Spell or High Water

by Gina LaManna

  “The one and only.” I tried to stay positive. “Unfortunately, I’m here about Marilyn.”

  “Marilyn.” He thought for a little too long on the name before it registered. “Oh, Mary. Yes — poor girl. But I already talked to a woman about her last night.”

  I muttered a silent curse to Skye, reminding myself to set a spell on her shower that would make the water come out glittery. She’d hate that. “She’s with the newspaper, I’m with the radio. Please, just a moment of your time.”

  “I don’t know what else I can add, but come in, I suppose. You’re not going to talk about any of this on air, are you?”

  “Not if you prefer I don’t. Eventually I’d like to report on the murder when we find the killer, but I can keep anyone who wouldn’t like their name shared anonymous.”

  He gestured for me to get started. While I asked him my first few questions about how long he’d known Mary, where they’d met, he fluttered around the kitchenette and popped a K-cup into the coffee machine.

  “I met her — it must be five years ago at least? Sometime after Carl plucked her from obscurity and helped her to start winning. See, I don’t work with the girls that much except when it comes to staging. In fact, I barely know any of their names unless they’re a winner.”

  “But you did know Mary?”

  “I mean, I knew of her. Met her a few times, yes. The girl’s won, like. Sixty —.”

  “— Fifty-nine,” I corrected, then explained when he looked confused. “Fifty-nine. It’s sort of a big thing she didn’t make it to sixty wins.”

  “Whatever. She won all the time, so yes, we’d talked. Would I call us friends? No. Friendly acquaintances? Sure.”

  “When’s the last time you saw —,” I paused as Edwin smacked the top of the K-cup machine. The pounding lasted for a solid minute until the thing kicked into gear and began sputtering water. “When was the last time you saw Mary?”

  He squinted. “I don’t know, I guess a month ago at the Nashville show? I think I read she’d won something in Wyoming or Utah after that, but I didn’t coordinate it so I didn’t pay much attention.”

  He spoke with a haughtiness that made me think he was convinced nobody else could measure up to him. His shows were the best, and he clearly didn’t much care for any competition.

  I wondered if I should be checking out some of his competition — if the show in Utah or Wyoming had been a huge, raging success, might he have killed Mary to get more eyeballs on this one? It would certainly bring a level of notoriety. With notoriety comes attention and eyeballs, and once again, Edwin would be the center of it all.

  “Did you ever have any issues with Mary?” I asked. “Any clashes?”

  “Do you think I killed her?” He smacked the K-cup machine one more time and stared angrily into his cup. “What is this stupid thing, sludge?”

  I winced. “Electronics here aren’t really the best. But there’s an excellent coffee shop —.”

  “I don’t have time to go buy coffee,” he snapped. “I have a beauty pageant to run. I have things to do, places to be, people to organize. You think my job is easy?”

  “No, of course not, I just meant ... .” I hesitated. “Sorry. Just a few more questions and I’ll be out of your hair. Did you ever clash with Mary?”

  “I didn’t kill her!”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I know who did clash with Mary. How about that?”

  I squinted at him, trying to determine if he was trying to be helpful in his odd, stuck-up way, or if he was trying to divert my attention. Possibly both. “Who?”

  “I think the video is still online,” Edwin said, pulling out his phone and punching a few buttons. “Stupid internet here. Why is it so horrible? I can never get any service.”

  I wrinkled my nose, tempted to jokingly tell him it was all the magic whizzing around the place, but I didn’t think he was in the mood for a joke. And he definitely wasn’t interested in the truth.

  “Here. You’ll recognize her.” Edwin held out his phone. “Video is low quality and the playback speed is horrendous, but it’s all you need.”

  I squinted at the screen and studied the blurry video. The headline read: Catty for the Crown! As the clip rolled, I watched two women appear backstage, one of them — it looked like Mary, but a much younger version — strutted forward holding a bejeweled crown in her hand.

