. Will could have done it for money, but why would Harry have done it? They could have been secret lovers, India thought. Or maybe Harry wasn’t involved at all.
The thing was, everything seemed to come back to these threats the family had been getting. Why were they being threatened? If it was for money, then surely they’d have kidnapped Katriane, rather than killed her? Or maybe it was an attempted kidnapping, gone wrong.
Then a scary thought flashed through her mind. Maybe the people who sent the threatening notes came to kill Katriane. Next, they’d get in touch with Aleister and force him to empty his accounts for them, otherwise Cecelia will be killed, too. Perhaps Katriane was murdered to show him just how much they meant business. Maybe they’d already demanded money, and he’d refused, leading to Katriane’s death? After all, he hated to give money away.
That was the next thing, India decided. She needed to speak to Aleister about the threats. And fast.
CHAPTER 5
India had finished her shift by lunchtime, and climbed down from her post, out of the shade into the blazing sun. Thankfully I brought this, she thought, delving into her bag and coming back up with a chocolate granola bar. Her stomach was growling but she guessed it would be an hour or two before she returned home. At least she hoped it would be. There was still plenty of digging to do.
Now, where to find Aleister?
He was probably in the complex somewhere. It was so difficult to imagine what one would do after a close family member was murdered. How could you do anything, really? Even eating would seem strange. Your thoughts would be so tortured maybe it would be impossible to sleep. Perhaps you’d cry, or perhaps you’d be too numb to.
India jogged over the hot sand to the complex, passing Brett, who had come to take up her post. They high-fived each other in an ironic way.
“Enjoy your dazzlingly exciting shift,” she said.
He grinned. “I’ll try not to crack under all the intense pressure, of the gentle waves lapping in and out, and absolutely nothing happening.”
“You should read books,” India said. “It passes the time.”
He shrugged. “Meh.”
Then India carried on to the complex, trying to prepare herself. She needed the right attitude – sympathetic enough not to offend anyone, but bold enough to ask the right questions. If Aleister could give her more information on the threats, she’d feel a lot less in the dark.
When she got to the parking lot, an electric blue convertible swung in, crunching on the gravel. “What the…” India said under her breath. It was Cecelia, huge glasses again covering her slender, delicate face, making her look like a stick insect. The convertible, which had a rental plate, was full to the brim with expensive looking shopping bags.
Cecelia brought the car to a stop and got out, her bright fuchsia maxi dress almost blinding in the sunlight. “What are you staring at?”
“Wow,” India said, trying not to feel intimidated by the woman’s height, hostility, and fierce beauty. “You’ve sure done a lot of shopping today, looks like.”
“And…?” Cecelia began to gather up the bags and slide them along her arms.
India realized this might be Cecelia’s own unorthodox way of grieving, but the woman seemed to have so little emotion. “But… you realize how this looks, surely?”
“It looks fabulous,” Cecelia said. “I look fabulous. That’s what Katriane would have wanted.”
It was only then that India noticed a slight dip in her voice. Not a slur, like alcohol would give, but something else. Drugs, perhaps? Or just grief she was trying to hide under her veneer of nonchalance?
Cecelia was struggling to fit all the bags on her arm, but it didn’t look like she wanted to make two trips. India seized her chance. “Can I help you with those?”
Cecelia’s gaze snapped over to her, and she looked her up and down. “All right,” she said. “But don’t touch anything.”
India smiled. “Just the handle.”
On the way to Cecelia’s Creole cottage, India braced herself to be shouted at, and perhaps slapped with designer shopping totes, then asked, “You were jealous of Katriane, weren’t you? That’s why you ran out of the wedding, crying.”
Cecelia snorted. “Why should I be jealous of her?”
“O
h, well, I don’t know. She’s the pampered princess. You’re expected to fall into line. That would piss anyone off.”
“No, no, no,” Cecelia said, then stopped on the path and pushed her glasses up onto her head. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot. “You think you see us on TV and have everything figured out? They edit that footage within an inch of its life, and they tell us to do stuff on the show. That’s why my father canceled it.”
“So you’re not jealous? That’s something the network wanted to push?”
“Now you understand,” Cecelia said, returning her shades to her eyes, and collecting herself back into her cool demeanor. “It was Katriane who was jealous of me. I am much better looking, and tall enough to have a model career, which she’d always wanted. In my job, I’m in Dubai one day, Hong Kong the next, Hawaii after that. Anyone would love my life.”
Not me, India thought. She was the kind who liked to put down roots.
“So why did you run out of her wedding?” India said.
Cecelia looked down the pink bougainvillea walkway back to the parking lot. “I didn’t want to say anything, but since that bastard isn’t here, I will. I was crying because my sister was getting married to the low down filthy slimeball pig that is Will Tremblay, okay?”
She then stalked on toward the Peach Coral cottage, leaving India to hurry behind. “Why’s he a pig?”
“Not my business to tell,” Cecelia said, fishing for a key in the pocket of her maxi dress. “And what’s it to you?”
“Well, I’m trying to help out,” said India. “You know the music star Onyx who was murdered?”
“Of course.”
“I… well, I kinda solved it,” India said in a modest tone. “And now, since I’m right here in the middle of things, I just don’t seem to be able to help myself trying to figure out who did it.”
