“I’m afraid decaf is all poor Giles gets unless we are at a restaurant,” I said.
After nodding off twice during our conversation, Uncle Harry made his excuses and headed upstairs to bed. Giles left for the police station. I put the dishes in the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and locked up. Everything else could wait until morning.
Only after going upstairs did I remember the amulet. I felt in my pocket to make sure it was still there. I placed it in my bedside table. Well after midnight, Giles returned home and slid in beside me after he pushed Khaki to the foot of the bed and turned off the light. Peace at last.
6
Morning jolted me back into the real world of errands, cleaning, and bill paying. After my shower, I found Uncle Harry happily grazing away on Honey-Nut Cheerios and watching reruns of “I Love Lucy.”
“Why don’t they make stuff like this anymore? This show is hilarious,” he said while I made a grocery list. I smiled and nodded but made no comment. The question was rhetorical...
“Is there anything you need at the store, Harry?” Harry looked thoughtful for a moment and shook his head. He was much too involved with the Ricardos and Mertzes than with the real world. I guess he deserved to “veg” for a while.
“Giles should be down any minute. He’s not teaching today but doing research at the library.” Whoops I almost said too much. No matter, Harry was only listening to about every third word and mindlessly munching his cereal. His brain would be as soggy as that cereal if he kept watching “I Love Lucy” reruns.
I mentally checked off my errands and grabbed my purse. Giles circled my waist.
“Hi, beautiful. Where are you off to today?” He said. “Is Harry going with you or is he holding court here?”
“Oh, His Majesty is indeed up watching “I Love Lucy” reruns and eating your stash of Honey-Nut Cheerios,” I said. “You’d better hurry if you expect to get any cereal this morning.”
“Has the Colonel given any indication when the painters will be finished?”
“No. I haven’t mentioned it yet, but I think it will be soon. This afternoon, he plans to check on his greenhouse with all his lovely poisonous plants. Harry is concerned that the fumes will harm them. He nurtures them more than some folks do their children,” I said.
“Hey, don’t bite the hand. Remember, he’s your poison expert,” Giles reminded me.
“I know. I know. And that’s a task I need to get back to. Pamela is screaming for the book and I have writer’s block – big time.”
“Now for my share of the Honey-Nut goodness,” Giles said.
“Wait! Have a look at this.” I handed him the amulet that Mary Ann gave me.
“Where did you get this?” Giles asked.
“From Mary Ann Camden. She gave it to me when we had lunch. She found it in Dennis’ bedside table. Do you think that it’s important?”
“It might be. Let me take it to the research library and see what I can find.”
“There’s something else. A few days before the accident, Dennis phoned and asked for you.”
“Really, you didn’t mention it.?”
“I suppose in all the excitement I forgot. He was very polite and didn’t leave a message.”
I grabbed my purse and jacket and waved.
“Bye all,” I said as I threw my purse strap over a shoulder. Giles looked up from his Cheerios long enough for a smile and a wave. Eating cereal and watching TV, my husband looked like a big Dennis-the-Menace with a blonde lock refusing to cooperate with the rest of his hair.
.
8
I knew that when I gave Giles the amulet, he would spend whatever it took to get to the bottom of what it meant and where it came from. When we had a moment alone, he mentioned similar objects being left across town at the scene of other crimes.
Giles was a dedicated researcher. I knew that at given time he could be found in the special reference section of the Rutherford College library. Or if not there, he was in his home office digging through books of spells, symbols, occult and Gothic literature, or on the Internet gleaning information. He was constantly updating his knowledge of the occult both for his classes and for the police consultant position. Sometimes he discussed with me what modern pagans and the popular “do-it-yourself” religious groups were into. I was appalled at what these groups were capable of.
Giles was not foolish. He’d had dealings with witchcraft and pagan groups before. Many neopagans enrolled in the Gothic literature and New Age religion classes that he taught. Even if they didn’t agree with him, they admitted his presentation were fair.
