Graves and Goons (A Hocus Pocus Cozy Witch Mystery Series Book 4)

by Constance Barker

  “Did she have a boyfriend? Is that what the ‘b’ stands for?” Athena flew in a quick circle, “No, sorry, that’s dumb.”

  Celestial laughed. “I guess it’s possible. No one I’ve talked to has mentioned a boyfriend. But the letters are definitely to her and I can’t imagine anyone but a…um an intimate partner writing stuff like this.”

  Athena settled on her shoulder as Celestial made sure to put the rest of the papers back in the proper order. “So secret boyfriend-slash-lover and a new will that cuts out the smarmy brother? What do we do with that?”

  The witch wrapped the rubber band around the letters and relocked the drawer. She let a little magic help the old tape stick the key back up underneath the drawer and sat back in the luxurious office chair to think.

  “Well, we definitely take these letters back and see if we can find any other clues to who this ‘B’ person is. We’ll give Nikoli another day or so to find the double wills on his own and if he doesn’t then I guess I’ll have to admit to…helping. Again.”

  “I’ll tell the twins we’re done here. And I can’t wait to see how red your face gets reading through all those letters.”

  Celestial batted playfully at the dragonfly as she zipped down the hall.

  Chapter 16

  Back at the shop, Celestial paged through the letters, feeling vindicated and well rewarded for all the effort it had taken to get her hands on them. Now that she had them in hand and a minute to look them over, she could say with certainty that they were absolutely love letters, and racy ones, too--not dissimilar to the ones she had found at Mariah Knight’s house. The ones that had been written by Reverend Younger.

  Had the Reverend written these, as well? She took a closer look, bringing a page closer to her face, then immediately regretted it when the gesture made her zoom in close on a particularly graphic amorous passage. She cleared her throat and flapped her shawl for a little air circulation, grateful that this time Tamara and the twins weren’t goading her into reading the more salacious passages aloud. That had been embarrassing enough once; she was certainly not eager to make a habit of it.

  She couldn’t know for certain, but she didn’t think these letters were written in the same handwriting as the Reverend’s. Besides, these were signed with the letter B, and there wasn’t a B anywhere in the Reverend’s name. Of course, the B could easily refer to something other than a name… though, judging from the nature of the letters’ contents, Celestial wondered if she even wanted to know what else it might refer to.

  “Interesting reading?”

  Celestial looked up sharply, hastily trying to tuck the letters under the counter and out of sight. “Mrs. Atkinson!” she said, as chipper as she could manage. “Looking for more of that lotion from last week? Your skin is looking brighter already!”

  Jennifer Atkinson grimaced, making her way up to the counter. As she approached, Celestial saw that she had misspoken: if Mrs. Atkinson was, in fact, looking any dewier at the cheeks, then the effect was doubly undermined by the deep lines around her mouth and the dark bags under her eyes. She looked to Celestial like she might have recently been crying. “Not this time, I’m afraid, Celestial,” she said, between faint sniffles. “I was hoping… I don’t know if you have anything that would be helpful for, well….”

  Then, before she could get the rest of the words out, she burst into tears.

  This, Celestial had found since opening the shop, was something of an occupational hazard. Customers flocked to the shop to try to make themselves younger, calmer, healthier, happier, but then they just kept living the same lives that put them into such difficulties to begin with. So with regulars like Mrs. Atkinson, Celestial sometimes had to turn into something of a personal counselor, hearing their most private and painful personal stories before they finally asked her to advise them as to which of her various products would best help balm their damaged lives.

  “There, there, Mrs. Atkinson,” said Celestial, setting down the letters firmly before reaching over the counter and giving the crying woman a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be alright.”

  “No, I won’t,” Mrs. Atkinson whined, sniffing into the corner of her sleeve and leaving some of her bright garish makeup smeared behind. “You don’t understand. He’s left me.”

