Beignets and Broomsticks

by J. R. Ripley

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘I am. At a lot of things.’ A text came in on my cellphone. I pulled the phone from my purse and tapped the screen. It was a message from Aubrey. I read it quickly. ‘Very funny,’ I mumbled.

  ‘What?’

  I turned the phone’s screen so he could see for himself.

  ‘Operation Espresso Exorcism is a go. Nine p.m.’ He frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means Aubrey thinks she’s a comedian and that my espresso maker is possessed.’ I put the phone back in my purse without further explanation.

  ‘Right. Well, thanks for coming in—’

  ‘What about that financial report I found burnt in the fire?’ I blurted quickly.

  ‘You ask a lot of questions, Maggie.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have to, if you would be more forthcoming in your information.’ I batted my eyelashes.

  He rolled his eyes in reply. It was like a finely practiced tango. ‘According to that priest named …’ Highsmith paused and extracted his notebook from his inner coat pocket, ‘Suryavayu, representatives of ASK Financial Services had been to see them. Apparently, they dropped off several information documents, including that SEC report.’

  ‘How did it end up being used as kindling in Herman’s campfire?’

  ‘I can’t answer that. I can tell you that this high priest guy claims that the church had a break-in last night. Several items were taken.’

  ‘Meaning that Herman might have stolen it?’

  ‘It is a distinct possibility. His campsite is technically on their land.’

  ‘You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Did they know he was out there? I mean, they must have, right?’

  ‘They did. And the priest says they didn’t care. They considered him harmless.’

  Maybe. I wondered what they would have thought if he had discovered the lost City of Gold on their property. Would they slit his throat so they could keep the gold for themselves?

  ‘Did anybody from the church report this break-in?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. A representative reported it this morning. Officer Collins handled the call herself. The door to the office was broken. No prints. Not much to go on. The report didn’t mention the financial document, however. Only some ritual instruments and religious objects. When I went back out to speak with Suryavayu, he said he hadn’t mentioned it because he didn’t think it was important. He claims he noticed his desk had been searched but wasn’t concerned because he knew it contained nothing of value.’

  Maybe the high priest of the Sacred Church of Witchkraft didn’t think it was important, but I did.

  The corner of Detective Highsmith’s mouth turned down. ‘I can’t say I agree with that. Everything is important in a murder investigation.’

  Highsmith shoved his notebook back in his pocket. ‘Suryavayu claims he didn’t realize that particular document was missing until I showed him the charred one. He searched his desk with me standing there watching him and discovered his copy was gone.’

  ‘This whole thing stinks.’ I tried to put the puzzle together in my head but there were too many pieces. ‘The church paid Nancy six thousand dollars. I saw the canceled checks,’ I reminded him.

  ‘She never cashed them and we didn’t find the checks or any significant amounts of cash in her personal belongings.’

  I squeezed my brows together. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. Yet.’ Detective Highsmith glanced over his shoulder. ‘Let’s walk.’

  He took my arm and escorted me out of the town hall and down to the sidewalk. We came to a stop beside the bicycle rack. A cold wind was coming from the north. I stamped the ground and shoved my hands in my pockets for warmth.

  ‘Be careful, Maggie.’ He looked up and down the sidewalk as if to be certain we were out of earshot of passers-by.

  ‘Do you think I could be in danger?’

  ‘There is a killer on the loose and somehow, like it or not, you are involved.’

  ‘Is there anyone in particular that you think I should be careful of?’

  To tell you the truth,’ he confessed, ‘at this point, there isn’t anybody in Table Rock that I don’t suspect might be involved in the murders of the Alversons.’

  He trudged up the steps and left me there to wonder whether that anybody included Mayor Vargas and his daughter, VV.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  By the time I got home, fed the cat and myself and changed from my work clothes to a pair of stretch jeans and a pink flannel shirt, it was dark outside.

  It would be cutting it close but, if I hurried, I could have a word with Veronica Vargas before the espresso exorcism planned for nine p.m. at the café.

  I pedaled to Casa Mirasol. The driveway gates were open so I rode right in and parked beside a gurgling fountain. I grabbed my purse from the basket of my bicycle and marched to the casita.

