Moonstone Shadows

by Patricia Rice

  Grotto. A young Val standing on a boulder like a wet selky shedding her skin. Others splashing in the shallow spring, hunting for pretty rocks. Lance’s drug-hazed desire as he painted the scene. A young and beautiful Carmel gazing at them with contempt.

  A uniformed security guard raising a rifle and ordering everyone off the property. . .

  Sadness. An image of tumbled rocks, dry and dusty, all the beauty gone out of them.

  Aaron returned the can to the table, but Hannah clung to his hand, trying to hold on to the spell.

  “We weren’t in that scene,” she said, finally summing up her interpretation.

  “No, you just enhanced what I saw from Lance’s memory.” He blinked and gazed unseeingly at the can. “That was pretty amazing. Usually, if all I see is a flash of memory, it’s faded, unclear, and not necessarily reliable. This was like a crisp color photo instead of a blurred old Polaroid.”

  “What if he’d been wielding the can as a weapon in rage?” she asked out of curiosity.

  He squeezed her hand and let it go. “We might have heard words or sensed his thoughts. Action speaks louder than memories.”

  “There’s no grotto now?” she asked, feeling Lance’s sorrow at the loss. She returned to study the painting that almost matched his memory. Had the painting enhanced their vision?

  “No. I never knew there was one. Fire roasted most of the Kennedy mountain going uphill. Rocks look like rocks. There’s no differentiating them. We may have just seen a source for some of the crystals, but I don’t think we can find it from that memory.” He came over to study the painting with her. “He’s ten years older than Val. He knew he could never have her.”

  “Especially as he descended into drug addiction while she was on the verge of a brilliant career. But the security guard in that memory—does that mean others might know where the grotto is?”

  “We’ll keep asking. Let’s find Xavier. He seldom strays far from his office. He’s closer to Cass’s age, but he got his drugs from somewhere. The commune is the most likely source.” Aaron started for the door.

  “Why do I have the feeling that Cass has all the answers and we should go directly to her?” Hannah asked in frustration.

  “Because if she had the answers, the killer would be behind bars by now. And if she wanted to talk to us, she’d find us.” Aaron took her hand as he opened the gallery door.

  Cass stood framed in the sunlight.

  Eighteen

  “You are not to disturb Xavier,” Cass said sternly. “He has suffered enough under our hands.”

  “You want to talk about it here or at the café?” Aaron asked dryly. “The boardwalk doesn’t seem appropriate.”

  Cass marched toward his shop. Aware that Hannah gaped with wide-open eyes of wonder stirred Aaron’s protective instincts, ones better left buried. She was the all-knowing librarian and no innocent. She knew Cass’s psychic abilities. He didn’t have to protect Hannah from the old witch, right?

  Reaching the shop, Aaron sent Wang Hai away. The feng shui expert had already rearranged the furniture into a Victorian parlor. All it needed was Hannah fixing a silver tea tray and teapot to re-create the scene of the early spiritualists who had settled in this town. He refrained from rolling his eyes.

  Her long silver hair pulled into a knot, Cass chose a high-backed wooden straight chair with satin padding in the center. Hannah set the tray down on the carved Victorian coffee table that had held a murder weapon and took her usual place on the velvet sofa of dubious origin. Aaron paced.

  “Why didn’t we go to the café?” he asked while they passed each other sugar and cream.

  “Because this involves the Kennedys, which involves Sam, Teddy, and Fee, and I saw no purpose in upsetting them.” Cass accepted Hannah waiting on her as if accustomed to servants—as she once had been. Cass’s family was wealthy.

  “So, tell us about the crystals,” Aaron said rudely. This was why he didn’t deal in people. He was supposed to murmur platitudes and wait for old ladies to tell him what he wanted. Not happening.

  “The casket belonged to my mother, who inherited it from her mother,” Cass said, sipping her tea. “The Victorian spiritualist who carried the Healing Stone from England was my great-great grandmother, the one who married the rancher who owned all this land.”

