Grave Mistake

by Christine Pope

  Of course, Calvin could probably manage to look sexy in a pink bunny suit.

  He said, “Someone at a gas station on Highway 70 thought they saw a young woman matching her description heading east. I don’t know why she’d be going that way — there isn’t much out there.”

  That did sound strange. You’d think if Violet was trying to get out of town, she would have been going in the opposite direction, heading west toward California. “Did she say anything about where she was going?”

  Calvin shook his head as he took a bite of rice pilaf. “No. She went inside the convenience store because she paid cash for the gas and bought a bottle of water, but she didn’t say much. The attendant remembered her because he thought she seemed young to be driving out there by herself, and also because you don’t see many red BMW convertibles around here.”

  No, that particular part of the world was pretty short on fancy German cars, my own Beetle notwithstanding. It was definitely the land of the pickup — Ford, Chevy, or Dodge — or the SUV, in those same flavors but with some Jeeps thrown in for variety. You’d think a bright blonde nineteen-year-old in a red convertible would stick out like a sore thumb.

  If it had been someone else, I might have thought she was headed out to meet up with relatives or friends, but I knew Violet was from Southern California, just like me…or Lucien.

  “So…what’s next?”

  Calvin lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll see what the lab has to say about the medallion — and your knives. They should be released to me by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  Well, that was something. Not that I’d planned any rituals where I needed the athame, but I didn’t like having it and its companion missing from my altar. I had a particular order to the items I placed there, and with two of them gone, it felt like there was a huge hole in that part of my life.

  “That’s good to hear,” I said, and figured I might as well leave it there. “Any other leads?”

  “Dinner’s great,” he said distinctly, and I grinned. Not subtle at all, but I got the point.

  “Thanks,” I said. “The pilaf’s an old family recipe.”

  “It’s delicious.” He ate some more, then went on, “I wasn’t expecting you to cook for me, but thanks for this.”

  Oh, I’d love to do a lot more than just cook for him. For the moment, though, I was happy enough to see the way he enjoyed the food. “I like to cook. Usually what I do is make a big batch of something so I can sort of live off that for the week and supplement it with salads or takeout or whatever. Do you cook?”

  “Not really. Cops tend to live on takeout. Once a week, my mother sends a care package home with me so I don’t starve.”

  His comment made me wonder why he had that gourmet kitchen if he never really used it. Asking seemed a bit too personal, though, so I decided to let it go for the moment. Anyway, considering how his biceps bulged against his shirt sleeves every time he lifted his fork or reached for his glass of wine, he didn’t look as though he was too in danger of starving. And I didn’t know why his comment about his mother startled me. After all, I guessed he was probably no more than five years or so older than I, which meant his parents were most likely still around.

  “Does your mother live in San Ramon?”

  He nodded. “The whole family does. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews.”

  Growing up with just my mother as my family, I’d always wondered what it would be like to be part of such a big clan. “How many brothers and sisters?”

  He grinned with a flash of white teeth. “Four. I’m the middle one of five.”

  Five kids. It was hard for me to imagine being one of so many siblings. I’d had friends in high school who were one of three, and that had seemed like a lot to me. “That must have been fun.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘fun.’ There was always something going on, that’s for sure. My mother might have a different word for it.”

  “And no one felt like leaving San Ramon?”

  For some reason, his expression darkened. However, his tone was light enough as he said, “No, we’re tied to this land. It’s part of us.” He paused, then went on, “I suppose that might be hard for a city girl like you to understand.”

  I wanted to protest that epithet — I didn’t really feel like a city girl — but I knew he was right. Coming from Southern California, I didn’t have any real connection to the land…what there was of it, buried under miles and miles of concrete and asphalt. That might have been part of the reason why I hadn’t fought too hard against this destiny-driven move to Globe. So much of magical practice had a lot to do with nature, and it was far more difficult to pursue that part of the craft when you had to drive miles to get to any kind of open land. I couldn’t even count the beach, since it was always swarming with people and didn’t allow any kind of opportunity for quietly communing with nature.

  “It sounds nice, actually,” I said. “There’s not much sense of history in L.A. Everyone seems to be from someplace else.”

  “And now you’re the one from someplace else,” he commented, although now he looked slightly amused, as though he wondered what I thought of my current situation.

  “I’m not the only one, though,” I told him. “I mean, Hazel’s from Iowa.”

  “But she’s been here for years.”

  True. Maybe after you passed some sort of imaginary milestone, you were granted true resident status in Globe. I hoped it wouldn’t take seven years, though.

  We were both quiet for a little while as we ate our way through our first helpings of food. Calvin asked if I’d like him to carve me another piece of breast, and I said I would. He snagged one of the drumsticks for himself, then said, “How’s the shop going?”

  “Fine,” I replied. “I mean, I’ve only been open one day, but I got more customers than I thought I would. I might actually break even on this whole gig.”

  The look he gave me then was deadly serious. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Was that actual concern I saw in his expression? I thought it might be. Maybe Archie wasn’t the only person in Globe who would be upset if I couldn’t stay around.

