“It’s your time,” Doctor Mike said. “Waste it if you want. And when this all shakes out, and I file my harassment lawsuit, and you lose because you’re a pathetic wank monkey, I’ll be the Sheriff. How about that?”
“I don’t think you could take the pressure,” Sheriff Strahan said. “You have a good day, now. I’m sure we’ll be talking soon.”
***
“Listen to me, goddammit, I’m telling you, something stinks!” Tamara was pacing around the backyard sniffing. Deputy Moon watched her, hands on his hips, shaking his head.
“You know, Rookie,” Kevin said, “it may be because you’re walking around a very small area that has two dead bodies in it. They start to smell bad after a while.”
“I know the stench of death, Deputy Dink,” Tamara said. “That’s not what I smell.”
“See, why you gotta call me names like that?” Kevin said. “It’s hurtful.”
“I’ll stop when you give me a reason to. Besides, you’re a cop, right?” Tamara smiled. “You should be a little more thick skinned.”
“Jesus Christ, you two,” Graham said, walking up from behind. “Either get it figured out or get a room. What’s been going on?”
“White suits have been here and gone,” Deputy Moon said. “Coroner is on the way.”
“I hope they’re bringing a bulldozer,” Graham said.
“The media has been here, too,” Tamara said. “The Bell Plains guys ran them off, but I suggest holding a press conference. How did it go with Doctor Mike?”
Graham shook his head. “He’s an asshole, but I don’t think he killed anyone. I threatened to search his place, and we’ve got the warrants, but I don’t know. It’s not the right time yet. He’s arrogant, which means if he did it, he’ll slip up. We’ll snag him then.”
“Sheriff, there’s something else here,” Tamara said. “I can smell it.”
“She’s been running around the crime scene all morning with her damned nose up in the air,” Kevin said. “Making fun of me, driving me nuts.”
“What is it, Tamara?” Graham asked.
“Has anybody gone inside the house?” she asked.
“The crime scene is out here, Smarty Pants,” Kevin said. “There’s been no reason to go into the house.”
“We need to get in there,” Tamara said.
“You mean the white suits didn’t go inside?” Graham asked.
Kevin shrugged. “I didn’t see any reason for it. They just worked out here.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Deputy Moon! The yard is a crime scene. The house is a crime scene. This whole poor fucking excuse of a neighborhood is a crime scene! What were you thinking?”
“I just figured…”
“Well, stop thinking, and start doing things by the book!”
The deputy threw his hands into the air. “Oh, that’s rich. Do it by the book, he says, and he brings out a two-legged bloodhound who does nothing but sniff around, like she’s allergic to pollen and trapped in a greenhouse!”
“Shut it, Moon,” Graham said. “I’m very close to being pissed off, and you’re talking your way into a suspension. You do not want either of those things to happen, do you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then call the white suits back over here. And let’s get into that house,” Graham said.
***
Already, it felt like time had stopped inside the Pendleton home. The air was starting to get thick, and the rooms were taking on that fine edge of stuffiness. There were still dishes on the counter, unwashed, the liquid inside clouding over in the coffee mugs.
“I hate this feeling,” Deputy Moon said. “Dead man’s house. Everything echoes.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Graham said. “What’s the deal, Tamara?”
Tamara was on the hunt. She walked slowly through the kitchen, head turning this way and that. She moved to the edge of the living room, looked around briefly, then said, “I’m losing it. It’s in the kitchen, but not in the kitchen.”
“Well, there is a basement,” Kevin said.
“There is?” Graham said.
Kevin pointed at a door opposite the one that led to the backyard.
“Son of a bitch,” Graham said.
“What did you think that was?” Kevin asked.
Graham shrugged. “Pantry, maybe?”
“Somebody give me a glove,” Tamara said. Kevin pulled a latex one out of his pocket and gave it to her. She slipped it on her right hand and opened the mysterious door. The rush of air coming up the steps hit her in the face with a silent urgency.
