Home for a Spell

by Madelyn Alt

  “My goodness.”

  “And then he turned out to be the boyfriend of Annie Miller’s niece. More synchronicities, I guess. And then!”

  “Then? I’m on pins and needles.”

  “Then, after Marcus’s Uncle Lou collared the guy and took him down the block to cool off, the manager and I went to take a look at the apartment itself, and we heard a noise from somewhere inside it. Or at least we thought we did. He walked from room to room around the apartment, and just as he went back to the bedroom, some girl nearly knocked me down as she burst out of the entry closet, where she’d been hiding.”

  “Dear! Did you actually fall?”

  I shook my head. “No, but she scared the bejeebers out of me! I dropped my crutch, and when I looked up again, she was gone.”

  Liss frowned. “I’m not sure I like this. The apartment that you were looking at was actually broken into that day?”

  “The manager said it was probably just teenage hijinks and that’s all. That it’s just a part of doing business these days. Not much that can be done about it. I’m surprised he didn’t set up security cameras to prevent such things, or at least catch the perpetrators.”

  “Well, he’s right about there being risks to doing business, but we have had little vandalism here at the store. Or, we had until this morning.”

  She had said it so matter-of-factly, so absolutely without drama, that I almost went on to the next part of my story. Instead, I caught myself on an up-breath and looked up at her. “What do you mean, we had a little vandalism here this morning?”

  “Nothing to worry about, ducks. Someone left a gift for us on the doorstep, that’s all.”

  “What . . . sort . . . of gift?” I asked her, frowning.

  “Just a little paper parcel of excrement. Nothing to get excited about. I found it as I was unlocking the door.” She gave a delicate pause. “The fact that it was flaming caused a bit of an awkward moment. It would have been even more awkward, were I the type of person to put out flames with my heel, mind you. Thankfully I still had a full thermos of water in my car. I just doused it and got rid of it.” She took a sip from her teacup, pondering her effort. “It could have been worse. There were no broken windows or the like. Yes, it could have been much worse.”

  As much as she didn’t like the sound of the apartment, I really, really didn’t like the sound of vandalism at the store, no matter how “minor” she thought it was. For one thing, vandalism here at the store inferred that someone out there thought badly enough of Liss (at least, I was assuming it was Liss) to go out of their way to do something to antagonize or intimidate her. And I was really afraid that a person who was willing to go that far might be unbalanced enough to take it a step further—to take it to a physical level. A level of harm. But who? Who could feel so strongly about Liss? She was such a wonderful person, so warm and kind and giving.

  My bet was on someone from Reverend Baxter Martin’s church group, and I had a good idea why. Because Liss was a witch. And she’d been outed, not only through word of mouth but also in the Stony Mill Gazette. Ever since that fateful article appeared this past summer, Reverend Martin, a fundamentalist independent believer who liked to interpret the Holy Bible in his own very special way, had been actively—and singlehandedly—attempting to create a band of devotees to rise against what he had labeled “purveyors of darkness,” who in his mind were the source of all the sins of the town. At the top of his list of the wicked: Liss and anyone who associated with her store. And Martin had more ties to people of influence throughout the town than we’d like. He’d been making trouble for Liss at turn after turn, including with City Hall. Could it be that one of his followers was taking his role as religious activist a little too seriously?

  Liss saw the concern in my eyes and rushed to reassure me. “Now, now. It really is nothing, Maggie. At least, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Spells? You’re talking spells?” I couldn’t hold back the frown worrying my forehead. “Now, Liss . . . I know how seriously you take your magick”—after all, hadn’t I witnessed enough myself to know that it was real?—“but . . . shouldn’t we be talking about reporting it to the police and getting them involved?”

  “Actually, dear . . . I already did. To tell you the truth, they didn’t seem too very excited about it, although they did take down the information. Perhaps your apartment manager fellow this morning took precedence. In the meantime, I will be doing a full protection ritual with the upcoming dark moon, and you know that I charge my wards daily. Don’t underestimate them.”

  I wouldn’t—I’d both seen and felt the effects of them in action. But the wards only protected the property itself. The protection extended itself to the residents therein, but only while on the premises. That troubled me, too.

  “You know,” Liss went on, fetching a cookie from the tray, “since your apartment expedition went bust in rather a spectacular fashion, you might consider performing a spell of your own if you’re still interested in finding a new place to live. Here, have a biscuit. Chocolate cherry chip.”

  “Mm, my favorite.” Cherries from Michigan, what could be better? Um, how about adding them to chocolate chips and chocolate chunks in a cookie? “A spell? What kind of spell? You mean, like a Get Me a Cheap but Wonderful Apartment ASAP Spell?”

  She chuckled. “I think your average Home Finding Spell would suffice. After all, a home is what everyone strives to find, don’t you agree? And if we don’t find one readymade to fit the bill, it’s what we strive to create.”

  I would give her that. “Well, in that case, maybe I’ll think about that for this next go-round.”

