by Rain Trueax
“I will remember that. Uh, I have a question.”
“Shoot… figuratively speaking.” He smiled again. He was a nice looking man. Not her type but a nice looking fellow.
“Are you familiar with the church, Faith in Action?”
“Yes, congregation of around a thousand, I believe. Martin Jefferies is the pastor. It’s an energetic group.” He smiled again.
“You know they are the ones protesting.”
“I had heard that.”
“Have they been engaged in protests before? I hadn’t even heard of them until they were outside my door with the signs.”
“They have gone after clinics where abortions are performed. Nothing violent though. I think they have tried to bring in other congregations to increase their influence but haven’t heard that happened. I don’t attend there myself.”
“You are a church goer?” She found herself surprised and then felt guilty.
He smiled. “Not regularly, but sometimes I go to the services John Donovan holds south of town.”
“I heard about him but haven’t met him.”
“He has a street ministry. He’s a good man, enthusiastic about God and helping the poor. He was in prison and found his purpose there.”
Elke had little faith in standard religions, but it did sound like Donovan did good work. Everything she’d heard about the street preacher was all positive.
“Well,” she said, “I am hoping that you find the killer of Debbie. Although, I can’t say I knew her, she seemed like a sweet girl.”
“Did your brother-in-law know her?”
So she had been right. “I haven’t ever heard of Nick being involved in small theater. I think he’s too busy.”
“Probably not. Just thinking out loud.”
She bet he was.
As soon as he left, she clicked on Denali’s cell.
“What’s up?” her sister asked.
“Jace was just here. I think you can expect him if he hasn’t already gotten there.”
“I told Nick.” She let out a breath. “He was sickened, of course. He also was with me all last night.”
“I think the police are grasping at straws. Since we know it’s not the same man, we also know the police need to look for someone new. They can’t know that.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
When she hung up, Elke remembered when Chuck Carter had come in and the unhappy look on Debbie’s face—followed by the aggressive way Carter had treated her. Had Debbie seen that, leading to an argument? It took her to her original thinking-- grabbing a woman was a long way from killing one.
She took several deep breaths and let her mind return to the meeting in the theater, to all that had transpired. She saw how Carter had ignored Debbie and how her irritation had grown. Maybe she would have to tell Jace. Before she did that, she’d send out feelers to see if the spirit world had anything to tell her. There were rules for how involved they could be, but it never hurt to ask.
Undressing for bed, she thought back then to her meeting Mitch Ford. It was strange how she had felt she’d met him before but that was impossible. She understood his reasons for denying her the rights to use his book. There was no more reason to see him except, she wanted there to be. She’d never met a man who interested her on so many levels. Yes, he was physically exciting, but it went beyond that. His power was of the spirit as well as the body.
It was after midnight when she heard the buzzer to admit someone. There was no way she would be doing that but she got up, threw on a robe, and got the intercom. “Yes?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you. It’s Chuck.”
“No. I don’t know you well enough to let you up here at night.”
“Did you hear about Debbie?” His voice sounded shaken.
“Yes, I did. Talk to the police.”
“They questioned me.”
“Good.”
“I think they suspect me of… doing it.”
She sent out her energies and felt what was in his thoughts. His mind was dark, angry, and full of turmoil. Fears made it impossible for thoughts to form. If he killed Debbie, he might not even be aware of it, given the way substance abuse clouded minds. “I am sorry,” she said, “but you cannot come up.”
“I will break down the door. It’s flimsy,” he threatened.
“I suggest you not try that.” She felt no fear, just a strong sense of purpose. If he broke down anything, he’d find himself flat out, with the police on their way.
“All right,” he said with a sob, “but you’ll be sorry you didn’t help me.”
“I’m already sorry I know you. Goodnight.” She sent out energy again to decide whether he was leaving. When she felt him walk away, she looked out her window. He was stumbling a little. Probably drunk. She hoped he’d not be back, but she suspected she’d not seen the last of him. She would call her mother in the morning and…
The ringing phone interrupted her thoughts. She wasn’t surprised at the caller. “What happened?” her mother asked.
“And how do you know anything did?” She smiled, as she knew the answer to that.
“I only put out protections for dangers,” her mother said defensively.
“Nice they alert you.”
“No point in being a witch if I can’t help my own family, now is there?”
“Do you ever sleep?” She laughed.
“Of course, far better when I know the alerts are out.”
“Well, tell them thank you. It’s fine here. Nothing going on.” Now. “Uh, did Myers question Nick tonight?” She tried for a distraction to avoid telling her mother about Chuck. She didn’t want her mother worrying. She could handle that situation, but her mother might be less confident.
“No. I think he has decided it’s not the same person, and Nick had no motive plus an alibi sleeping with his wife.”
“Good. I’m heading for bed. Sweet dreams.”
Her mother gave a snort and a little laugh. “You too.”
