“And, where would I get a kayak? Not to mention, I’ve never been in one in my life.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem. One of the guys is an instructor, and he has a couple of extra boats. I can call and ask if he minds me bringing a novice.”
And that’s what happened. Up at the crack of dawn, I allowed myself to be dragged down to the river north of the city, stuffed into a floating sausage casing, handed a double-ended paddle, and pushed out into a river that was moving far faster than I was expecting. By the time we pulled the kayaks out of the water for lunch and beer, I was sore in muscles I didn’t realize I had.
I did have to admit that it was fun, and I met some pleasant people. It was mid-afternoon when Kelly and I got back to town.
“I discovered this morning that I need shampoo,” I said as we drove in. “Can we stop somewhere?”
“No problem. I have a few things I’d like to pick up as well.”
Kelly found a parking place on Main Street, a block from a grocery store that had a pharmacy.
As we got out of the car, Kelly asked, “Do you ski?”
“Why would I want to do that? I hate cold weather.”
“It’s fun,” Kelly said, laughing.
I stopped. “Are you trying to kill me? If you can’t drown me, you’re going to push me off a mountain into a tree?”
Kelly laughed even harder.
As we walked down the street to the grocery store, we passed Agnes’s shop. Glancing in the window, I saw a bookshelf had fallen, spilling its contents across the floor. I stopped, and took a good look. A chair was overturned, a table used to display potions and small knickknacks had been also overturned. Glancing at the front door, I saw it was ajar, but the sign hanging there said, ‘Closed.’
“What the—” I walked over to the door and cautiously pushed it open.
“Agnes?” I called out.
“What’s the matter?” Kelly asked coming up behind me and peering over my shoulder. “Oh. Not good.”
We pushed into the shop, where there had obviously been some sort of disturbance. Making our way around the stuff littering the floor, we found Agnes on the other side of the bookcase. Lying on her stomach in a pool of blood with an athame lying next to her and her open eyes staring at infinity, she was obviously dead.
I stepped back, unable to tear my eyes away, and fumbled for the phone in my pocket.
“I’ll check out the back,” Kelly said, moving toward the back of the store, her wand in her hand.
“Yeah,” I answered, dialing the number Kagan had given me. “Lieutenant Kagan? This is Savanna Robinson. Do you know where Back to Basics is on Main Street? Well, I think you should get down here. Agnes Bishop has been murdered.”
“Don’t touch anything, and stay outside,” Kagan said. “I’ll have someone there in a couple of minutes.” He hung up.
“Kelly?” I called. “Kagan said for us to wait outside.”
I waited a couple of minutes before Kelly emerged from the back.
“Someone tossed the place,” she said. “I don’t know what they were looking for, but the backroom has been searched. I went upstairs, and it’s a total mess. I think they went out the back, the door was wide open.”
I shook my head. “Agnes was a neat freak. Everything had to be just so.”
We went outside, and in less than a minute, a police car, lights flashing, screeched to a halt in front of the store. Two cops got out, their hands on holstered sidearms.
“Are you the ones who called in?” the driver asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, pointing to the door.
The cops went in, and through the window Kelly and I could see them check Agnes’s body, then search through the rest of the shop.
“What’s upstairs?” I asked.
“She lived up there. Living room and kitchen on the next floor, and a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor. Her workshop and a small shower room are back there,” Kelly said, pointing down the hall away from the customer area of the shop.
After about five minutes, one of the cops came out just as Kagan pulled up in an unmarked car. The uniformed officer walked over to meet him, and they talked for a few minutes. Then the uniform went to his car, opened the trunk, and started pulling things out of it. Kagan walked over to us.
“What happened?”
“We were walking to the grocery store,” Kelly said. “I parked over there. Savanna looked in the window.”
Kagan stepped past us and took a look through the window for himself. “Okay. And then?”
“The door was open, but the sign said closed,” I said. “I was by here the other day, and everything in that shop was so neat it looked like a picture in a magazine. So, we went in, and found her.”
“What did you touch?” Kagan asked.
“Nothing with our hands. I pushed the door open with my shoulder. I didn’t need to check if she was breathing.” I leaned closer and dropped my voice. “Lieutenant Kagan, I have a healer’s Gift. You wouldn’t want me operating on you, but anyone with a hint of the Gift would know there wasn’t anyone alive in there.”
He nodded. “You’re a talented woman.”
I snorted. “If I was more talented, I’d be a doctor like my father instead of an apothecary. We all have a variety of abilities, don’t we?”
The cop came over, handed Kagan some gloves and shoe covers, then started stringing his yellow tape across the front of the building. Kagan donned the coverings, then ducked under the tape, and went inside. The cop finished taping off the front of the shop, then ran the tape from one end of the building to a parking meter, across a couple of more, then back to the other end of the building, blocking off the sidewalk in front of the shop as well. He took the roll of tape and went inside. Looking through the window, we could see him walk down the hall, and out the back door into the alley.
A white van marked ‘Crime Scene Investigation’ pulled up, and four people in white coveralls, gloves, shoe covers, hats, and masks got out and went inside. Kagan came out about ten minutes later.
