Murder Casts Its Spell

by Margaret C. Morse

  "It wasn't about money. I'd already been talking to her about an exorcism. By that time, I'd convinced Felicia that an exorcism was necessary to save her child's soul. It would also keep Keegan out of her life. If the child had no magic powers, Felicia wouldn't need to have Keegan involved. At first, Felicia didn't like the idea."

  I hated to ask this next question, but I had to have all the bad news. "Do you know if Felicia had told Keegan about the exorcism?"

  "No, she wanted to finish the court thing first."

  I hoped he was right about her not telling Keegan. Felicia let men push her around. Mark manipulated her, and her father and new lover sounded like controlling types. "Let me see if I have it right. After seeing Felicia admit her new boyfriend around midnight, you never saw her again?"

  "I didn't even find out about the murder until late Monday. When I came home from choir practice, my mother had to tell me. A detective left his card, in case we saw anything. I have an appointment with him tomorrow."

  "How come you called us?"

  "I heard the name of your law firm on Channel Four news. I feel safer if other people know what I saw."

  Rusty was looking at me with both brows raised. "Rusty, any questions?"

  She lowered her notebook. "You told us a white car may have followed you today. You think it's this Mystery Man of Felicia's?"

  "Felicia could've told him about how I kept an eye on her. He may be wondering if I saw him Sunday night. Even though the police have arrested Keegan, the Mystery Man might not want his name brought into the case." He restored the chairs to their original positions. "I'd like to spend just a few minutes before Our Lady."

  We had the church to ourselves. Mark lit a candle and knelt, his head bowed. I selected a place at the other end of the wrought iron stand. I had unfinished business here. A shelf under the candles held note cards and stubby pencils. I wrote down Answer everybody's prayers and stuck it in the slot to my right. I lit all the remaining candles. I wanted action. As the flames heated my face, I stared at the statue and willed her to answer their prayers. Her hands, pressed together over her chest, moved apart. I blinked, convinced my eyes had played a trick on me.

  I whirled. My companions had moved to the pews, where Rusty talked, and Mark nodded. They hadn't been observing the statue. I must have looked odd because they came over to me. I didn't tell them what I thought I'd seen, for now Our Lady's hands were pressed together. I was mistaken.

  "Seen a ghost?" Rusty stood close to me.

  "No, no, the candles got too hot." I glanced at Mark who for the first time that evening met my gaze directly. His black eyes told me nothing.

  "Time to go?" Rusty pulled out her keys. "I've been giving Mark some tips on getting rid of a tail."

  "I'll meet you two in the parking lot." I wanted to inspect the statue. "You finish briefing Mr. Turner. I have another request I want to make to Our Lady."

  Rusty frowned, probably surprised at my sudden devotion to a Catholic icon. I waited until I heard the outer door shut before I nerved myself to touch the statue's hands. The plaster fingers chilled me but sent no magic tingle. I jumped when a soft thump sounded from the choir loft. Enough creepy sensations—time to leave. I scurried down the side aisle, and just as I made a left, all the lights from the chandeliers to the candles went out. I held on to the top of the rear pew to guide my way to the foyer. When I pulled it open, the electric lights blazed on.

  I dashed outside, so relieved to see Rusty, who was tossing away a cigarette, that I lost concentration and tripped over my own feet on the steps, grabbing the handrail to save myself.

  Rusty trotted over. "Now you really do look like you've seen a ghost."

  "The lights went out again and startled me."

  As we drove to Mojo's for her latte and my cappuccino, I decided not to mention the statue's hands because I might have imagined it. I thought of myself as a rational woman, and the statue movement was not logical. Uncomfortable thoughts made me squirm.

  Sipping the cappuccino, I licked at the sweet and luxurious whipped cream. "You go first. What did you think of Mark?"

  "Superficially honest but hoarding secrets."

  I waited until Rusty had driven past an empty light rail train. "I think Mark is hiding something. There's got to be a reason he's afraid of this Mystery Man. And I bet he does have the guy's license plate number."

