by Sharon Pape
“I called Judy McFee last night, and she said something in passing that could be our first solid lead in the case. She agreed to an interview later this morning.”
“That’s terrific,” I said, buoyed by the prospect of useful information. “What was it? What did she say?”
“She asked if I wanted to hear about the time Ron got arrested, same as the other reporter who came to see her. Listen, I’m getting a call from the newsroom. We’ll talk when I get there.” I dragged myself out of bed, still feeling drugged. Tilly had brewed some tea to help us sleep last night. I’d have to ask her what she put in it. I didn’t wake her. She was going to need all the energy she could stockpile to deal with the Merlin-duck, day two.
I was showered, dressed, and on my second cup of coffee when Travis arrived. I poured him a cup and we settled at the kitchen table. His eyes were as red as mine from lack of sleep, but he seemed wide awake. Finding a clear direction in the hunt for Ryan’s killer had to be the reason.
“The other reporter Judy mentioned must have been Ryan,” I prompted as Travis added cream to his coffee.
“And if McFee’s arrest is what caught Ryan’s interest, we may finally have a clear trail to follow.”
“We already know Axel Stubbs was arrested,” I said, “so you’re thinking the other people on Ryan’s list also had run-ins with the law.”
“Yes, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Are you up to coming along for the interview?”
“I could use a distraction. Maybe if I give my brain a rest from wizards and ducks, I’ll have an epiphany about how to solve Merlin’s crisis.”
Travis glanced at his watch and jumped up. “We’d better get going.” I pulled on my waterproof boots, a heavy parka, gloves, and a woolen hat and left Tilly a vague note telling her not to worry, which was a useless phrase in our family.
The forecast called for freezing rain, sleet and snow—not my favorite driving conditions. But I doubted that even a full-blown blizzard would have caused Travis to reschedule the meeting. I climbed into his current rental, an SUV that looked like the muscular older brother of mine. I was glad to see the shovel, ice scraper, and snow chains in the back seat. We were girded for anything Mother Nature might have in store.
After we’d been on the road for twenty minutes, it was obvious the weather conditions were deteriorating. Tiny ice pellets were pinging the windshield like the stingers of a thousand bees. I called my aunt and told her to go home while she still could.
The McFee residence was part of a cookie cutter development of split-level homes fifteen minutes east of Watkins Glen. Five of the seven houses on Judy’s cul-de-sac were white, shutter color the most distinguishing feature between them. Judy’s were red. I thought of red as a happy color, the color of love. But it could be argued that it was also the color of rage and bloodshed. Judy was solidly in the second camp. I felt it as soon as she opened the door. Anger was coming off her like a heavy mist, her own special fragrance. From what I could tell, Travis seemed completely unaware of it.
Judy invited us in with a minimum of pleasantries, as if she was having second thoughts about the interview. She led the way into the family room where an old black Lab with a gray muzzle slept under the skylight, probably wishing for the sun to warm him. His front legs twitched as if he was running in a dream.
Judy apologized for the chaos that her kids had left in their wake. “I stopped caring if the house isn’t neat as a pin anymore.” But if she truly no longer cared, she wouldn’t have apologized. When Tilly gave up trying to lose the pounds that accompanied menopause and proclaimed that she no longer cared about it, she never mentioned it again. Tilly didn’t do things by half-measure. “The schools are closed today due to the storm,” Judy said. “At least when they’re in school I get a chance to pick up after them.”
“They’re very quiet,” I observed.
“That’s because I shipped them off to the neighbors so we could speak freely. They’ve had enough trauma to deal with in their young lives. Please sit wherever you’d like.”
Travis and I picked our way around abandoned Legos, Barbie dolls, Matchbox cars and a slew of toys I didn’t recognize from my own childhood, before reaching a loveseat. Judy took the chair across from us, relocating a mini iPad to the end table. “Do you want to know what I told the other investigator?” she asked, getting right to the point.
“Yes, please,” Travis said. He pulled out his trusty pad and pen. “Sometimes old school is just better,” he’d told me the first time I saw him take notes that way. “Fits in my pocket better, doesn’t need recharging, and can’t be deleted by accident.” Another reason for my mother and grandmother to love him.
“So,” Judy said, “my dear, devoted husband woke up one day and decided he didn’t want to go on living. He didn’t take into account that he was the sole support of our family or that he was the one who’d insisted I stay home to raise the kids instead of working.”
“This happened when you and your children were in the house?” I asked, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of what she was saying.
Judy shook her head. “The kids and I were away visiting my sister overnight. When we came home the next morning, I knew something was wrong even before we went inside. Shadow was barking in the backyard. We never just left him outside barking, and we always put him in the house if no one was going to be home. About the same time, I realized Ron’s car was idling in the garage. But when I looked, the garage door was closed. I told myself it couldn’t be what I was thinking. But what else could it be? I told the kids to wait outside while I went into the house. I was shaking so badly I had trouble getting the key in the lock. I ran right to the door that leads into the garage. Ron was in the driver’s seat, slumped over the steering wheel. I guess it didn’t even occur to him that it might have been one of the children who found him that way.”