  “Oh, sure,” I said lightly. “I can operate in the red for a while since I have a pretty big cushion.”

  “Even after paying cash for this place?”

  I reflected that there didn’t seem to be too many people Josie hadn’t blabbed to. But that was all right; while I might have some secrets, my finances weren’t one of them. “Even then. I won the lottery back in California.”

  He’d just swallowed some wine, and seemed to choke a bit as I relayed that piece of information, although he recovered himself quickly enough. “You won the lottery?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Not a huge one. I mean, I can’t afford a yacht or anything…not that I’d want one. But it’s enough to keep me going for a long time even if this shop doesn’t make a cent — although obviously, I don’t want that to happen. So far, I think it’s going to be all right.”

  For a moment, Calvin was silent, appearing to absorb those latest bits of data. “Do you think that’s part of the reason why Lucien came after you?”

  “My money?”

  “Yes.”

  “I doubt it,” I said frankly. “My little nest egg is peanuts compared to his net worth. His house alone is probably worth at least five or six million.”

  Surprise flickered in Calvin’s eyes. Not for the first time, I noticed the lashes that shaded them, straight and silky and inky black as his hair. That magnificent mane of his was still severely confined to a ponytail, and I had to wonder what it would look like when freed of the leather cord that held it back away from his face.

  “I had no idea Lucien had that kind of money.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, reaching for my glass of wine.

  “Maybe that’s why he was murdered.”

  “For his money?
”

  Calvin nodded.

  I sipped some pinot and pondered his suggestion. Honestly, I didn’t know why I hadn’t considered that aspect of the situation before this, except that when someone was in Lucien’s line of work, you tended to think any foul play had to be supernatural in nature. It wouldn’t be the first time someone who’d dabbled in the wrong kind of spells or messed with the wrong entity met a nasty — and untimely — end. Honestly, that made a lot more sense than thinking fragile little Violet Clarke had anything to do with his death.

  “Who was Lucien’s heir?” Calvin inquired next.

  Good question. “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “I mean, Athene was his right-hand woman, so you’d think he’d leave something to her, but I don’t know that. He didn’t have any children. His parents are still alive, and he has a younger brother, but I don’t think they were close.”

  “Still,” Calvin said, “it’s a line of inquiry I’d better look into. Money’s often a very powerful motive.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, not when the majority of my clients had wanted me to use my powers of divination to see if their futures would be prosperous, if I could guide them to deals or investments or opportunities that would help fatten their wallets. Of course, I also had many clients who wanted to know about their love lives or their health, but money always seemed to come first.

  “Definitely,” I agreed. I hesitated for a second, then decided I’d better go ahead and ask the question anyway. “So…am I still a suspect?”

  “Do you think I’d be having dinner with you if you were?”

  When he put it that way….

  Relief spread through me, even as I asked, “Then why are you having the lab check my knives?”

  “Because that way I can show I did my due diligence,” he said. “It was always a long shot. I can tell you’re not a murderer.”

  “Thanks…I guess.”

  His eyes crinkled in amusement, and he took a bite of his drumstick before setting it back down. “And I’m not getting that vibe from Athene, either, which is why I told her it was all right to head back to L.A. Of course, with my two main suspects ruled out, that means I’m back to square one.”

  Yes, that was kind of a problem. But I was glad he hadn’t tried to take the easy way out by pinning the murder on the likely suspects — not only because I really didn’t want to be arraigned for first-degree murder, but because it also told me Calvin Standingbear was a man with integrity.

  After some of my experiences in Los Angeles, that was a welcome change.

  Dinner wended down after that. I hadn’t had time to bake anything, and so I didn’t have much to offer for dessert except some rocky road ice cream I’d bought at Walmart. He declined, saying he wasn’t into sweets.

  And then came the awkward after-dinner moment as we both got up from the table. Calvin helped me take the dishes into the kitchen, and then we both turned and looked at each other.

  “Thanks for dinner,” he said. “It was really nice to have some home cooking.”

  “Any time,” I managed. My heart was beating irrationally fast, and I told it to chill out. There was no reason to believe this dinner would end with anything more than a simple goodbye, with maybe a promise that he’d be back to return my knives to me once the lab was done with them.

  He paused, gazing down into my face. “You’re making this really hard for me,” he said.

  “I am?”

  “I think you know that. In general, I don’t have dinner with murder suspects.”

  “I thought you said I wasn’t a suspect.”

  “True. It’s just….” The words trailed off, and he shook his head. “This isn’t where I’d intended to be.”

  “Me, neither,” I said. “Globe, that is.”

  The image of the Lovers card from my Tarot deck flashed into my mind. Back in L.A. when I’d pulled that card, I’d wondered if it meant I had some kind of love life waiting for me in Arizona. Now, with the way Calvin stared down into my face, the intensity in those night-dark eyes of his, I thought maybe the universe was just about to prove to me that, once again, it had been right.

  And I was more than fine with that. I’d been waiting longer than I wanted to admit for the right man to cross my path.

  Calvin’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he started, backing away from me slightly. “I’ll need to take this,” he said, tone apologetic but also somehow relieved, as if he was glad of the interruption.

