by Teri Barnett
“What are you talking about? I’m not a witch.”
“Please, I smelled witch on you the second we met.” He squinted his eyes. “And one of those who are in denial of their innate talents.” Still squinting, he looked her up and down. “Obviously quite angry about it, too. Your subconscious witch-self has forced you to act out against this poor young man in order to get attention.”
Morgan just stared at him. What the hell?
“Morgan, I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you at a loss for words,” Cal said, his lips quivering.
She gave him one of her icy stare-downs. In return Cal bit his lip and cleared his throat. He looked like he was doing all he could not to burst out laughing.
“It’s because she’s guilty and both Rob and Jack just called her out on it,” Connie said, smiling up at the older man. “Hey! JJ!” she called out to the deputy.
JJ stuck his head out the work room door. “What do you want, Connie?”
“You need to open an independent investigation into Morgan here. She obviously can’t investigate herself. Conflict of interest.” Connie’s lip curled. “Though I can imagine that’s exactly something a killer would try to do.”
JJ ignored the reporter. “Hey, Cap’n, if you’re done being accused of murder, there’s something in Rocky’s hand. You might want to take a look.”
Morgan shook her head at the inanity and entered the room. JJ pointed to Rocky’s right hand. It was balled up into a fist. “It looks like a piece of thick paper.”
She gently extricated the item and unfolded it. A tarot card. More specifically, The Fool. With ‘FRAUD’ scrawled across it in black marker. She stepped away from the table and angled the card in the overhead light. “It looks like there might be a finger or thumb print on here, lower left corner, smudged maybe under the marker,” Morgan noted. “Let’s see if we can pull a clear enough image to run through the databases.”
JJ opened an evidence bag and Morgan dropped the card in. She considered Rocky while they waited for the M.E. “He certainly wasn’t a happy person, no money, riding on Edna’s coattails. With her death he seemed to think he could really make a go of it.”
“I guess someone else had other ideas,” JJ said quietly, so only Morgan could hear. “And we considered him a suspect.”
“That we did. I suppose he still could be. Except that would mean...”
“Two killers on the loose,” JJ whispered away from the onlookers. “What are the odds of that?”
“Extremely slim.” She noticed Connie was retreating, which meant Doc McVie must have arrived “And one I’m not ready to consider. For now, we’ll put Rocky in the ‘disgruntled friend’ category. And let’s add Rob McGee to the list of people of interest. He used the word ‘fraud’ when he spoke about psychics.”
McVie arrived, medical bag in hand, and directed Maggie toward the body. “Wow,” was all he said when he stood over Rocky.
“Yeah,” Morgan said.
An hour and a half later, Morgan and JJ stepped back as Doc McVie removed Rocky’s body from the Raven’s Nest. “I’ll send you my initial findings later today,” he said as he got into the ambulance/M.E. vehicle. He motioned for Morgan and she approached the driver’s window. “You know I don’t like to speculate, but I’d say same manner of death as our first victim, on first inspection anyway.” He turned the key in the ignition. “I did find some DNA on Edna’s neck. No idea if it’s hers or not. Sent it in, just so you know. No word yet on that. Might not be until Tuesday or later in the week, with the holiday weekend and all.”
Morgan patted the side of the vehicle and stepped back. “Thanks, Doc.” She turned and surveyed the scene before her. About thirty psychics had set up at various tables around the deck and courtyard behind the bookstore. They seemed quiet now, already resuming readings. Morgan was certain they were reassuring clients that they would, indeed, find love, happiness, and success. She shook her head. Maybe quiet wasn’t quite the right word. There was a palpable undercurrent of tension, which was to be expected. Two of their own had been murdered over the span of two days. Any one of them could be next.
JJ walked over and whispered, “You’re considering the psychic serial killer angle now, aren’t you?”
“As much as I hate to go there, it’s hard not to. This makes four deaths in the past three months. Two here. On our shift. And it stops now.” She ground out the words. “Do you have the volunteer deputies lined up to begin patrol?”
“That I do. Beau is taking the night shift this evening. He’ll drive around until about midnight. Then Mr. Dominic will take first part of the day, because he can’t see at night and Pete will pick up any slack in the afternoon. They’ll be in later today to go over the game plan. We should be covered.”
“Sounds good. While you’re sorting through the items we just gathered, I’ll go question Caleb Joseph about his psychic attendees.”
Cal was standing behind the large carved oak counter when Morgan entered the store. He raised his mug in greeting, then poured her a cup of coffee and motioned to the two overstuffed black leather chairs arranged in front of the river rock fireplace. “We may as well be comfortable while you question me.”
Morgan took a sip and considered him over the rim of the mug. Last time this happened, when he’d discovered the body of a fellow romance writer at the Firefly, he’d been a lot more flustered. But then, he had extracted the knife which had killed her, leaving his prints all over it, marking himself a prime suspect. “You don’t seem nervous.”
“Of course, I’m nervous. And I’m sad. But mostly I’m furious. Why the hell does this keep happening?”
“I wish I knew.” She touched his arm. His muscles were hard, tense, as were his eyes. She knew that look. He was ready to jump at any moment and start his own investigation.