“Was this in any way consistent with other behaviors he exhibited during the years you were together?” Travis asked
“No,” she said. “I never knew him to be depressed or hopeless. Certainly never suicidal. He was an even keel kind of guy. That’s what drew me to him. My own childhood could have been a case study in dysfunctional families. Ron showed me life could be good, enjoyable. I learned how to relax.” For a moment I heard grief overtake her anger. She took a deep breath and tucked the emotions away. “What I don’t understand is why you two and that other reporter are suddenly so interested in his death. It’s not like he was some kind of saint or hero. Not long before he killed himself, he was arrested for drunk driving and leaving the scene of an accident. Thank goodness no one was badly injured, but he almost had to do time in prison. If it wasn’t for his attorney, he probably would have.”
“What was the attorney’s name?” I asked.
“Sam Crawford.” She turned to Travis. “On the phone you said you were working on a case that could clear up the mystery of Ron’s suicide.”
“I’m not in a position to talk too much about it yet,” Travis said, “but I promise you, I will come back when our investigation is complete and tell you everything.” He was using his official anchor voice, heavy on the gravitas. It was hard not to believe him when he spoke that way. Judy accepted his answer and asked if there was anything else we wanted to know. Travis handed her his card. “Give me a call if you think of anything else that could be relevant to your husband’s passing.” She thanked us, we thanked her, and we were out the door, slogging through several inches of ice, sleet, and snow.
Travis’s steadying arm kept me from falling a couple of times before we made it into the sanctuary of his truck. The trip back to New Camel was slow-going. We inched along like a giant steel snail, which was just fine with me. Better slow than skidding off the road into a tree. The image of Ryan’s car popped into my head, making me shudder. Travis noticed and raised the temperature in the car, but the cold from that image couldn�
��t be banished by anything as simple as heat.
We were one of the few vehicles on the road, aside from the town plows and salt spreaders. The wind had picked up, driving the sleet into the windshield as if it had a grudge to satisfy. Visibility was down to a couple of feet. We heard one of the big plows scraping and growling, before it appeared beside us in the left lane. Despite the poor visibility, I knew we were approaching the place where the road narrowed to one lane. Between the blades of the windshield wipers I saw the sign warning drivers to merge. Travis dutifully slowed and hung back so he could swing into the left lane behind the plow. The plow slowed too. We were quickly running out of lane. Travis slowed again. The plow dropped its speed and kept pace with us. Travis laid on the horn. I didn’t ask if he was thinking what I was thinking, because he was busy enough and I didn’t want corroboration anyway. Why hadn’t I insisted on taking my SUV? Granted it was smaller, but I’d cast wards around it as soon as I drove it home from the dealership. I was covered by the spell of protection too, but Travis wasn’t. I didn’t have the materials with me in order to properly place the wards. Maybe the words alone would afford him and his car some protection. My mind was racing. I needed the most general spell. What were the words? With Earth and fire…no, no—With Earth and water, air and fire—that was it.
With Earth and water, air and fire
Protect us from all who’d harm us.
The last part was off, but I couldn’t remember how it should be. I repeated this version three times, praying it would help anyway.
“What’s on my right?” Travis yelled over the noise of the storm and the plow.
“A ravine,” I yelled back, “but I don’t remember how steep it is here.” The road was narrowing by the second. The side of the plow clipped our front fender and sent us spinning off. Travis wrestled with the wheel and kept us on the roadway, but we wound up facing in the wrong direction. If there were other cars on the road, they would have hit us head-on. The white-out blinded us. I tensed, expecting a crash, while Travis whipped the truck back around. The plow didn’t get away unscathed. We’d heard it bang and scrape along the cement divider until it came to a stop. Before I could sigh with relief, the plow reversed and slammed into us with enough force to flip the SUV. Travis fought gravity, barely managing to keep us upright as we flew over the edge of the road and into the ravine.
Chapter 24
I awoke to Tilly’s worried face hovering over me. “What happened?” I mumbled, trying to kickstart my memory. The last thing I recalled was climbing into Travis’s truck for the trip back to New Camel. Yet there I was in my aunt’s guest room. I tried to sit up, but the pain in my side quickly changed that plan. Tilly urged me to lie still.
“You were in an accident,” she said, her voice fraught with emotion. “I blame myself. If I hadn’t been asleep, I would never have let you go out on a day like today.”
She seemed to forget that I was not known for following advice or demands, but at that moment I wasn’t up to arguing the point. Besides, when Tilly was determined to be upset, you just had to let her ride it out.
“You suffered a concussion and you have two broken ribs from the airbag,” she said. “Travis… Is he all right?” I asked, suddenly terrified that I’d lost him.
“He’s fine. He’s resting on the sofa-bed in the study. He suffered a concussion too, but beyond that he only has bumps and bruises, nothing that time can’t heal. And Merlin and I can’t speed up,” she added. “I mean, I can’t speed up.”
“What about Sashkatu and the others?” I was worried they’d been forgotten in the aftermath of the accident, but I should have known better.
“Taken care of. All is well, although Sashki is nursing something of a snit. I’m sure you’ll be forgiven when you get back home.” I thought that was overly optimistic. It might take a salmon filet to mend his mood. I once blamed my mother for turning him into a spoiled cat-brat, but I was just as bad.