When she hung up, Elke wondered again about Chuck Carter or had it been someone Debbie had met, trusted and had a reason to kill her? Why try to make it look like the earlier murders? As best she knew it, there were several reasons for killing someone. Self-defense didn’t fit this situation at all. Debbie might have been blackmailing someone. She could have simply come across the wrong person. The real question was why make it look like the earlier killings?
She thought then of the young woman and how she had awakened that morning with no clue that her life was about to be cut short. She thought about contacting the spirit world, trying to reach Debbie on the other side. That was never a good idea—most especially not with a violent death. Debbie needed time to adjust to what had happened. There were those over there who would be helping her. It was not up to Elke to interfere with the natural process—that was how hauntings happened with spirits unable to release their earthly life.
But there was a murderer, here in Tucson. It was her duty, that of her family to try to find who had cut short the life of the pretty actress. The young woman had been excited and full of life, maybe using poor judgment on which man, with whom she became involved. She didn’t deserve what had happened.
Elke shook her head as she stared at the ceiling. So much of life was beyond her ability to grasp. How could she know what the reason had been behind the murder when she saw only a small piece of the pie? As a witch, she saw more than most but still not all. Mystery was the best word for what she had to accept. But not without trying.
In the morning, she would set out to find who traveled in Debbie Johnson’s circle. Maybe someone she knew had a motive to end her life. If it was a murder of opportunity, random in that she was in the wrong place when the wrong person came along, there’d be no easy solving of the crime. She had to try. For now she would put aside her interest in Mitch Ford and his book—or try to anyway.
Chapter Six
After sleeping poorly, Elke made coffee and considered what
steps she needed to take to find a motive—hoping there was one. With the boutique closed, she had time for an investigation. She first needed to find where the body had been left, see photos if possible of the corpse, and then set about researching Debbie’s life.
As she dressed in a white sleeveless top and short lavender skirt, she thought of why such a death might’ve come to the girl. Spiritually there were reasons tragedies were allowed to happen. That didn’t mean the murderer should not be held to account. Earth residents, of which witches were among, had the responsibility to keep order. She and her family were committed to that order. The risks they took, the work they did went to their ancestry. She felt proud of her lineage, the stories of other Hemstreet witches. She would not let down those who had come before.
Surprisingly hungry, she scrambled eggs, fried some bacon, and fixed herself a piece of toast to take onto her patio to enjoy the scented, early morning air. She’d have to run the calories off, but it’d be worth it. After she ate, she refilled her coffee cup and returned with a notepad to make a list of what she needed to do first.
“Hon?” Maya called up from the garden.
She looked down. “Hi, how are you this morning?”
“Upset, that’s what. Did you read about that poor girl?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Paper said it was the same as the other two women. That means Tucson has a serial killer, doesn’t it?”
“There are other possibilities.”
“She was left the same way. They didn’t give her name. Family hadn’t been notified, but poor soul, whoever she was.” She made the sign of the cross while she mouthed the familiar words and then said aloud, “May she rest in peace.”
Tony came out of his condo, which was unusual as he generally didn’t enter the garden. The talking must’ve drawn him. “You talking about the murder?” he asked. He was sipping what looked like tea.
“Yes, we were,” Maya said. She shuddered. “Three and maybe some monster out there waiting for another.” She looked up at Elke. “I’m too old for that kind to bother with, but you be careful, you hear.”
“Of course. You know, this may not be the same killer.” She felt she should add that to tamp down the hysteria she felt rising in Maya.
“I thought it said left the same way—didn’t say much though about what that was. There’s been talk about it on the street.”
The street again. “There are copycat killers, you know.” For the first time, Elke felt doubts about the first two murders. Could it be possible it had not been Braddock? No, it had been him. Someone had created the impression the new murder was the same for nefarious purposes—the most likely of which would be to stop the police for looking for a motive.
Tony sat on one of the chairs. “You’re a detective, right?” he asked looking up at Elke.
“I work for my mother’s agency on some cases.”
“Have you looked at this one?”
“It hasn’t been long enough for us to be asked.”
He watched her speculatively. He was handsome enough in a white bread sort of way. She knew he had girlfriends off and on but nothing steady. She could have probed what he was thinking but that would have been rude. Magick had to be wisely used, or it lost power. It was one thing Vislogus had also taught. She batted away thoughts of Mitch. That could wait. The picketing of the Hemstreet businesses now was also of lesser importance when evil had entered her neighborhood. The barrios were hers to protect, hers and her family’s responsibility. Whatever had happened, she wanted it solved.
She went back into the house and clicked on Torre’s cell.
“Why are you up so early?” her sleepy sister asked.
“Why aren’t you?”
“I am on vacation.”
“Not any longer. I need you to do some computer work while I follow a hunch.”
“Hunch huh?” Her sister sounded more awake. “So what am I doing?”
“Hitting the computer for all of Deborah or Debbie Johnson’s social media contacts. Get a list of the names most frequently commenting, sharing or liking, possible boyfriends, and see if you can find any threats.”