She pointed down the steps. “It’s coming from down there,” she said. She reached through the doorway and felt about on the wall until she found the light switch. She clicked it on and started walking down the stairs.
“Y’all coming?” she asked.
She led the way, and Graham and Kevin followed her into the basement.
***
The light Tamara had turned on was only a single bulb, just enough so that one wouldn’t trip and fall. There was another switch on the ground floor. Tamara flipped it, and two large fluorescent light banks on the ceiling hummed on, bathing the room in urine-yellow light.
“It’s over here,” Tamara said, and she rushed over to a workbench that jutted out from the wall. Rows of shelves hung above it, filled with glass vials.
“What’s in these? Herbs?” Graham asked, moving next to her.
Tamara reached up and grabbed one of the small bottles and thumbed the top off. She waved it under her nose, smiled and nodded. “Of course,” she said with a smile. “Catnip.”
“You’re kidding,” Graham said.
“Nope!” Tamara said, laughing. “I knew I recognized it.”
“What else is up here?”
Tamara inspected the shelves. “Looks like some rosemary, some sage, some… well, that’s weird. I think that’s nightshade.”
“That’s a poison,” Kevin said.
“Yeah, if you ingest too much. I don’t recognize a lot of the others, though. This one might be black cohosh.”
“Somebody was an artist,” Kevin said. “Check it.”
Graham turned away from the workbench to see a painting of the sun on the wall. Burnt orange rays of light were radiating from the center circle, like benevolent tentacles. The sun also had a vaguely lascivious smile on its face, as if it were waiting for something naughty to happen.
Graham pointed at the picture, and looked back and forth a couple of times, getting his bearings. “That’s the south side of the house,” he said. Under his glove, his scarred hand began to itch.
“There’s a painting of the ocean over here, too,” Kevin said. “Not bad. I wish it were terrible. That would make it suck less that she’s not going to paint anything else.”
“Maybe Mark was the artist in the family,” Tamara said.
“Nah,” Kevin said. “You can tell. There’s a feminine touch. No way he did this.”
“That’s on the west side,” Graham muttered.
“What the fucking fuck is this?” Tamara cried. Graham and Kevin hastened to her side. On the far corner of the workbench, Tamara was thumbing through a giant book.
“Family bible?” Kevin asked.
Tamara’s eyes were wide. “Not like any bible I’ve ever read,” she said.
“It’s a grimoire,” Graham said.
“A what?” Kevin asked.
“A grimoire,” Graham said. “A Book of Shadows. It’s a spellbook.” The itching in Graham’s hand was maddening.
“Oh, come on,” Kevin said. “You’re kidding.”
“Is this leather bound?” Tamara asked, still looking at the book.
“I don’t think that’s leather,” Graham said.
“Oh, shit, you guys,” Kevin said. “Look down.”
“What?” asked Tamara, not wanting to stop looking at the grimoire.
“The floor,” Kevin said.
They all turned and looked down. They shou
ld have seen it from the steps, but it didn’t register until that moment. Painted on the floor was a giant white pentagram, enclosed in a circle.
“Oh, shit, Graham,” Kevin said. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“This changes things a bit,” Graham said.
“She really was a witch?” Tamara asked. “Are you kidding me?”
“Listen,” Graham said. “You cannot mention this to anyone. Not your friends, not your lovers, don’t even talk to yourselves about it. Especially don’t say anything to the fucking media. It’s going to be a nightmare if this gets out. All right?”
Kevin and Tamara nodded in silence.
“Nope,” Graham said. “Not good enough.” He extended his hand and stuck his little finger out. “Y’all gotta pinky swear.”
“Oh, come on,” Kevin scoffed.
“Don’t even fuck with me right now, Deputy Moon. Do it.”
Tamara stuck her little finger out. Kevin, with a heavy sigh, did the same. They both hooked their fingers around Graham’s and said, “Pinky swear.”