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Tilly said, “what were you and Travis thinking, driving around in such horrible conditions? On the TV, on the radio, they were telling everyone to stay home. The County Executive and mayor sent emails. I even got a robo-call about it: ‘Stay home, stay safe. The plows can’t do their job, if there are cars in the way!’”
Something in her words struck me as important, but I couldn’t hook into it with my head throbbing like a bad tooth. I gave up trying. I’d remember when I was ready to or I wouldn’t. Had I thought that or had Tilly said it? No matter. I let my eyelids fall closed, since that’s what they were determined to do. I didn’t have the energy to stop them.
When I woke the second time, my marbles didn’t feel quite so scattered. I was starting to remember pieces of the missing time and specific questions were cropping up. I could hear my aunt puttering in the kitchen, talking to Merlin or maybe to Isenbale, because I didn’t hear any quacking. I clenched my jaw against the pain from my broken ribs as I maneuvered myself up to sit against the tufted headboard. Tilly loved tufting. She claimed it made everything look richer and more elegant Anything in her home that could be tufted, was. I’d often thought Isenbale, with his luxurious coat, was lucky he hadn’t fallen prey to her passion.
At that moment, Tilly came into the room, carrying a bed tray. “You look a little better,” she said with an approving smile. She set the tray down carefully, so that its legs rested on either side of mine. The tray held a steaming mug of tea and a plate with a homemade English muffin that bore little resemblance to the store-bought variety. Seeing it there, all buttered and spread with apricot jam, my appetite perked up.
“The tea is a blend of Comfrey leaves to heal your ribs and Ginkgo Biloba to mend your brain,” she said. I made a face, recalling the unpleasant brew from a childhood fall from a tree. “I don’t care how it tastes,” she added firmly. “Just drink it up.”
I drank the tea, holding my breath to minimize the taste. As soon as I drained the cup, I dug into the buttery, sweet muffin. My aunt had also brought a little bowl with a sponge she’d soaked in the essential oils of sweet marjoram and sweet woodruff. She set the bowl beside me on the night stand. Smelling them was said to help heal the brain too. I much preferred the scent of the actual plants, but they weren’t easy to find that time of the year. The woodruff smelled like newly mown hay, the marjoram like sweet herbs with a subtle undertone of camphor. A pleasant enough mixture.
“Can you stay a minute?” I asked Tilly, who’d come to take away the remains of my breakfast.
“At your service, my dear.” She sat down on the edge of the bed near my knees, careful not to jostle me. “What can I do for you?”
“I need answers. My memory is returning and I have a head full of questions.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Who found Travis and me?”
“Paul Curtis. His shift had ended here and he was heading back home on that road. Along the way, he was keeping an eye out for anyone in trouble. As I heard it, he saw your truck’s tail lights blinking in the snow at the bottom of the drop off. He found a place to pull off the road, called for an ambulance, and made his way down to you. Both of you were unconscious when he first got there. He covered you with blankets from his car and waited with you until the ambulance arrived. They said it took a good forty minutes in the storm. Travis came to when they were transferring him into the ambulance. You didn’t wake up until you were in the ER.”
I tried to imagine myself in the situation she described, but my mind balked. Although I believed her, it was as if she were trying to sell me a story about two strangers. “Schuyler ER in the Glen?”
She nodded. “They kept you there a few hours and tested you every which way before discharging you. By then they were apparently all scratching their heads. They couldn’t figure out how you two survived that accident with fairly minor injuries. The truck was totaled.” Tilly arched one eyebrow at me.
>
I smiled. “Yeah, it was a last-minute protection spell I kind of threw together. I’m actually surprised it worked as well as it did.”
“Aha! It worked because you have an amazing talent with spells. That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you. As soon as you’re up to it, you really need to help Merlin.”
“I know. I will.” I just had to calm the thoughts ricocheting around in my head first.
Tilly was walking out with the tray as Travis walked in. “Behave yourselves,” she called over her shoulder, “you both still need your rest.”
Travis looked disheveled, but otherwise surprisingly good for someone who’d narrowly escaped death. I wondered what I must look like.
“It’s good to see you,” I said. So good that my heart managed a bit of its usual jig in his honor.
“Right back at you,” he said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not to jostle it or make it bounce. “It seems a ‘thank you’ is in order.”
I shrugged. “No need. It’s just one of the perks of dating a sorcerer.”
“So, now that you saved my life, aren’t you responsible for looking after me forever?” he asked with a mischievous smile.
“This isn’t China,” I said, “but I’ll do what I can.” There was irritable quacking in the hallway, alternating with Tilly’s voice in its upper register as if she and the Merlin-duck were having a heated conversation.
Travis wagged his head and smiled. “You sure have problems you don’t find in most families.”
“It does keep life from getting boring.” I watched his smile fade and the laughter in his eyes evaporate. “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. There can’t be any doubt now. The killer intends to get rid of us. Whoever was driving that plow wasn’t working for the county.”
“Does anyone know what happened to the driver who was supposed to be behind the wheel?” I asked.