  "He's off-kilter, so he sees other people as being twisted." She drummed on the steering wheel. "He helped us by revealing the Mystery Man as a suspect."

  I sipped my drink. "The whole exorcism thing was a shock. As soon as the cops find out about it, they'll be sure they have Keegan's motive for being furious with her."

  "It's not in the media yet."

  "It's coming. The cops will find out from Mark, the father, the lawyer." I sat up straighter as we drew closer to my place. "I predict we hear from Mark again. Mark knows something that we don't know, but he thinks somebody knows, and that makes him nervous."

  She pulled into my condo complex with just a slight squealing of brakes. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

  In bed, I stared into darkness. Was the statue my imagination or a manifestation of leftover magic from Ernie? I drifted off to sleep, determined to be undecided.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WEDNESDAY MORNING

  I staggered out of bed and fumbled for my running shorts and shoes. Feeling around the floor of the closet, I found my Taos T-shirt. I gave it a good sniff—smelly, but I run alone, so I didn't care.

  This morning's exercise routine demanded I go out the front door and run. I could barely lift my feet, my legs heavy and beset with random aches and spasms. I huffed as if I'd already gone ten miles. How could I possibly make it for forty minutes? Today I might cut it short. To make it to the street, I personally had to order each leg to move—left, right, repeat, go, go. A lady walked toward me on the sidewalk, propelled by a dog the shape of a mop. I zigzagged around them onto the street. I would finish. No shortcuts.

  Returning home sweaty and invigorated, I found Chris at my front door. He'd emailed the night before that he wanted to talk about the case, not the Mark Turner interview which Rusty had briefed him on, but some new complication. I'd decided not to mention the statue because I didn't want to sound like a fool who had visual hallucinations.

  Dressed in gray sweats, he eyed me, one of his thick brows jerking up.

  "Why are you doing the eyebrow trick? Do I look weird?" I wiped sweat off my face. "I need to cool off before a shower. Let's talk inside."

  Chris followed me to the kitchen, which was filled with the aroma of brewed coffee. The pottery and copper pans gleamed, as if dazzled by a witch's spell.

  He accepted a steaming mug. "You had any more magic manifestations?"

  "No, not really." No one could prove the statue was anything I caused. I poured coffee into a cup that said Muggle, a gift from Rusty. "What's up?"

  "Another interview tonight with Keegan's brother, Ira. Rusty's available. I have training with Jake. Ira wants to meet with you after his shape-shifting class. He's teaching at PIM."

  I hadn't been to the Phoenix Institute of Magic for months, ever since I spoke to Rusty's magical weapons class about how not to get arrested or sued due to bad choices with their deadly instruments.

  "Ira has to be one of the last people to see Felicia alive." Keegan wouldn't like me to focus on his brother as a suspect in Felicia's murder. My first job was to protect Keegan, no matter whom I threw to the wolves.

  "Makes him a suspect." Chris rummaged around in the refrigerator until he found milk.

  "Don't forget his breakdown after he saw Felicia. Supposedly he had a flashback to when he was an abused kid. I got a condensed version from Keegan. What if in his dissociated state, Ira went back to Felicia's thinking she was a childhood enemy?"

  "You're liking him as a suspect?"

  "He's got a lot of explaining to do, like why he went to see Felicia in the first place." I eyed Chris. "You di
dn't need to come over to arrange for me to do the interview. What's really up?"

  He diluted his coffee with milk and sugar. "Bad news, which I like to deliver in person. Keegan had a fight with Felicia Sunday evening. A witness heard him threaten her. The witness is a mother with a newborn, and she's up all the time with the kid. She recognized Keegan from when he dated Felicia and then saw him on TV."

  My heart was already beating fast from running, so it couldn't pound any harder. I'd been right to think Keegan had been concealing something from me. Before I even drank the coffee, I had a bitter taste in my mouth. "That's really bad news. It could mean Mark Turner was wrong, and Keegan had found out about Felicia's plans for an exorcism." Since Rusty had briefed Chris about Mark's interview, I assumed he understood my reference to an exorcism.