“Will do. Where is your hunch taking you?”
“I want to see where the body was found, photos if possible, and talk to whoever found her.” She had one more plan, but that would depend on what she could sense if the body was where the murder had taken place. They weren’t always. She would know the likelihood of that based on physical evidence as well as her own skills.
“All right. Be careful.”
“You too. Once you do searches, some may be looking for who you are.”
Torre laughed. “If I wasn’t a born hacker, I’d be worried. Talk to you later, sis.”
An hour later, Elke walked out of the police station having seen the upsetting photos. Jace had agreed to let her follow him out to the crime site. Even though they had found clothing near the body, He had told her they were in doubt whether she had been killed there, based on lack of disturbance and no bodily fluids.
Driving out toward A Mountain, Elke didn’t like knowing Nick and Denali were investing in property out that way. Still, there was nothing to connect Nick to the murder. Hopefully, nothing would have been planted to change that.
Jace turned off the main road, down a gravel road, and stopped where police vehicles were parked. “A man hiking with his dog came across the body,” Jace said while she changed into tennis shoes to walk down the sandy wash. Its walls were rocky with clay and rubble strewn walls. Saguaros towered above with prickly pear in rocky clefts. They were heavy with their fruit slowly ripening.
“In this heat, that was fortunate.” A deteriorating body would quickly lose any chance for an autopsy to reveal anything.
“I think whoever killed her expected it as this is a popular walk in this neighborhood.”
“So, you believe the killer wanted her found?”
“You saw the photos of how she was left.”
“Yes, intended to look like the others.”
“You have reason to believe it wasn’t the same killer?” He had gone beyond her words to what intended could mean.
“It happens. If the killer, despite the papers trying to tamp down panic, knew how the first two had been left, this could have multiple reasons for happening.”
“I suppose.” He didn’t sound convinced.”
“The first murders were close together. This has been two months.”
“Maybe the killer was busy with something else.”
She knew what he meant—like a wedding. She said nothing. There was no way to tell Jace who the first murderer had been. She needed evidence that proved this was not the same person. The way the body had been left was one difference. Yes, it was crucifixion posed but naked was different, the bruises were different. The first two killings had been clean, quickly done. The photos she saw of Debbie did not look as though she’d had such a merciful end.
There was yellow tape around the small bluff where the body had been left. With human and animal tracks, no way to know which had anything to do with the murder. At least not for those without extrasensory perception.
She stood, letting the events of the night come to her. She saw a man walking up the draw, his feet sinking into the sand. He was a heavy man who had been carrying a heavy load. He heaved for breath. Not used to such work. Maybe drunk but she couldn’t determine that.
She closed her eyes and saw the images of him putting the body against the clay bluff, propping her hands out. She felt no remorse emanating from him, as he worked to position the body and then take her clothing from a backpack. He was wearing rubber gloves. He would leave no trace other than that of energy. No evidence sufficient for a court in that.
“We do not think she was killed here,” Jace said repeating what he had earlier said and interrupting her remote viewing of what had happened under the cover of darkness.
The clothing had been left even though the body had been removed. She l
ooked at the little pile. “Have you checked her home to see if that might be where she was killed?” she asked. “She must have gone there after leaving the theater as this isn’t what she wore when I saw her.”
“We sent forensics there.” Jace let out a breath. “I suppose Beringer has an alibi.”
She smiled. “You know this wasn’t the same man. You have two if not three killers.”
“I don’t think it was Beringer for any of them, but it’s likely he’ll be questioned.”
“Look for bruised hands then.”
“Unless the person wore gloves.”
She shrugged. Remote viewing, especially of something that had happened hours earlier, would hardly qualify as evidence. The large overweight man had not been Chuck Carter. Something in her impressions told her the man carrying the body might not have been her murderer. While she had been unable to make out his features, she had felt his energy so strongly that if she met him, she’d know. Once she knew who the man had been, a motive would be easier to track down.
Driving back to town, Elke decided there were two places to start. First would be the ex-con street preacher. There was no logical reason to connect the murder to her family but she felt it intuitively. Whether connected or not, a religious group was stirring up fear and hatred against witches. A starting place should be those who operated in the barrios.
John Donovan worked out of what had been a storefront, south of Barrio Viejo. When she pulled her car over, she saw several men loitering in the shade of the awning. She sent out a wave to detect if any demonic activity was near. She felt nothing and got out of the car.
“I am looking for Reverend Donovan,” she asked a surprisingly clean looking guy, who was sitting on the sidewalk. He moved his gaze up to study her. With a t-shirt and jeans, he did not appear like the homeless she’d seen elsewhere. Maybe he worked for the reverend.
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
A laugh came from the building and a big man came out. “Beautiful women never need reasons.” He was tall, muscular, without an ounce of fat. She guessed him to be in his early 50s although if he’d led a hard life, that was hard to gauge.