“I’m almost—almost, mind you—willing to consider Connie’s theory of a Detroit Killer,” Cal said. He set his cup down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Not the one about you being the murderer, of course, but the overall idea of it.” His eyes stared intently into hers.
She dropped her hand and sat back. Too close for comfort. “You’re being as ridiculous as Connie.”
“Am I? No murders in almost a century until you move back to town.” He studied the back of his hands and shrugged. “I’m sorry, but you are a link. You can’t deny it.”
“You’re not sorry and I’m not a link. You’re diverting attention from the fact that you’ve hosted two events and both have resulted in people being murdered, Caleb.”
“Maybe.” He sighed. “I’m not sure about any of this. Okay go ahead and grill me. What do you want to know?”
Morgan looked around her. Under different circumstances, it’d be a cozy scene. Two friends talking about books over a cup of coffee. Her chest constricted and she realized she missed the intimacy of deep conversation with another human. A partner in life, actually. She shook off the melancholy and pulled out her notebook and pen. “Did you see Rocky after I left him? Maybe when I walked outside? See anyone walk into the room after me?”
He shook his head. “No, but I was also focused on Jack and the crowd. I did run upstairs to my apartment for a few minutes, so I wasn’t here the whole time.”
“Your flat upstairs has windows facing the courtyard, right? Did you happen to look out? See anything odd?”
“I didn’t go near the window. I grabbed the portable charger for my phone off the kitchen counter and came right back down.”
“Did you have anyone upstairs with you who may have seen something?”
“You know I don’t make it a habit of taking people upstairs.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you want to know if I’m dating someone, all you have to do is ask.”
“Well, that was a leap.” Morgan bristled, which quickly folded into curiosity. He never talked about that sort of stuff. “Are you? Dating someone, that is?”
She watched Cal entertain a smile. “I’m not. And I haven’
t for quite a while if that’s going to be your second question. And they’ve all ended amicably, if that’s your third, so no one’s out to frame me or anything like that.”
She laughed a little. “That went off course pretty damn quick.”
“I’ve been around you long enough to know how your thoughts run. Tick, tick, tick, remember?” He took a drink of coffee. “Plus, I’ve been researching investigations. You know, since I’m going to write a mystery next. Of course, it’ll be under my own name. Josie Steele only writes gothic romances.”
She’d secretly read some of ‘Josie’s’ books. They were surprisingly good, but she inwardly agreed that particular style definitely wouldn’t lend itself to stories about murders and police work. “You writers hardly ever get anything right about what us cops and detectives do.” Morgan tapped her pen on her notebook. “So, tell me? What am I going to ask you next?”
“If I’ve heard any chatter among the group out there.”
She didn’t like that he could read her so well. She half shrugged. “Okay, I’ll give you that. And have you?”
“They’re handing out predictions to each other like cookies. Everyone has a theory and they’re all different, with one exception. Each believes there’s a psychic serial killer on the loose.”
“Two murders don’t make a serial killer.”
“No, but some of them knew about Traverse City and a couple more knew about Detroit. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together. Last I heard, they were predicting each other’s deaths.”
“Who does that?”
“A group of psychics, that’s who.”
Cal and Morgan swung around in their seats. Jack Steve was standing behind them. “How long have you been there?” Morgan asked.
“Long enough to know my esteemed host needs help with his love life.”
“I do not need help.”
Jack waved a hand. Morgan poked Cal on the arm. “Says you,” she said. She looked at Jack. “Do you carry love spells around with you when you’re eavesdropping?”
“It wasn’t my intent to listen in. I came to get the extra copies of my book that I left here earlier. And to talk to both of you.”
“So, talk. Unless you’re going to continue accusing me of murder. And being a witch.” Morgan flicked her hand at Jack. “If that’s all you have, you can go.”
“What does the word ‘fraud’ have to do with your investigation?”
Morgan felt her entire body go on alert. She stared at him for a few moments assessing this new zinger. “Why would you ask me that?”
“It’s obvious you don’t believe in what I do, but that particular word keeps coming to mind.” He walked over to the bay window and looked out at the gathering of readers and their clients.
Morgan followed his gaze. A ring of tea light candles had been arranged around Rocky’s table.
“And,” Jack continued, still staring out the window, “there are enough folks like you, non-believers, who would consider what we do to be fraudulent.”
Like Starman’s son, Morgan thought. “I’m not here to judge,” Morgan said, flipping her notebook closed and slipping the pen into the metal spiral. “I’m here to keep everyone safe and prevent anything else bad from happening.” She carried her empty coffee cup over to the pot behind the counter and set it down. “To that end, I’m heading back to the station.”
“I’ll be over later,” Cal said. “I have those treats for Griselda.”
“Good. She’s going to need them after I tell her about Rocky.”
Chapter Fifteen
JJ’s computer pinged as Morgan entered the police station. He tapped on the keyboard and kept his eyes on the screen. “I was able to pull a partial print from the tarot card we found in Rocky’s hand. Dropped it into the database when I got back. Just got a hit.”
Morgan dropped into her desk chair. “Who is it?”
“Dammit.”
