by Alt, Madelyn
“You think I’ve changed?” Actually, he had no idea the true depth of the changes I’ve felt within myself. If he knew, he might just go off a-running.
“Yes.”
“And you don’t like the changes.”
Now he looked harassed. “Yes . . . No . . . I didn’t say that. But I want you to be very clear on what’s going on in that store. With that woman. Now, I know you like Liss. I know you consider her a friend—”
“The best of friends.”
“—and I know you like your job. But Maggie, you’ve got to see the truth in this. Things are spiraling around here—and Enchantments, it’s smack in the line of fire. You think you’ve seen backlash before, maybe in other situations? I have a feeling it’s nothing compared to what your boss is going to see when people start reading their newspaper tonight.”
Hm. There was a nugget of truth in that.
“People are conservative in this town”—and there was an entire gold mine of truth there—“and that’s not likely to change anytime soon. The river of public opinion’s about to turn, in a big way. The question is, are you going to be standing upstream or down?”
I drew myself up and faced him down. “I’ll be standing beside my friend. Because that’s what friends do. And I don’t care that people will associate me with her. I’m proud to be Liss’s friend. I’m proud of her, I’m proud of the store, and I’m proud of what we, the N.I.G.H.T.S., do. Besides, I’m already in the middle of things now that the article’s come out, aren’t I? There’s no turning back the clock now.”
He shrugged and said, “People aren’t going to like the fact that your boss is a witch.”
“Liss is an upright member of the community. And this conversation is going nowhere.”
And the two of us were at a crossroads. It might as well have been there in the physical world, etched into the concrete between our feet.
He scowled and pinched his eyes shut, sighing heavily as he struggled for words. “Maggie, Chief Boggs is not happy about this whole situation. There’s a lot of public frustration and fear about all the things we’ve seen here in town. And with another murder on our hands . . . public opinion is only going to get worse. People are afraid. They want answers. The chief has to give them answers. And I . . . I’m the one who’s going to have to provide them to all. I don’t even know where to start. How do you explain to people that some of them have just been going temporarily crazy for no real reason?”
But was that it? Temporary insanity? Caused by what? Something in the water? Something in our food supply? If only it were that simple. Oh, I had no doubts that there was a thread of something winding its way around and through our town, finding its way into the farthest corners, lodging its way into the tightest crevices, but I also sensed it wasn’t going to be easy to pin down. A sickness of sorts, but in what way? And how to know where it would touch next?
Too many questions, too few answers.
All we could do was keep our senses open and our feelers out.
“Chief is, uh, also putting pressure on me to dig into the ghost-hunting group you’re involved with.”
I blinked and raised my brows. I hadn’t expected to hear that. “Excuse me?”
“ ‘The nutters’ is how he put it, I think. People have relayed their concerns about that element to him, too. Not that there’s anything illegal in what you all are doing. I told him that much myself—”
“Thanks,” I snapped.
“At least, there had better not be,” he said, oblivious to the way that sounded. “Not sure Chief liked that, but there you have it. He’d prefer that the N.I.G.H.T.S. disband, just to remove that question from people’s minds.”
“Disband.”
“People in town are nervous, Maggie. Can you blame ’em? All these deaths. It’s unnerving the hell out of them. Out of all of us. People are watching each other, now more than ever. They’re looking for differences. They’re looking for reasons. They’re hoping for reassurance. They’re looking to us to keep them safe from all the bad guys out there. Any unknown at this stage of the game is bound to make them uneasy.”
“Like the N.I.G.H.T.S.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could reassure people once and for all that there’s nothing untoward going on with your group?”
“Do you really need to ‘look into things’ in order to do that?”
“Well, no, not as such, but—”
“Because you know better than I do that there is no connection whatsoever between any of the deaths that have taken place . . . let alone throwing the N.I.G.H.T.S. into the equation.”
“I didn’t have to,” he pointed out. “The Gazette did that for me.”
Ouch. The Gazette and Margo. Which was pretty much the same thing.
“It’s just for appearances,” he said, trying the appeasement route. Too little, too late. “It’s no big deal.”
“Yeah. Right. Of course it isn’t.” Because why should disloyalty be a big deal?
He frowned owlishly. “I’m trying to look out for you, Maggie. And for the people of this town.”
Try again. He was looking out for himself, his job, and trying to preserve his sense of order. “Fine. Reassure away.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
Except it did. To me.
I didn’t say anything.
“So . . . I guess we’re at a standoff.”
It was the way he said it more than the words themselves that gave me pause. “Yeah. I guess so.”
He nodded grimly. The muscles in his jaw were popping in and out, so I knew he was gritting his teeth. Not in anger—more and more I was feeling his confusion. “Dammit, Maggie. I don’t know why we always have to go through this. We just can’t seem to catch a break. Why can’t you find a different job? It would make all the difference in the world. It’s just retail . . .” His voice trailed off as he saw in my stony face that he’d made a mistake.
“It’s not just retail!” I shot back. “Why should I leave? I love it at the store. I enjoy what I do. I belong there. Did you know I’ve searched my whole adult life to find a job where I felt like I really and truly belonged? Why should I have to give that up just to play to your boss’s stupid prejudices?”