  I banged my hand on the door.

  Veronica answered. She was wearing an elegant gold cocktail dress, black pearls and black heels. Her dark hair was done up in a loose French braid.

  ‘Ms Miller? What are you doing here?’ Her lips glittered with gold. An ice cube-filled cocktail glass jiggled in her fingers. A slice of lemon lay buried under the stack of cubes.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about this.’ I unzipped my purse and yanked out Nancy’s book.

  ‘A book?’ VV looked down her nose at me.

  ‘Not just any book.’ I turned the spine toward her. ‘Solar Sham by Nancy Alverson.’

  VV looked past me toward the house. ‘Come inside.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I quipped. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  A strong fire burned in the stone fireplace.

  Veronica crossed to the bar. ‘Have a seat.’ She silently prepared drinks, pouring from a crystal cocktail shaker. ‘I don’t have much time. Mark is coming by to pick me up for dinner. Daddy is hosting a small party at a restaurant downtown.’

  ‘Oh? Will Alan Klopton and his associates be joining you?’ I sat in the chair with the book on my lap, watching the flames dance.

  VV’s mouth flattened. ‘I hope you don’t mind mojitos.’ She handed me a tall glass.

  ‘Thank you.’ Sugar, mint, lime and rum. What was there to mind?

  VV settled herself on the leather sofa and crossed her legs, exposing acres of thigh. Not that I was judging. If I had legs like that, I’d be wearing dresses that short, too.

  ‘I suppose you’ve read it,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Not all of it,’ I said. ‘But enough.’ I set the book on the table between us. ‘Enough to know that your father is an investor with ASK Financial Services.’

  A flash of anger shot from VV’s eyes. She slammed her glass on the table. ‘Was an investor, Maggie. Was.’

  ‘Nancy had a lot to say about ASK in that book. It wasn’t until I read that bit in chapter seven where she lists what she calls co-conspirators that I put it all together. Mirasol Enterprises. That’s one of your father’s businesses, isn’t it?’

  ‘You know it is.’

  I did. Everybody in town knew that the mayor owned several business, including Mirasol Enterprises, which, in turn, operated several local businesses. ‘Nancy claims that Mayor Vargas helped to cheat investors of millions of dollars in the Arimexico project.’

  ‘Innuendo! Nancy was a hack. Slinging mud wherever she went!’ VV snarled.

  I was taken aback by her reaction. Had she been mad enough to kill Nancy in an effort to prevent her publishing her next book? ‘Are you saying it isn’t true?’

  ‘I’m saying it’s true that Daddy was an early investor in the project, Ms Miller. When he discovered what was going on, he got out.’

  VV stood and crossed to the fireplace, pushing her hands toward the flames. ‘He warned others to do the same.’ She swiveled her neck.

  ‘You lied to me.’ I folded my arms and cradled my drink in my hand. ‘You were covering up for your father. That’s why you were talking
to Nancy. That’s why you were seen arguing with her at Hopping Mad.’ I leaned in. ‘That’s why you went to Nancy’s apartment that night, isn’t it? Was it to confront her or was it to beg her not to print her new book?’ I asked.

  VV fingered her pearls as I said, ‘I didn’t get a chance to read the entire draft of the book she was writing because it was stolen but I read enough to know it involved financial shenanigans and corruption.’ I moved in for the kill. ‘Is that why you strangled her? You were afraid she would destroy your father and your family’s reputation?’

  ‘You are being ridiculous,’ yelled VV, eyes flaring. She crossed to the table and picked up the book. ‘This is garbage. Nancy Alverson was a third-rate writer and couldn’t see the truth if it was staring her in the face.’

  VV hurled the book into the fire. Flames shot up and ash flew around the room.

  I was going to owe Jakob a new copy of the book.

  ‘Just like you, Ms Miller.’ VV suddenly slumped to the floor, resting her arm on the sofa.

  I watched in fascination as she tipped her mojito to her lips and sipped. ‘Yes, I argued with her. Yes, I begged her not to publish that pack of lies and innuendo.’ VV locked her eyes on me. ‘But I did not murder her, Ms Miller. Nancy was dead when I got there. I was running to get help. As for Alan Klopton, Daddy despises him. The pompous fool came here hoping to get Daddy to invest in yet another of his schemes. Can you believe that miserable worm actually threatened to go public about Daddy’s prior investment in Arimexico? Oh, it would be slander and lies. But the damage would be done. Daddy’s reputation would be ruined.’

