Witch Cast (A Mackenzie Coven Mystery Book 3)

by Sonia Parin

  What are you afraid I’ll do?

  I’d rather not say... in case it gives you ideas.

  Luna’s remark didn’t sound so far-fetched. In the past, she’d been influenced by the clothes she’d worn... She eyed Octavia and wondered if her assistant might have charmed her clothes with a spell to improve Lexie’s performance...

  Compartmentalizing the thought, Lexie took another turn of the sitting room. “What if Marcela Newton wasn’t the one to engage the rogue witch? Would the theater committee have a reason to dabble in the dark arts? What sort of business was the theater doing before it closed?”

  Octavia’s arm shot up. “They were in the red. Bleeding money and in desperate need of a cash injection. But the situation wasn’t dire enough to shut down the theater.”

  “Aha!”

  Everyone sprung back.

  If only they’d followed the money trail from the start, she could have avoided being forced into playing Lady Macbeth.

  Lexie swung around and flapped her arms about. “And why can’t I see the Shadow?”

  They all looked at each other and shrugged.

  Lexie frowned. “And what’s come over you all?”

  Grant looked at Jonathan who looked at Octavia who pretended to study her nails.

  I think you’re scaring them with your take control attitude. Either that, or you’re doing a really good job of untangling this mystery. My bet’s on you scaring them.

  Lexie stood in the middle of the sitting room, her arms crossed, her whirling thoughts growing louder by the minute. More so as no one seemed to be saying much of anything, which was unusual.

  Luna rolled on her back and moaned.

  What’s wrong with you?

  I ate too much fake bacon.

  That’ll teach you.

  Why didn’t you stop me? The least you can do is rub my belly.

  Lexie clapped her hands. “People. Show some enthusiasm. If I’m going to be woken up at the crack of dawn, I need to start seeing results.”

  Grant tapped his pen on his notepad. “I’m going to follow up on Marcela Newton. We should make sure the understudy is dead and it might help to find out how she met her end.”

  “Good idea.”

  Jonathan shifted in his chair. “My job is to watch your back... but I’ll keep my eye out for anyone acting suspiciously.”

  Lexie nodded.

  Octavia shrugged. “I’m still scouring through the collection of theater paraphernalia. I might find something else.”

  You’re setting a cracking pace. I’ve decided I really like this new side to you. And next time I ask for bacon, please say no on my behalf. Now, about that belly rub...

  What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

  Luna rolled over, sprung to her feet and attempted to climb a wall. When she fell on her butt, she picked herself up and sprinted across the room.

  What the hell? Are you chasing shadows?

  The fake bacon. If I don’t work it out of my system, it’ll go straight to my butt and Octavia said she’s organized a play date with Jack. I can’t let him see me like this.

  Rolling her eyes, Lexie turned to the orbs. “What are you two getting up to?”

  Both Mirabelle and Catherine jumped to attention. “We’re concentrating our efforts on hunting down the rogue witch.”

  “Good. I’m due at rehearsals in an hour. That gives me enough time for another coffee and, I-can’t-believe-I’m saying-this, a read through my lines. Umm. Dismissed.”

  Everyone looked confused.

  “Grant. You were following up on Marcela,” Lexie reminded him.

  “Right. Okay. We’ll rendezvous later on.”

  Lexie turned to the orbs.

  “Yes. Yes. We’re off to hunt down the rogue witch.”

  That left Jonathan whose job was to follow her around, and Octavia... “I suppose we’re all leaving together. Coffee here or somewhere else?”

  “A change of scenery would be nice,” Jonathan said.

  What about me?

  You get to hold the fort.

  Will you bring me back something? Something nice and tasty.

  Sure. What would you like?

  Surprise me. No wait... No, go ahead, surprise me. No wait... No, go ahead, surprise me.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Relax. A tight body leads to constricted breathing and that will hinder your projection. Your voice will be thin and quiet if you don’t have a full breath behind it.” Bernie Leeds, her breathing instructor, drew in a deep breath and extending his hand out, exclaimed, “You need to have enough air to get your voice to the back of the auditorium. Projection is everything,” he finished on a high note.

  Lexie glanced over at Lucy’s specter. Over the last couple of days, she’d been hovering nearby, watching and listening, and occasionally giving her directions. But today, she appeared to be distracted.

  Something was up with her.

  “Shoulders back. Breathe in. That’s right. Deep inhale. Now, push the breath out nice and easy and let me hear a vowel sound.”

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaa.”

  “Inhale fully and exhale on a ten count. Soft to loud.” Bernie Leeds stomped his foot. “No. No. No. You’re not breathing.”

  “I am.”

  “I can’t hear you.”

  She stepped back and collapsed into a heap on the stage. “Time out. All that breathing is making me feel dizzy.”

  Bernie walked away muttering to himself. Clearly he wasn’t breathing properly because he didn’t quite manage to project his voice.

  Lexie turned to Lucy who continued to sit deadly still. When she looked up, her expression looked woeful, almost like a caricature of herself.

  “What’s up, Lucy?”