  The second woman followed slightly behind and, when Mary wasn’t looking, took a running leap that ended with a vicious piggy back. The second woman yanked at Mary’s hair, and in response, Mary cried out and flailed. Before I could blink, the two contestants were wrestling over the crown.

  “Who’s the crazy one trying to steal the crown?” I asked. The static was terrible, and the pixels were the size of Saturn. “I can’t see her face clearly.”

  “Wait ... .”

  I waited for another few seconds, watching as the girls twisted and snarled on the ground. Mary didn’t let go of the crown. The second woman sent a claw-like swipe at Mary’s face, this time drawing blood as it scratched her cheek.

  That’s when I saw it: her face. I recognized that woman.

  “Oh, my gosh!” I dropped the phone into Edwin’s hand. “It can’t be!”

  He gave a cheeky little smile. “Still think I killed Mary?”

  “I don’t know what to think.” I tried to hide my stunned reaction, but I couldn’t quite manage. Backing away from the phone, I shook my head and tried to make sense of what I’d seen.

  “That was before all her plastic surgery,” Edwin said, flipping the phone around to face him. “She was a real looker back then, as you can see. In fact, she could’ve really been something. It could have been her out there winning sixty —.”

  “Fifty-nine.”

  “— pageants instead of Mary.”

  “But that means ... .” I hesitated and looked up at Edwin. “That would mean our very own medical examiner had a motive to murder Mary.”

  He nodded and gave a grim, although not entirely un-gleeful, smile. “That was my first thought when I heard the news. Of course, I knew Abigail had come to live in Eternal Springs as a form of exile from the rest of the world. She was so embarrassed after this video went viral that she gave up her pageant career entirely and became a plastic surgeon. That had always been her backup plan.”

  I blinked, oddly intrigued to find that Abigail and I were both stuck here in our own way. Her, in exile from embarrassment, me, to save the world. Still, we were both here because of unfortunate pasts.

  “She was the first one at the crime scene.” I looked up at Edwin, aware I should keep my mouth shut, but unable to do so. “She was there, and she had this smile on her face.”

  “Let me guess, no alibi?” Edwin shrugged. “Jealousy and revenge are strong motivators. Especially when she’s the one in charge of the evidence and the autopsy.”

  “I’ve got to find her,” I said. “Sorry to barge in here, but ... oh, can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Where was I yesterday morning?” Edwin gave a complicated smile. “Right here, trying to work this stupid coffee machine.”

  Nine

  I set out to find Abigail, reluctant to head straight back to the spa where she’d likely be getting one treatment or another to kick the day off. I had promised Kenna that I’d stay low key for the time being — assuming she was working on getting Zola’s cooperation for our deal.

  On the way out I stopped by the reception desk again. Leslie was taking a last sip of the latte I’d brought her. Coming around to face me, she dropped the to-go mug in the trash and smiled. “How’d everything go?”

  “Great!” I said too cheerfully. “Say, I have an unrelated question to ask you. As a friend, this time.”

  “Your last favor was as a friend.” She pursed her lips, hovering on the edge of dismay. “I told you, Evian. I can’t keep doing this for you. That was the last favor. People are going to start asking questions.”
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br />   “See, this isn’t actually about getting into someone’s room. It relates to the spa.” I rested my hands on the desk and gave a shifty look in both directions. “You have clients who come here wanting procedures done, but also wanting to keep things private, right?”

  “All the time! Probably about eighty percent of our clients. Though, of course, one-hundred percent are kept confidential. We don’t leak the secrets of beauty to the universe.”

  A nifty little tagline that probably made all those booking their procedures feel extra warm and fuzzy with the added security measures. “That sounds perfect,” I drawled. “And didn’t I read somewhere that free consults are offered for those of us who might want something done?”

  “Oh, are you finally going to get that nose fixed?!” Leslie reached out and gave me a cute little boop on a nose I thought was perfectly fine. “We can smooth that bump right out.”

