Cinnamon’s mood returned to pissed off as we entered the dining room in matching crinoline stuffed dresses, with pig-tails and neon blue eye shadow.
We looked like the Judds. The early years.
Chance laughed and Cin kicked him. Hard.
Even Mario flinched.
“Feeling better, dear?” Fiona asked me as she scooted her chair up to the table.
Yes, I always feel better when I’m dressed like the cast from The Beverly Hillbillies. “Fine, thanks,” I said.
Huck was piling scalloped potatoes onto his plate. “I heard about your accident, Stacy. What were you doing out in the boonies?” He asked, although I suspected he knew.
“Just sightseeing,” I said and helped myself to a buttermilk biscuit. Mr. Huckleberry probably knew I was close to his son’s tree farm. Why didn’t he mention it? He certainly would have known Kathy if Matt and she were so close.
Not to mention he did own the building at the time of her disappearance. He would have been aware of any work that had gone into it, whether he ordered it or even if it was rented out at the time. But if he was responsible for Kathy’s death, the reason eluded me.
Mario asked Chance to pass the wine and Fiona piped in, “Look, Stacy, Mario brought this lovely jewelry from Italy.” She motioned toward the buffet where Mario had displayed the wares he was packing up the other night.
“Very nice,” I said.
“I sell you cheap, ah?” Mario said.
“Stop it, Uncle Mario,” Cin said.
“What I say?” he asked.
“Stacy, come, look.” Mario yanked my chair from the table and dragged me to the buffet.
“You want bracelet, you want ring, watch? What you like?”
I browsed the display, prepared to buy something just so he’d take his hand off my ass. Then I spotted a necklace I had to have.
CHAPTER 18
My eyes opened to the image of three cloaked heads staring at me intently and I yelped.
“What the?” I said.
“Settle down, Anastasia,” Birdie said.
They were hovering over me, each holding a candle.
Disoriented, it took me a minute to realize I was in one of the guest rooms of the inn.
“Why...?”
“You fell asleep after dessert, dear. So Chance carried you up to your room,” Fiona informed me. “He’s such a nice boy.”
Right. Dinner, Chance, Huck, Mario. Mario! Oh, no, I didn’t get an opportunity to tell Cin about the necklace. My chest felt bare and I patted where my purchase should have hung.
Gone.
“Looking for something?” Birdie asked and Lolly held it up.
The onyx cross matched the one I had dug from the basement floor.
I rubbed my eyes, suddenly very awake. “Okay, what are you up to?”
“Scrying,” said Lolly, grinning.
Oh boy.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost midnight,” said Fiona. “The perfect time to talk to the dead.”
“No, no, no.” I rose up and realized I was wearing a cape too. How the hell?
“Birdie, I’m not quite ready,” I said.
“Nonsense, we’re here to help.” Then she winked.
I had never seen my grandmother wink and it unnerved me.
“Please don’t do that,” I said.
The duvet slipped from me as I swung my legs over the bedside. “What exactly are we scrying for?” I asked.
“Answers,” Birdie said and Fiona propped me up.
It seemed Chance had filled them in on Kathy Sims so they got the idea in their heads that they should aid me in my quest for the truth. I wasn’t in a position to argue with them, so I followed them downstairs.
An altar had been set up in the kitchen. On it sat a crystal ball, illuminated by a moonbeam that bounced off a black mirror. There were lit candles and sprigs of coltsfoot and elfwort—good herbs for divination—spread around it.
Lolly reached inside her cape and retrieved a cigar butt. She balanced that and the necklace on the purple scarf that draped the altar.
Even in my freshly awakened state, I could see that something was missing.
“We can’t do this. We need an object that Kathy might have touched. Something her energy had transferred to,” I said. Whoa, where did that come from? I guess the studying was paying off.
“You mean like this?” Fiona asked, producing the original necklace, still caked with dirt.
I didn’t even ask how she got it.
“Shield yourself,” Birdie instructed.
Scrying is a form of divination. A crystal ball, a black mirror, even a bowl of water can all be used to scry, in hopes of invoking a vision, receiving a message, or opening a gateway to the other side. Before scrying, it’s best to form a mental shield for protection. You never know what will come through in a scrying session.
This was not, as they say, a job for amateurs. Which of course, I was, so my heart nervously fluttered.
I closed my eyes, imagining a white light molded to my body. Then I took a deep breath and kneeled, clasping the hands of my great aunts. With Birdie completing the circle, I dove in.
The cigar butt was Huck’s, which explained why Birdie invited him to dinner.
I held that first, staring intently into the mirror. Within seconds, the Black Opal, freshly painted and dressed with new tables, a digital jukebox, and an unmarred floor, popped into sight. I could see faceless people, sipping cocktails against the antique bar and I wasn’t sure if I was looking at the future or the past. I fought harder, delving into the scene, wading through the sea of customers. There was a door marked ‘office’ and after a moment, Huck, a version of him anyway, swung it open. Then the vision blew out like a match.
My hands were hot and I broke the circle, shaking out the tension.
“Well?” Birdie asked.