  VV climbed to her feet. She grabbed the fireplace poker and stirred the flames. We watched the book melt away. ‘But Vargas’ are not murderers, Ms Miller. Daddy wasn’t about to give in, nor was he about to invest in another scheme of Klopton’s.’

  ‘What sort of a scheme?’

  VV shrugged. ‘I don’t know the particulars. All I do know is that ASK Financial Services is pooling investors to buy up a chunk of outlying town property. Their intention is to build a large resort.’

  ‘A resort?’

  ‘I’ve seen the artist’s renderings. It’s ambitious, with a spa, thirty-six-hole golf course and timeshare units.’

  To my surprise, tears were pooling up in VV’s eyes.

  VV slid a makeup mirror from a gold-sequined purse at the bar. Seeing her reflection, she groaned and began dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

  ‘Do you know if Alan Klopton is still in town?’ I asked. Maybe they had left town. Klopton hadn’t kept his lunch meeting with Brad.

  ‘I have no idea,’ sniffed VV.

  The ASK Financial Services name and Alan Klopton’s, in particular, had come up quite a bit in Solar Sham. I glanced at my watch. It was nearly nine p.m. but I wanted to strike while the iron was hot.

  I said goodnight and climbed on my Schwinn. The Table Rock Hotel and Convention Center was less than a block away. I could have walked but I didn’t want to have to come back for the bike. Besides, if the gates were closed when I returned, my bike would be spending the night.

  The exclusive bungalows were toward the back edge of the enclosed garden grounds of the hotel. I parked my bike near a side entrance and strolled into the garden. Fairy lights glittered from the trees. I heard the sound of laughter coming from an outdoor bar and restaurant midway between the main building and the bungalows.

  Brad had mentioned that Alan Klopton was staying in bungalow four. As I neared, I spotted Gary Busby and Stephanie Headley standing at the bar with drinks in their hands.

  When they saw me watching them, they set their drinks on the bar and disappeared in the direction of the main hotel.

  I turned my attention to the bungalow. The door stood open. A small amount of light spilled out.

  Reaching the covered porch, I strained my ear at the entrance but heard nothing from within. ‘Mr Klopton, are you here?’

  With no reply, I entered. A narrow hall opened into a large living area. There was a bedroom to my right. The open kitchen was to my left. A lamp beside the sofa facing the fireplace glowed.

  ‘Mr Klopton?’ I peeked in the bedroom. Nothing and no one stirred. The door to the private patio was open. I stepped to the door. The enclosed patio ran the length of the bungalow. It contained outdoor furniture and a cold stone fire pit.

  But no Klopton.

  Re-entering the bungalow on the living-room side, I gasped. Alan Klopton lay sprawled on the floor between the sofa and the glass table. ‘Mr Klopton!’

  He was wearing dress slacks and a white shirt. A blue silk tie spilled over his shoulder. I fell to his side and felt for a pulse.

  As I did, I heard the sound of steps.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Help me!’ I called, Klopton’s warm, floppy wrist in my hand.

  ‘Ms Miller? Is that you?’ Lee hurried to the sofa. He grasped the edge of the cushion. His mouth fell open. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s Mr Klopton. I think he’s passed out or something.’ I placed the back of my hand on his forehead. ‘We need to call an ambulance.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Lee. His hand went to his pocket. He wore an unzipped tan jacket over an indigo chambray shirt and brown trousers.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I had an appointment with Mr Klopton. I heard he was looking for investors and his associates convinced me to invest,’ Lee replied rather sheepishly. ‘We were just talking at the bar.’ He rummaged through his pockets. ‘Now, where is that phone of mine?’ He frowned. ‘I must have left it behind. I don’t suppose you have your phone, do you, Maggie?’

  I stared at him.

  ‘Maggie?’

