The Case of the Desire Spell

by Anderson, Amorette

  “We’re supposed to forget,” I say.

  “On purpose,” Annie says.

  “Forget what?” Marley asks.

  “What we desire,” I say.

  Marley shakes her head. She looks baffled. I feel pretty confused myself. “Maybe it will make sense when we actually do it,” I say.

  “I’m nervous to try,” says Cora, setting down her planner. “It feels all wrong—without our books. What if we’ve missed something important? What if it goes seriously wrong?”

  I motion to her planner. She passes it over to me, and I stare at the steps that she’s written down for a moment. “This is only four things,” I say. “I’m pretty sure we are missing something. I kind of remember the spell being so much more complicated than this.”

  “What are we forgetting?” Marley asks.

  “If we knew, it wouldn’t be forgotten,” I say.

  Needles click. I can hear the hum of a cooler that sits near the cafe counter. The sky outside is now dark. The cafe’s overhead lights cast a soft warm glow over our circle.

  The conversation turns naturally towards knitting. For the next half hour, Annie helps me work out the next steps for my sweater. We end up tearing out a few rows that I’ve done. That feels yucky at first, but when I see how much better it looks without my mistakes, I’m happy.

  Our knitting talk evolves into chatter about Cora’s wedding. First, we try to come up with ideas for knit centerpieces. We decide on a flat flower pattern from one of Annie’s books. Next, we move on to discuss a knit ‘something blue’ that Cora could wear on her wedding day.

  By seven o’clock my fingers are tired and I’m hungry for dinner. Annie’s brownies were the perfect appetizer, but now I want something besides sugar in my system.

  I know—I’m as shocked as you are!

  We pack up, exchange hugs, and promise to keep trying to think about steps we might be missing, for the Desire Spell.

  As Cora and I hug goodbye, I say, “Sorry again, Cora.” Blueberry Muffin is situated happily in Cora’s knitting bag. I pet her head and then give her a little kiss.

  “I am too,” Cora says. “This has been a crazy few days. I’m stressed, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have”

  “I know you didn’t mean to,” I say. “And I was just as bad. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “When will you go into the Law Office next?” I ask. “We should really figure out if your book is still in the cabinet or not.”

  “I don’t know,” Cora says. “I can walk down there now, if you want me to.” She yawns. Blueberry Muffin closes her eyes and gives a big—well, big for a Chihuahua—yawn, too.

  “No,” I say. “You’re pregnant. You should get home, eat some dinner, and rest. I think little Muffin here is wiped out too. I can check on the book.”

  “Really?” Cora says. She reaches into a pocket of her purse and pulls out her keys. “That would be great. I’m kind of dreading going back in there anyways. It’s going to be so weird without Hiroku. I’m not sure I can handle it yet. And, I am hungry. Bed sounds nice too.” She yawns again as she separates a brass key from her collection.

  I stuff the key in my back pocket. “Thanks,” I say.

  The four of us spill out onto the sidewalk and wait as Annie locks the cafe doors.

  “I’ll go check right now,” I say. “On my way home.”

  “Isn’t it a crime scene still?” Annie asks.

  “Maybe,” I say. “But this is important. Plus, I doubt the police have made much progress with the case, anyways. If magic is involved, they’re going to be in the dark.”

  “A witch's favorite place,” Marley says.

  I look up at the night sky. Stars twinkle above us. “I do like the night time more and more,” I say, with a smile.

  “Well, be careful,” Annie says.

  “And let us know whether it’s there or not,” Cora says.

  “I will.” I promise.

  With that, we all part ways.

  Under the starlight of an almost moonless sky, I ride my bike towards Cora’s place of employment.

  Will Cora’s copy of ASBW be in the filing cabinet or not?

  I’m not sure, but I’m about to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  There is ‘crime scene’ tape up across Itsu Law Offices. I stare at the tape for a moment, thinking.

  Yes, it’s strung up across the door.