  Chris frowned so hard his eyebrows joined together. "It gets worse. The same witness saw him leaving Felicia's condo early Monday morning."

  "I can't believe it." I rubbed my forehead, as if I were trying to force my brain to take in the bad news. "You don't believe Keegan is guilty, do you?"

  "Keegan says he didn't do it. That's what I go with."

  I gulped down coffee. "When you say he had a fight with her Sunday, do you mean a physical fight?"

  "No, the witness heard him yell at Felicia across the condo parking lot that he'd do anything to protect his kid."

  I balled up my fists to contain my rising anger. "He knew the judge told him to have no contact with Felicia. His sister Shirley was supposed to pick up the kid for his visits. He had no reason to talk to Felicia. How could he have been so stupid?"

  "We both know how easy it is to be stupid about ex-lovers."

  He had me there because I'd acted like a crazy woman when Eduardo left. Sipping at the coffee slowly, I reminded myself I was to be Keegan's advocate, not his emotional friend. "How good is the witness ID?"

  "Rusty is going to try to interview her today." He lowered his brows at his mug. "It's a bitch to have a client who's a friend."

  "Being angry keeps me energized. I have it under control. How could he have been so stupid as to not tell me about yelling at Felicia and visiting her? How could he think I wouldn't find out?"

  In the silence that followed, I remembered lawyers shouldn't ask questions that have answers bad for their case. If Keegan had killed Felicia, he'd know she wouldn't be complaining about threats or visits.

  I pushed the coffee mug harder than I intended because it cracked into the ceramic backsplash and broke. Chris pulled out a wad of paper towels to clean up my mess.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

  I sat on a plastic chair in a glass booth provided for a high-risk jail visit. It had taken the sheriff's department forty minutes to bring up Keegan, who had just entered his own booth, across a ten-foot square of pale linoleum. A deputy, his lips pursed, clanged the door shut. Keegan and I picked up the black phones at the same time.

  I held the phone lightly to my ear, keeping the mouthpiece as far away as possible. I imagined it reeked with the breath of sputtering attorneys and sobbing relatives.

  "Keegan, you know we have to be very careful when we talk on these phones. I assume, perhaps incorrectly, that the sheriff's department is illegally taping this session."

  "Understood." His voice was cloggy.

  I squinted, trying to identify red marks on his forehead and upper cheek. "What happened to your face?"

  His head twitched back, and he straightened. "I fell."

  My anger at him for not telling me everything about his encounters with Felicia changed to rage at whoever had hit him. I pressed the phone into my ear. "We're going to be filing motions to force the sheriff's office to give us face-to-face meetings. In the statement of facts, I intend to make sure the judge knows about these injuries. I don't care how you say you got them. One more caution. Don't talk about the case when you have visits from family members."

  "Only my sister Shirley came last night. Paul is moving in with her to help take care of Oscar."

  Paul was Keegan's older brother, owner of a hair salon. "Paul? I can't picture him getting baby drool and formula on his designer duds."

  We looked in each other's eyes for a moment and almost smiled together before he answered, "Paul wants to cool off things with his latest girlfriend."

  "Keegan, I'm going to update you. I want you to be careful how you respond. Don't blurt anything out. This is from the police reports. First, a neighbor heard you yell a threat at Felicia Sunday night."

  His gaze dropped as he bent his head so low I saw the top of his head, the dark, tight curls. Breathing in deeply, I inhaled the musty air of the booth. He didn't need to say anything because his body language told me he had made the threat.

  I tried to keep my voice calm. "I assume you didn't know there was a witness. Be careful what you say."

  "You could talk to Shirley about how I'm a good father."

  I blinked at his seemingly nonresponsive remark before the subtext of his words hit me. If Shirley went with him to pick up Oscar, she was a witness to what happened Sunday night.