  Well, that was a little more serious than usual. “Are you certain? You and Mr. Atkinson have gone through rough patches before, haven’t you?”

  “Of course we have. All couples do. But this time it’s final. He’s found someone else. Twenty years! I gave up everything, absolutely everything--college, a career--and I was happy to do it! Do you think she’s going to be content to keep house for him? Do you think he’s going to be happy when he can't quit her, even at work? When the end of the day comes and the house is just how he left it, and his dinner isn’t warm and waiting for him?”

  “Oh dear,” said Celestial.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Atkinson cried. “His secretary. His brunettee, young, secretary. If only it weren’t such an unforgivable cliché. He’s cheated on me for years, of course, and with considerably more interesting specimens, but it’s the secretary he actually leaves me for. The final nail in the coffin, I suppose.” She waved a hand. “Do you have a husband?”

  “No.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Um, no. I don’t.”

  Mrs. Atkinson scoffed. “Good. Best to keep it that way. Or else get one you can keep a short leash on.”

  Celestial blushed slightly at the implication of a leash. Those letters had put her into a truly uncharacteristic state of mind.

  “Say, what’s this?” Mrs. Atkinson craned over the counter, and for an instant Celestial worried she had caught sight of the letters, and she double-checked that they were safely tucked away and out of sight. However, Mrs. Atkinson had merely glimpsed, among the other various papers piled up on the counter, the corner of that day’s newspaper. Mrs. Atkinson grabbed the corner and pulled the newspaper out from the stack--nearly sending a few other items toppling as she did so, causing Celestial to have to scramble to catch them before they fell all over the floor.

  Once Celestial set everything to rights again, she saw that Mrs. Atkinson was looking with interest at the front headline and photograph, which featured a story on the deaths of Jayne Buchanan and the other LMS women. “It’s those poor women who died,” Celestial explained. “Had you heard?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Atkinson, curling her lip. “Nobody in town can talk of anything else. As if they were saints. If you ask me, those women got what they deserved.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mrs. Atkinson scoffed. “I can tell you weren’t acquainted with them. All the women in that entire crew, they were just about the worst this town has to offer. It’s little wonder you didn’t know them--I imagine they stayed as far away as possible from this place. Would have considered themselves above it.” Then, as though worried she had offended Celestial, Mrs. Atkinson reached out and patted her arm. “Nothing against this darling shop, dear. That’s just the kind of women they were. Acted so high and mighty, but when you got right down to it they sinned worse than most people. I always said they should call themselves the Ladies Amorality Society.”

  Chapter 17

  Tamara hadn’t exactly planned to stop in at the diner. It’s just that she was starting to feel the lunch hour creeping up on her, and a little pang was growing in her stomach, and then she was rounding the corner and happened to catch a whiff of the diner’s famous apple crumble, evidently freshly baking, and she just couldn’t help herself. She’d never been particularly susceptible to it but you have food at home line of logic, anyway.

  However, upon entering the half-full diner, she noticed that the booth in the far corner sat one Reverend Younger sitting across from none other than Joseph Bennett, and it occurred to her that perhaps it was fate, and not apple crumble, that had brought her to this diner at this very moment. The booth closest to theirs was occupied by a group of
chatty older women, but a table kitty-corner from the men’s booth was still empty, and Tamara made a beeline for it. She’d never been more grateful for the diner’s seat-yourself policy.

  “What’ll it be, hon?” a waitress asked almost as soon as she’d sat down, whipping a menu and out of her apron pocket and handing it to Tamara.

  “Oh, uh, a coffee?” Her stomach rumbled, causing her hunger to overtake her customary shyness. “And a Mediterranean wrap. Side salad, raspberry vinaigrette. Apple crumble with ice cream.”

  “Hungry, ain’t you?” the waitress chuckled, scribbling down the order and taking back the superfluous menu. “It’ll be out in just a sec.”

  “Great, thank you.”

