by Mary Angela
Duncan turned to Zo. “I think we need couple’s therapy. What do you think?”
“I think you’d better zip it before she beats you with her rubber gun.”
Duncan lowered his felt hat over one eyebrow. “She wouldn’t do that. She adores me.”
“I think he would make a better Casanova,” Zo said to Jules.
“He would make a better anything than employee.” Jules walked over to Zo and gave her a spontaneous hug. “I’m sorry about Marianne.”
“Thanks,” said Zo, her voiced muffled. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, but you know what this weekend is like.”
“Same.”
Zo stepped back and readjusted her cat ears, which were crooked after the embrace. “Brady Merrigan came by Happy Camper today. I wanted to warn you before he comes here.”
“Too late,” said Jules. “He dropped in about an hour ago.”
“You’re kidding.” Zo guessed he didn’t break for lunch.
“Afraid not,” Jules answered. “I was right in the middle of the lunch rush.” She nodded toward Duncan. “Clyde here offered him a glass of wine.”
“What?” Duncan shrugged. “I thought he was in costume.”
“Anyway,” continued Jules, “he asked me about my relationship with Roberto. I said what relationship? The guy and I exchanged a dozen words. Did you tell him Roberto and I dated?”
“No,” said Zo. “I just found out myself, if you recall.”
Jules didn’t like being reminded of the omission. She flicked her brown eyes in another direction. “Then who did?” she asked.
“Tiffany Snow.”
“The lady with the wreaths again?” said Duncan. He was trying unsuccessfully to remove packaging tape from a box. “The woman is everywhere you don’t want to be.”
Zo laughed. That pretty much described it.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Jules mused. “Tiffany hates everything about me, including my store.”
“She called it the ‘devil’s workshop,’” added Duncan.
Jules rolled her eyes.
“Brady asked about your whereabouts the night of the murder,” Zo informed her.
“I hope you told him we were here,” said Duncan.
“I did, but Tiffany told him Jules was gone when she arrived,” explained Zo. “You’d left to get more glasses. Remember?”
“Give me a break.” Jules grabbed a box cutter from her back pocket. She opened the box Duncan was struggling with. “I was gone fifteen minutes. Who commits murder in fifteen minutes?”
“Do you want me to have Max talk to him?” Duncan asked Jules. “Max can fix anything.”
Zo agreed. Max was pretty good at fixing problems—although Duncan was one problem that had gotten worse, not better. “I don’t know if that would help. Brady and Max aren’t exactly simpatico when it comes to official police business.”
“Why is that, anyway?” asked Duncan.
“Brady thinks Max’s work is in the forest,” Zo explained. “He doesn’t like him encroaching on his turf.” She groaned. “Which reminds me. That’s the other reason he suspects you, Jules. You and Marianne both practice witchcraft.”
Jules put her hands on her wide hips. “It’s a really bad time to be a witch, you know that?”
“Or a guitar instructor,” Duncan added.
Zo chuckled. For once, they were both right.
Chapter Ten
After he finished unboxing wine bottles, Duncan left. His shift was done, and Zo was relieved. She needed to tell Jules about the necklace, but Jules was cleaning beer taps. Zo didn’t know if it was the right time. Although it might be the only chance she had before the after-work crowd bombarded the store for Halloween spirts. Time was in short supply from now until the first of the year.
In her tan suit, Jules swiftly turned around, pink hairs coming loose from her makeshift bob. Maybe she was psychic. She seemed to sense the predicament. “Spit it out, Zo. We both have stores to run. Is it about Duncan?”
Zo frowned. “Duncan? No, why?”
“Max?”
“No…it’s not about a guy. It’s about my mom.” She uncovered the necklaces, hidden beneath her cat costume. “Max and I went to Phantom of the Opera last night and found the match to my necklace.”
Jules released the tap and rushed over to where she was standing. Grabbing the charms, Jules closed her eyes and rubbed them. “She was an actress. Nice cheekbones, light hair. A bit of a hippie.”