“I don’t know. Nothing concrete. Not with Huck, anyway,” I said.
“Continue,” Birdie said.
One more deep breath and the shield embraced me again, my concentration sharp. I reached for the cross I bought from Cinnamon’s uncle and a roller coaster of laughter rushed at me. I saw Mario talking to a man dressed in all black. They stood in front of a table, the man talking with his hands and Mario picking up pieces of jewelry. They were on a bridge punctuated with shops, a river flowing beneath it. The melodious chatter of happy tourists drowned the conversation, but I knew from the feel of the scene, I was looking at Italy. Then it fizzled.
Fiona handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down. “Take your time,” she said.
“Just the man Mario bought the merchandise from,” I said.
I sat on the floor, re-focused my eyes, and looked at the last object.
The visions came to me so clear. Huck, The Black Opal, Mario, Italy—all of them I could see and hear and taste. I hadn’t had that kind of connection to magic since I was a kid. It frightened and exhilarated me at the same time. I stood, rolled my neck around and massaged my temples.
“Two down, one to go,” I said.
I returned to my perch and lifted the hood over my head.
When I first dug it from the dirt, I thought the necklace I found belonged to whoever set fire to the bar. Then I thought perhaps it was Kathy’s. Now I wasn’t sure if it had anything at all to do with the fire or the murder. But this was my chance to find out.
The chain was cold as I curled my fingers around the links. I slid my hand down the length of it to meet the cross. Four corners of blackness emerged as the dirt rained on the floor, exposing the onyx.
I closed my eyes and called to Kathy through my mind.
At first there was nothing. Only darkness. I waited and mentally said her name again.
Then, the scent of damp earth crept in before a flash of red shocked me into her world.
Trees budded around me and there was no trace of snow on the ground telling me it was spring. I shivered. That’s when I noticed I w
as wearing the clothes Kathy had been buried in. Only they were bright and crisp. New.
“Just a little further,” I heard behind me.
I stiffened, every muscle on high alert. I wasn’t alone. And this was three-dimensional. I was there. In the woods with...who?
Don’t panic. It’s not real, I told myself.
I spun around, clinging to my composure.
The silhouette of a man loomed ahead, the waning moon providing little light.
“Come closer, I can’t see you,” I said. If I could just get a glimpse of his face.
“Right behind you,” he said and waved me on.
The voice. Was it familiar? I couldn’t place it.
I ventured forward, my heals snapping twigs with each step.
“Do you see your surprise?” he asked.
At the end of the path lay a checkered blanket, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.
“Wine?” I looked back. He was closer, but I still couldn’t define his features. Not too tall, not too short.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Kathy. I know all your dirty secrets.” He sounded like he enjoyed them too.
I made my way to the blanket and toed it. It felt so real.
Gloved hands cupped my shoulders from behind and he said steadily, “Perfect. Isn’t it?”
“Mm hmm.” My head tilted, but he snapped it back into place.
“Just like us.” The words were whispered like a confession.
I didn’t respond.
“But you had to fuck it up!” he hissed.
I tried to dart away, but he lassoed my neck and jerked my head back. I flung my arms and legs, kicking and punching, hitting nothing except thin, moist air—air that wasn’t making it into my lungs. My neck muscles strained as the cord tightened and I felt myself losing consciousness. Before my eyes, a star flashed.
Then a tiny voice whispered, “Carol” before the world blackened.
CHAPTER 19
“Tether her!” Birdie yelled and I could feel the aunts pulling me back from wherever I had been.
“Stacy!” Fiona was speaking and Lolly was slapping me silly.
“I’m okay. I’m good. Stop!” I said and they backed off.
How many times can you pass out in a twenty-four hour period before it starts to affect your brain?
I leaned over the sink and splashed water on my face. When I turned back to them, they stared hard at me, waiting for a report.
“I saw her,” I panted, “and him. But I didn’t see his face. And what the hell happened? I felt like I was dying. I thought you knew what you were doing here.”
“You went in too deep, dear,” Fiona said and Lolly nodded. “It was our fault, really.”
“But,” Birdie interjected sharply, “you came away with answers, did you not?” She looked pretty proud.
“Some.” I relayed the whole scenario from start to finish. Then I asked, “Do you think the man was named Carol?”
The three of them huddled and then stood to face me.
Birdie said, “In the event of a murder, the dead cannot speak the name of the person directly responsible. So they point you to someone else. Someone who may know the killer.”
“Great. So I’m back to square one.”
The Monday morning sunlight danced off my white bedspread as I rummaged through my sock drawer. I caught myself whistling as I showered, replaying the scrying session over in my head. It had gone rather well, I told Thor, as he inhaled his breakfast. Maybe there was something to this magic business? Maybe, if I practiced hard enough, I might be good at it.
I decided there was no time like the present, so after I made an appearance at work, I would stop by to see the coroner. If he hadn’t discovered any new information, like a pregnancy, then perhaps being in the same room with Kathy’s body would lead to another clue or maybe a vision.
I grabbed the Blessed Book, tucked both necklaces away, patted Moonlight on the head, and swung open the door.
