Three Alarm Fury

by Annabel Chase

  No, probably not. “I don’t see how I can change that.”

  “Do your job,” Aunt Thora urged. “Investigate.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “There’s another batch of cookies in it if you do.”

  “Bribing a federal agent, Aunt Thora? Whatever next?” I sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to Father Kevin and see if anything supernatural is going on.”

  “Thank you.”

  We all had a price. Apparently mine was baked goods. I stared out the window at the passing scenery of our picturesque little town. I would have stayed in Chipping Cheddar quite happily if I hadn’t been trying to escape my family.

  “How do you manage?” I asked.

  Aunt Thora glanced at me. “Manage what?”

  “To live here with them,” I said.

  My great-aunt understood. “Don’t give me too much credit, Eden. I wasn’t always this mellow.”

  I didn’t know the details of Aunt Thora’s younger, more evil life and it was probably best to keep it that way. Her late husband Cyrus had been an excessus demon, one that encourages excessive behavior like drinking, smoking, gambling. Needless to say, they weren’t exactly known for their cuddly and sweet demeanors.

  “You’re like the Great Dane of witches,” I announced. “That’s what I’d say at your funeral.”

  Aunt Thora glanced at me. “Pardon me?”

  “A gentle giant in the world of black magic,” I said.

  “I like Great Danes.” She turned the car down our street and I noticed her lips curve into a vague smile. “That’ll do.”

  Chapter Six

  I knocked on the door of a modest single-story house across the street from the church. According to Aunt Thora, the house was called a rectory and belonged to the church. The front door must not have been fully latched because it cracked open.

  “Father Kevin?” I called.

  There was no response. I called his name again. When there was no reply, I started to worry about the priest’s state of mind. What if his crisis of faith was worse than we thought? I decided to play the agent card. I pulled out my badge and entered the house.

  “Father Kevin, this is Agent Eden Fury from the FBI,” I said loudly. I took another cautious step inside. The living room was quiet and devoid of personal items. As I strained to listen, I heard voices coming from down the hallway. Was Father Kevin entertaining guests—in his bedroom?

  My body tingled with energy as I made my way past each open door. Bathroom. Guest bedroom. The master bedroom door was ajar.

  “Father Kevin,” I yelled. “I’m coming in.” I nudged the door open with my foot. The priest was on the bed in a plaid pajama set, snacking on a bowl of popcorn while he watched television. His gaze flicked to me and then back to the screen. I stepped further into the room to see which show had transfixed him.

  “Bravo?” I blurted. I wasn’t sure why I was so shocked. It wasn’t as though he’d tuned into the Kardashians.

  Father Kevin kept his gaze locked on the screen, where a slender, well-dressed housewife was screaming at a table of women. Mascara streaked down her angular cheeks. She seemed to be having some sort of breakdown. After a moment of watching this dramatic scene, I snapped back to actual reality and focused on Father Kevin.

  “Can we talk, Father Kevin?”

  “I’m not listening to confessions anymore,” he said. His speech almost sounded slurred.

  “I’m not here to confess.” Even a priest didn’t have that much time on his hands for my list of confessions. “I’m here to talk about you.”

  His brow shot up. “What about me?”

  “I’m standing in your bedroom in the middle of the day while you lay in pajamas and watch reality television with a bowl of popcorn. I think it’s obvious.”

  His sigh was so deep that it seemed to rattle his chest. He set aside the bowl of popcorn and paused the show. “I’ve lost faith.”

  “So I gathered.” I gestured to the corner of the bed. “Mind if I sit?” I didn’t like towering over him like it was an interrogation. It made me uncomfortable. Not sure why sitting on the priest’s bed made me more comfortable, but whatever.

  He shrugged, so I sat. “I don’t know what to do next. I should probably shower.”

  Now that he mentioned it, there was a certain stench. “What happened, Father? You woke up one morning and realized that you no longer believed?”