  ‘Or, rather, I stared at the silver pentacle dangling from his neck as he leaned over the sofa. The exact match of those I had seen on other members of the Sacred Church of Witchkraft.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ I whispered. My hands fell to my sides. My knees were pressed to the hard tiled floor.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Then Lee’s eyes noticed where my eyes were looking. He glanced down and leered. ‘Oh, I see.’ He fingered the medallion. ‘Tsk-tsk. This is a shame.’

  I bolted for the patio door.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I ran from the living room to the patio. Lee snarled and came after me. I heard his steps behind me. I ducked in through the bedroom hoping to circle around and out the front way.

  Instead of chasing me, however, Lee had anticipated my move and was coming straight for me from the living room.

  I cried out and dodged back onto the patio. I threw my fingers over the lip of a moon-faced fountain built into the rough adobe wall and began pulling myself up and over.

  Hands grabbed at my legs. I screamed and kicked repeatedly until he let go and I was able to hoist myself onto the top of the wall.

  Breathless, I looked all around. I could see the lights of Casa Mirasol. The driveway gates were still open. All I had to do was get to the estate and the Vargas’ could call the cops. Emilio Vargas was the mayor, for crying out loud. The police would be there in a flash!

  I tumbled to the ground and landed hard on a prickly pear cactus. I screamed in agony. My rear end felt like it was on fire. My eyes filled with tears. There was no time to stand around and try to remove the thousand spikes sticking in my butt.

  Lee cursed and leapt up the wall. I ran as fast as I could, wishing I hadn’t left my phone in my purse, my purse in the basket of my bike and the bike at the edge of the garden in the opposite direction I needed to go!

  I did the hundred-yard dash to Casa Mirasol’s driveway and it felt like a hundred million. Through the picture window, I saw VV standing by the fire in the casita and raced over.

  I grabbed the door handle and flew inside.

  ‘Miller!’ VV dropped her cocktail glass. The glass hit the rug, spilling its contents. ‘What the devil are you doing?’ She picked up her glass and took a step toward me. ‘You can’t ba
rge in here like this!’

  ‘It’s not what the devil I’m doing,’ I said, struggling to lock the door. ‘It’s the devil that’s after me! How do you lock this thing?’ I yelled.

  VV rolled her eyes. ‘Calm down.’ She took another step my way. ‘You’re turning the lock the wrong—’

  Lee slammed into the door and yanked it from my hands. He leapt into the room with a mad look on his face and a big kitchen knife with the Karma Koffee name laser-engraved on its long, sharp blade in his right hand.

  It looked like my nemeses, the Gregorys, were going to be the death of me for real this time.

  I screamed. VV screamed too. She drew back her arm and threw her glass, smashing Lee in the face. He howled and stumbled backwards, his hands flying to his nose.

  ‘Don’t just stand there!’ I grabbed VV, who seemed frozen in place. ‘Move!’ I grabbed her and pulled her toward the bedroom.

  ‘What are you doing, Miller?’ VV shouted.

  I yanked open the door and pushed her inside, then jumped in after her. Hopefully, there would be a telephone in the bedroom or a window we could escape through to the main house.

  Only it wasn’t a bedroom.

  It was a closet.

  It was dark. VV’s chin was against my nose. Her bra against my chest felt like it was diamond studded. Heavy clothing pressed against us. Coat hangers dug into my spine.

  ‘Nice going, Miller,’ VV hissed. I smelled the alcohol on her breath. ‘Now that nut has us trapped.’

  Lee jiggled the handle. ‘Come on out, you two! Let’s not make this anymore unpleasant than it needs to be.’ He jiggled some more.

  ‘What a sicko,’ VV whispered.

  I blew her hair out of my face. My hands had a death grip on the closet doorknob. ‘I don’t suppose there’s another way out of this thing?’

  I couldn’t see VV’s face but I could imagine what it looked like.

  ‘Forget I asked.’

  We both yelped as Lee slammed his shoulder against the door. He cursed and banged his fists at us.

  ‘Who are you?’ VV screamed through the door. I felt her breath in my face. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Lee … something.’ I didn’t know his last name. Great, I was going to be killed by a guy whose last name I didn’t even know. ‘He killed Nancy.’ I pressed my mouth to the door. ‘Herman, too! Right, Lee? You killed them both, didn’t you?’