  “Sure,” I replied, my tone resigned.

  Thanks, universe.

  He lifted the phone to his ear. “Standingbear here.” At once, his expression went almost too still, as if he was trying his best to keep me from guessing what might be passing through his mind. “Yes. Got it. I’ll be right there.”

  Well, he had warned me he was always on call, although I wanted to groan at the timing of this one. If it had come through even a minute later….

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  Calvin nodded, expression stony. “I’m afraid so. That was Ned, one of my deputies. Athene Kappas was just killed in a car crash.”

  13

  The Hand of Fate

  Lights flared blue and red along the steep slopes that rose above Highway 60 as it wound its way out of town to the west. The ambulance was already here, although there was no point in taking poor Athene to the hospital. Her body lay on a gurney behind the ambulance, covered in a sheet, thank the Goddess. To one side stood Travis Cox, Globe’s on-and-off-again Uber/Lyft driver.

  “I don’t know what happened, man,” he said. He was a gangly guy maybe ten years older than me, with sandy hair and a scrubby beard and the slightly unfocused gaze of someone who liked to smoke a lot of weed in his spare time. “It’s, like, something just grabbed hold of the car and rolled it.”

  Cold trickled down my spine. I thought once again of my worries back at the apartment, that something supernatural was at work here, leaving a trail of death in its wake.

  Calvin stood next to Chief Lewis, both men clearly not thrilled at the prospect of having to work together. Technically, this stretch of road was in Lewis’s jurisdiction, since it lay within Globe’s town limits, but because Athene had been part of the investigation into Lucien Dumond’s death, Calvin was also involved.

  And that meant the two police departments had to work together.

  Calvin had brought me along because I begged him. No, I’m not proud of that, but the instant I heard Athene was dead, I knew something hinky had to be going on. Luckily, he agreed that my witchy insights might be of some use, although he warned me to stay out of the way.

  “I’m going to tell Lewis that you’re there because you’re a friend of the victim and her only advocate in town, but you still need to make sure you don’t interfere with anything,” he said.

  I promised I’d behave myself, and that was why I stood off to the side and listened, trying my best to look as inoffensive as possible. Chief Lewis had shot me a gimlet glare as I got out of Calvin’s police SUV, but since he hadn’t said anything, I figured I’d been given the green light to stay.

  “What do you mean, ‘something’ grabbed hold of the car?” Lewis asked, clearly displeased by Travis’s description of the accident.

  “What I said, man.” Travis ran a hand through his stringy hair and then crossed his arms. He kept his gaze resolutely away from the still body on the gurney, or the crumpled wreckage of what used to be a Subaru Forester. “Like, I was driving down the highway — doing the speed limit — and then the back wheels started to skid. Next thing I knew, something jerked on the rear end of the car, and we flipped. Rolled two, three times. I can’t remember for sure.”

  “Why wasn’t Ms. Kappas wearing her seatbelt?” Calvin asked next.

  Because that was why Travis was still standing upright, no worse for wear except a few bumps on his forehead and the beginnings of a laceration from the seat belt visible against the side of his neck, and Athene was on her way to the morgue. W
hen the car rolled, her neck was broken.

  Just thinking about it made me slightly queasy.

  “I think she dropped her phone,” Travis said. “I heard her swear, and I think I saw her bend down to get it but she couldn’t reach it. So she undid her seatbelt — and that was when the car started to act weird.”

  I fought back a shiver. It sure sounded to me as though someone…or something…had put a hex on the car. However, I knew I’d better keep that theory to myself — at least until Calvin and I could talk in private. I didn’t even want to think how the hard-jawed Chief Lewis would react if I tried to tell him that Travis’s Subaru had been cursed.

  Calvin nodded, as if satisfied with the explanation Travis had provided. Lewis, scowled, though, and said, “You been smoking, Travis?”

  “No,” he replied at once in wounded tones. “Not that I don’t have the right,” he added, as if he wanted the police chief to understand that he hadn’t abstained because of fear of the law. Like California, Arizona had legalized recreational marijuana use, but that didn’t mean its residents had a license to drive while high. “But Ms. Kappas had contacted me though the app and let me know she wanted a pickup in a few hours, and so I made sure I was sharp and ready to go.”

  I had my doubts about how “sharp” Travis was even when he wasn’t partaking, but I could tell he wasn’t lying. And apparently, Chief Lewis also seemed to accept his story, because he nodded and said, “All right. We’ll tow the vehicle in and inspect it, see what kind of mechanical problem caused it to fail like that.”

  “Wasn’t no problem,” Travis protested. “I just had a full-on inspection only two months ago. Brakes, suspension, tires…everything was fine. There’s nothing wrong with my car.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then we won’t find anything,” Lewis replied. His gaze shifted to Calvin, and I saw his mouth go flat, even as bristles of red flared in his aura. Definitely no love lost there; I had a feeling he griped to his deputies about having to work with an “Injun,” even if he was savvy enough not to repeat that kind of thing in mixed company. “You need anything else, Standingbear?”