  “So you’re determined to continue with the apartment quest, then?”

  “I have to keep looking,” I told her. “I have to find something.”

  “Marcus?” Liss guessed.

  I nodded. “Marcus. He’s putting off his classes because I’m there, and he feels like he has to be around to take care of me. Which is ridiculous! But you know Marcus.”

  “I do, indeed. A closet gentleman. Possibly the last gentleman, Goddess love him.” She chuckled, polishing off her cookie and dusting the crumbs from her fingertips. “Have you talked to him about this? Your reasons for wanting a new place?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “And how did he take it?”

  I paused, thinking about it. “Really well, I think. He was supportive of my reasons for it. It’s not just because of Marcus, of course. With Steff is leaving town, too, it just makes sense to me . . . I mean, it is a basement.”

  “Well, then,” Liss said, pouring herself another cup. “I would like you to allow me to perform the spell for you on your behalf. To find you a special place.”

  “A place I can afford.”

  “A place of your heart.”

  I nodded, touched by the sentiment. “A place of my heart.”

  A spell for a home, so that I could go home for a spell.

  Why not?

  “Too bad this apartment didn’t work out, though,” I said with a sigh. “It really did seem perfect, and such a deal, too. I’m really worried I’m not going to be able to find something affordable, and the whole search will be a moot point because it’s just not going to happen.”

  “I should definitely add in something about affordable.”

  “And actually, the manager had offered a deal where I would receive three months’ free rent and not need a security deposit.” When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, I said, “I know!”

  “Why on earth would an apartment complex need to be making offers such as that in this day and age, when apartments seem to be at a premium as more and more people lose their homes?” Liss asked. “Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Well . . . not really,” I admitted. “But as the happy recipient of the offer, it was just too good to pass up. And when he said someone else was interested, I jumped on it. I couldn’t bear to lose it to someone else.” I sighed then. “And it was all
for nothing.”

  “If the apartment was so perfect, why don’t you go ahead with it after all? It’s not as though the poor man’s murder took place in the apartment you were touring. No harm, no foul. Perhaps you should take the apartment as you had originally planned.”

  “I can’t. Mr. Harding said no way.” I had been trying to think of a way to broach the subject, but in the end, the only good way seemed to be the direct approach.

  She looked at me strangely. “Mr. . . . Harding?”

  I nodded. “Your former brother-in-law.”

  “Why on earth would Jeremy have any say in the matter whatsoever?”

  “Because he owns the apartment complex. Or Harding Enterprises does, which as I understand it is the same thing.”

  “Yes, that’s the same thing. Jeremy is Harding Enterprises.” She shook her head, as though trying to make sense of it and coming up short. “I had no idea.”

  “Yes, and he recognized me,” I told her. “The police called his office this morning, and he came to the crime scene as soon as he got the message. Once he discovered I was there to sign a lease, he told me in no uncertain terms that he would not allow it. No lease for me. It was totally because of my ties to you.”

  “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “Don’t be. This isn’t about you. It’s about him. He has some sort of personal vendetta against you.”

  “Well . . . his whole family life crumbled last year, and he was never comfortable with me as his sister-in-law, so I can see how he might have an issue with me.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” I told her.

  “But so many matters of the heart don’t take logic and reason into account,” she replied matter-of-factly. “No one ever said love—whatever type of love—is rational. Even in the best of circumstances.”

  That was the truth. Just like Marcus wasn’t thinking straight about the importance of him returning to classes as planned, all because of his loyalty to me.

  “Harding is a piece of work, though,” I mused aloud. “After the initial shock when Tom told him there had been a death involving one of his employees, he almost seemed more concerned with the loss of the apartment complex’s computer than with the man himself. I’m not kidding. He really did.”

  Liss chuckled, shaking her head. “That sounds like him.”

  “He was terribly upset that the computer had been destroyed, upset that the manager had ordered a new computer without his knowledge. He even told Marcus he wouldn’t pay him . . . although that was a moot point since the manager had already paid him in cash. Funny, though, that he had done it without his boss’s knowledge. I wonder if he used business funds.”

  Puzzled, Liss said, “I wonder why the manager would have bought a new computer without his boss’s knowledge. Usually any large purchase is run through the proper chain of command. Common business practice. If he hadn’t died, I have no doubt Jeremy would have had his head on the chopping block anyway, once he’d found out. In a nonliteral sense, of course.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging and shaking my head. “Maybe he thought he needed it and was determined to get it any way he had to. You know, take action and ask for forgiveness later.”

  “Hm, you might be right. Perhaps he had turned down a request previously.”

  “Maybe Locke paid for it out of his own funds. That’s always a possibility, I suppose.” I traced my finger thoughtfully around the gold rim of my antique teacup with its delicate violets painted round. “Although, I do have to wonder why a business computer would have to be as souped up as Marcus said he made this one. Top speed, fair to bursting with memory on the new hard drive. As up-to-date as a piece of computer wizardry could be at this point in time. I mean, I just don’t see the reason for the manager of an apartment complex to need anything like that. And why was it smashed to bits? Of course it must mean something to whoever it was that had such bad feelings toward Locke to have taken his life.”