“You could do it for me.”
It was a mind game, a passive-aggressive play for domination within the relationship, and completely unfair. I knew that. So why did it still manage to work its guilt magick on me?
Be careful, Margaret. A man, once he knows he has you in this way, will be tenacious. You’ll never be free.
Point taken, Grandma C, I thought to the voice of conscience in my head. And thanks for watching my back.
I shook my head at him, holding steadfast to my cause. “I shouldn’t have to change who I am to satisfy you, Tom. And you know it. If you wanted me, you’d take me as I am.”
I wasn’t going to bring up the even sorer subject of the mystery woman Annie had seen Tom with. For all I knew the cozy scene Annie had witnessed could have been something innocent; adding it into the mix today would be overkill. We had enough hurdles on the path in front of us without that, too.
“But—”
I started backing away, determined that this time my emotions wouldn’t let me back down from what I knew was right. “Do your job, Tom. Do what you have to do. And I’ll do the same.”
Frustration stretched and contorted the lines of his face as he struggled for footing amid his feelings. It was just as painful for me. Finally I could stand it no more and turned and walked quickly the rest of the way to my car, cursing myself for not having the keys in my hand.
“Maggie,” I heard Tom call out.
I turned slowly. Tom was still standing where I’d left him, his only movement to put on his mirrored aviators—against the sun, or as a shield against me? I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I knew.
“Are we okay?”
The words were softly spoken, and yet I heard them as if he was standing right
in front of me and not fifteen feet away. I dropped my gaze, protecting myself much in the way that he had with his shades. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
I could tell it wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the only one I could give him for now.
You know what killed me the most? Finally it was Tom doing the asking . . . and I was the one pulling my energy back.
Life. It just wasn’t fair. Pet Peeve #27.
Chapter 11
I had no stomach for lunch after the argument with Tom had ended so badly, so I drove around town for a little while to calm my beleaguered emotions, stopping only by the Stop & Shop for a giganto frozen Coke to cool down. Eventually the heat of the day chased me back to the store, where I hoped that the rest of the afternoon would pass by without incident.
That hope was in vain.
When I pulled into my usual parking space, there were flyers tucked under the windshield wipers on Liss’s car and under the seat strap on Tara’s scooter, which I guessed Marcus had been able to fix. Juggling my handbag and two paper sacks from the Coney Dog place, I pulled the closest sheet out to take a peek. Flamboyant in a particularly obnoxious shade of chartreuse was a copy of the petition notice that Reverend Martin’s First Evangelical Church of Light had brought to the Baptist fundraiser. A glance around me showed that the cars parked behind the stores surrounding us had all been papered as well. A lovely example of small-town togetherness philosophy, I thought, making a face. Not a surprise, though, since we’d already seen the preview out at Grace Baptist. Evidently they were picking up steam. Pity.
Across the alley, a door opened. Out popped the owner of the scrapbooking store on the next block. I didn’t know her name—I’d seen her only once or twice. I lifted my hand to wave at her, as was the custom around these parts. Then I noticed the folded newspaper held beneath her arm. Crap. The woman made her way to her car, pausing to snag the chartreuse paper from beneath her wiper blade. Her mouth tightened. She lifted her gaze to mine . . . and then she began to walk purposely in my direction.
Double crap.
To my surprise she stopped at the recycling bin at the back edge of the store parking, just before entering the alley. With her eyes still on mine, she took the ugly, bile-filled flyer, tore it neatly in half, and stuffed it into the paper bin. “Just taking out the trash,” she said to me. “Have a good lunch.”
And with that she headed back to her car, waving as she drove off calmly toward her own destination.
People in this town never stopped amazing me. In more ways than one.
Smiling to myself in spite of everything the morning had presented to me, I took Liss’s and Tara’s flyers inside with me. Minnie came flying beneath the velvet curtain when she heard the jangling of my keys. She launched herself at me in a three-point attack: chair, desk, shoulder. I reached up and gave her ears a rub and a nuzzle up against my neck. “Hello, little one. Did you miss me?”
“That you, Maggie?” Evie called from the main room.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m back.”
I pushed through the curtains with Minnie wobbling slightly on my shoulders. The girls were seated on the high-backed stools at the beverage bar, with Liss playing the part of barista behind the counter. On the bar top between them were several thick felt-tip pens and a piece of graph paper marked with several hatch marks. “What are you all up to?”
The phone rang at their elbows. Tara held up her hand. “My turn.”
I watched in curiosity as Tara went through the usual, “Good afternoon, Enchantments Antiques and Fine Gifts,” followed by an “Uh-huh,” a “Huh-uh,” an “I suppose that’s your prerogative,” a “We’re sorry you feel that way,” a “You’d really like us if you got to know us,” and a final,
“All righty, then. Thank you for calling.” She hung up the phone with a smug expression. “How’d I do?”
Evie held up her fingers in the universal A-OK sign. “Purrrrfect.” She picked up a black marker and added another hatch mark to those already on the paper.