She rarely heard him swear. “That bad?”
“It’s not good.” JJ replied. “The data points to a juvenile record. Sealed here in Michigan, years ago. All this time passed. I’m surprised it wasn’t expunged.” He stood up and started pacing.
She motioned toward his computer. “So, open it up, let’s see who it is.”
“Normally, we could do that. But because it’s been officially sealed by a judge, a court order is required to open the file. I’ve only seen this a few times before, when a juvenile had committed a felony.” He looked at her. “Or a more heinous crime.”
“I know it’s Saturday, but if we can find a judge who’s willing, we may be able to get them to sign the paperwork. Especially given the circumstances.” Morgan’s mind went blank for a second. “Wait. Do we have a judge? I just realized I don’t know.”
JJ grimaced. “The mayor. He’s also the judge.”
“What? How did I not know that?”
“I guess because we haven’t needed one until now.” JJ printed out the information, along with a release form, and handed it to Morgan. “Maybe you can get him to sign this when you give him an update on the case?”
She eyed her deputy. “Coward.”
“That I am. I do not wish to tangle with Mayor Ed. He’s been making veiled threats to Hannah to get her building updated or else. I’d rather not rock that particular boat and cause her any more stress.” He sat down. “Having said that, you do know I would never let anything like this interfere with my duty, right?”
“Of course, I know that. You’re a great cop.” She walked over to his desk and patted his shoulder. “Keep digging. Anything turned up yet on our coastal psychic visitors, Jack Steve or Starman McGee? Something about them doesn’t add up in my mind.”
“I think you like saying ‘coastal.” JJ chuckled. “Another vibe?”
“Not quite a vibe.” Morgan frowned. “More of a gut thing, like I’ve eaten something that hasn’t quite settled and won’t until we solve this case.”
“Gotcha. Nothing so far on Starman or Jack beyond normal social media interactions. Promos, bios, reviews.”
“Any of those reviews go off the rails, like Edna’s?”
“Some, but nothing that has me vibing.” He smiled at her. “They do have a fairly consistent pattern of sniping at each other, though.”
“Yeah, I got to see that in person at Cal’s earlier.” She filled him in on the decades old rivalry. “It’s sad that anyone would let a friendship go over something like a job.” Morgan sighed. “Apparently all the psychic inner workings have affected Starman’s relationship with his son as well. Let’s add Rob McGee to our search list. He used the word ‘fraudulent’ when he talked about the psychics earlier today.”
“That’s interesting.” JJ turned back to this computer. “I’m on it. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I’m off to talk to Mayor Ed. I’ll take this one for the team, but the next one is yours.”
JJ nodded. “Fair enough.”
Morgan left the station and pulled out her cell phone, readying to call the mayor, when she heard his unmistakable roar coming from down the street. She found him standing in front of the Perch Mouth Bar and Grille, arguing with Frankie.
“Everything okay here?” she asked.
Frankie put her hands on her hips and frowned. “He’s telling me I have to fix this place up on the outside.” She stared at the mayor. “I don’t have that kind of money. And even if I did, I wouldn’t change the bar. It has lakeside charm.”
Mayor Ed snorted. “Charm? All the charm of a dump!” He swung his beefy arm to point at the building. “You and the other Hold Outs are keeping Bijoux in the dark ages. Peeling paint, stained shingles, wood siding pulling apart.” He made a face. “I mean, just look at it. You have to see the disrepair.”
“As I said, I like the disrepair.” Frankie stood feet braced apart, trading him glare for glare. “There’s nothing unsafe about it. I’ve had the code inspector here to make sure. And I like it just as it is.”
He stared
back. “You, and the rest of the shopkeepers like you, will be the death of this town.”
The argument was drawing a crowd and Morgan decided it was time to put an end to it. “Let’s call it a stand-off for now.” She turned to the mayor. “I need to talk to you. Mind grabbing a table inside with me?”
“What makes you think I want him in there?” Frankie asked.
“Please let it go for the moment, Frankie.”
Frankie threw up her hands. “Whatever,” and walked back into her bar.
Mayor Ed let out a breath. “I honestly do like this place. I love this entire town. I’m only trying to make it better.”
“I get that. Your crusade might go further, though, if you didn’t insult the business owners.” She opened the door and they grabbed a table by the front window. Morgan waved off the waitress. “We won’t be here that long.”
“What do you need to discuss? Do you have leads on the murder?”
“It’s murders, now. Plural.”
“What the hell? When did this happen?” He slammed his hand on the table and caught the attention of the other patrons.
Morgan glanced around the room, then whispered, “Please, can we keep it down? It happened just this afternoon so we’re still waiting for Doc McVie to confirm the cause of death.”
Mayor Ed leaned back in his chair. “Another psychic?”
Morgan nodded. “Rocky—Rockefeller Banks. He was the first victim’s friend and protégé. We found out there have been two other psychics killed in the state with the same M.O. over the past three months. One in Traverse City and one in Detroit. That information is on a need to know basis, though it seems some of the psychics have already figured it out.”
“Predicted it, did they?”
Morgan shook her head and chuckled. “If they were that good, they’d have known death was coming for them. Right?”
