Bell, Book & Candlemas

by Jennifer David Hesse

  “Sounds like she’s seen one too many witchy movies,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “She was trying to find a way to blame me, Keli. To make this all my fault.” Mila paused, then continued in a quieter voice. “No matter what I do, I’m afraid it’s my reputation that is going to suffer.”

  Unfortunately, I was thinking the same thing.

  Chapter 7

  With the early boost from my energy spell, I managed to fly through my morning tasks. I even worked through lunch, munching on a big salad I had brought from home as I prepared a client’s divorce papers. However, by 1:00 my stamina started to wane. I stood up to stretch my legs and began pacing the length of my office.

  My mind returned to Mila’s problem. What was the culprit thinking? What was the point of using Mila’s supplies to create a pseudo-magical arrangement? Was the person sending a message to Mila? Or was the message for the public, to show them how unsafe witchcraft was?

  This made me think of Reverend Natty. It seemed clear he wanted to convince people of the “danger” of fortune-telling and other such practices. And the burning of books certainly seemed to be consistent with his approach of “ban and prohibit.”

  But why set the fire outside the shop instead of inside? Unless, the culprit didn’t really want to destroy the shop itself.

  Mulling over the possibilities, I thought back to the night I went to Mila’s house and reviewed the threatening notes with her, Max, and Catrina. I remembered asking who might want to drive Mila out of business, and she had mentioned a Realtor by the name of Yvette Prime.

  I had recognized the name right away. I had encountered Ms. Prime several times over the years during real estate transactions. I’d also seen her name in the paper on occasion.

  Sitting back down at my computer, I clicked open a browser and Googled “Edindale Realtor Yvette Prime.” My Internet search didn’t uncover much more than I already knew. Besides being a successful Realtor, Ms. Prime was an active community leader. She was a member of several professional organizations, including the chamber of commerce, the Illinois Association of Realtors, and the Edin County Association of African-American Entrepreneurs. She was also on the board of directors for the Edindale Historical Society and volunteered for Big Brothers Big Sisters.

  Talk about upstanding.

  Max was right. I couldn’t picture Yvette Prime throwing rocks or wielding a spray-paint can in the dead of night.

  But I did wonder who her client was who was so interested in Mila’s property.

  * * *

  After another busy afternoon, I made a point of calling it a day at 5:00 P.M. Normally, Crenshaw would gloat anytime he caught me leaving the office before him. He liked to cultivate the appearance of burning the midnight oil, ever the dedicated worker intent on making partner first. In such moments, I would comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I had a life outside of work.

  Today, however, Crenshaw once again left for the day just ahead of me. I expected him to say he was off to meet a client or attend a night meeting, but he just nodded at me distractedly and rushed to the elevator before the doors closed. He didn’t bother to hold them for me.

  Pursing my lips, I texted Farrah while I waited for the next elevator. As tired as I was, I still looked forward to seeing my best friend. She brought some balance to my life when I got too caught up in work.

  A short time later, we met up at our usual spot near a fountain at Fieldstone Park. I had already changed into a tracksuit and running shoes. As often happened with the two of us, without planning it we found that we matched perfectly, today both of us wearing red sweats with a white side stripe, her high blond ponytail mirroring my high brunette one.

  We took one look at each other and laughed.

  “Are you ready to smash this 10K or what?” said Farrah.

  “Girlfriend, I gotta say I’m not feeling this one. I haven’t run in weeks, and I did not sleep well last night.”

  “What are you talking about? This is nothing. You’ll catch your second wind before you know it.”

  Farrah started jogging down the sidewalk, and I fell into step next to her.

  “How was your lunch date yesterday? Did Wes come to his senses and realize what he’s been missing?”

  “Get this,” I said. “Remember when my phone was all wonky?”

  “Wait a minute,” said Farrah. “Are you saying he called you, but you didn’t know he called you?”