I tilted my head to look at the sheet. “Thirteen?”
“Calls,” Tara confirmed. “All snotty.”
“And what are these other hatch marks?” I asked, pointing to the few marked in blue felt-tip.
“Those calls were more positive. They wanted to know the types of gift items we carry and our store hours.”
“And the yellow?” Seven of those.
“Possible future investigation sites. Worried people with strange experiences they can’t explain who thought maybe we’d have answers. I figure they could count as possible customers, too.”
I stared at the sheet and shook my head. “And all this . . .”
“Is a result of the article, yes. I’m fairly certain,” Liss answered.
Wow. And to think, most of the town hadn’t finished work for the day and wouldn’t see the paper until later this evening.
“No customers?”
Liss shook her head. “A few. But don’t you worry. Things will smooth out and return to normal before you know it, just as soon as the next scandal hits.”
Normal. In Stony Mill. Nothing about the last nine months had been normal actually, though I supposed there was always room for hope.
My cell phone rang, muffled in the depths of my bag. I pulled it out. “Mom” flashed on the small glass window. Hm. That couldn’t be good. She never called me at work in the middle of the day unless it was important, or unless I had been ignoring her for days . . . which I hadn’t. I pushed the button to send the call to voice mail, then glanced up to find everyone watching me. I shrugged.
“So, how was your lunch date, ducks?” Liss asked.
“How did you—what makes you think I had a lunch date?”
Liss smiled. “Just intuition, I suppose.”
“Actually, I went to the police department to talk to Tom,” I said, pretending nonchalance. “And I, um, happened to hear a few interesting things.” Knowing they wouldn’t tell anyone outside of our small circle, I proceeded to describe what I’d heard.
“So they’re going to investigate us?” Tara scoffed. “Good for them. Maybe they’ll learn a thing or two.”
“That’s not the point, Tara,” I told her. “The point is, we’ve obviously come under a bit of scrutiny, no thanks to my sister, and now this murder and this article. The calls today confirm that, obviously . . . but I don’t know. I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”
“She’s right,” Evie said, looking thoughtful. “I mean, we were having a bit of fun with the calls this afternoon, but there was an . . . undercurrent, I guess, to them that wasn’t exactly comfortable, if you know what I mean.”
Liss had remained silent until just then. “It is troubling . . . but not the end of the world. I have faith in the good people of this town. And in your Tom, for that matter. There might be some who will speak out of fear without just cause, but I think the good, the light in the human heart, will prevail.”
I hoped so. I truly did. But a part of me worried that she was allowing idealism to override reality.
“What I’m most curious about is the woman we found,” Tara said. “Who killed her and why they put her there in that hole.”
“The police seem to think it really was Ty Bennett.”
“I’ve been around Ty a little bit this summer. He never struck me as dangerous at all. In fact, he’s kind of a softhearted guy.”
Even softhearted guys could have a dark side, though, couldn’t they? Of course they could. The only problem with that theory was, without knowing he had an audience, Ty had resisted lashing out at Ronnie throughout her entire tirade. Even when she got up in his face. Shouldn’t there have been some hint of that dark side yesterday afternoon? Instead, what I’d seen had really been a sort of grace under pressure. But if not Ty, then who? Any one of the hundreds of men at the fundraiser? The thought gave me a headache.
Then it’s a good thing it’s none of your bother, Margaret Mary-Catherine O’Neill. Not you
r concern.
No, it wasn’t. It was just my curious, trying-to-make-sense-of-my-world mind.
The phone rang again. Evie picked it up immediately. “Good afternoon, Enchantments Antiques and Fine Gifts . . .”
While the girls played their phone game, I lead Liss off to one side. “I really think we need to take this seriously. I’m getting a very bad feeling about it. I want you to promise me that you’ll be careful and take additional precautions.”
“Ah, Maggie, my dear.” She patted me on the cheek. “I’ll be quite fine. Never fear. My Guides will take care of me. That and an effective protection spell or two.”
Not as well as a good security system, some pepper spray, and a personal stun gun, perhaps, but it was a start. “At least keep your cell phone on you at all times.”
“All right. I will. Promise. Better?”
I nodded.
“But I don’t think there will be a problem. No worries, ducks.”
No worries. Unfortunately I was a worrying kinda girl. Telling me not to worry was like telling a choco holic not to indulge in a Godiva store. It just wasn’t going to happen.
“This Ty Bennett,” Liss said conversationally, watching my face, “you don’t think he killed her.”
I had thought about it and thought about it since last night, but . . . “I’m not sure. On the one hand, the arguments they had were suspicious in light of what happened. On the other hand . . . oh, I just don’t know. It’s probably nothing. Just my guilt getting the better of me.”
“Guilt?”
“Because I’m the one who saw them arguing, and I’m the one who told the police about it, and now the investigation seems to be focusing solely on him.”
“But . . . if he is indeed guilty, surely that’s a good thing.”
She was right. I was being foolish. Because being in the wrong place at the wrong time almost always meant guilt. Because bad relationships often did go terribly wrong when the decision to end things wasn’t mutual.