  I ran a hand protectively over my apparently-bumpy nose. “Ah, no. My nose is fine. Er, I thought it was anyway, but sure, what the heck? Any chance Abigail has an opening today? I’d prefer the best.”

  “Abigail is the best,” Leslie trilled happily. “Let me see when she can fit you in. Look at that! How does twenty minutes from now work? We had a cancellation.”

  “Perfect.” I exchanged information with Leslie and received the location of the office. “Thanks a million.”

  With ten minutes to spare, I decided to pop out for another coffee. I grabbed a large burnt butterscotch latte with an extra shot of espresso. Something told me I’d need the jolt of energy the second Abigail stepped into the room and found me there instead of an actual paying client.

  Indeed, she wasn’t pleased when she arrived.

  “What are you doing in my office?!” Abigail stepped into the small, modern room, tapping her clipboard against her leg. “I thought I asked you to stay away from me. And if I didn’t, I should have. You gave me the Spanish Inquisition yesterday, and I’m done answering your stupid questions.”

  “It’s just one more —.”

  Abigail ignored me, looking down at the clipboard a second receptionist had handed her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you here for a consult on that bump?”

  I blanched and rubbed my nose self-consciously. “What the heck is so wrong with my nose?”

  “Well, it’s just a bit bulky. And slightly misshapen.”

  “I use it to breathe!” I glanced in the mirror behind Abigail. “I don’t really think it’s so bad.”

  “Well, you’re finally here for a consult, aren’t you? You’ve seen the light, honey, and admitted you have a problem. That’s the first step.”

  I wrinkled my problem nose at Abigail, surprised in the change of her candor when she thought I’d converted to plastic surgery. It might have been a testament to my acting skills — it couldn’t actually be my nose was so horrible, could it? — that she believed me so quickly. “No, Abigail, I’m here to ask you some questions.”

  “Let me answer them for you.” She seemed supremely happy about my need to ask questions, which was confusing until she began to answer them. “You will experience some bruising, some swelling. If you want to keep this under wraps — no pun intended — I might recommend scheduling a week or so off work. There will be some sensitivity, but I have no doubt you’ll be pleased with the results.”

  “I’m here about the murder, Abigail.”

  “Don’t be such a drama queen,” she continued. “You won’t die on my table.” She stopped when understanding finally struck. “Oh, bollycocks! You aren’t looking into changing that awful nose of yours at all, are you?”

  Her disposition flipped in an instant. Her sunny smile deflated and her eyes flashed with frustration. “How dare you take up my time? Some helpless person could have really used this slot, Evian.”

  “A helpless person? Paying an ungodly sum of money for a procedure that only changes the way they look? Pick a new word, Abigail. I wouldn’t call them helpless.”

  “Feeling beautiful on the outside can completely change one’s inner self,” she said, her nose tilted upward. “Maybe you wouldn’t know that because you’re so plain, but I’m sure you can imagine what it might feel like to have a straighter nose.”

  I imagined, but it didn’t get very far. I didn’t care enough about the curvature of my breathing apparatus to pay an abominable sum to have it altered. “How dare I take up your time? How dare you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “I’d call it a mighty big omission,” I said. “You never disclosed you had a relationship with the victim.”

  “I didn’t have a relationship —.”

  “I saw the video.”

  She frowned, put a finger to her inflated lips in thought. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to talk about your nose? I can give you quite a discount.”

  “Why did you hide that?”

  “You’re not the police, Evian.” She stood and grimaced. “I am not required to talk to you.”

  “No, but I am going to go to the police and telling them all I’ve found.” I hadn’t sincerely planned to do any such thing because I figured between their own investigation and Skye’s poking and prodding, the police were already ahead of me in their search for the murderer. “I suppose it doesn’t make a difference, but at least I’m giving you the chance to explain yourself before I go.”

  She pulled back the hand that’d been reaching for the door. “Fine. What do you want to know? I’d met the victim. What about it?”

