The Witching Hour

by Anina Collins

  Tamara began to write down the names of the members of the witches’ circle meeting group, and Alex wrote the information down she’d given while I scanned the room. Drawn to the shelf of gemstones, I scanned the various colored stones before asking, “Miss Ridgeway, can you tell me about hematite and malachite?”

  She lifted her head and glared up at me. “Why? What do you know of those stones?”

  “Nothing. I just remember reading somewhere that gems had symbolic meanings and I saw your shelf of them over on the wall.”

  After a moment, she said, “Hematite is worn for protection, and malachite lets a person know about impending danger.”

  Alex jotted down her answer as I continued to look around the room and suddenly came upon a shelf full of daggers and knives on the bottom of one of the displays. Nudging Alex with my elbow, I pointed at them. Alex walked over to the shelf and looked at them, careful to not touch even one.

  I asked, “What role do knives and daggers play in the world of witches?”

  “They’re called athames, and we use them in our spellcasting. They’re used to cut herbs, carve symbols into candles, cast circles, and call quarters. If you’re thinking we use them to harm chickens or anything ignorant like that, you’re totally off the mark. They are ritual aids only.”

  Alex turned back toward me and motioned it was time to leave. Taking the list of people who attended the witches’ circle meetings off the counter, he said, “Thank you for your help today, Miss Ridgeway. My partner and I will be leaving now, but if we have any more questions, we’ll be back.”

  “What is this all about anyway? Is this the Sunset Ridge police department cracking down on our right to practice religion freely and respectfully again? Because if it is, I’m going to call the ACLU this time,” Tamara said in her outraged tone.

  As I joined him at the door, Alex calmly explained to her, “No. Amy Perkins was found murdered last night, stabbed in the heart with a knife in a circle of stones and candles. Good day, Miss Ridgeway.”

  We left as Tamara’s jaw hit the floor, and when we got to the car, I couldn’t help but laugh at what he just did. Looking over the roof of the car, I said, “I wasn’t sure anything would be able to shut off that constant stream of nastiness, but you found it. From the rest of the world and the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

  As he opened his car door, he looked over at me, clearly concerned. “You forgot to ask her about the herb garden markers. Do you want to run back in?”

  The mere thought of having to spend even another minute with Tamara Ridgeway made me cringe, even if I could find out about those garden markers, so I waved off his concern. “No big deal. She probably would have given me a lecture on how I was undeserving of growing herbs being a non-witch and all. I’ll just look online for some.”

  Alex chuckled and we got into the car, neither of us unhappy about having to leave the Third Eye Mind and Body Center. As we drove down the road away from our first interview in the Amy Perkins case, I had to admit that Tamara Ridgeway had certainly done very little to make us think she couldn’t be the murderer.

  “So what did you think of her?” I asked as Alex turned the corner toward town.

  He gave me a sideways glance and grimaced. “I think she’s not the best ambassador the pagan community could have. That’s what I think.”

  As usual, his dry way of describing someone perfectly made me chuckle. “I can’t disagree with that. She seems more likely to turn someone away from being a witch than toward it. No wonder Amy didn’t want to call herself one. I wouldn’t want anyone associating me with that woman either. But what do you think of her regarding our case? Do you think we can consider her a suspect?”

  “I don’t know. She claims that she hasn’t seen our victim in weeks since mid-July. Hard to kill someone if you aren’t anywhere nearby them. And she certainly looked surprised when I told her about Amy’s death.”

  “So you believe her when she says she hasn’t seen her in weeks?” I asked, unsure if I did.

  He remained silent for a moment, staring at the road ahead of us, until he answered, “I don’t know.”

  The part of me that loved jumping to conclusions found this part of Alex quite frustrating. I knew his way was the better way for an investigator to be, but it still drove me nuts at times like this.

  “Well, she definitely wasn’t Amy Perkins’ biggest fan. I think we can both agree on that, right?”

  “That I’m willing to agree with,” he said with a grin. “Amy certainly upset her religious apple cart by refusing to say she was a witch. Seems to be six of one, half dozen of another to me.”

  “I don’t think so. That’s like saying all Christians are the same. There are definitely differences between someone who’s Catholic and someone who’s Baptist. It obviously meant something to Amy that she called herself a Druid instead of a witch.”

  As he brought the car to slow stop and turned onto Main Street toward the station, he looked over at me and nodded. “I stand corrected. You’re right. I wasn’t seeing it that way, but you’re right.”

  “So I’m curious, why did we leave so quickly? I thought those daggers looked a little like the one Amy was stabbed with. I was surprised you didn’t want to take them to check them out.”

  He parked the car in front of the police station and turned to face me. “Whether or not they looked like what was in her chest, I didn’t have a warrant and no valid reason to take them as evidence.”

  “Aren’t you worried she’s going to do something with them?”

  Shaking his head, he shrugged. “No. She’s more consumed with the news we gave her right before we left, so I doubt she’s even thinking about what we were looking at. She’s either worried about us suspecting her or stunned by what I just told her. Once I get a look at the report on the weapon, we might want to go back there with a warrant for them, though.”