“There,” Graham said. “It’s done now. Don’t break it.”
The other two nodded solemnly and went back upstairs. In the gloomy kitchen, a telephone was ringing. For a second, no one knew what to do.
“I guess I should get that,” Graham said. “Give me a glove, Kevin.”
“Just use your left hand,” Kevin said.
“Oh,” Graham said. “Right. Y’all go on outside and let me take this.”
The phone rang again, and Graham picked it up. He cleared his throat and said, “Hello?”
“Can I speak to Nika?” The voice was deep but smooth, like a late night DJ.
“Well, um…” Graham stammered.
“Is this Mark?”
“No, sir. This is Sheriff Graham Strahan of the Elders Keep Sheriff’s Department. May I ask who is calling?”
The voice on the other end was quizzical. “My name is Stone. I’m Nika’s brother. What’s going on?”
“Sir, I regret to inform you that your sister and your brother-in-law have died. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Silence. Then, a moment of hitched breathing.
“How did it happen?” Graham could hear the restrained anger in the man’s voice. “If it were a car crash, you wouldn’t be there at the house. And the odds of them both passing from natural causes at the same time are astronomical. So tell me, Sheriff, and tell me true. What happened to my family?”
“It’s not the kind of thing I like to talk about over the phone, sir.”
“Well. Then I suppose I’ll be in your little town as soon as I can, Sheriff,” Stone said. “We’ll be speaking in person. I strongly suspect that your refusal to talk means that foul play was involved.”
Graham said nothing.
“Have you made an arrest?” Stone asked.
“No, sir, we have not.”
“Do you have a suspect?”
“No, sir, at this time I do not, but the investigation is in very early stages.”
No response. All Graham could hear was the man breathing.
“Let me give you my number, sir,” Graham said, finally. “You can reach me any time of the day or night.”
“Find who did this, Sheriff,” Stone said. “If you don’t, I will.”
Click.
Graham stared at the dead phone in his hand for a second before hanging up. He had heard threats like that before, angry relatives spouting off at the mouth, impotent with rage. The blusterers were easy to dismiss, ham-fisted men who never learned how to cry.
There was something cold in this guy’s voice, though. There’s a difference between successfully masking one’s emotions and not having any emotions. Graham wasn’t quite sure on which side of the equation Stone fell. Maybe he would get a better grasp on what kind of a person this Stone guy was when they met face to face. What a blast that promised to be.
***
“Hey, Kevin!” One of the deputies from Bell Plains came around the side of the house. “The media is out front again. They’re getting a little restless. Want us to rush them off again?”
“Tell ‘em we’ll have a statement in half an hour, okay? Jesus. Fucking vultures.”
“The coroner just showed up, too.”
Kevin huffed. “Son of a bitch! They can’t be hauling out bodies with the press out front. Tamara, please go handle the coroners, okay? I just can’t right now.”
“Get some tea,” she said, touching him on the shoulder as she left.
Graham came shuffling outside and stood next to Kevin, looking at the ground. “That was, uh, Nika’s brother on the phone. Got to tell him his sister and brother-in-law were dead. So that was fun. What’s going on out here?”
“You’ve got about twenty-five minutes to get a statement together for the press. Oh, and the coroner’s office is here, too. Tamara is handling them.”
Graham rubbed his eyes. “This is turning out to be a very long day, Deputy. One of the longest ones I can recall.”
“Yes, sir,” Kevin said. “I can see that. How was the brother?”
“He didn’t take it well, as you can imagine. Don’t know where he’s coming from, but he’ll be paying us a visit soon enough.”
***
Newspaper reporters from Bell Plains and Knoxville were out front of the house, as well as a couple of television stations. Graham heard pieces of hyperbolic news patter as he readied himself.
“…shocking double murder...”
“…sleepy small town rocked…”
“Where do they come up with this shit?” Graham asked no one in particular.