  “Basically,” he said. “I’d spent a beautiful day at the marina on Friday with two of my parishioners, Judy and Paul Masterson. They own a boat and invited me to join them. I felt God’s blessings that whole day. Even the sunset was glorious.” He smiled sadly at the memory. “I woke up yesterday with a deep sense of ennui. I tried to go through the motions, but I couldn’t live with the hypocrisy.”

  “Have you noticed anything unusual?” I asked. “For example, did you eat anything you wouldn’t normally eat?” Maybe the Mastersons were involved in black magic and wanted to oust the priest for some reason. I’d have to check them out.

  Father Kevin seemed to really see me for the first time. “Did I hear you say you’re FBI?”

  “That’s right. I work with Chief Fox sometimes.” That was a name he’d be comfortable with.

  “Oh, okay.” Father Kevin appeared unconcerned. I could have been the devil sitting there with horns and a pitchfork and he would’ve carried on with his popcorn and television. “I don’t remember what we ate. Judy packed us a lunch. Nothing fancy. I drank water. The sun was warm, I remember that. I had to apply sunscreen twice.”

  “That’s your pale Irish skin,” I said.

  “Lots of us in Chipping Cheddar. Did you know Chief O’Neill?” he asked.

  “I did. He was friends with my father. They used to golf together.”

  Father Kevin nodded. “Mick enjoyed a good golf game. Who’s your father?”

  “Stanley Fury,” I said.

  The priest’s brow furrowed. “Fury, yes. That name rings a bell.”

  Probably because it was on the naughty list of all religions.

  “Why are you thinking about Chief O’Neill?” I asked. I didn’t like that he seemed to be steering the conversation toward death. A midlife crisis due to possible magic was one thing. Serious depression was one I wasn’t equipped to deal with.

  “It just seemed so unfair,” Father Kevin said. “Mick was a good, devout man.”

  “Mick was a cop. He knew the risks,” I said. “He wouldn’t want anyone to pity him.” And if his ghost were still around, I would have gotten a direct quote to support that statement.

  Father Kevin’s eyes glazed over. “At first I thought I was being punished for enjoying myself too much the day before,” he said. “That I’d overstepped, but I began to realize that no one was punishing me because no one was there. We’re alone and nothing matters. Why bother to care?” He plucked a kernel from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “I haven’t had popcorn since I was a boy. It seemed too sinful because I enjoyed it so much, so I gave it up.”

  It still seemed like some kind of emotional breakdown to me, but I continued questioning him for Aunt Thora’s sake. “Can you think of anything out of the ordinary that happened before you started feeling…despondent?”

  “I’ve been listening to Bohemian Rhapsody on repeat. There’s a lot of emotion packed into that one song.” He lowered his gaze. “I wish I could feel any of it.”

  Oh boy. This was bad. I had to do something to help Father Kevin. “Have you considered seeking professional help? Or maybe even talking to another priest?”

  “There’s no point,” he replied. “They don’t see the world as clearly as I do now.”

  Okay, I certainly wasn’t going to reason with him in his current state of mind. “If you think of anything that might have triggered this, will you call me?” I grabbed a pen and notepad from the bedside table closest to me and scribbled my number. “And if you feel like you need to talk to someone, my sister-in-law Verity is a doctor and an excellent
listener.” I added her number under mine.

  “Thank you,” he said, without glancing at me. “I’ve heard of Dr. Verity. People seem to like her a lot.”

  No surprise there. Verity was pretty great.

  I stood to go. “I’ll let you get back to your…lounging,” I said.

  He clicked the remote and resumed his program.

  “Just out of curiosity, is that Real Housewives?” I asked.

  “New York,” he said. “It’s the best of the franchises. They’re genuinely friends. It isn’t staged like The Hills. If the pearly gates existed, those MTV people certainly wouldn’t be gaining admittance, I can say that with confidence.”

  “Good to know.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help to you,” Father Kevin said. “I know that’s my role, or it was.”

  “I wasn’t here for me, Father,” I said. “I was here for you.” He grunted, as though that was a strange thing for me to say, and turned back to the television.

