I smiled. “Did you know Shima is a Navajo name meaning mother?”
“Holy cow! That actually explains a few things—like how she would always ask me about my life and remember everything I’d told her.” She shook her head. “Wait. You said you were related to her, right? So, if this is true, that would make you my—”
“Cousin,” I answered. Her excitement was contagious. I found myself grinning from ear to ear. I nodded toward the restaurant. “How would you like to meet some more of the family?”
“I’d love to!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
By Friday evening, my life had almost settled back to normal. My family had returned to Nebraska, and I’d returned to work. After a long day, I curled up on the living room couch with a mug of tea. Wes sat on the floor playing with the cat.
“How about Friday?” he said, still suggesting names for our new pet.
I cocked my head. “Not bad, but not quite right.”
“What’s Mila’s cat’s name? Isn’t it something strange and witchy?”
“Her name’s Drishti. It’s a Sanskrit word that means ‘focused gaze.’” I know that from yoga, not from witchcraft.”
“Oh. Well . . . how about Tadasana? Isn’t that a yoga thing?”
I laughed. “Very good. But that’s mountain pose. It doesn’t fit our frisky kitty.” I held up my palm before he could speak. “And don’t say Frisky!”
Over the past several days I’d considered lots of cool, exotic, and interesting names, from Aura and Deity to Onyx and Esmeralda. None of them seemed quite right. But now, as I sat near Wes, feeling cozy and lucky and content, it finally came to me. I snapped my fingers.
“I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m positive.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Her name is Josie.”
The cat, Josie, looked up at me and twitched her ears. She seemed to approve.
* * *
Over the weekend, I pulled out my spiritual journal and wrote about the strangeness of this Samhain season. I’d lost an aunt, but I’d also, ironically, become closer to her than I’d ever been before. I’d also made some new friends and found (or was chosen by) a new feline companion. Some good came in the midst of the bad.
As the last of the leaves fell to the ground, I found myself in the mood for an even bigger change. It was the Wiccan New Year and nearing the end of the calendar year. It was time to focus on the future. It was also time to admit something I’d been trying to ignore for the past several months.
Career-wise, I no longer felt like the law firm was the right place for me. It was time to move on.
I didn’t relish the conversation I’d have to have with Beverly and the other partners, but I knew this was the right thing to do. By stepping down from the firm and striking out on my own, I’d be able to make my own decisions and set my own hours. This would also give me the extra time and freedom I’d been coveting—to spend more time with Wes, to direct my own career, and, of course, to get outside, honor the Goddess, and nurture my spirit.
Now that was something to look forward to.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, thank you, thank you . . .
To Tom, Cathy, and Jana for catching my mistakes and providing excellent feedback on my draft manuscript.
To Rachel, my wonderful agent, for her spot-on advice and steadfast support.
To Martin, my fantastic editor, for his sharp eyes and keen instincts.
To my daughter, Sage, for being an all-around awesome kid, who always makes me smile.
And to my husband, Scott, for his love, partnership, and, most of all, his great sense of humor.
Love to you all.
If you enjoyed Samhain Secrets,
be sure not to miss any of
Jennifer David Hesse’s
WICCAN WHEEL MYSTERY series,
including
YULETIDE HOMICIDE
It’s Christmas in Edindale, Illinois, and family law attorney Keli Milanni is preparing to celebrate the Wiccan holiday
Yuletide, a celebration of rebirth. But this
Yuletide someone else is focused on dying . . .
Keep reading for a special excerpt.
A Kensington mass market and e-book
on sale now!
CHAPTER ONE
“Blackmail? Really? Someone is blackmailing Edgar?”
Now there was something you didn’t hear every day. Before I could stop myself, an image flashed to mind: Edindale’s most prominent silver-haired citizen engaged in a steamy, salacious affair. Scandalous! But with whom? I shifted in my leather seat and smoothed my pencil skirt, as I waited for my boss to continue.
Beverly cast a sharp glance at the door to her dark-paneled inner office. It was still closed.