  “Why didn’t she write a journal?” asked Hannah, sounding aggrieved. “It would have solved much.”

  “Their journals are in my library. Like my mother, I saw no reason to continue sending books to England when they were needed here. I hoped an American librarian would show up. One person cannot be everywhere, and you are already bearing a large load.”

  “So where’s the stone?” Hannah asked, apparently dismissing this insult to her abilities.

  Aaron had the insane longing to hold Hannah and protect her from what was coming when Cass hesitated over an answer. He knew Hannah was hoping an old stone would solve everything, maybe even her health. But as weird as Lucy abilities were, they were not magic. Aladdin was fiction.

  “Carmel always got everything she wanted,” Cass said sadly. “The details are tedious. My stepfather inherited everything and only gave me what he didn’t deem useful. He couldn’t build on the vortex or the cemetery, so he left me those and generously added an attached plot of land where I could put my house. He never really understood the true value of the things he inherited, and neither did Geoffrey, his son,” Cass said sadly, stirring her tea. “I probably should have fought harder, but I was young and still learning the extent of my abilities. Material things were unimportant, and I had the arrogance of youth to believe I would retrieve what was mine when the time came. I didn’t count on Carmel usurping them.”

  “But you’ve seen the Healing Stone? It does exist?” Casting aside her usual indifference, Hannah questioned eagerly.

  Aaron was perfectly willing to let her tackle Cass. He preferred keeping a distance from the Hillvale doyenne, or she’d try to use him as she did everyone else.

  “I saw it when it was in my mother’s care, but she had it locked up. Her life was an unhappy one, and she preferred not to accept her unwelcome gifts or family eccentrics. I went the opposite direction, but she didn’t live to know that. I suppose, if I hadn’t gone to live with her sister and rebel against my stepfather’s edicts, I might have turned out as she did. My stepfather inherited all her worldly goods, including the casket in the safe.”

  Impatient with this trip down memory lane, Aaron brought her back on topic. “Do you know if the other stones in Carmel’s safe also belonged to your family? She considered them valuable, but the sheriff has them, so we can’t test that.”

  “No, they’re not my family’s stones. My mother only kept the Healing Stone in the casket,” Cass said with a hint of satisfaction. “The rest of the collection didn’t look important, and I claimed them when she died. I had them assessed once. There are a few semi-precious stones not native to this area, so I assume she inherited them from the grandmother who brought the Healing Stone with her. Some of the stones are of a type found around here, but they are of no intrinsic value. Teddy or Keegan would have to test them for anything else. I did not inherit my ancestor’s gift for crystals.”

  “Do you remember what the Healing Stone looked like?” Hannah prodded.

  Cass frowned thoughtfully. “It was nearly fist-sized, blue-white, very compelling. Not polished, but exposed from the usual rock shape so facets were visible.”

  “A moonstone,” Hannah murmured.

  Unfamiliar with crystal types, Aaron stuck to his purpose. “Large enough to crack a skull?”

  Cass closed her eyes and nodded sadly. “That was never its purpose.”

  “Lance said the artists collected crystals from a grotto. Do you have any idea where that might be?” Aaron continued, not knowing where else to take this conversation.

  Cass shrugged. “My grandfather had an old cabin where the lodge is now. I wasn’t interested in hunting and fishing and
never came up here as a child. By the time the Kennedys built the lodge, I wasn’t much interested in exploring what was no longer mine. I know my son occasionally went to the grotto with the commune children, but I was assured the water was merely a trickle unless it rained.”

  “That confirms it was on Kennedy property at least,” Hannah murmured. “Do you have any idea what happened to it?”

  Cass finished her tea and set down her cup. “Over the decades we’ve had fires and floods. The mountain changes. It always has. Man was never really meant to live here. Too much blood has been shed over ownership of what shouldn’t be owned in the first place. If I can help you contain the evil, let me know. Otherwise, I really have nothing more to contribute.”

  The instant she left, Aaron reached for her teacup. Hannah’s hand covered his.

  A blue-white opalescent shimmer reflecting the moon’s light—enthralling, compelling.