  Yes, this is a crime scene, and I don’t technically have permission to enter. But I do have a key in my pocket. And I am a witch. If magic is involved in this case, I have a responsibility to investigate—even though I haven’t really been hired by anyone to look into it.

  Besides, I’d really love it if Cora’s book was still there. It would be so good to hold those papers in my hands. I reach for the key in my back pocket, but a thought stops me from pulling it out.

  Isn’t there some law against interfering with a police investigation?

  Could I get arrested for entering this office? The crime scene tape is strung right across the door. I’m going to have to break the tape if I want to get in. There’s no way that could be seen as a mistake. If the police come, I’m not going to be able to get away with ‘oops! I didn't know that I wasn’t supposed to enter!’.

  Nope.

  This is going to clearly be an act of rebellion.

  Am I ready to rebel?

  I stare at the tape. It feels like a line, drawn in the sand. On one side is my human, law-abiding life. It’s the life in which I try to play by human rules.

  On the other side of that tape lies a different life. A new life. A life in which I’m apart from human rules. I don’t have to play by them, because I’m a witch.

  I dig my hand into my pocket, and pull out the key. Holding it tightly in my hand, I take a deep breath. Then, with my free hand, I pull on the crime scene tape. It stretches, but doesn’t break.

  “Come on,” I say under my breath. “I’m trying to make a statement here.” I pull harder. It stretches more. “Come on, break!” I whisper.

  I put the key between my lips and hold it there so that I can use two hands to pull apart the crime scene tape. It’s harder to tear than you might expect! Finally it snaps, and my hands fly apart. One of my elbows jerks to the side and knocks a ceramic planter off of the ledge where it was balanced.

  It shatters to the concrete sidewalk with a crash.

  Across the street, a dog starts barking. I turn around. “Drat,” I whisper to myself through pursed lips as I see Molly Gallant’s porch light come on. I pull the key from between my lips and insert it into the door handle just as I hear a voice cut through the quiet night air.

  “Hellooo! Hello? Who’s there?” The voice says.

  I turn in time to see Frank, Molly’s live-in boyfriend, standing on the porch in his bathrobe. “Don’t you know that’s a crime scene?” He calls out.

  I turn around. “Yes, yes of course, Frank,” I say. “The police said I could be here. I just have to get something inside, and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Alright, then,” Frank says, before shuffling off.

  Whew! That was a close one! I push the door in and step safely inside. I close it behind me before turning on the lights, and for a moment I’m standing in the pitch black.

  I flail my arms along the wall, trying desperately to find a light switch. I have been liking the dark more and more lately, but there’s something about being in the room where a woman was recently killed that’s making my hair stand on end. I don’t need to add darkness to my already spooked state.

  My fingers bump against a switch, and then bright light floods the room. Thank goodness! That’s better.

  I walk over towards Cora’s desk. On the floor I can see an outline where Hiroku’s body was lying, just last night. I also see little flags around a splattering of blood near the head of the outline. The place on the floor where the paperweight had been lying is also marked with the little flags. I step carefully ov
er the marks, making my way to the filing cabinet. The cabinet has four drawers.

  When I pull on the top drawer, the whole cabinet moves. It thumps against the wall behind it, which makes me jump.

  I am so on edge! I have to get a hold of myself. I force my shoulders back down away from my ears, and try to take a deep breath. Then I stand on my tiptoes and peer into the top drawer.

  I see Cora’s slippers, lined up neatly side by side. They’re pale blue, soft, fuzzy and look totally comfortable. Nice choice, Cora! I think, as I slide the drawer shut.

  I open the next drawer down. This one is filled with healthy snacks. I spot raw almonds, which are Cora’s favorites, among other things. It’s easy to push that drawer shut.

  The next drawer I open is entirely empty. What was in here? I’m not sure, but I really hope that ASBW is in the bottom drawer.

  I open the bottom drawer. Three little bottles are lined up: Oatmeal and lavender body lotion, room freshener, and a bottle of vitamin E oil. No book!

  Drat!

  That means that whoever was here, stole her ASBW pages! I stare at the little row of bottles as I think this over. Then, I lift the bottle of vitamin E oil. It looks kind of nice. What does Cora use it for? I lift it up and begin reading.