  “Exactly. And he didn’t know I didn’t know. So, he thought I wasn’t calling him back.”

  Farrah snorted. “There’s something vaguely tragic about that. In a Romeo and Juliet sort of way.”

  “Ha! Tell me about it.”

  We chatted for a couple more minutes, then grew silent as we found our stride. At the edge of the park, we cut over to the rail trail, ran for a mile and a half, and then turned back. After logging three miles, we circled the park and started up the rail trail again. A quarter mile down the path, just before a street crossing, I began to slow down.

  “Are you pooping out on me?”

  Breathing heavily, I shook my head and held my side. “Just a little stitch. You go on if you want. This is a good start for me, but I’ve had it for now.”

  Farrah stuck out her lower lip, then shrugged. “I’ll walk back with you. Tomorrow we’ll go a little farther, and by next weekend you should be able to handle six miles. Right?”

  “Sure,” I said. But instead of turning back, I walked up to the small side street that intersected the trail. “This leads to Broadway, right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  I headed down the side street, toward the well-lit avenue, where several shops and businesses were still open.

  “There’s a Realtor’s office I’d like to stop by for a minute.”

  “Now? What, you’re suddenly in the market for a new house?”

  “Um, not really. There’s just something I want to check out.”

  With Farrah at my heels, I wandered up to the storefront office space shared by a small group of local Realtors, including Yvette Prime. The sign on the door said CLOSED, but the place looked as if people might still be inside. I stood for a moment gazing absently at the glossy flyers showcasing the most desirable homes currently on the market. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a stretch to act like a house hunter as an excuse to talk to Yvette.

  “Ooh, check it out! The Cadwelle Mansion’s open, and they’re hosting a murder-mystery dinner!” Farrah said, peering over my shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  Farrah grabbed my arm and turned me toward a flyer next to all the real estate ads. “You’ve heard of the Cadwelle Mansion, haven’t you? That big, beautiful Queen Anne Victorian at the top of the hill on Archer Avenue? The place was empty for a long time, until some new owners bought it last year and began renovations to turn it into a B&B. Looks like they’re open now, and they’ve got a murder-mystery dinner theater thingy happening there. How fun! We should totally go. This would be perfect for a double date.”

  I winced and shot Farrah a skeptical look. “Are you kidding? Isn’t that kind of ghoulish, turning something as horrible as murder into entertainment?”

  Farrah rolled her eyes and softly punched my arm. “Lighten up, Kel. You take everything so seriously!”

  Before I could respond, the door opened and a tall young man stepped outside. I recognized him from a closing I’d handled not long ago.

  “Hi, Brian.”

  He glanced over in surprise. “Oh, hello. I was just leaving, but we can go inside if you’d like. I stayed late to make some client calls, so I’d be happy to open back up.”

  “Oh, no, that’s okay. We were passing by and just taking a look. Actually, I was hoping to speak with Yvette at some point. I assume she’s not here now, is she?”

  Brian looked disappointed but managed a rueful smile as he shook his head. “She’s a busy woman. I’m going to have to reconsider sharing an office with her, seeing as how she’s snatch
ing up all the clients lately.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, the high-profile clients, anyway.” He nodded to the flyer about the Cadwelle Mansion. “Yvette sold that one and is getting all kinds of attention for it. She’s even being presented with a little award at the first performance this Friday. But, hey, more power to her, right?”

  “I think this mystery theater idea is so neat,” Farrah said.

  “You know what?” said Brian, reaching into his coat pocket. “I actually have two tickets I can’t use now. My wife’s sister had a baby yesterday, so we’re heading out of town this weekend. I need to give these away before I forget. You interested?”

  “Yeah, totally! Thank you!” Farrah took the tickets. “I can get Jake to go with me.”

  After a few more pleasantries, we said good-bye to Brian and walked back toward the trail. I took a deep breath and turned to my friend.