“Let’s not use that word from here on out,” she said. She pressed her lips together, a visible demonstration that mum, not blackmail, was the word.
“Right. Sorry,” I said quickly, though I still wasn’t clear as to why Beverly was telling me this—well, me and my colleague, Crenshaw Davenport III.
Crenshaw cleared his throat from the chair next to me. His long legs were crossed in an elegantly relaxed pose, but I could tell he was just as intrigued as I was. He thrust his bearded chin forward slightly more than usual.
“It’s understandable that Mr. Harrison desires discretion in this matter,” he said, “especially given his recent announcement.” Crenshaw turned toward me and looked down his nose. “Monday was the filing deadline for anyone interested in running for mayor next fall. Edgar Harrison announced his candidacy, along with half a dozen other Edindale residents.”
“I know,” I said evenly, biting back the snarky comment on the tip of my tongue. Crenshaw took every opportunity he could to school me in front of Beverly. It was one of his more annoying habits—one of many. We had both been with the firm for about six and a half years, and lately Beverly kept hinting that someone might be making partner soon. This only served to ramp up the competitive wedge between us.
Beverly removed her red-framed glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose before responding. It had been a long week at the law firm, as everyone tried to finish up as much work as possible before the holidays. Of course, Beverly still looked impeccable in her designer pantsuit and expensive makeup, even if her eyes bore telltale hints of exhaustion.
“As I said, he was contacted by an unknown person who claims to have some information that Edgar would not like to be made public. This person has demanded a large sum of money in exchange for his or her silence. Edgar has until Tuesday to produce the cash.” Beverly paused and looked from Crenshaw to me with a deadpan gaze. “Obviously, the information is not true. Edgar assured me that the person manufactured their so-called evidence. However, they must have done a convincing enough job that it could still damage Edgar’s reputation should it be released.”
I glanced at Crenshaw and saw him raise one eyebrow. He must have been wondering the same thing as me: Why worry about what a blackmailer might reveal if the information is not true?
Beverly held up her palm. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. I’ve known Edgar a long time. He has no reason to be involved in anything illegal. His businesses are all doing extremely well.”
That was no surprise. Edgar seemed to have a knack for investing in only the most lucrative projects. He owned Edindale’s only riverboat casino, its fanciest hotel, and its trendiest residential developments—among other holdings. But did that necessarily mean everything was on the up-and-up? Evidently, the blackmailer had information that might indicate otherwise. So much for my steamy affair theory.
“Here’s the deal,” said Beverly, twisting the silver rings on her left hand. She appeared to be choosing her words carefully. “Edgar is convinced that someone hacked into his computer. This person accessed some confidential financial records about some of Edgar’s investments . . . and found a way to twist the t
ruth about the records in a manner that might portray Edgar in a less-than-favorable light. While Edgar has done nothing illegal, the intricacies of business law are not always easy to explain to the layperson.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Crenshaw nod his head and steeple his fingers under his lips. Oh, sure. As if he already knows what Beverly means, even though she’s being extremely vague. I cleared my throat. “Is that why Edgar came to you instead of the police? Because even the police might have a hard time understanding the legalities?”
Beverly frowned. “Not exactly. It’s more that the information might make Edgar look bad, in spite of the fact that his dealings were technically legal. In any event, Edgar fully intends to go to the police as soon as he has evidence. He already has a couple of suspects in mind . . . which brings me to why I asked the two of you into my office this afternoon.”
“How can I help?” asked Crenshaw.
“How can we help?” I asked, at the same time. I narrowed my eyes and glared at Crenshaw, before turning back to Beverly.