He handed us each some latex gloves and shoe covers. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to come inside with me.”
I did mind. I had no desire to go back in there and see what remained of Agnes, but I took a deep breath, put on the shoe covers and gloves, and followed Kagan.
The woman’s body still lay where we’d found her. A man was taking pictures of her from all angles. When he finished, a woman with a tag on her overalls that said ‘Medical Examiner’ came over and inspected Agnes, touching her in several places.
“How long?” Kagan asked.
“Less than an hour,” the woman replied, touching the blood pool with one finger. “It’s still liquid.”
I felt a little disoriented. Kelly and I had found the body approximately thirty-five minutes before. That meant we had just missed the killer, especially since I assumed the search upstairs happened after Agnes was dead.
After the ME completed her examination, she called two of the white-clad men to turn the body over. When they did, everyone gasped. The middle of Agnes’s chest was charred, and her shirt was scorched around the edges of the burn.
“What the hell?” Kagan asked.
The ME looked up at Kagan, her eyes flicking toward Kelly and me in question.
“They’re from the college,” Kagan said.
The ME looked back down at the body. “I don’t think this was caused by anything natural.”
“Fireball, perhaps,” I said, “but more likely a lightning bolt. Very tight, not diffused.”
A nod from the ME, then she looked at the wound that caused all the bleeding. “I’ll have to verify, but that knife could be the weapon used to cut her throat.” The athame in the blood pool hadn’t been moved.
“The lightning bolt didn’t kill her, so he used the athame to finish her,” I said.
“He?” Kagan shot me a look.
“Or she. A five-foot woman could have done it as easil
y as a football player,” I answered. “If I can get a picture of that athame, I’ll show it to the ladies who work in the greenhouse.”
Kagan frowned. “And you think they might recognize it?”
“If it’s Agnes’s, yes. My grad students worked with her in the greenhouse all last year.”
He nodded. “I can send a picture to your phone.”
“That works. Can I get it without all the blood?”
Kagan questioned us for another half hour, thankfully outside. When he let us go, Kelly started back toward her car.
“Hey,” I called. “I still need shampoo, and I feel like I need a shower and to wash my hair even more than I did an hour ago.”
We went on to the grocery store but walked back to the car afterward on the other side of the street. Neither of us wanted to get close to the crime scene again. It was a quiet drive back to my apartment.
Chapter 10
Kelly stopped by for a cup of coffee in the morning, then went on to the library while I gathered what I wanted to take to my office. It was registration day, when students received their class schedules, bought their books and supplies, and took care of any administrative tasks they might have. Formal classes would start on Tuesday.
I had a meeting with the students working in the garden and the greenhouse scheduled at nine o’clock, and a meeting with the graduate students I would be advising at three o’clock. In between, there was the lunch meeting with the Alchemy Department. From experience at other places I had taught, I knew I should check with the bookstore to ensure they had all the books and supplies I had ordered for my students. I also hoped to find and meet the other professors in my departments.
The girls who showed up at the nine o’clock meeting made me feel old. If I was honest with myself, Kelly made me feel old, and she was six years older than Emma. Ophelia was twenty-two but didn’t appear any older than the undergrads. It felt like the students got younger every year, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I might be getting older.
I couldn’t help but compare Ophelia with Kelly. If Kavanaugh was attracted to both young women, they couldn’t be any different physically. Ophelia had short, dark-brown hair, and dark eyes in a round, plain face. No one would ever call her beautiful. Whereas Kelly was tall and slender, Ophelia was barely five feet tall and round, almost chubby. Emma was much more like Kelly, except for their hair color.
I asked each girl about their experience and their college major, then told them what I expected of them. I outlined the duties of the job and a general sketch of how I wanted things done. The younger girls, Ava, Charlotte, and Barbara, listened mostly with wide eyes, looking a little frightened and unsure of themselves.
“We are hoping to hire a permanent greenhouse and garden manager,” I said, “but until then, Emma will be in charge and will set schedules. Make sure to give her your class schedules, and to let her know if something happens and you can’t show up on time.” I pointed toward my backdoor at the far end of the herb garden. “If you need me for anything, knock there. If I’m not in, try my office in the Admin Building, or leave a message with Emma or Mrs. Bosun.”
The mundane wasn’t what drew the questions, though. I should have expected the students would mainly be interested in other things.
“Is it true that Ms. Bishop was killed this weekend?” Emma asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
I handed out copies of my class schedule, including my office hours and tutorials, then left them to organize themselves while I went to my apartment to change into appropriate professional clothing.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly. When I got back to my apartment, I saw Lieutenant Kagan out in the herb garden with the graduate students I was assigned to tutor.
I opened my back door and called, “Lieutenant? Are you looking for me?”
Kagan walked over to the foot of the stairs and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. When he turned it to me, I saw it was a picture of an athame. “You said some of your students might be able to identify this?”
I took it and descended to the garden level. “Perhaps. Emma, Lia, can you come over here, please?”
The two students walked over, and I handed the picture to Emma. “Do you recognize this?”
“Yeah, it’s Agnes’s,” Emma said and glanced at Ophelia. “Isn’t it?”