Zo rolled her eyes. Except for the actress part, that could describe her. “Read the inscription.”
Jules opened her eyes and flipped over the sun and moon. “Zoelle.” Her brown eyes shimmered with tears.
“Oh no,” Zo warned. “Don’t start that. Like you said, we don’t have time to go there. I need to get back to the store, preferably with an unblotchy face.”
Jules hugged her tightly. “It’s perfect. It’s you.”
“Thanks,” said Zo. “I like it, too.”
Jules stepped back. “What are you going to do?”
“See what I can dig up, I guess. I know a few people who can help me.”
“Hattie?” Jules asked.
Zo nodded.
“Be careful.” Jules clasped Zo’s hands. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Zo knew she meant emotionally hurt and wanted to save that discussion for another day. It was a conversation they’d had many times before, but it’d been a while. She was older and more mature. That didn’t make it less difficult, however. She buttoned her coat and slipped on her black Ray-Ban sunglasses. “I will.”
“Before you go, I have the posters for the Zodiac Club.” Jules retrieved a stack of printouts from beneath the counter. “Give them to Hattie, and hang one at the store, will you?”
“Will do.” The Zodiac Club met once a month. In the summer, they met at the observatory at Black Mountain College. When it grew colder, they met in the library or at a member’s house and had guest speakers and discussed books. Next week, they were meeting at Zo’s house. “Don’t forget,” added Zo. “Tonight’s party starts at eight. You’re signed up for drinks.”
“I’ll be there,” Jules promised.
Zo started for Happy Camper, checking the ballot box on the corner. If the overstuffed container was any indication, many people had already cast their votes. The rest would vote before the Halloween parade, which started in two hours. She needed to get her candy ready. Hundreds of children would trick-or-treat before the parade. Seeing little ghosts and goblins visit the store was her favorite part of the night. The older ghouls she could do without. A year didn’t go by without a few teens racing by, grabbing candy or smashing pumpkins. Which reminded her: she needed to get George inside for the night. She didn’t want anyone playing tricks on her cat.
A block away, she spotted Happy Camper’s pumpkin lighting up the store window. It was that big. Zo was amazed by the final product. She didn’t know a pumpkin could be a work of art. But with the intricate leaves and scrolled letters, now glowing with candlelight, it was nothing short of beautiful. She poked her head inside to thank Harley. Because of her, they had a real shot at winning the contest.
“It’s perfect,” Zo gushed. “I don’t know how you did it.”
“Mathematical preciseness,” proclaimed Harley. “I mapped the leaves by grid numbers.”
“Don’t even try to explain. I’m not a numbers person.” Zo scanned the store. “I need to find George. Have you seen him?”
“Not since this morning.”
“I’m going to check my yard,” said Zo. “I’ll be back. Get the candy dishes out of the storage room, will you?”
Harley nodded, and Zo started for the gate. She found George in Cunningham’s garden, which was a tangle of dead vines and crunchy leaves. When George saw her, he rolled onto his
back, stretching in the dirt. His white stripes of fur turned light brown.
“You know you’re not supposed to be in Cunningham’s garden,” she whispered as she came closer.
George turned on his side and lifted a paw, pausing before giving it a lick. He squinted at her. Maybe he noticed her costume.
“Like my outfit?” She switched the black fabric tail back and forth.
George began his bath. He wasn’t impressed.
“I told you that cat gets into my garden,” hollered Cunningham from his deck. “I see him there, like a mountain lion.”
Mountain lions were a real problem in the area, but Cunningham was exaggerating. George was only as big as a baby mountain lion.
“Sorry, Cunningham,” Zo apologized. “No harm done. The garden’s long dead.”
“That’s not the point,” said Cunningham. “George needs boundaries. If he thinks he can get away with it in the fall, he’ll do the same in the summer.”
“Don’t worry,” said Zo. “He won’t do it again. He understands he’s in trouble.”