The Colonel aka Uncle Harry was also quite fond of Khaki. Uncle Harry lost his faithful Norwegian Elkhound, Spud, and never gotten over it. I came back from errands and Harry was outside with Khaki. When he threw the ball for Khaki to fetch, I interrupted their game.
“Uncle Harry, do you know anything about the occult?” I asked.
“I’ve read up on potions made from the plants in my greenhouse. Cults and the occult use poisons in their curses. Sometimes they coat various amulets with toxins, as well as sacrifice animals, which of course is out of my area of expertise. Why do you ask?””
“I know you heard about the lab explosion, Dennis Camden’s death, and all the rumors that have been circulating,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t pay attention to rumors. Facts are much more delicious,” Harry said with that quirky sense of humor that I love.
I pulled out my cell phone and showed Harry a picture of the amulet that we had been researching. He enlarged it, looked at it from different angles, and handed it back.
“Not sure. But it seems to be a Wiccan charm. Giles could look it up in the one of the grimoire volumes, probably the Lesser Seal of Solomon,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You never cease to amaze me,” I said and hugged him.
“I try.”
9
It had been over three weeks since Dennis’ death. Two weeks since Mary Ann and I ate lunch at the bagel place. I questioned whether I should call her and invite her to have coffee. We didn’t have much information yet on the amulet, but I was anxious to see how she was adjusting. The last thing I needed to do was concern her about Dennis’ possible connection with the occult.
At the same time, Harry got the okay to move back to his digs and President Fazio asked Giles to teach a class in Atlanta for a colleague who had the flu. We agreed that he should spend the night since the class ran late. So, with the house empty, I replaced the frozen ground beef I designated for spaghetti and opted for a frozen dinner. I rubbed Khaki’s head.
“It’s just you and me tonight, old girl,” I said. After dinner, I went upstairs to work on the Diva sequel. Editing was my least favorite thing, but I got through the manuscript one more time.
“Enough for tonight, girl,” I said to a snoring cocker spaniel who was decidedly not interested in my writing career. Whether it was the grinding whine of a forced lock or the thud of something pushed against a wall, I can't say, but the sound roused me and telegraphed a clear message. An intruder was in the house!
Frozen by fear, I lay silently in my king-size bed. Frantic ideas raced through my barely conscious mind. What should I do? Where is my phone? In what part of the house was the intruder? What were they after? I glanced at the digital clock on the night table -- 3:00 A.M. I had only come to bed around midnight, when I finished editing Diva’s Vendetta.
Slipping out of bed, my pupils dilated, adjusting to the dark. I opened the bedroom door and peered down the hall - no lights, nothing. Then it came again. I could tell from the resonance that it came from the lower part of the house—Giles’s study.
My feet felt around for my slippers. I grabbed the robe at the foot of the bed and threw it on. I managed the stairs slowly and made my way into the living room. Stumbling across the room dimly lit by a tiny night-light; I nearly fell over Khaki who apparently changed positions when I went upstairs. She never stirred. I groped my way to t
he end table, grabbed my cell, and dialed 911. Why hadn’t I brought the cellular phone upstairs like I usually do?
The police arrived within minutes. My neighbors awakened to the noise of police cars, lights flashing in all directions, and our subdivision being turned into chaos. The police searched the premises, took a lot of notes, dusted for fingerprints and packed up. Sargent Grimes, now a detective, was as gnarly as ever. He remained to fill me in on the details, which were blurry at best.
After the hubbub settled down, I was too tense to go back to bed. The police found no fingerprints, but the lock appeared to have been jimmied. Plus, a dining room chair overturned. However, nothing was broken or missing that I could determine. I would go over my list of valuables and check the lock box tomorrow. Giles would be able to spot anything missing more quickly than I could.
Giles’s prized antique roll-top desk was intact; however, all the desk drawers gaped open with their contents strewn around. The middle drawer was closed -- either stuck or locked but the key slot was scratched. I never noticed that before. I don’t even know where Giles keeps the key. Only he would know if this was new or had always been there.