  Rage. Frustration. Sorrow.

  A room with a glass roof, looking out at the night sky, singing a prayerful song to unleash the energy. . .

  Aaron crashed into Cass’s mental wall and dropped the cup. It shattered on the floor. Hannah looked vaguely startled and studied the shards at her feet as he fell down on the sofa beside her.

  “Well, we know for certain that the moonstone was here at one time,” she said brightly. “And I guess digging up the boulder looking for it is no longer necessary.”

  “Cass deliberately blocked us,” he said grumpily. “Wily old woman came prepared with just exactly what she wanted revealed. She wants that stone back.”

  “And she won’t get it if it’s a murder weapon. Besides, it belongs to the Kennedys now.” Hannah leaned over to pick up pieces of china. “She was angry enough to kill, you know.”

  “Yeah, and if the cops didn’t have Francois pinned for the job, they’d have a field day with Cass. Guaranteed she has no alibi, and she despised Carmel.”

  “The sheriff would never learn any of that. The Lucys will protect her. I’m beginning to think Walker has a real problem on his hands here.” Hannah stood and carried the tray and the broken china toward the back.

  “No question there,” Aaron agreed. “The Lucys are a modern vigilante group, and they protect each other.”

  “Power corrupts,” Hannah said sadly from the back. “Balance of power is needed.”

  “Xavier was there the night Carmel died,” Aaron called after her, studying his ceiling to see how Wan Hai had managed to illuminate it without wiring. “Word is, he and Cass were an item once. I can’t see him as a murderer, but if Carmel made him angry enough. . .”

  “Xavier might have whacked Carmel for yelling at Cass and Cass would cover for him?” Hannah emerged from the back, empty-handed. “We could just ask him where the grotto was and if he knew where Carmel got her rocks. Do you have anything kicking around that you could give as a gift? Tell him Wan Hai is cleaning house and you hated to throw it away?”

  “Damnatus, you’re devious. Cass can’t complain if all I do is give him a gift.” He stood and glanced around. “He’s a lawyer. I don’t know his taste in books. He spends a lot of time at his desk going over contracts.” His glance fell on a vintage Montblanc fountain pen from the 1930s. It was worth some serious cash, but it had been used by a notorious monopolist who had destroyed families and entire towns with his greed. He hated that piece. Blocking his senses, he retrieved it from the pen display. “Got it.”

  This interviewing business was feeling a little too real. Did he really want to solve a case the sheriff might be willing to write off? Maybe, if the killer was likely to strike again. They still didn’t know for certain that Francois hadn’t just overdosed on medication.

  “Let’s take him a rock to look at, so he can hand it back.” Aaron rummaged through an apothecary chest until he found the drawer with geological specimens.

  Hannah peered over his shoulder. “Did those come from around here?”

  “They were here when I moved in. I can feel the hopes of some poor fool who thought they might be gold. There isn’t any energy on them other than his.” He selected one with a nice streak of false gold in it.

  “You keep everything,” she said in what didn’t sound like admiration. “Ever consider having a garage sale?”

  “Not once.” Pocketing the rock, he headed for the door, only then realizing he had no one to man the desk. No way was he leaving Hannah behind.

  He turned the CLOSED sign and locked the shop after her.

  If she hadn’t already had her head examined, she’d be wondering if she should.

  Hannah followed the talented but obtuse guardian across the street to the real estate agent’s office. Aaron had a talent that could conceivably save lives. He needed to be out in the wider world, using his power for the good of all.

  The things he saw. . . It was the next best thing to mind-reading. She should talk to Amber about how her psychic abilities worked, except they seemed related to tarot cards and not easily used in other situations.

  Xavier Black was a tall man with thin gray hair and sagging jowls. His eyes were sad but clear, and he wore a nicely tailored blue jacket and matching tie, as if a Hillvale office was just as important as a city law office. He looked up with interest at their entrance.

  “Ready to move out of Aaron’s place, Miss Simon?” he asked with a laugh.