  It says that it can be used to heal dry skin. Well, my hands are kind of chapped. It’s been so cold lately, and I’ve been riding my bike a lot without mittens. This oil might feel nice. I open the cap.

  Just then, I hear a sound behind me. I spin around fast, and feel oil slosh out of the bottle, all over my hand.

  Chris is standing in the doorway. He has a flashlight in his hand, but as he steps into the brightly lit office, he clicks it off. He’s wearing his police uniform. He must be on duty.

  I have to admit, he looks handsome.

  “Penny?” He says.

  “Chris!” I feel my eyes widen.

  “What are you doing here?” He asks.

  “Investigating,” I say. I try to screw the cap back onto the bottle of oil, but my hands are all slick. The cap eludes my grip and then bounces onto the corner of Cora’s desk. It rolls to the edge of the desk and then falls. I lunge forward and catch it, superfast, before it hits the floor. I’m talking at lightning speed. I’ve never been much of an athlete, but my reflexes must be improving!

  “But this is a crime scene, Penny,” Chris says. “The public isn’t allowed in here.”

  “I’m not the public,” I say. “I’m a private investigator. Besides, I didn’t touch your little flags and marks. And I’m just leaving, anyways.

  I manage to put the cap back on the oil bottle, thank goodness.

  “Penny, you’re standing right in the middle of our markings. Your footprints are going to be everywhere.”

  “I am not standing—” I look down, and see that in my attempt to catch the cap, I also lunged right onto the place where Haruki’s head outline is marked out on the floor.

  “Oh. Oops. I didn’t mean to do that,” I say.

  “You’d better get out of here,” Chris says.

  I lift my foot out of the head outline carefully. Then I stand next to the filing cabinet. The outline of the body separates Chris and me.

  “Chris,” I say, as I turn and return the now greasy bottle to the drawer. “I’m here for a reason. There’s more to this case than you’re aware of.”

  Chris sighs. “Does this have something to do with witchcraft?” He asks.

  “Maybe,” I say. “There was a book in this filing cabinet. Well, it wasn’t a book exactly, but it was photocopied pages of a book. The book was about becoming a witch. The pages are gone. Someone stole them. I’m not surprised, really, they’re very valuable.”

  “We’re talking about photocopies,” Chris says, incredulously.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “As in—photocopies that can be made on a machine at the library for a dime a piece.”

  “Yep,” I say.

  “I don’t see how those could be valuable, exactly, but I’ll play along. Only—do you think we could talk about this outside? My chief is going to radio in soon and I really don’t want to tell him that you and I are still in here. No one’s supposed to be in here.”

  “Right.” I step carefully over the body outline, but my cowboy boot slips on some oil. Suddenly, I’m sliding towards Chris. Luckily, as I slide into him, he catches me. His body is solid and strong. He helps me regain my balance. For a brief instant, he looks down at me with a soft, caring look in his eyes.

  I meet his gaze for a moment, mostly because I’m curious about what I see there. Does Chris still have feelings for me? We broke up almost a month ago, and miraculously, thanks to all that I’ve learned in my study of witchcraft, I am totally over him. But is he over me?

  Judging by the look in his eyes right now, I’m going to go with ‘no.’

  “Whoops! Thanks for catching me,” I say, laughing nervously as I pull away from him.

  “It’s like an ice skating rink around here or something!”

  “What did you slip on?” Chris asks.

  “I spilled some vitamin E oil. No big deal.”

  Chris squints down at the floor. “Penny, it’s all over the place. There’s trace biological evidence on the floor here. It’s supposed to stay uncontaminated!”

  “Sorry,” I say, sincerely. “But when you hear my take on the case, you’re not going to be in a fuss over your tracing paper anymore.”

  “Trace biological evidence,” Chris says, slowly. Then he sighs. “Nevermind. Okay, let’s go outside and talk. Come on.”