  Once the waitress had left her alone, Tamara leaned back in her chair. She had purposefully chosen the seat that faced away from the booth so that she wouldn’t be tempted to watch Joseph Bennett and the Reverend too closely. The last thing she wanted was for them to notice her looking. However, if she listened very carefully, and if the women at the nearest booth weren’t chatting too loudly, she could make out the sound of the two men, speaking in what sounded like urgent whispers, though she couldn’t quite distinguish any of the actual words they were saying. Tamara kept her head faced straight forward, angled vaguely in the direction of the television, which seemed to be playing some kind of car race on mute.

  Eventually, the waitress brought her the coffee she’d ordered, and Tamara dressed it up with one cream and two sugars, risking a quick look over her shoulder at the two men. If anything, they seemed even more intently in conversation with each other, their heads bowed more closely together. No onlooker could have mistaken them for two casual friends at lunchtime.

  I wish I had thought to spy on them in butterfly form, she said. She could have flitted all around their heads, drinking in every word. But it was too late now, of course--even the most oblivious mundanes would have noticed if she’d changed shape right here, in the middle of a bustling diner over the lunch hour. Unless she went to the bathroom, and changed in there….

  That was when she heard it, quite distinctly: a sentence spoken just a little louder than the others, loud enough for her to make out a single word: “... killed….”

  She leaned onto the back legs of her chair, going for casual and straining harder to hear.

  “... suspects….”

  “Here you are, hon,” the waitress said warmly, setting down her large platter of food, and startling Tamara so that she fell--forward, luckily--so that her chair was flat on the ground. “You’ll want to be careful with those. I’ve seen people take a real spill.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course,” said Tamara. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see reflected in the window that the Reverend and Bennett were rising from their booth, Bennett unhooking his blazer from where it was dangling from the end of his seat back and pulling it on. They’re leaving already? Tamara thought with despair. Too bad. I’d really wanted to be able to savor this food, but I need to get to Celestial and tell her what I heard as soon as possible. “Actually, could I also have the check, while you’re at it?” Luckily, she’d always been a speedy eater.

  * * *

  “Okay,” said Celestial slowly, “so they were talking about the murder. That’s not so strange. Probably half the diner was talking about the murder. It’s front-page news.”

  “Sure, but they were talking about the murder together,” said Tamara eagerly. “Were you even aware they knew each other?”

  “No,” Celestial conceded.

  “See? Suspicious!”

  “I suppose both men did have motives to kill different members of the group,” Celestial added thoughtfully.

  “Maybe they decided to work together to kill their two enemies,” Tamara offered. “Two birds, one stone.”

  “More like four birds, you mean.”

  Tamara shrugged. “Collateral damage.”

  “That would be pretty evil,” Celestial said.

  “Well, we know that someone did it. Why not these two?”

  “Fine,” said Celestial. “You said they left the diner? I think I’m going to take a quick trip over to the church, see if the Reverend has made it back to work yet.”

  * * *

  The Reverend was, in fact, at the church. He met Celestial at the door at her knock but didn’t let her inside, instead stepping out and closing the door behind him. He looked tense, and not entirely pleased to see Celestial.

  “I suppose you have some reason for dropping in like this?” he asked.

  “Just a quick question, I promise,” Celestial said. “I didn’t realize you knew Joseph Bennett.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “Let me rephrase--how well do you know Joseph Bennett?”

  The Reverend raised one severe eyebrow. “As well as any shepherd knows his sheep. I baptized Joseph.”

  “Baptized him?”

  The Reverend looked as though he was about to answer further, but just then a door around the side of the church opened, and Joseph Bennett himself stepped out and onto the stoop. “You!” he called, evidently recognizing Celestial from their earlier interview with Nikoli. “What’s this about? What business do you have with the Reverend?” Fussily, his neat shoes clicking officiously against the concrete sidewalk, he rapidly approached. He was faintly red in the face by the time he managed to insinuate himself between Celestial and the Reverend. “Don’t tell her anything, Reverend. And you, you busybody! If that detective friend of yours wants to conduct an official investigation, it’s entirely within the law for him to do so, but as far as I’m aware you have no authority here. I’d advise you, if you want to avoid a harassment lawsuit, to leave Reverend Younger well enough alone.”