  Last Ark was a beautiful new boat that comfortably seated around twelve people. I briefly wondered whether dark magic was the reason they could afford a boat as nice as this one.

  “Mr. Masterson?” I called. The boat seemed empty and quiet. It rocked gently, and the only sound was the water lapping against it. “Mrs. Masterson?”

  I boarded the boat and hoped I didn’t find them in an uncompromising position on the floor. Some things could not be unseen. Before I could move any further, I heard a noise behind me. I whirled around to see a middle-aged couple on the dock. The man was medium height and build with a gorgeous head of salt and pepper hair. Men managed to age so gracefully that it irked me sometimes. The woman’s brown hair was streaked with gray and she wore a pair of tortoise shell frames that made her round face look even rounder. Their arms were laden with grocery bags.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked. He didn’t look pleased to find a stranger on his boat.

  I whipped out my badge. “Sorry to bother you. I’m Agent Eden Fury. Are you Paul and Judy Masterson?”

  “We are,” Paul said.

  “I was hoping to ask you a few questions about Father Kevin.”

  Mrs. Masterson gasped. “He’s not in trouble, is he? Please don’t tell me it’s anything to do with pornography.”

  Mr. Masterson silenced her with a look. “Why do you always overreact? You know perfectly well Father Kevin isn’t into anything inappropriate.” He climbed onto the boat and set the bags aside. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She has an overactive imagination.”

  Judy followed her husband’s lead and set her bags on the floor of the boat. “How can we help you?”

  “Father Kevin said he was with you on Friday,” I said. “Did you notice anything strange about his behavior then?”

  “Not at all,” Paul said. “We had a pleasant day on the water. Father Kevin loves spending time on the boat with us.”

  “I packed sandwiches,” Judy said. “We chatted about our trip to Vatican City. Different types of fish we tend to see in the bay versus the ocean.”

  “It was a normal day with him,” Paul added.

  “How long were you together?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say five hours.” Paul looked to his wife for confirmation and she nodded. “We went out into the Atlantic and then turned around and came back. It was nice but uneventful.”

  “He didn’t mention anything about losing faith or feeling conflicted?” I asked.

  “No, nothing like that,” Paul said. “He talked about a couple of church fundraisers that Judy and I are helping him with. All very positive.”

  “Would you mind if I looked around your boat?” I asked. If Paul and Judy were secretly into dark magic, I’d be able to spot evidence.

  “Is that necessary?” Paul asked.

  “It’ll only take a minute,” I said.

  “Do you have a warrant?” Paul asked.

  Judy gave her husband’s arm a firm smack. “You’ll have to excuse my husband. He’s been acting a little more paranoid than usual the past couple of days.” She laughed anxiously. “Last night he accused me of deliberately leaving the lid off the toothpaste to annoy him.”

  “Because you did,” Paul practically snarled. “And you left the pantry door open again too. You know I can’t stand that. Why are you trying to get under my skin?”

  Judy tossed me a pointed look.

  “Paul, would you mind checking the galley to see if Father Kevin left anything behind?” I asked. “A packet of tissues. Anything really.”

  “Sure.”

  Once he disappeared, I turned to Judy, keeping my voice low. “I take it this behavior isn’t typical of your husband.”

  “No, Paul is always so level-headed and reasonable,” Judy said quietly. “It’s one of his most attractive qualities. I thought maybe it was because he’d started smoking again and then tried to quit before I caught him.”

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  “He denied it and then accused me of snooping on him.” She shook her head. “I had to laugh it off. What else could I do?”

  Hmm. Could they have tried to perform a spell that backfired on Paul and impacted Father Kevin? I didn’t sense any residual magic, only the normal amount of energy. Chipping Cheddar had more than its share thanks to the vortex and the portal, but Last Ark didn’t seem to make my fury senses tingle.

  Paul stomped around the galley for good measure and returned empty-handed. “Nothing.”