  We exit the building, snapping the lights off as we go. As I lock the door behind us, I catch sight of a figure, disappearing up the hill. The figure is running—fast. The night is dark, but my eyes make out a flashy red running shirt as the figure runs beneath a street lamp. Is that—Max?

  Well, he did say this was one of his running routes.

  Leave it to Max to be out on a jog at 7:30 in the evening. I watch him turn left onto Main Street, as Chris strings up some fresh crime scene tape. Then Chris and I move so that we’re standing by his cop car. The night is cold, and I hug myself as we begin to talk, running my hands up and down over my sweater-clad upper arms.

  “Chris, I think that the missing photocopies are key for this case. Someone wanted them. The thief entered the office after hours, and Hiroku came out to see what the noise was. The thief then killed Hiroku with a paperweight and took off into the night, photocopies in hand.”

  “Who would kill over a bunch of pages of paper?”

  “Plenty of people,” I say. “Well... plenty of beings... they might not be people, exactly. I’m thinking that whoever it was has a background in magic. That’s how they knew about the book in the first place. But I did lock up the portal, so..."

  “Portal?” Asks Chris. He rubs his forehead.

  “Yeah. Portal. It goes into other magical realms. I cast a spell to lock it, so magical beings can’t get in or out of Hillcrest.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Chris asks.

  I nod. “I think so,” I say. “I mean, at least for now it’s trapped our perp in the Earth Realm.”

  “Great,” Chris says, flatly. “So now we know the killer is somewhere on Earth.”

  “Right,” I say.

  Chris sighs again. “This is supposed to be helpful?” He asks.

  I nod. “If we know the killer’s motive, we know more about them. We can track them down. I mean, admit it, this is more than you have to go on, isn’t it?”

  I watch Chris’s reaction carefully. He grimaces, but then collects himself. “We have a few leads to go on,” he says.

  The grimace gave him away. “Come on, Chris,” I say. “You don’t have to lie to me. We’re on the same team, here. We both want to catch this killer.”

  He hesitates, and then says, “Fine. You’re right. We’ve got nothing. No leads. Chief said to interview Hiroku’s family and look for any signs of conflict, but all we’ve got
is a daughter out in Boston. That’s turned out to be a dead end. Even worse, she’s flying out here—she’ll get into town in two days—and we’re going to have to tell her that we have no idea who killed her mother.”

  A wind whips around us. I shiver.

  “You cold?” Chris asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “Penny, your lips are turning blue.”

  “Okay, I’m a little cold.” I give another violent shiver.

  Chris walks around the side of the cop car and opens the door for me. “Let’s talk in the car,” he says. “I’ll crank the heat.”

  Ahhh... Heat. That sounds delightful. I slide into the passenger seat, and then watch as Chris gets in. He fires up the engine, and then turns the heat up to high.

  At first it’s slightly cool, but it quickly heats up. Soon I’m in toasty-toes heaven.

  “That’s better,” I say, turning my hands back and forth in front of the heaters. I glance at the clock on the dashboard as I enjoy the warm air on my fingers. “It’s already quarter to eight!” I exclaim. “Turkey is going to be so hungry! I need to get home.”

  “I can drive you,” Chris says. “We’ll talk on the way.”

  “I’m fine with riding,” I say. “I have my bike.”

  “I’ll throw it in the back,” Chris says. He’s already getting out of the car. I’m too toasty warm to protest.

  He loads my bike into the trunk of the car. I can see out of the rearview mirror that it doesn’t fit all the way, but he struggles valiantly and gets it far enough in so that it will stay put while we drive. He gets in and pulls out into the road.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “It’s no problem,” he answers. “Hey—was there anything else missing from the office? Besides the papers? This might be more of a solid lead if something actually valuable was missing.”

  “I’m telling you, Chris, those papers are valuable. It makes total sense that someone would want them so desperately. The words on those pages have the power to turn humans into witches.”

  I turn and look out the window at the buildings that pass by. As I watch, I begin thinking aloud. “Besides, it’s a good thing that the book is missing. That means that I can stop worrying so much about Silas Switchback.”