  The mere idea that I might have to spend any more time around Tamara Ridgeway made my chi feel like someone had it in a vice grip. That was one witch I preferred never to see again.

  “Maybe next time I’ll stay behind at the office and answer the phone. That sounds more enjoyable than another visit with her.”

  Chapter Five

  “I have a few questions for Stephen before we head out to talk to that list of people Tamara gave us. Do you want to make a coffee run while I do that?” Alex asked as a sheepish look crossed his face.

  Was he intentionally keeping Stephen and me apart?

  “I guess. I’ll be at The Grounds if you want me,” I said, not meaning to sulk but definitely sulking.

  Spinning away from him, I headed toward the coffee shop, ignoring what he was saying behind me. I knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but this whole Stephen thing had me feeling defensive and my confidence all up-ended. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong, but I couldn’t, and the mystery as to why Stephen disliked me so much had already gotten under my skin.

  Maybe a good cup of coffee would help me get a grip on things. I hoped it would because if not, I had a feeling Alex and I were heading toward a doozy of a fight about Stephen, and I definitely didn’t want that.

  The owner of The Grounds, Pam Branch, stood behind the counter as I walked through the front door and smiled at me as I approached her. “Poppy McGuire! I was wondering if I’d see you today. How is your Friday going?”

  “Pretty good, I guess. You know how it is,” I answered noncommittally, careful not to let how I really felt out for her to see.

  She prepared my coffee and set the Styrofoam cup down in front of me. “Just you, or are you ordering for your partner today too?”

  I’d stormed away in a huff without asking Alex if it was a black day or a coffee with cream day, so I didn’t know what to order for him. Waving her question off, I smiled. “You know how he is. I thought I’d let him get his own for a change.”

  None of those words made any real sense, and I had a feeling that the confused look on Pam’s face meant sh
e knew it, but she didn’t press the issue and I paid for my coffee. She handed me my change as she asked, “Are you and Alex investigating that girl’s murder in the woods from last night?”

  I nodded my answer, and she continued. “Such a shame. I hate to see that happen to anyone, but for such a young woman to be taken like that makes me so sad. I swear I don’t know what the world is coming to, Poppy.”

  “I know. I feel the same way. It’s hard when it’s someone who has their whole life in front of them.”

  “Do you know what happened? I heard some gossip this morning that she was part of some demonic cult. I thought that was ridiculous. Who here in Sunset Ridge would be involved in that?”

  Pushing down my first instinct to defend Amy and set the record straight about her beliefs, I waved off what she said again and shook my head. “You know how gossip is here in town. People say the most bizarre things that have no basis in fact whatsoever. I don’t believe much of anything I hear these days.”

  She nodded her agreement and let the whole thing drop, even though she likely hoped I’d give her something to go on about the case. “I agree, but the more incredible stuff makes me wonder sometimes.”

  I sighed like I knew exactly how she felt and quickly made my escape to the table the farthest away from the counter to put some distance between us. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Pam, but much more talk about demonic worship and I’d have to set her straight about Amy’s being a Druid.

  Alex showed up a few minutes later, and looked back toward our usual table for me. I saw disappointment cloud over his expression when he didn’t see me there, so I waved my hand and said loudly, “Alex, I’m over here!”

  He turned his head toward the sound of my voice and smiled. Walking toward me, he said with a chuckle, “I thought maybe you decided to head to the office instead of going out and investigating with me today.”

  Joking, I said, “I wouldn’t do that without at least messaging you about it.”

  That we were talking about me actually choosing my work at The Eagle over investigating any case, even the most banal one, meant I wasn’t the only one who thought there was a problem between us.

  “Howard texted me this morning and gave his full-throated approval of my working with you on this case. I didn’t ask, but I suspect that article I wrote has suddenly become far more acceptable for his newspaper.”

  “So I get you all to myself today?” he asked with a sexy grin as he sat down opposite me.

  “I guess, unless we’re being joined by Stephen and Craig,” I said, floating that suggestion out in the most sincere hope that the answer would be no.

  Alex shook his head and looked down at my lone coffee cup before looking up at me. “No. It’s just us, but I guess only one of us is going to be caffeinated.”

  Embarrassed by my hasty departure a few minutes earlier, I hung my head. “I didn’t know how you wanted it. I guess I would have if I had asked, though.”

  “Is something wrong, Poppy? Why did you storm away like that?”

  I so didn’t want to have yet another conversation about Stephen, and when I lifted my head and looked into Alex’s dark eyes, I saw he didn’t either, unless it had to do with this case. So I let my worry go for the moment.

  “Just the need for coffee. I can get you one now. Black or with cream today?”

  He stood up from the table and shook his head. “I got it. But I’m getting it to go because I want to get through that list of people today.”

  Thankful we didn’t end up in a fight, I drank the last of my coffee and headed toward the door as he paid Pam for his. She waved goodbye to me, and I smiled back at her, happy I had avoided any more discussion about the case with her.

  As Alex and I crossed Main Street to walk toward the car, he handed me a bag from the coffee shop. Surprised by his gift, I opened it and instantly smelled the delicious scent of an orange cranberry muffin.

  “What’s this for?” I asked before taking another deep breath of sweet orange.