“It looks like it.”
Enjoying the last drops of sunshine, George was nibbling on a stray weed. Zo picked him up, knowing full well the dust would transfer to her black costume. She’d have to fix it before the parade.
George flopped in her arms, trying to free himself from her grasp.
“Do you need some help?” asked Cunningham.
“No, I got him.” But she could have used the help. George was not only heavy but strong. When he didn’t want to do something, he made it known. Getting him up the deck steps was a challenge, and she was relieved once they were inside. He leaped out of her arms and onto the kitchen table, shaking the antique piece of furniture with his girth.
“George!” she cried. “Not the table.”
He crouched into a ball, then darted off when she reached for him, leaving behind a fluff of fur. She picked up the hair and tossed it in the trash, silently cursing the fall shedding season. It was more of a year-round thing with George. She had to sweep her hardwood floors every other day to keep up, but he was worth it. He had personality, and she admired his independence, even when it was a pain in the neck.
Now to find the lint roller and deal with the fur and dust on her costume. After giving her outfit a quick roll and washing her hands, she finished the appetizers for tonight’s party. She’d already cut the veggies and made the monster munch snack mix, but she still needed to heat the dip and assemble the pinwheels. Beth was bringing the desserts, Jules was bringing the drinks, and Max was bringing chips, a bachelor staple. Hattie agreed to make her famous apple pumpkin. It was loaded with spiced apples warm from the oven. They were delicious with ice cream.
Since this was her friend Beth’s first Spirit Spooktacular, Zo gave her a quick call to make sure she knew the schedule of events. She’d moved to the area this spring and spent most of her time in the canyon, where her lodge was located.
“Yes, I know the schedule,” said Beth. “I’m coming early, before the parade. What else can I bring?”
“Just your lovely family.” Beth was married and had two girls, Meg and Molly. Her mom, Violet, or Vi for short, also lived with them. She helped manage the resort. “I can’t wait to see the girls.”
“I’ll warn you that Meg is under dressed for the occasion,” said Beth. “I guess rock stars wear very short skirts.”
Zo chuckled. “I’m sure she’s just trying to be…authentic.”
“Right,” said Beth. “I’m sure it’s about authenticity. More likely it’s her new group of friends. They’re going as an all-female rock band.”
“That’s cool,” Zo exclaimed. “What’s wrong with that?”
“One word: eyeliner. You’ll see when I get there.”
They said goodbye, Zo still chuckling as she ended the call. Meg was a levelheaded kid—at least she was this summer. Maybe the new school had changed her, or her new friends. Zo hoped Beth was overreacting. She didn’t want to see Meg in trouble.
After giving the house a once-over, making sure it was party-ready, Zo returned to the store. Harley was pouring candy into an oversized orange bowl. Zo grabbed the other giant-sized sack of candy and poured it into the Frankenstein stand by the door. Then she turned on the twinkle lights in the front window. The police were marking off the street, which meant treat-or-treaters would be there soon. The youngest children would be the first to arrive.
At least she assumed they would be first to arrive—before Justin Castle barged through her door. He had a cameraman with him, so she figured he was on assignment for the local television station. His was the most recognizable face in Spirit Canyon: tan, young, and haughty. He believed the sun rose and fell on his “special” reports, and Zo knew he had a lot of young followers—mostly of the female variety—but didn’t understand why. Sure, he was handsome. With his stylish hair and trendy clothes, he defied the image of the Old West. Still, Spirit Canyon was full of adventurers, hippies, and nature-lovers who’d traded bigger cities for the haven of Spirit Canyon. He wasn’t the only young guy who sported J. Crew. But maybe he was the most visible.
“Happy Halloween, Zo,” greeted Justin. “Think you have a shot at the pumpkin contest?”
“I think we have a good shot. Look for yourself.” She motioned toward the front window.
“I saw it on the way in,” Justin dismissed. “Mark, get that for the video.”