  “You know,” I said, “maybe it would be fun if the two of us went after all. At least it would be something different, right?” I smiled weakly, and Farrah laughed.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter 8

  On Thursday evening, Wes and I caught up over enchiladas and margaritas. We sat across from one another in a red vinyl booth at Los Frijoles, one of Edindale’s most popular Mexican restaurants. Over the din of salsa music and laughing patrons, we chatted about random topics—his trouble decorating his new apartment, my trouble finding space for all the houseplants I kept buying. We talked about our mutual friends, and I asked Wes about his family. I had first met them over the summer when they were my clients.

  “My parents are in Clearwater, Florida, for a few weeks,” he said. “They had enough of the winter already.”

  “Sounds lovely. How lucky for them.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Rob has it pretty good, too. He’s heading to Arizona this weekend. He’s doing this gambling addict support program that involves lots of retreats and getaways.”

  “I’m glad he’s finally getting help,” I said, giving Wes a sympathetic look. I knew he had been troubled by his brother’s gambling problem for a long time.

  He nodded. “Me too.”

  “I wish I could go someplace warm,” I said. “I went to Nebraska over the holidays to see my family. I was treated to a snowstorm and below-freezing temps.”

  Wes chuckled. “I hope I get to meet your family sometime.”

  I smiled and wondered if this was an indication he wanted to take our relationship to a more serious level. Then again, that’s what I had thought last fall when things were going so well . . . until he made that comment about dating around and then waited a few weeks to try calling me. It was so hard not knowing what was really going on in a guy’s mind.

  Maybe I should just stop obsessing and enjoy the moment.

  Whether it was the buzz from the drinks or the rush from our fun date, I found myself in a great mood. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Wes. In fact, I realized I was probably lucky someone else hadn’t snatched him up during our little hiatus. Our twenty-something waitress couldn’t keep her eyes off him either. She kept coming back to refill our basket of tortilla chips even though it wasn’t empty. Finally, Wes handed it back to her.

  “No mas,” he said, with a grin. “Gracias, anyway.”

  She simpered and flipped her wedge-cut hair. I smirked.

  We finished our dinner, and then Wes checked the time. “I think the SCIU observatory is open to the public tonight. Want to go?”

  “Yeah! I haven’t been there in ages.”

  When the waitress brought our check, Wes grabbed it and pulled out his wallet. I offered to split the bill, but he waved me away. “I’ve got it,” he said. He placed a wad of cash on the table, then helped me on with my coat. The waitress shot Wes a yearning look as we headed to the exit.

  Eat your heart out, honey.

  * * *

  The observatory was a few miles from the main campus, all the better to see the night sky. We parked in the nearly empty parking lot and entered the quiet brick building. A student wearing a skirt and a cardigan greeted us at the door.

  “You just missed the last tour,” she said. “But you can go on up and look around on your own. We close in ten minutes.”

  On our way up the metal steps to the upper level of the observatory, we passed a family of three on their way down. The little boy was raving about all the planets he had seen. When he spotted Wes and me, his eyes lit up. “You gotta look in the big telescope! There’s a billion stars out there! I even saw the rings around Saturn!”

  “Awesome!” Wes held out his hand to give the boy a high five.

  “Thanks for the tip!” I told the boy before he left with his parents. I held on to Wes’s arm as we continued up the steps. “What an adorable little stargazer.”

  “Smart too,” said Wes. “Now I really want to look in the big telescope.” He pulled away and jogged over to the center of the round room, where he took a peek through the giant instrument.

  I couldn’t stop grinning as I walked up behind him. “How well do you know your constellations?”

  “Well, I know about the Big Dipper. There’s a Little Dipper too, right?”

  “Hmm. Those aren’t really constellations. The Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major. The Little Dipper is part of Ursa Minor.”

  Wes looked up and made a face. “I knew that. I was just testing you.”

  I laughed. “Sure you were.”