I had to get creative in the wardrobe department since the lake swallowed my winter-wear. It didn’t bother me that the only boots in the back of my closet were moon boots from middle school or that I looked like something the cookie monster swallowed in Lolly’s faux fur. Nope.
What bothered me was that I had no car, no wallet, no driver’s license and I just remembered all that when I stepped outside.
Even my recorder was buried in the lake.
Normally I would just walk, but I had a lot to do today. I slammed the door shut and called Gramps on the pre-paid phone Leo brought me yesterday.
“Well, sure, honey, I’ll drive you. But why don’t you just ask your grandmother?”
“Need I remind you of my college graduation?”
“Oh yeah,” he laughed. “Well it was the solstice after all, and Birdie is a purist. You wouldn’t have even known she was naked under that cloak if her bobby pins hadn’t fired off the metal detector.”
I cringed at the memory.
“Why don’t you just take her car, sweetheart?”
“Allow me to redirect you to Thanksgiving 2002.”
“Now you know your grandmother didn’t realize that there was marijuana mixed in with the mugwort she picked on the side of the road.”
I thanked Gramps for the ride and he told me I could borrow one of his vehicles as long as I needed it. Gramps made a bundle in real estate some years back and had a car for every day of the week.
He said he might drop one off later in the day and surprise Birdie with a lunch invitation. I smiled and sent a silent prayer for him. Then Thor and I went to work.
I snagged some coffee, booted up my computer, and edited the story. Then, after making a considerable dent in my inbox, I scanned through the photos that Derek chose for the piece just as he walked in my office door. Thor was under my desk and he ran out to greet Derek, lifting the desk off the ground and spilling the remainder of my coffee across my lap.
“Hey big guy,” Derek said, knuckling Thor’s ears.
I grabbed the roll of paper towels I kept in the bottom drawer and starting mopping up the mess.
“I like the shots,” I told Derek. “I just edited the piece so I’ll send it to Parker and you can go with those photos. Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”
Derek was grinning like he got a hot tip on a horse. He closed the door behind him and trotted to my desk.
“You are going to love me,” he said.
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Too bad.” He crossed his arms and looked away.
“What is it?”
“Say I’m the best partner you ever had.”
Now he thought we were Woodward and Bernstein.
“We are not partners.”
“Say it.”
“Derek, I don’t have time—”
“Ah, ah,” he wagged a finger at me. I hate when people do that. “You’ll make time for this.”
I crossed my arms and stared at him. Thor’s head was bobbing back and forth from me to Derek. He sensed my annoyance, but I guessed he also suspected that the kid wasn’t a bad egg.
“Fine. You’re the king.”
“Even better.” He sat on my desk.
“I just got a call from the hospital. It was your friend Lyn. She said some kid was admitted to the emergency room last night for second degree burns.”
“So?”
“So the kid was at a party,” he paused for emphasis and I grunted for the same reason.
“Spill it, Derek.”
“Fine, but you’re ruining my buildup.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“The kid was doing shots of Everclear and singed off all the hair on his head. He looks like a bowling ball.” Derek chuckled.
“And you don’t think he could have swiped it from a liquor store?”
Derek shook his head. “I checked. No one carries it in the whole county.”
I rolled that around in my head.
“There’s more,” he sa
id, excited.
I hiked both eyebrows to let him know that if he didn’t just come out with it I might bitch slap him.
“He listed the Black Opal as his place of employment.”
Now, we were getting somewhere.
Derek waited for a pat on the back.
“Okay, good work. I’ll let you live today.” I smiled. “Tell Parker the story’s good to go for tomorrow’s edition and that we’ll be gone all morning.” I grabbed a notebook and hurried out of the office.
Derek hung his head out the door. “Where you going?”
“I have to meet with the coroner first.”
“What should I do?”
“It’s Thor’s naptime. Bring him to your office,” I called over my shoulder. “Then come by and pick me up.”
I dodged snowdrifts and black slush as I made my way down Main Street, heading to the coroner’s office. The sun fed me energy and renewed confidence settled in as I pushed through the door.
“Mr. Sagnoski?” I called.
No response. The hallway was dark, so I flipped the light on.
“Hello? Mr. Sagnoski?”
It was a little after nine. Maybe he was in the autopsy room. Doubtful he could hear me out here.
The hallway lights flickered deeper into the building.
“Mr. Sagnoski?” I called. I popped into the stale room he had escorted me into on my last visit. It was freezing and I rubbed my hands together. “Hello? It’s Stacy Justice. Wondering if you had any news for me?”
The blue sheet was tossed across the table, instruments scattered on top of it. A cold rush of air slashed my face and I turned to find the window gaped open.
When I rubbed my neck I realized Kathy wasn’t grabbing my attention by force any longer. If divination carried that kind of perk, I was all for it.
A crow flapped in the open window and I jumped back. I grabbed the table to steady myself, which had the exact opposite effect. The table slid over the linoleum and I landed on my ass, my notebook skating behind me.
I flipped over to look for it, but instead I found Mr. Sagnoski lying in a pool of blood, a scalpel planted in his neck.
CHAPTER 20
Opal Fire Page 15