The cameraman uncapped his camera and zoomed in on the pumpkin.
“We’re covering the winners and the parade on the ten o’clock news.”.” Justin perused one corner of the store, then the other.
Zo wondered what he was looking for. It couldn’t possibly be a gift.
“Isn’t this where Marianne Morgan died?”
Ah. That was it. The more encounters they had, the less she liked him.
Harley dropped a piece of candy. She wasn’t as good with people as she was numbers and hated conflict. When someone argued about a price or return, she became as quiet as a calculator. But Zo wasn’t afraid to talk to guys like Justin. She met a lot of them working at the Black Hills Star. The only way to deal with them was head on.
“She had her book signing here,” Zo corrected.
“But you found her,” pressed Justin. “At your store.”
He circled the merchandise. Zo knew he was taking mental notes. He had no interest in her or her shop. He only wanted what was useful to him, and that was making a name for himself. The murder of a famous author would help him achieve that—if he covered the story right. And obviously, he’d already done some digging. Someone had told him about her discovery but whom? Brady Merrigan wouldn’t have shared the detail.
“I was walking home from Spirits & Spirits,” Zo corrected. “Anyone might have found her.”
“At your store?” questioned Justin. “I don’t think so.” He picked up a candle, pretending to check the price. “Didn’t you say she was dressed like a witch? Hat and all?”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Zo.
“Hmm. Must have been someone else. But you did see her. You found her. What did she look like?”
The ghouls are out early this year. “Marianne was my guest and a good writer. If you think I’m going to describe her death to you, you’re wrong.”
“Just her injury,” Justin clarified. “I heard she had a gash on her head.”
Zo pointed to the door. “Get out.”
He took a step toward the door and tripped on a black cat statue. She and Harley shared a puzzled look. What was it doing in the middle of the floor? The thought no more than entered her mind than she thought of Marianne. Zo chuckled. Was she cursing Justin with bad luck?
He yanked his camel hair jacket. “Fine, but your pumpkin is going to be a footnote in my broadcast. The tiniest blurb.”
“Not if it wins,�
�� Harley piped up. “Then we’ll be the top story.”
Zo bemoaned the thought. Though she wanted to win the contest, being interviewed by Justin would be like having surgery on live television. She wouldn’t put it past him to bring up Marianne’s murder again.
“Come on, Mark. Pack up.”
Mark was standing next to the door and opened it. Justin breezed through, not bothering to hold it for his cameraman.
Harley put her hands on her hips. “I hate that guy.”
“Hate’s a four-letter word at Happy Camper,” said Zo.
“Fine,” Harley said. “I dislike that guy a lot. I dislike him more than any man on the planet.”
“Much better,” laughed Zo.
Chapter Eleven
Their first trick-or-treater was a toddler dressed like Cinderella. Her blue gown was almost as long as her sullen face. Zo detected a problem in the kingdom, and she needed to fix it. Maybe a couple candy bars would help.
“I love your dress.” Zo held out a pail of candy. She hoped giving the toddler her choice of chocolate would improve her mood. “Is it new?”
“Yes,” she said with a small sigh, sifting through the bowl with a dimpled hand. “But my glass slippers broke.”
“Cheap junk,” the toddler’s mom mumbled.
The girl plopped a Snickers in her pumpkin pail.
“Oh dear,” Zo empathized. “If only your fairy godmother were here.” She considered the problem for a moment. “You know, I don’t have glass slippers but I do have a pretty sweet pair of cowboy boots.” She walked over to her kids’ corner, where she had several play items, including costume boots.
The girl’s face brightened. “Mommy, can I have them?”
“How much?” asked the mom.
Zo waved away the question. “On the house. Consider it my Halloween treat.” She winked at the girl. “The next person might get a trick.”
Relieved, the mom thanked Zo and switched out the shoes for the boots. The mom and daughter both left with smiles on their faces.
“Another satisfied customer,” proclaimed Zo.