  "I'll talk to her. It's always good to start collecting positive character references early." I hurried on, realizing character references were most useful in the sentencing phase, and I didn't want to ever be at that point. "There's another thing in the police report. Same neighbor. She claims she saw you leaving Felicia's condo Monday morning."

  His head, which he'd kept lowered, jerked up. His blue eyes opened wide, and I got a sense of shock and dismay from him. He shook his head slightly for "no" and started to speak.

  "Wait," I said, "Chris and I are fighting this every inch of the way. We're having the witness interviewed today. There's always mistaken identity. We'll consider every possibility, even the tough to prove 'the shape-shifter did it' excuse." This approach required the defense to offer substantial evidence that a shape-shifter committed the crime. A confession from a shape-shifter would clinch it, but that never happened.

  Keegan bit his lower lip. "My family is famous in the circus world for their shape-shifting talent."

  Wishing I had empathic powers so I could read his mind and decode his words, I interpreted his body language as a denial that he'd been at Felicia's Monday morning. I wanted him to know about the upcoming interview with his brother Ira. "That relative of yours who stayed friends with your ex-girlfriend, I'm talking to him tonight. Without saying anybody's name, do you have any questions you want me to ask?"

  Keegan rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. "He wanted to help me. Don't let him be hurt."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WEDNESDAY EVENING

  South of downtown in the old commercial district, the Phoenix Institute of Magic had formed a campus from defunct warehouses and offices. Crossing the street from the parking lot, Rusty and I maneuvered over trolley tracks and cobblestones that had emerged from the worn pavement.

  Ira Flynn taught in a square stone structure that rose four stories and extended along a block. Window slits broke up the façade. In the lobby, we bypassed gleaming brass elevators and clattered up metal steps. I needed the exercise to rev me up after hearing Rusty summarize her interview of the witness who had reported Keegan threatening Felicia and leaving her condo. The witness had only observed him briefly Monday morning but had been sure of her identification because she had seen him numerous times when he dated Felicia. Rusty thought it would be hard to discredit her evidence.

  "Where is everybody?" I said as we reached the third floor. My voice echoed off the cinder block.

  "Summer session is always pretty sparse."

  I opened the door for Rusty on the landing. She carried coffee for herself and Ira Flynn. Like me, she knew Ira since they both taught at PIM. In email exchanges to set up the interview, he'd asked her to bring coffee. I had my own extra-large Kona brand, needing a jolt after morning court, the jail visit with Keegan, and an afternoon interviewing witnesses in a complex white-collar c
rime case.

  Rusty and I went down a hallway that bisected the building. In one room, students ground with pestles into bowls. I caught a piney scent. In another room, a woman in a kaftan flicked a finger at a red ball hovering before her, sending it toward the front row. I paused as a student gestured frantically at the ball, which bounced off her forehead.

  I caught up with Rusty outside room 390. Black construction paper covered the window in the door. A line of light shone under the sill. Across the hall, a young man leaned against the opposite door and stared at his cell phone.

  Rusty lifted her hand to knock. Over the construction paper, white letters flashed Do Not Enter. Shape-shifting in Progress.

  She hesitated. "His email said to knock first. He doesn't want people walking in and freaking out if they see a shape-shift going on."

  "I'm not sure what to expect." I backed up. "Are they turning into animals in there?"

  "No, they're changing into a human, a family member about their same size. That way, they do the change but don't get too bent out of shape." She knocked twice.

  A woman carrying a clipboard exited the classroom, shutting the door behind her. She wore a brown shirt with a UPS logo on the upper left. Dark brows clashed with the blonde hair escaping a clip high on her head. "Are you Keegan's lawyers?"

  "I'm his lawyer, Petra Rakowitz. This is my investigator, Rusty Brock."

  "I'm his sister, Shirley."

  So this was Shirley, the only sibling of Keegan's I hadn't met. Except for her dark brows, I couldn't see any resemblance between Shirley and her brothers.

  Noticing the kid across the hall, she moved down the corridor. She walked with quick, confidant strides. "Ira is just about ready to do his shape-shift. He does one each class as an example for the students."