  Lucy stared back at her. Until now, and even in her ghostly form, there’d been an animated spark in her gaze. Now her eyes looked sunken... lifeless. Lexie thought she detected a half-hearted shrug.

  “Go on, you can tell me. What’s going on?”

  Another small shrug.

  “Something’s bothering you, but you don’t know what?”

  The specter nodded, then shook her head in frustration.

  “I’ve had those moments myself. Feelings of indecision. Of not knowing what to do with myself. My mom calls them misguided feelings because there’s always something to do. And that’s usually when I start feeling overwhelmed because there’s actually too much to do and I don’t know where to start. She’s always recommended meditation, but I can’t sit still or focus on nothing in silence. Then again, silence is something you don’t appear to have a problem with.” Lexie leaned in. “Is it that you can’t talk or won’t talk?”

  The specter rose and hovered above the stage looking around as if trying to find something. Or... as if trying to make sense of something. Suddenly, it plunged its ghostly fingers through its hair and appeared to wail.

  “Are you all right?”

  It looked down at Lexie and frowning, held her hands out as if... As if asking... Why? How? Then she swirled around as if trying to catch sight of itself. When she stopped, Lucy stared at her hands. She looked puzzled. Then... horrified.

  A lump formed in Lexie’s throat.

  Had Lucy just become aware of the fact she was a ghost?

  Lexie had never had to deal with this before. In fact, she’d never even attended a funeral. Although, now that she thought about it, there had been a family get-together for one of her great... great aunts. But that had been more of a celebration of her life than a mournful farewell.

  Lexie looked around to see if Octavia was at hand to deal with this, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. This might come as a shock, but... Yep, you’re a ghost. Of course, you’re not all right. I wouldn’t be all right if I suddenly realized I’d moved on and no one had bothered to tell me.”

  Lucy appeared to gasp.

  “Okay. I think I put my foot in it. Too much, too soon?” Lexie had no
idea what to do or say.

  The specter swept around the stage, much like Luna did when she went on one of her feline rampage runs around the sitting room.

  When it stopped, it appeared to be catching its breath.

  “That’s right. Deep breath. I think it might take some getting used to.”

  Lucy turned slowly and floated toward Lexie like a feather wafting to the ground.

  “What?”

  The specter stretched out in front of her and gradually settled on the stage, its hands crossed over its chest.

  “Yeah. Sorry, but the fact you’re a ghost means... How can I put this delicately? You’re dead.” Lexie sat up and crossed her legs.

  Lucy blinked and finally gave a small nod. Had she just accepted her fate?

  “Do you remember anything?”

  The specter peered at her.

  “You know, about the night you passed on. I know this is all new to you and you might need some time to get used to it all, but... we’re actually trying to find your killer. It might help you move on. So if anything comes to mind...” Did ghosts have memory? They had to, Lexie reasoned. Lucy didn’t seem to have forgotten she was Miss Lucinda Cunningham, star of the stage. “Absolutely anything that comes to mind could be useful.”

  Lucy appeared to shake her head.

  “We have a few theories,” Lexie offered as a way of encouragement. “Can you think of anyone who wanted to cause you harm? Perhaps your understudy.”

  Lucy waved her hand as if in dismissal.

  “Although, we’ve had to cross out the understudy because she has her arm in a cast so she can’t possibly have killed you in order to take your place. Lady Mac needs her hands for all her crazy talk gestures.”

  Lucy gave a small pensive nod.

  “Think hard, Lucy. It might come back to you. I always find it helps to retrace my steps. For instance, when I lose something I try to think about the places I’ve been. I’m assuming you were driven to the theater. Do you remember seeing anyone suspicious lurking around when you came in?”

  Lucy made an open hand gesture and shrugged.

  “Do you even remember coming out of retirement?”

  Lucy looked shocked.

  “Yes. You were in retirement and, for some reason, you decided to do another performance. Actually, now that I think about it, why did you?”

  Another shrug followed by a series of hand gestures Lexie couldn’t interpret.

  Did Lucy mean to say none of that mattered now?

  “Anyhow, you had been away from the stage for some years. I guess everyone would look new to you. I’ll have to chase this up and see if the stagehands are all new to the job or if any of them worked here in your time.”

  They both tapped their chins.

  “I’m assuming the guests were all out in the foyer. Did you see any of them wandering into the stage area?”

  This time Lucy gave a firm shake of her head.

  “No?” If she hadn’t died at someone’s hand... No, there had to have been someone on the stage. Someone to give Lucy the fright of her life that caused her heart attack. “What can you tell me about your last performance here?”

  Lucy looked about ready to say something but then she appeared to change her mind.

  “Think, Lucy. Think.”

  Lucy stilled. After a few minutes, she rolled over and turned her back to Lexie.

  “You don’t want to talk about it?”

  The ghost tucked its legs up and curled into a ball.

  Lexie decided something must have happened back then. And someone had waited all these years to... seek revenge.

  “Did you maybe have an argument with someone back then? Get on the wrong side of... of the director? Come on, Lucy. Help me out here.” The prospect of any more early morning wake-up calls had her scrambling to find the culprit and wrap this up as soon as possible. Then she could focus on getting out of playing Lady Mac...