  “I am, actually, but I can wait until the work is done on the school. In the meantime, I’m trying to convince Aaron to clean out his shop before someone gets hurt.” She beamed innocently. She knew how to present a blank slate.

  “Between Hannah and Wan Hai, they’re cleaning me out. Apparently, fountain pens are bad feng shui, but I’m not about to fling out a nice piece like this. Even if you don’t use them, it looks good on a desk. Since you’re the only one in town who actually sits at a desk. . .” Aaron presented the gleaming, gold tipped Montblanc.

  “Man, that brings back memories.” Xavier caressed the polished case. “Had a fellow in the office who collected these. You sure you don’t want it?” He looked up as if waiting to be told Aaron was just kidding.

  “Do you know anyone who still uses fountain pens? It’s all yours. And while we’re here. . .” Aaron produced the glittery rock from his pocket. “Lance was telling us about a grotto where they collected shiny rocks like this. Do you have any notion where that was?”

  Xavier hefted the rock in his palm and shook his head. “I know there was water out there once. Menendez swears there was a spring and a stream that flowed all summer. I thought it was on his land, but it’s apparently dried up now.”

  “Was that something Carmel might have known?” Hannah asked, getting into this detective business.

  Xavier frowned. “She knew everything, so yes, she may have. For all I know, she had it blocked to keep anyone from using it. Carmel had a mean streak when she got riled.”

  “We heard the artists found rocks like this in a stream on the Kennedy property, so we were kind of wondering if that’s where she got the rocks in her box. For all we know, they might be valuable.” Aaron propped his hip against the battered wooden desk as if he had nothing better to do all day.

  “Could be, but I didn’t participate in rock collecting. We were all into the drug scene back in college, even Carmel. She could have traded drugs for glittery stones just the way she traded her body for Geoff’s land. The town is better off without her.” Xavier handed the rock back.

  Wow, there was a load of bitterness and cynicism. Hannah waited to see what Aaron would do. Did he have the ability to wait until they were outside to access any memories on the stone? Or did he want to do it now, after Xavier’s inflammatory statement?

  Aaron clenched the stone as if testing it, then held it up for Hannah to take. The instant she touched his hand, she saw what he saw, in Technicolor.

  A young Carmel, naked, in a narrow bed, with a very young, very handsome Xavier kneeling over her, half-dressed—and an even younger Cass opening the door. Loathing
crossed her face. She flung a book at the couple in the bed and walked out.

  Carmel’s expression was triumphant. Xavier’s despair was devastating.

  Hannah held the rock and closed her eyes for a moment before she followed Aaron out. Xavier’s pain was that crippling.

  “I’ll assume that was from before Carmel married Kennedy,” Hannah said quietly as they crossed the road to the shop.

  “A very long time ago,” Aaron agreed. “And it still hurts him. Enough to kill?”

  “No, not if he went on to work with Geoffrey to cheat people with their mortgage scheme. He knows his own guilt. It may have been the point that turned him from being a decent man into the greedy fraud he became, though.” Hannah thought about that, how one event might turn a man—or woman’s—life in a different direction. “I understand he descended into drugs as the Kennedys accumulated more land. Drugs anesthetize that kind of emotional pain.”

  “The Lucys apparently punished Xavier for his part in the mortgage scheme by locking him in the cemetery. He kind of lost it that night. That’s why Cass doesn’t want us bothering him. He’s been punished.” Aaron unlocked and shoved open his shop door.

  Half the newly-arranged furniture had been tossed as if by a giant hand. Aaron’s valuable library lay scattered across the floor near the shelves. The wardrobes hung open, their drawers ransacked.

  And a pile of rocks lay in the middle of the clutter.

  Nineteen

  Aaron slammed the shop door closed before Hannah could enter, but there was no keeping the Lucys from picking up on his fear and fury. While he raced around to the back to see if he could catch the bastard, they emerged from every doorway in town. They gathered on the boardwalk and waited, forcing Aaron to open the front door when he returned.

  Without invitation, the women spilled in, sticks raised defensively, just in case a poltergeist had visited.