Sitting at the dining room table with a cup of strong black coffee, I witnessed the orange sunrise against the beautiful Georgia pines and steadied my nerves. Another day is dawning in the red clay country. The break-in alarmed me more than I wanted to admit. Maybe Grimes was right. He surmised it was someone looking for drugs or cash. It was too invasive to be a prank. But why overturn a damask chair or throw papers around? His theory made no sense, but I didn’t even have a theory. Someone somewhere was intensely interested in our personal lives. Someone was watching and knew I would be home alone. Someone. But who?
I thought about telephoning Giles. But there was nothing he could do. Why wake him when he would be home from Atlanta in a few hours?
I’ve never been afraid to stay by myself or to be alone before, but so much has happened in the last few months. I feel as if I’m being watched maybe even toyed with. Perhaps this was a warning to me. Or was Giles the one in real danger?
Khaki bounded into the room, found her chew bone, and settled into a corner. Why didn’t she bark last night? She couldn’t HEAR an intruder but weren’t her other senses supposed to be heightened? What if, and this thought terrified me, she recognized the intruder and didn’t bother to warn me?
The alarm on my phone went off and startled me. I must have dozed off. I washed my face in warm water and put some saline in my eyes. I forgot to take my contacts out and they felt like sandpaper. I remembered some left-over pizza in the fridge and decided to heat it up. When I reached the kitchen and was microwaving the leftovers, the phone rang. Giles was on his way home and remembered that he had a faculty meeting.
I blurted out, “Someone broke into the house last night.”
“What! Are you okay?” His voice raised and alarm was apparent in his tone.
“I’m okay. But your study was the target of the break in. Grimes was here. We checked everything the best we could. I couldn’t tell if anything was missing. Papers and books were strewn around. Another thing. There were scratches on your desk drawer; it looks like they tried to break the lock. Maybe they were trying to scare you, or me. But just maybe they were after whatever information you might have on the Camden murder.”
“I’m coming straight home. Damn the faculty meeting. I can’t take a chance of someone harming you. I didn’t want to alarm you before I left, but Stephanie, your hunch was right. Dennis’ death wasn’t an accident. Dennis was murdered.”
“Murdered!”
The one word I didn’t want to hear. I felt dizzy, nauseous, and afraid all at once. Still I didn’t want Giles to be alarmed.
“Grimes is a detective now. He has his men patrolling. They brushed for fingerprints and still searching for evidence.”
“I wonder why that doesn’t make me feel better. The force hasn’t been able to put away the rapist that’s been terrorizing Five Points lately. How can I hope that he could track down a killer? Did you get in touch with Harry?”
“No, I didn’t want to worry him. But when I asked Uncle Harry about the occult, he is a lot more knowledgeable than I gave him credit for. Really, dear, go on to the faculty meeting. I’m not afraid. I’m having all the locks changed today and installing a burglar alarm. Uncle Harry will come over as soon as he hears. Really. I’m fine. You just finish up and come home as soon as you can.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I love you.”
“I love you, too. The meeting shouldn’t run too late. I’ll bring home Chinese. You just relax and get those locks and alarms taken care of.”
With tasks taken care of, I went to retrieve the mail. A few clouds, maybe it will rain. I sifted through the water bill, ad circulars, pizza handbills, and another from the Superior Court of Clarke County. Perfect! I have jury duty. It just gets better and better. What next?
10
The stars, sun, moon and planets must have aligned because my two besties, Carol and Doris, were also summoned for jury duty. Meeting up with them at the courthouse took the edge off jury duty and gave us plenty of time to catch up during the interminable wait. In olden days they let us bring our knitting, but no more. I suppose they fear an ornery jury member stabbing another with a knitting needle. After all they are pointy things. The guards also scan our purses and confiscate our cell phones, so Words with Friends was out.