  “Thanks for checking,” I said. “Tell me, did you all eat the same food the day Father Kevin visited?”

  Judy’s brow wrinkled. “I think so. I packed lunches and we all had water.”

  “I had a beer,” Paul said.

  “Or two,” Judy said, using a slightly chastising tone.

  “Did Father Kevin?” I asked.

  Judy shook her head. “No. He doesn’t drink.”

  It didn’t sound like they were influenced by anything they digested. “Did Father Kevin mention anything else he’d done that day, either before he arrived or afterward?”

  Judy snapped her fingers. “He’d had a coffee at Magic Beans with someone from church before he came here.” She knocked Paul’s elbow. “Who was it again, Paul? That pretty blonde with the brilliant smile.”

  “Sassy,” Paul said.

  I nearly choked. “Sassy Persimmons?”

  “That’s right. She always comes alone.”

  “And wears yoga gear,” Judy said, wrinkling her nose in disapproval. “Sometimes I miss the formality of the old days.”

  I didn’t even realize that Sassy was Catholic. “Thanks, that’s helpful.” I glanced helplessly around the boat. It seemed like Last Ark was a dead end.

  “Will there be anything else?” Paul asked, somewhat impatiently.

  “Let her look, Paul,” Judy said. “You’re being uncooperative. It makes you look like you have something to hide.”

  “I’m not even sure what you’re looking for,” Paul said. “Do you think we made Father Kevin want to leave the church? Like we blackmailed him or something?”

  “And I’m the one who overreacts,” Judy remarked wryly. “Why don’t you check the galley yourself, Agent Fury?”

  A quick sweep of the area showed me that Paul and Judy were nothing more than a typical suburban middle-aged couple with a nice boat. They didn’t even have a single candle on board. No evidence of blood or antiques. Nothing.

  “Thank you so much for your time,” I said, returning to them. “I really appreciate it. Sorry for the intrusion.”

  “We hope Father Kevin changes his mind soon,” Judy said. “Church won’t be the same without him.”

  “I’m sure many of the parishioners feel the same,” I said. “Have a good day.”

  I left the boat and walked along the dock, thinking about our conversation. Father Kevin and Paul Masterson had both started acting out of character around the same time. That couldn’t be a coincidence. The question was—why?
r />   Chapter Seven

  I sat at the table in the kitchen, contemplating the checkerboard. Something seemed wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Are you going to move, Eden?” Aunt Thora asked. “It’s almost past my bedtime.” She took a dainty sip of her tea.

  “I had a move worked out, but I must’ve made a mistake,” I said. It wasn’t often that I played checkers. Olivia and I had enjoyed a pretend game recently where she’d spent most of the time stacking the pieces on top of each other and letting Ryan knock them over.

  “You didn’t make a mistake,” Aunt Thora said. “I cheated when you got up to get a glass of water. I moved that piece over so that I can jump you on my next turn.” She tapped one of the red checkers.

  Grandma glanced up from the sofa where she was playing Little Critters. “You’ve gone soft in your old age, Thora.”

  “You’re calling her soft because she admitted to cheating?” I asked. “In my book, that’s called honesty and integrity.”

  “Your book is boring,” Grandma said, and returned her focus to the phone. “I’m stealing this boy’s critter from his zoo and replacing it with the pink sparkly one. He’ll have a meltdown when he sees it tomorrow.”

  I shook my head. “Why would you cheat at checkers?” And then immediately admit to it?

  Aunt Thora shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess. I used to do a lot worse.”

  “See?” Grandma said. “Soft.”

  The sound of the front door alerted us to my mother’s arrival. Inwardly I groaned. I’d hoped to be safely in the attic before she came home from her date so that I could be spared the salacious details.

  “This was the worst date ever,” my mother proclaimed. She sashayed past us in her pale pink backless dress. Diamonds glittered on her lobes and wrist.

  “Did he try to pay you at the end?” Grandma asked.

  My mother glared at her.

  “Tell us what happened, Beatrice,” Aunt Thora said encouragingly.