  Lexie tried to come up with some sort of inducement to get the specter to talk, or rather, co-operate. She didn’t think she had the power to promise her anything other than finding the killer. Surely that would be enough. As far as she knew, the need for justice was a ghost’s entire raison d’être.

  Although, until a few moments before, it seemed that Lucy hadn’t really known... or accepted the fact she was now a ghost. Maybe she only needed some more time to get used to the idea and perhaps remember why she’d become a ghost.

  Hearing footsteps approaching, Lexie turned.

  Constance Hargreaves.

  Where on earth did she know her from? Could she possibly have been one of the many people who’d looked after her when she’d been little?

  Lexie wondered if the others had managed to dig something up on her.

  As she reached her, Constance looked around, as if trying to make sure no one would hear her.

  “Please tell your mother we’re now even.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve held up my end of the bargain.”

  “What are you talking about? What bargain? And does that mean you’re open to negotiation? I need out. I can’t possibly be the one standing here on opening night.”

  Constance’s finger shot out. “The poster has been printed. You are the star of the show and the show must go on.” Constance frowned at Lucy’s specter. “Why is she curled up like that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

  “What have you been telling her?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You must have said something. Look at her? She’s a mess. She’s no good to us like that. We need her.”

  “Why?”

  Constance shrieked. “Is she fading?”

  Lexie swung toward Lucy. “Lucy? Lucy, are you still with us?”

  Lucy moaned. It was the first sound she’d made since appearing.

  “What’s happening to her? Do something,” Constance bellowed.

  “Me? What do you want me to do?”

  “We can’t lose her. She is our star attraction. Without her, this play will be nothing. We’ll be forced to close the doors. Do something!”

  Inspired, Lexie shot to her feet and gave a monotonous delivery of her lines.

  “That’s it? That’s all you can think of doing? At a time like this?”

  “It’s all I have,” she said and continued delivering lines.

  Lucy stirred and gazed at her over her shoulder. With another moan she curled up into a tighter ball.

  “Stop! You’re making it worse.”

  “How about if I do it better but with obvious room for improvement?” She delivered a few more lines. This time, the specter put its hands over its ears.

  “She’s fading fast,” Constance cried out.

  Lexie put everything she had into projecting her voice. It seemed to capture Lucy’s attention. “Help me out, Lucy. What do I do with my hands?”

  Lucy rolled over and peered at her with one eye open and the other closed.

  Lexie mentally rolled up her sleeves. “If you don’t help me... I’ll... I’ll tell the whole world I owe my performance to you. And it won’t be the sort of performance you’ll want to be associated with. I will act so badly,” Lexie gasped for good measure, “Your entire career will go down the drain. Everyone will think you were as bad as I am.”

  Lucy lifted a ghostly eyebrow.

  “Do I look like I’m kidding? I have nothing to lose. No reputation to tarnish. You on the other hand, have everything to lose. Picture the reviews. Miss Lucinda Cunningham’s star pupil, Alexandra Mackenzie, delivers over dramatized lines spewed out in gasping breaths...”

  Lucy looked horrified. But then she folded her arms and looked as mulish as a ghost could look.

  “All right. Here goes.” She delivered all the lines she could think of on the spot, making sure they came out in a monotone jumble.

  Lucy surged to her ghostly feet and put both hands to her ears.

  “Her color seems to be returning,”
Constance murmured.

  “Her color? She’s white. How much whiter can she get?”

  “She was fading.”

  “So what? Maybe she’s had enough. Let’s give her the eternal rest she deserves.”

  “No. She needs to haunt the theater.”

  “Huh?”

  “Anyone would give their eyeteeth to have a real ghost haunting their theater. We have one. Best of all, we have the one and only Miss Lucinda Cunningham. Theater lovers will flock to The Garland and pay premium prices for their tickets. We can’t afford to let her go.”

  Lexie didn’t want to burst her bubble but in reality, she didn’t think the powers that be would allow Lucy to make a public spectacle of herself. Or, indeed, make public appearances. “But what if she doesn’t want to stay? I think she’s only just realized she’s a ghost. She’s been in denial. The next obvious step is for her to go on her merry way.”

  “Then we have no time to lose. We must convince her this is for the best. She devoted her entire life to the theater. This is not the time to give up on it. If she thinks about it, she’ll realize this is what she wants.”

  “To spend the rest of her eternal sleep in a theater? I don’t know much about the afterlife, but I’m guessing there are plenty of other things for spirits to do.”

  “The show must go on.”

  “Shouldn’t we ask Lucy what she wants?”

  “She’s already decided.” Constance pointed at the specter. “She’s a ghost. If she didn’t want to be one, she would have moved on to the next realm straightaway. Instead, she lingered.”

  The remark put everything back into perspective. She hadn’t moved on. That meant she had unfinished business to take care of. Somehow, she had to engage Lucy’s attention and get her to point to her killer.

  Lucy swooped down to the stage and rolled up her sleeves.

  “Give and take, Lucy. I’ll put in the performance but you have to help me find the killer.”