“As Edgar’s attorney and close friend, I agreed to help him figure out who is doing this.” Beverly stood and paced to her window where she paused and looked outside. Snow was falling in slow, lazy swirls. She walked back to us and remained standing. “Of course, I immediately thought of you, Keli, because of your detecting skills. You seem to have a knack for recovering stolen objects and ferreting out criminals. As for you, Crenshaw, in addition to being one of my most trusted lawyers, I believe your acting skills may be useful in this case.” Crenshaw nodded his whole upper body in a seated bow, as if thanking her for a well-deserved compliment. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
I looked up at Beverly. “How can we possibly figure out who is blackmail—I mean, who is threatening Edgar?”
“The logical place to start is at Edgar’s main office. Harrison Properties has a new IT support specialist, a young, tech-savvy guy named Zeke Marshal. Edgar thinks that if anyone could hack into his secured, password-protected files, this fellow would be the one. The only problem is, Edgar can’t imagine why he would do it. The young man was just hired. He has a bright future ahead of him, in a career that will compensate him well. It doesn’t make sense.”
I nodded, beginning to feel more and more curious myself.
“I’ve arranged for the two of you to set up shop in Edgar’s office for a few days. The ostensible purpose will be to conduct a thorough legal audit of his corporation’s files. In fact, Edgar will be paying you to do just that. His staff will be told this is a proactive measure to ensure the company is in compliance with all relevant business laws. At the same time, you will keep your eyes and ears open, and see what you can learn about Zeke. You’ll start right away. The sooner we can end this headache for Edgar, the better.”
* * *
After leaving Beverly’s office I headed to my own, much smaller office to gather my coat and purse. Crenshaw and I had agreed to meet downstairs in the lobby in ten minutes and then walk over to Harrison Properties to get started on our strange assignment. Shaking my head, I pushed open my office door and stopped short when I saw what was sitting on my desk: a large gold-colored box, topped with a golden ribbon.
“A delivery guy brought it while you were with Beverly,” said a voice behind me. I turned to see Julie, our twenty-something front desk receptionist, peering over her trendy glasses toward the gold box. “There’s a card, too.”
I smiled at Julie’s eagerness, then walked over to my desk to check out the package. Right away, I noticed the word Godiva embossed on the lid of the box.
“Did someone say chocolate?” I looked up to see Pammy Sullivan standing in my doorway next to Julie. Pammy was a fellow associate with heavily sprayed hair and a stylish, if somewhat gaudy, wardrobe. Today she wore a salmon-pink skirt suit, which matched her lipstick and fingernails. The buttons of her blazer strained ever so slightly across her plump figure.
“Come on in,” I said, laughing. Pammy must have known about the delivery and was just waiting for me to return to my office.
“Ooh, Godiva,” said Pammy, squeezing between the two guest chairs facing my desk to get a look at the gift box. “The nearest Godiva shop is in St. Louis. Someone must have ordered this online, unless they brought it in from out of town. Is it from a client?”
Shrugging, I slipped the small plain card out of the white envelope and furrowed my brow. “I don’t think so,” I said, in answer to Pammy’s question. The card simply said Missed you. It was unsigned.
“Aw,” said Julie, looking over my shoulder. “It must be from that hunky boyfriend of yours. Hasn’t he been out of town?”
“Yeah, for a week. Wes helped his brother move to Seattle. He’s supposed to get back later today. I’ll see him tonight.”
“Well, maybe he came back early,” said Pammy, her eyes still on the gold box.
“Maybe,” I agreed. I lifted the lid and tore off the protective plastic covering to reveal an assortment of fancy chocolate candies. It was a somewhat odd gift, coming from Wes. He knew I wouldn’t eat milk chocolate because I’m vegan. On the other hand, he would also know I’d share the candy.
I replaced the lid and handed the box to Julie. “Would you take this up front and leave it on your desk for all to share? I’ve got to get going.”
Pammy followed Julie out of my office, while I slipped on my long black coat and tied the belt. I grabbed my shoulder bag and hurried to the elevator. It was a short ride, four flights to the ground floor lobby. I pulled on my gloves as I walked over to join Crenshaw where he waited for me by the revolving door. I almost laughed when I saw what he was wearing.