  “I thought you might like it,” he explained and then winked. “Think of it like candy that goes nicely with your morning coffee.”

  Looking up at him, I couldn’t help but love how adorable he could be at times. When he shed the very serious way he usually preferred to be, Alex had the ability to be so thoughtful. I knew he’d understood why I walked away so quickly, and I also knew that he appreciated that I hadn’t chosen to rehash the whole topic again in The Grounds. So the muffin was his way of thanking me.

  “Well, thank you. It’s even better than candy, you know, because I can justify a muffin in my mind as something more than pure sugar, even though that’s probably what it really is.”

  I wished I could stop and kiss him, but since we were in the middle of the street, it seemed like the wrong time. When we reached the curb, I wanted to at least tell him how much I loved him, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a poster tacked to a telephone pole that caught my attention.

  A bright yellow image of a sun sat in the middle of the poster with the words “Third Annual Tarot Readers Convention, Jacob’s Hall, Caston, MD” in big black letters underneath it. At the bottom it said, “Come and find out the secrets of your future!”

  “Look! We could go there to do some investigating too!” I said excitedly as I pointed at the poster.

  Alex walked over to the pole and stopped to read the information. He turned to look at me with suspicion in his eyes. “A tarot reader convention?” he asked in a tone full of skepticism.

  “Yeah. We might get some good leads. What else do we have to do for this case? Stephen is busy investigating our victim’s personal life, so we have time to check out her social and professional life. She did read tarot cards for people.”

  He pulled out the list Tamara had given us and waved it in front of me. “We have to track down all these people and interview them. That’s what we have to do.”

  Discouraged for a moment that we wouldn’t get to go to the tarot reader convention, I perked up as a good reason to attend popped into my brain. “It’s possible that many of those people on that list would also be at the convention. We may be able to kill two birds with one stone.”

  My logic stopped his doubt in its tracks, and he pursed his lips. “Let me guess. You want to get your cards read, right?”

  The thought had crossed my mind, and I had a few pointed questions I wanted to ask in the hope of getting some answers to my concerns about our relationship. I didn’t want him to know that was the reason I wanted to drive the ten miles to Caston today, though.

  Squinting from the sun, I stepped in front of him to avoid the bright light and looked him dead in the eyes to make my point. “I happen to be someone who keeps an open mind to the mysteries of the universe, unlike other people, who shall remain nameless, Alex. We need to interview self-proclaimed witches, and it isn’t unheard of for witches to be tarot card readers. I don’t think it could hurt, and it could help a lot.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, what choice do I have?” he asked with a grin.

  The mocking sound of his voice told me he thought our trip to the tarot reader convention would be a colossal waste of time, but I appreciated the fact that he didn’t say that.

  “Great! Road trip!”

  “But while I’m driving, I want you to tell me everything you know about Amy Perkins.”

  Alex drove out of town toward Caston, which was about ten miles south of Sunset Ridge toward Baltimore, while I thought about everything I knew about our victim. As I considered what I’d learned about her during my work on that paganism article, I remembered he’d said he wanted to talk to Stephen about something but hadn’t mentioned anything about it since. My curiosity being what it always was, I had to ask.

  “So what did you want to speak to Stephen about?”

  Without missing a beat, he answered, “I had a few questions about this case.”

  Okay. That didn’t sound like he was hiding some alternati
ve truth, like he had something to discuss with him that he didn’t want me to hear.

  “Like?” Sometimes I felt like a dentist trying to pull things out of his mouth.

  He passed a car on the back road to Caston and pulled back into the right lane. “Like who called in the crime? Who found our victim? What did the report on the knife have to say?”

  “All excellent questions,” I mumbled, ashamed I didn’t think of any of them before that moment. God, this problem with Stephen was blinding me to even the basic aspects of this case!

  “I thought so,” Alex said with a slight chuckle.

  Staring out the passenger side window at the trees still full with green leaves on the side of the road, I asked, “So did he know the answers?”

  Nodding, he passed another car but stayed in the passing lane this time. “Yep. Austin Mullen was the person who found our victim. He was also the person who called 9-1-1. He’s not from Sunset Ridge, but he drove up from Frederick two nights ago to do some hiking in the woods out near my place. From what he said, he saw no one else the whole time he was out there until he came upon the clearing where Amy Perkins was found.”

  “Well, that wasn’t very helpful.”

  “No, but it tells us something about the area where the crime happened. This guy had been out there for over a day and hadn’t seen anyone, so it’s likely whoever Amy was with wasn’t out there camping.”

  I turned to look at Alex, wondering why he was following that train of thought. “True, but did you ever think the murderer was? That campsite didn’t look to me like it had been used for cooking or anything else a camper would use it for.”

  Alex tilted his head back and forth and shrugged. “Well, no, but it’s good to have that information from Mr. Mullen.”

  “What about the report on the knife? Did Stephen have that yet?”

  I knew full well that it was possible he hadn’t gotten the report from the lab yet since it often took them days or even weeks if they were busy. Even a basic report on the knife could very well take a day or so. It made me wonder why Alex would be asking him about it not even twenty-four hours later.