  “They’re certain the two actions were tied together? The police, I mean.”

  “What else could it be?” I asked her. “The coincidence of the timing is just too great. I just don’t see any way that possibility could even be spun. How would that even work? The question is, which came first, the chicken or the egg? The break-in or the drowning? And was that part of it accidental or preplanned or an afterthought?” I considered that for a moment. “Did Locke catch someone in the act? I’ve heard of burglaries gone bad—not around here, granted—but vandalism? Who would do that? Break into the office of an apartment complex to either steal or destroy something and end up killing someone to cover it up? That’s like using a ten-pound sledge hammer when a meat tenderizer will do the trick.”

  “I see your point,” Liss said with a prosaic nod. “It would be rather much.”

  “It’s a mystery, that’s for sure.”

  “One probably best left to the police to sort through,” she gently reminded me.

  I blushed. “Oh, I know. Don’t mind me. You know I just like to muddle these things through until I can wrap my mind around them. Call it a personal defect.” I giggled as a thought occurred to me. “My mother would call it being a concerned citizen. Of course, she would do anything to pretend she wasn’t just being nosy.”

  “Your mother!” Liss slapped her palm over her forehead. “Good heavens. I nearly forgot.”

  Uh-oh. “Let me guess. My mother called.”

  “She did. She couldn’t reach you via your cell phone, so she called here.”

  My purse was still back on the sales counter. I clumped over to it and pulled my cell phone out of its depths, clicking the button on the side that made the screen light up. As expected, I had new voice mails. Three, in fact. My mother would try up to three times consecutively before she would give up and call the next likely location. Never did she let her voice mail messages speak for her. That would take too much time, and my mother was an active kind of girl.

  “Did she say what she had on her mind?” I asked Liss before I even bothered to play the messages. Sometimes with my mom it was better not to. Kept the blood pressure down.

  “She said something about turning on WANE-TV. I was going to check it for you, but then I allowed myself to be sidetracked with my little redecorating project.”

  Since we had no television at the store, the only thing to do was to check the local station on the Internet and hope they had updated their video alerts as usual. Liss reached under the skirted sales counter and pulled out the laptop for me while I situated myself on the comfortable stool, then she wandered away discreetly to give me my privacy. She needn’t have bothered. She had heard most every voice mail message my mother had left for me since I started working at Enchantments nearly a year ago. It’s not like I could have kept any secrets from her anyway, even if I had wanted to. Not with her uncanny ability to read my thoughts.

  After loading the page, I clicked the arrow on the little video window on the station’s website and waited the few moments it took while it buffered. As it whirred away, my gaze wandered over to the recent headlines. One in particular caught my eye: “Tragedy strikes again in Stony Mill.” As usual, the local media were on the ball. It was a sore point with many a businessman who belonged to the local chamber of commerce. After all the work that had gone into branding the town the self-proclaimed Antiques Capital of the Midwest, instead of being recognized for their efforts with good press, this was what Stony Mill was fast becoming known for. Not exactly the angle they were looking for.

  The video started playing, so I dragged myself back to the present.

  “Coming up next we have an interview with Chief Boggs of the Stony Mill Police Department, who was on scene this morning at yet another brutal murder in the sleepy rural town of Stony Mill. Chief Boggs goes into detail on the town’s most recent senseless killing, which has left many residents wondering why their town has gone so wrong. Stay tuned to Channel Three, WANE-TV, and check us out on the web.”

  It was your typical
news update, seen a million times over around the United States on a daily basis. Only this news update had something the others didn’t.

  It had a fairly distinct shot of both me and Marcus in the background as we were leaving the apartment complex. And thanks to my mother’s usual eagle eye, she had seen us.

  Explanations would be required. And explanations would bring up questions. Such as, why was I looking for an apartment, and why didn’t she know about it, and furthermore, why was she always the last to know about anything that happened in my life? My mother liked to be included in everything in her children’s lives. My older brother Marshall had escaped being under her constant observation by moving to New York after college. My younger sister Melanie wasn’t any help—she often fed into Mom’s need for inclusion by involving her in even the minutest degrees of her life. As a result, Mom left her alone, which meant when Mel didn’t want her to know something, she had no trouble hiding it from her. With me, my mother seemed to have a knack for knowing just when to question me, and she was well aware that I was a terrible liar and would have no ability to keep things from her.

  Leave it to my mother to have caught my innocent debut on the morning news.

  “Oh boy. How am I going to explain this?”

  Chapter 10

  “What’s that, ducks?” The words were muffled, called through teeth loosely clenched around a string of café lights.

  “Mom saw the announcement of the murder on the morning news. Guess who was featured in the background as Chief Boggs was being interviewed.”

  “Oh. Oh dear. You, I take it?”