  Chapter 18

  Nikoli wasn’t answering his phone--not on the first, second, or even the third call. He probably had it on silent, Celestial reassured herself, for some work-related reason.

  “This is a work-related reason,” she muttered. She was eager to tell him all she had learned. She could only imagine it would benefit Nikoli’s progress with the case to know that Reverend Younger and Joseph Bennett were so well acquainted, and had evidently been discussing the murder together over a conspiratorial lunch at the diner. Not to mention that someone had been trying to break into Jolene Bennett’s house!

  Never mind that, in order to explain she would have to explain that she, too, had broken into Jolene’s house. Surely Nikoli would understand that concept of snooping in the service of sleuthing.

  In order to keep everything straight and remember all she had to communicate to Nikoli whenever she managed to get hold of him, Celestial took out a notebook and started to neatly outline all the information she had learned. It helped her to visualize the case rationally; hopefully, it would be a powerful and helpful step toward making connections she hadn’t yet seen.

  Considering what they knew now, there were three possible subjects: Reverend Younger, Joseph Bennett, and… Celestial’s pen paused over the page before writing down Sofia’s name. She certainly was being considered a suspect by the town’s rumor mill, at any rate, and it was important that Celestial tried to remain objective.

  However, the list of three suspects was very possibly incomplete, particularly if what Celestial had been hearing about the victims was true. These women seemed to have their own little Peyton Place going on, so as far as anyone knew there might be a completely secret, even unlimited list of suspects yet to be sniffed out.

  Celestial looked over what she had written so far, chewing her lip in thought. What else could she add? She wished Nikoli would return her call, but she didn’t want to call him again. There was following up, and even following up insistently, and then there was being a nuisance.

  Oh, she sincerely hoped he just had his ringer off for some normal, non-dangerous professional reason.

  Just then, the door to the shop opened, and Celestial closed her notebook and looked up with a smile, expecting another Mrs. Atkinson or some
other regular to breeze in. However, to Celestial’s surprise, it was the Reverend who entered, looking drawn and grim.

  “Celestial,” he said in a heavy voice. “We need to talk.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Celestial, closing her notebook as carefully as she could and holding it stiffly behind her back. She wondered how far away Athena was, if she would hear if Celestial called for her.

  The Reverend cast a look around the shop and wrinkled his nose as if the herbal scent had irritated him. If anything, Celestial might have said he looked a little fretful, even intimidated, to be in there. “It’s about Joseph Bennett. I know you and that detective went to talk to him earlier. And I know Joseph won’t tell you this himself, because of course he’s eager to assist in whatever way he can with the official investigations, so I’ve got to be the one to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “That you need to leave him alone. Joseph’s history with his family is even more complicated--and painful--than what he’s likely led you to believe. Did he tell you his reasons for electing to live with his father, rather than his mother and sister, following the divorce of his parents?”

  “Something about a masculine role model,” said Celestial.

  “I wouldn’t blame him if that’s how he did think of it. The women in his life never did much good for him. His mother was the wealthy one, you see, and his father was quite poor. All the wealth Joseph has now he made in his own name, on the strength of his own character. His mother used money to try to control him, always threatening to cut him out of her will if he didn’t do exactly what she told him to do. After the mother passed, I’m sorry to say that his sister Jolene tried to do the same.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Celestial. She tried to imagine the confident, self-possessed man she had met in that ritzy hotel room, or the one who had stormed up to warn her off not an hour ago at the church, being manipulated by money. No wonder he had worked so hard to distinguish himself in his field, to win his financial autonomy.