“I think there’s a school somewhere that teaches them how to say the worst possible things at all times,” Tamara said. “You look like shit, Sheriff.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to follow my normal morning beauty regimen this morning,” Graham said.
“How is Shelly?” Tamara asked.
“Asleep, I hope. Having a better day than us.”
Tamara checked her phone. “It’s showtime,” she said. “Have fun storming the castle.”
Graham nodded. “Thanks. Where’s Kevin?”
“I’m coming,” Kevin said. “Had to shine the badge a little.”
“What?”
“He was peeing,” Tamara said.
“Dammit, Tamara!” Kevin whined.
“Let’s go, Deputy Moon,” Graham said. “Get this shit over with.”
They walked slowly around the side of the house to meet the reporters with their bright lights and questions that couldn’t wait until Graham and Kevin stopped walking.
“Sheriff, is it true that…”
“Sheriff, what about the…”
Graham raised his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your damned questions until we get situated.” He arbitrarily chose a spot on the driveway and stood there, forcing the news cameras to shift over a couple of inches. Kevin stood behind him with crossed arms and a stern look on his face.
“My name is Sheriff Graham Strahan of the Elders Keep Sheriff’s Department. This is rumor control. These are the facts.
“This morning, the bodies of Mark and Nika Pendleton were discovered in the backyard of their home. They had lived in Elders Keep less than a month. We do suspect foul play. The investigation is ongoing, and we currently have no persons of interest in mind. If anyone has any information about this crime, we encourage you to call the Elders Keep Sheriff’s Department at any time. You can do so anonymously if need be. Thank you.”
Before he could finish, the barrage of questions from the nameless, faceless reporters began.
“Sheriff, was this murder racially motivated?”
“The Pendletons were an inter-racial couple, but we have no indication at this point that racism was a factor.”
“Sheriff, is it true the Pendletons home was recently vandalized?”
“They did have a window broken out of their home a couple nights before, but as of yet, we have no conclusive e
vidence that the two events are connected.”
“Sheriff, can you tell us how the Pendletons were killed?”
Graham sighed. “Yeah, but I’m not going to.”
A general outcry came from the peanut gallery of media. “Hey, now, guys!” Graham called. “You’ll get the information when I can give it. Okay? That’s on a need to know basis, and you ghouls will find out soon enough, I’m sure.”
“Sheriff, what about…”
Graham waved a hand. “Nope, that’s it, folks. We’ll issue a statement with further details when I get the time to write one out. That’s all, thank you.” He turned and walked away, Kevin trailing him.
Once they were back in the backyard, Graham wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
“Gosh, that was fun,” he said. “I do so enjoy dealing with the press.”
“Yeah, they’re so patient and well behaved,” Kevin said.
“Make sure those Bell Plains boys get rid of all those reporters. All of them.”
“No problem, Sheriff,” Kevin said.
“See if they can find a couple more guys to pull night shift here. I’ll pay them a little extra for the effort,” Graham said.
“That will make things easier,” Kevin said, and he trooped back around front.
“I thought you said the coroner’s office was here, Tamara,” Graham called.
“They were,” she said, “but they left when they saw all the press out front.”
“That was remarkably prescient of them,” he said.
“Not really,” Tamara said. “With all the cars and vans on the street, they didn’t have enough room to pull in the backhoe.”
Graham looked at Nika’s legs, sticking up out of the concrete, nailed to that cross. All that heavy machinery to remove such a delicate girl. It didn’t make any sense. None of it made sense. Not too much, anyway.
“I can’t figure out how anyone knew Nika was a witch. Hell, maybe they were both practicing.” Graham rubbed his whiskery chin. “But it wasn’t anything they advertised. Witches don’t come out of the broom closet until they feel brave enough or safe enough to do so. I was in that house, Tamara. There was nothing upstairs to indicate any involvement in witchcraft or paganism. No cute little witch figurines, nothing.”
Hunting Witches Page 18