  For the next several minutes, we marveled at all the dazzling objects in the Milky Way. I especially loved seeing the moon up close, which was full and luminous tonight. Like many women—and most Wiccans—I felt a special connection with the moon and its mysterious feminine energy. I almost mentioned this to Wes, but then I stopped myself. What if he laughed at me? As much as I longed to be open with him, I didn’t want to risk messing with a good thing—especially so soon after rekindling our relationship.

  “Five minutes til closing!” the student called up at us, so we made our way downstairs. Before leaving the building, we walked by an Astronomy Club exhibit on comets and meteors. I paused, gazing at the images of fiery balls shooting across the sky. They brought to mind the Bible verse Catrina had found in Mila’s shop a couple days ago. What had it said? Something about a “fiery lake”?

  I blinked as another thought sprang to mind. They’d found the reference to fire on Tuesday afternoon . . . and the fire outside Mila’s shop was set on Tuesday night. Was that just a coincidence?

  I tried to recall any details from the earlier notes. What was the last one Mila had discovered before someone broke the window in her shop? Wasn’t there one that talked about “tearing down walls” and “demolishing defenses”? Could that threat have presaged the vandalism at Moonstone?

  Wes put his hand on my waist and I jumped. “Whoa there. Where did you go? Outer space?”

  I giggled shortly and buttoned up my coat. “Yeah, I guess so.” I shook off my disturbing speculations. I was probably attaching too much meaning to the language of the Bible verses and other quotes. They were meant to be creepy, for sure. But not literal.

  Right?

  * * *

  Fridays were normally a little slower, a little more casual around the office. The dress code was relaxed. Most meetings and court appearances had already taken place earlier in the week. Everyone was looking forward to the weekend.

  For some reason, my Friday wasn’t cooperating. My phone kept ringing off the hook, and people kept stopping by with problems they wanted me to solve right then and there. To top it off, Beverly managed to remind me about the memo I owed her, while also transferring one of her cases to me, all in the same breath.

  So, when my cell phone rang and I saw that it was Catrina, I almost didn’t answer. I had just left Beverly’s office and was finally going to run out and grab a late lunch. I stood in the lobby, hesitating, as my phone rang in my purse. Julie propped her hand on her chin and watched to see what I would do.

  Ugh. Wha
t if something else had happened at Moonstone? I picked up.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Keli, I was going to stop by your office, but Mila said I should call first. I can be there in two minutes. Is that okay?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Sorry, Catrina. I’m all booked up this afternoon. What did you want to talk about?”

  “We got another note. I found it mixed in with the mail. And talk about your hate mail! This one may be the worst yet.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. Julie was still watching me from behind her reception desk. I wavered for a moment near the exit, then decided to go back to my office. Maybe I’d just have my lunch delivered today.

  “Hang on,” I said. “I want to get a pen and write this down.”

  Once in my office, I closed the door and set down my purse. “Okay. What did this one say?”

  “The message in the middle of the paper said, ‘Shutter your business.’”

  “Is that it?”

  “There was another reference to the Malleus Maleficarum.”

  “Did you look it up?”

  “Of course. Are you ready for this? ‘For the divine law in many places commands that witches are not only to be avoided, but also they are to be put to death, and it would not impose the extreme penalty of this kind if witches did not really and truly make a compact with devils in order to bring about real and true hurts and harms.’”

  Chills crawled up and down my arms. This one did sound worse than the others. Although, they were all pretty bad. “Did Mila call the police?”

  Catrina hesitated. “Uh, no. I don’t think so.”

  “Let me talk to her. Please.”

  “She’s with a client right now, giving a tarot reading.”

  “Catrina, tell Mila to call the police. You need to give them the note so they can figure out who’s doing this and put a stop to it.”

  “I’ll tell her,” said Catrina. “How’s it going on your end? Do you have any leads?”

  I pressed my lips together. “I’m working on a couple of possible angles. I’ll fill Mila in later. I gotta go now.”