In a Victorian-style overcoat, long scarf, and short top hat, Crenshaw looked like a character straight out of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. In fact, as an amateur actor, he probably was. Outside his law practice, Crenshaw was active in the local theater circuit.
“Nice outfit,” I said. “Where are you performing?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The caroler getup,” I said, gesturing toward his coat. “Aren’t you . . . Never mind.”
With Crenshaw, it was sometimes hard to know when he was being serious and what he was really thinking. At times, he could be incredibly sweet. More often than not, he was just obnoxious. My best friend, Farrah, called him the “original pompous ass.”
We stepped outside into the crisp, breezy air and made our way down the sidewalk toward Main Street. We walked carefully, knowing there could be slick spots in spite of the rock salt sprinkled like breadcrumbs in our path. Snowflakes stuck to every surface, from the cars parked along the curb to the tops of signs and the large red bows decorating every light post. The bows had been up since Thanksgiving, but it was the fresh snowfall that really made the scene look a lot like Christmas. It ought to, I thought, since the holiday was only a week away.
We turned right at the corner and continued down Main Street, walking past downtown shops with cheerfully decked-out storefronts. When we passed Moonstone Treasures, I slowed down to admire the window display: gracefully draped garland and glittery five-pointed stars framed an artful arrangement of red and gold candles. Just then, the door opened and the store owner herself hurried out, raising her hand in greeting.
“I had a feeling I would see you today, Keli,” she said. She approached us and gave me a hug, enveloping me in the scent of rosemary, patchouli, and orange blossoms. I smiled in return. I had known Mila Douglas for years, but we had become closer friends last February when I had helped catch the criminal who had been harassing her and breaking into her shop.
Crenshaw regarded Mila with a raised eyebrow. With her white velvet tunic over black leggings and the strands of silvery ribbons crowning her brunette shag, she looked like a cross between a snow queen and rocker Joan Jett. I ignored Crenshaw and complimented Mila on her window display.
“Thank you, dear,” she said. “I can hardly believe Yule is only four days away. I still hope you’ll join—�
� She stopped mid-sentence at my warning look. Mila was forever trying to coax me into joining her coven, but I preferred to follow a solitary spiritual practice. Only a small number of people knew I was Wiccan. Crenshaw was not one of them.
“Will you stop by later?” she asked. “I have something important to tell you.”
“Um, is tomorrow okay? I’m not sure what time I’ll get off today, and Wes is coming by tonight.”
Crenshaw crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the snow-covered sidewalk.
“Oh, I’ll just tell you now,” said Mila. She took my hand and spoke quickly, her breath forming puffs of fog in the cold air. “I had a vision this morning,” she said, “and you were in it. So was Mercury, the messenger god.” She paused, and squeezed my hand. “There are two things you need to know. One: You will soon have a visitor from your past. Two: Someone in your midst is going to die.”
Photo by Jay Grabiec
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JENNIFER DAVID HESSE is an environmental attorney by day and author by night. Born and raised in Central Illinois, Jennifer now makes her home in Chicago with her husband, guitarist Scott Hesse, and their daughter, Sage. When she’s not writing, Jennifer enjoys yoga, hiking, and movie night with her family. Please visit her at www.JenniferDavidHesse.com or on Facebook at facebook.com/AuthorJenniferDavidHesse.
As the Summer Solstice approaches in idyllic Edindale, Illinois, attorney Keli Milanni isn’t feeling the magic. She’s about to land in a cauldron of hot water at work. Good thing she has her private practice to fall back on—as a Wiccan. She’ll just have to summon her inner Goddess and set the world to rights . . .
Midsummer Eve is meant for gratitude and celebration, but Keli is not in her typically upbeat mood. The family of a recently deceased client is blaming her for the loss of a Shakespearean heirloom worth millions, and Keli’s career may be on the line. With both a Renaissance Faire and a literary convention in town, Edindale is rife with suspicious characters, and the intrepid attorney decides to tap into her unique skills to crack the case . . .
Samhain Secrets Page 23