Doris, Carol, and I were all accepted, and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. We’d get a little pocket money but with parking fees, gas, and lunch I hoped to break even. When the jury wasn’t deciding someone’s fate for jay walking or being too close to the school with crack cocaine, or listening to some half-baked story, I jotted down possible story lines for the next two Diva books. My idea was that when my character will have run their course in the Diva series, I will need another mystery series with a unique twist. Yeah. Good luck with that one. As Solomon observed, ‘there’s nothing new under the sun.’
I prayed this whole jury thing wouldn’t tie me up all week, but the bright side was that at lunchtime I could run my ideas by Doris and Carol. We talked at lunch, then I emailed the copy, and the next day they’d give me feedback on what worked and what didn’t. Fresh eyes were always a good thing as far as writing goes, but they can’t be ones that are afraid to hurt your feelings. I learned long ago that your spouse or your mother can’t be unbiased when it comes to critiquing your writing.
The third day of jury duty we were dismissed and thanked for our services. And given “the check is in the mail” speech. I got home a little early. Giles was still in class, but the message on my desk said to telephone him when I got in. Jury duty puts you out of touch with the universe. It’s kind of like being held hostage.
“Hi Honey, what’s up?” I cooed when Giles picked up.
“Hey Stephanie. I wanted you to know that somehow Grimes got wind of the occult factor and asked me what I knew. Of course, I had to come clean about the amulet and what I’d found out thus far which isn’t much. He made me surrender it, but I took a picture of it with my phone before I did.”
“Wow. And I was having such a good day,” I said.
“He may question you about how you got the amulet and so on. Just tell the truth. He knows and just wants to check my story. I take it that the police still don’t have a clue about Dennis’ death.” Giles continued, “Both the good sergeant, I mean the detective, and I concluded that the break-in the other night was all about finding the amulet. Fingerprints were smudged or nonexistent. The forced lock was done by an amateur according to the police investigators. Thank God you didn’t catch them. Who knows what might have happened?”
“I know I try not to think about it. Whoever broke in didn’t know we had a dog, or if they did, they knew Khaki couldn’t hear well. I wonder if that’s a clue,” I wondered out loud.
“Stephanie we are not characters in one o
f your books. This is real. You were in danger, understand?” Giles said in a tone I was not familiar with.
“Yes. I do”
“Think. Did anyone see Mary Ann give you the amulet? Did you show it to anyone else? Did you mention it to anyone? This is important,” Giles’s said sternly.
“I don’t think so. Of course, I didn’t know what she was about to give me and there were other people eating at the Bagelry. I didn’t show it to anyone or tell anyone, but if someone
SAW her give it to me I couldn’t be sure. Do those places have cameras? You know in case of a robbery or something? Maybe Grimes could flash his badge around and find something captured on tape,” I said trying to sound light-hearted.
“Please be serious. I have another class. I must go. I’ll be home soon. Oh, and I almost forgot Uncle Harry is trying to get in touch with you. Love you. Bye.”
11
I told Siri to dial Uncle Harry, but he didn’t pick up. It went straight to voice mail. Sometimes he forgets to take his cell into the greenhouse, so I drove home to take off my ‘jury clothes’ and put on something more comfortable like shorts and a tee shirt.
With jury duty over, I had a few ideas I wanted to jot down before they floated into cyber-space. A lot of my ideas do that. I complained so much that Giles bought me a pen that lights up so I can write down ideas in the middle of the night without switching on an overhead light. If only I could remember where I put the thing!
I made a sandwich and tried Harry again. Surely, he’d clipped, weeded, fed, and watered all his poisonous garden plants by now. The doorbell rang but I didn’t get there quick enough to view who rang it. I looked down and there was a note folded neatly on the welcome mat.
DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR DOG IS?
Panic went through every being of my body and I began searching the house and calling Khaki even though I realized she probably couldn’t hear me. I went through every room, out to the back yard and finally out the front door.
Murder in the Classic City Page 6