  “You had a screaming match with her and a catfight that went viral on the internet. Then, you had to be convinced she’d been murdered in the first place because you’re the only ME Eternal Springs has — and nobody’s going to challenge you. Tell me something; if I hadn’t been there and pointed out the strangulation marks, would you have even declared it a homicide?”

  “Of course I would have.” That odd little smile was back, and I couldn’t help but wonder if in some way Abigail wasn’t all that sad about Mary’s death. Whether or not she killed her, Abigail didn’t exactly seem concerned about the loss. “I just hate to make preliminary assumptions before I have all the information.”

  “Right.” Though I didn’t believe her for a second, I tried a new angle. “What was the fight about? In the video it looks like you tried to steal her crown.”

  “I know what it looks like, but really, the crown was rightfully mine. I was just trying to take it back.”

  “How do you figure that? Didn’t she win?”

  “Yes, but she cheated.”

  “How does one cheat in a beauty contest?”

  “It’s a pageant,” she corrected, shuddering at my misuse of the phrase. “A pageant — not a contest. “She took diet pills.”

  “Don’t most beauty contest — er, the ladies watch their diets?”

  “Yes, but some pills are illegal in the pageant world. She was taking this medicine that offered huge results. Maybe if I’d been allowed to take them and have a size twenty-three waist I would’ve won.”

  “I thought the contests — pageants, sorry — weren’t just about looks. There’s the talent, and, er — whatever else you’re judged on.”

  “Yes, yes, but Mary was very pretty and very talented. So was I, you know. It was a long time ago. And every inch from our hips mattered, I just know it. You weren’t there, so you can’t understand.”

  “No, I really can’t,” I said, having horrible visions of parading myself around in a bikini and dancing with a flute to my lips. “That sounds horrendous.”

  “You know, you might have a chance if you actually spent some time grooming yourself. A little fix of your nose and — is that a butterscotch latte I smell? — yeah, you’d have to let those calories go. But ugh.” She studied me. “You’re naturally not so bad looking, but it doesn’t mean you understand what it’s like to be a beauty queen.”

  “I don’t want to understand. I only want to know why you stole the crown from Mary.”

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nbsp; “I told you. I found diet pills in her room, and they are so frowned upon. It’s totally, like, copying homework or something in the back of the classroom from the smartest geek while everyone else slaves away figuring out their derivati-what-nots.”

  “Yesterday,” I said, looking down at the tiny notebook I’d slipped from my pocket, “you never did say how you arrived at the crime scene so quickly.”

  Her back shot rigid. “What’s it matter to you? I’m the ME on this stupid island. It’s my job.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “How did you even find that stupid video?! Ugh!” She fanned her face as her cheeks turned pink with frustration. “Technology never works out here.”

  “Edwin’s phone must have had a little cell reception juice left in it from the mainland,” I said. “Or the video was cached or ... whatever! It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you continuously dodge my question.”

  “I was there because I was in the neighborhood. There was a dead body and I popped on over.”

  “Nobody screamed,” I said, parroting Tarryn’s phrase. “How did you know?”

  “I told you I was around!”

  “Here’s what I think happened. You were just around.” I shrugged, giving off an air of nonchalance that I wasn’t truly feeling. “You swung by the house, maybe to greet the girls, maybe to scope out the scene. After all, you know what beauty pageants are like.”

  Her expression was stony as she watched me stand.

  “Maybe you went inside and said hello to some of the girls.” I paced back and forth, gave another bob of my shoulders. “All was well until you saw her. Mary.”

  “I didn’t —.”

  “I think that upset you because she took advantage of the system all those years ago with diet pills and stole the crown from you.” I spun on a heel, turned to face Abigail and held out my hands as the murderer might have, fingers spread, headed for the throat. “You didn’t mean to, but you were just so angry! Maybe you asked her to come outside with you to catch up, or maybe she was already out there and you surprised her while she was drinking her coffee.”