The color drained out of Ophelia’s face, and her hand shook as she pointed to the picture.
“Uh huh. See the mark on the pommel? She said it was passed down through her family.”
“Is that how she died?” Emma asked.
Kagan reached out and took the picture. “It was found at the scene. Thanks. Do you know if she had a grimoire? We didn’t find one at her shop.”
“Oh, yeah,” Emma said. “Old family hand-me-down. It’s not here at the college, I can guarantee it. She always carried it here and took it home with her. Wouldn’t let anyone touch it.”
Kagan thanked them, and I walked with him toward the gate.
“I read through what you gave me,” Kagan said. “Aconite? I take it that’s a rather exotic poison.”
“It’s not commonly used,” I said, “but it’s not hard to find. See those tall, pretty blue flowers over there? That’s aconite, also known as monkshood.”
“And you have it growing here?”
I laughed at his astounded expression. “It’s a native wildflower. You can probably find it growing in any undisturbed meadow between here and the Gulf of Mexico. The poison is an easy extraction that any alchemy or chemistry student could do. The entire plant is poisonous. Nasty to play with and requires caution. A couple of drops in a cup of tea would kill someone. It’s not the poison I would choose, but it would do the trick.”
After Kagan left, I set up appointments with each of the graduate students to discuss their interests, then sent them on their way and went to my apartment, letting myself in through the garden door. After checking the cupboard and the refrigerator, I ruefully saw that another grocery trip was needed. And for that, I either had to catch a bus, beg a ride, or call a taxi. The smartest thing to do, I decided, was to buy a new bicycle so I had transportation.
After checking the telephone book for bicycle stores, I changed clothes and caught the bus into town. The first store I went to didn’t have anything I was interested in, but a woman at the second store understood what I wanted. It would have to be ordered, however.
The bus ride home with two bags of groceries wasn’t much fun, but at least I would have breakfast in the morning. By the time I put the food away, I was tired and not in the mood to cook. I also had the President’s reception to attend, so I decided to give the Faculty Club a try. Kelly had told me it was one of the top three restaurants in town.
I’d asked Katy earlier that day about what to wear for the reception and hadn’t received a very clear answer. The Institute hadn’t held many formal events. I had a knee-length coral cocktail dress and a floor-length green evening gown, either of which could be acceptable. The reception would be my first meeting with Dr. Phillips, so I decided to take a risk on being over-dressed. Besides, the long dress showed off my figure better, and Phillips was single. As my mother always said, you never got a second chance to make a first impression.
After a quick shower, I put my hair up in a French twist, made an attempt at makeup, slipped the evening gown over my head, grabbed the matching heels, and headed for the door.
Walking through the quads in the long dress, with the old buildings looming above me, made me feel as though I’d been transported into a gothic novel. I cast a glance at Brett Kavanaugh’s rooms as I passed them and decided that, unfortunately, it was a murder mystery, instead of a romance.
“Are you alone, Dr. Robinson?” the maître d’ asked when I entered the dining room.
“Yes, and rather in a hurry, I’m afraid. The President’s reception, you know.”
He gave me a beatific smile. “Of course. This way, please.”
We
were halfway across the room when we passed Anton Ricard sitting alone at a table for two.
“Dr. Robinson. Good evening. Are you dining alone?” he asked.
“Yes, I just arrived. I had a late appointment.”
Jumping to his feet, Ricard circled the table and pulled out the other chair. “Please join me.”
Not wanting to seem rude, I sat down. “Thank you.”
The maître d’ handed me a menu, poured wine in my glass from the bottle in a cooler next to the table, and said, “I’ll send the waiter over.”
“I recommend the steaks, or the sea bass special tonight is wonderful,” Ricard said.
I glanced at his plate, and the fish did look tempting. “I’ve found that the fish selection in the shops here is rather limited,” I said. “Coming from San Francisco, I’m used to a bit more variety.”
He chuckled. “We are a ways from the coast, and the nearest major airport is Pittsburgh. By the time seafood makes its way here, it’s not exactly fresh any longer. If you’re buying at the grocery, best look for frozen.”
After I ordered, I took a look around the room. My dress didn’t appear to be out of step with those of other women who were dining there.
“You look very elegant this evening,” Ricard said.
“Thank you. I wasn’t able to get a very good sense of what might be appropriate,” I said. “I decided that more conservative would be safer.”
Ricard laughed. “At Wicklow, conservative is never out of style.” He was wearing traditional black tie and a cummerbund.
“The Institute—whether in Sausalito or Santa Cruz—was almost never very formal,” I said. “I always wore a business suit in the classroom, but some professors lectured in jeans and Birkenstocks.”
“Carver would have a stroke,” Ricard said, “and Dr. Phillips would probably call you in for a chat.”
I chuckled. “It doesn’t seem as though the formality extends to the students, however.”
He shook his head. “That all broke down starting in the sixties, I understand. The students here are indistinguishable from those at other universities in the area. Of course, the big upheaval came in nineteen twenty.”
The Gambler Grimoire: An Urban Fantasy Mystery (Wicklow College of Arcane Arts Book 1) Page 6
