The Gambler Grimoire: An Urban Fantasy Mystery (Wicklow College of Arcane Arts Book 1)

by BR Kingsolver

  Ophelia nodded. “I don’t know what to do. My lawyer says I could end up in prison, and I didn’t do anything!”

  “As an accomplice?”

  The girl took a deep breath. “Yes. Because I didn’t turn Corey in. I mean, I understand right and wrong, and why you’re supposed to report a crime. But Kagan seems to think I should have called the police on my own boyfriend! It was Josh’s fault, not Corey’s.”

  “Are you saying that Corey’s guilty of killing Josh?” I asked.

  “It was self-defense, but I shouldn’t say anymore.” Ophelia walked faster, but since I was taller, I didn’t have any trouble matching her pace.

  “This may sound cold,” I said as we reached the breezeway leading past her apartment, “but you really need to think about yourself. Take care of Lia, and then worry about Corey.”

  “You sound like my lawyer. And my father.”

  “What you’re hearing is common sense. You can’t help anyone unless you’re free to talk.”

  I stopped when we reached my door, and Ophelia also stopped.

  “Dr. Robinson, I get the feeling that Kagan thinks I’m guilty—of something—but he’s treated me that way since the first time he talked to me, and that was before Josh died.”

  I considered what to say. “I think he believes Dr. Kavanaugh might have been dating a student.”

  Ophelia stared at me in disbelief, then burst out laughing. “Me? That is rich! Believe me, he barely ever looked at me. Try someone a lot prettier. More athletic. Someone like your friend Ms. Grace or Emma was more his type.”

  Her eyes shifted to something past my shoulder, and her laughter cut off. I glanced that direction and saw Emma walking toward us.

  “Hey, Lia,” Emma called. “How are you doing?”

  When Emma reached us, Ophelia turned and fell in step with her. I watched them walk away, down the steps to the street, and turn left toward the greenhouse. They could have been sisters, one taller, more slender, prettier, and more athletic than the other.

  On the other side of the wall surrounding the campus, past the street, the man from England leaned against a tree by the parking lot that bordered the river. I unlocked my door and went inside.

  Chapter 21

  “That’s him!” Kelly said, nudging me with her elbow.

  “The love of your life?” I asked, looking up from the menu I was perusing. “Or even better, the love of my life?”

  The expression on Kelly’s face wasn’t one of amusement.

  “The man from London. The one Mum described as a gentleman.”

  I followed the line of Kelly’s gaze and saw the man sitting next to the window. The Shillelagh had little to distinguish itself from most English or Irish pubs in North America, which was a large part of its charm on a Saturday morning. The man Kelly was watching was deeply immersed in destroying a full-Irish breakfast.

  “He does give the impression of class,” I said, noting the quality and cut of his suit. I took a picture of the guy with my phone, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to have one.

  The waitress showed up about that time.

  “I don’t think I can do the whole thing,” I said. “I’ll take the half breakfast.”

  Kelly chuckled. “The full-Irish for me, with orange juice and more coffee.”

  The waitress picked up the menus and left.

  “You may regret not topping up,” Kelly said. She had talked me into another kayaking excursion that day.

  “We’ll see who floats better. So, he has to know that Kavanaugh’s dead, and it’s been a week since the police escorted his buddy off campus, but he’s still hanging around. Maybe we should follow him and see if he finds the grimoire.”

  “Have fun,” Kelly responded. “Personally, I don’t care who has it, as long as things settle back to normal and I don’t have to worry about people dying.”

  Since the man had arrived at the pub before Kelly and me, he obviously wasn’t following either of us. But I was still curious.

  “I wonder where he’s staying.”

  Kelly gave an indifferent shrug. “The Wayfarer, or the Grand. Other than those two, chain motels are about the only choices. He doesn’t look like the chain motel type.”

  I agreed. Most tourists in Wicklow were more of the outdoorsy types, not those who wore a three-piece suit to breakfast on Saturday morning.

  “Are there any arcane bookstores in Wicklow?” It seemed strange that I hadn’t thought to ask that before.

  “Not really. Not like Merriweather’s, but Carragher’s carries some books on the arcane and the occult, and Agnes had a little room in the back with some books.”

  When we got back to town after the kayak trip, I had Kelly drop me off downtown.

  “I’ll walk home. I want to do a little browsing around,” I told her.

  Kelly laughed. “Carragher’s is on Fourth Street, about a block off Main. They close at six.”

  I shook my head. Other than bars, restaurants, and gas stations, it seemed as though everything in Wicklow closed early. After living in San Francisco for so long, it took some getting used to, and Kelly was constantly having to remind me that Wicklow wasn’t a twenty-four-hour town.

  The first place I went to was Back to Basics to see Iris Bishop. A ‘Grand Re-Opening’ banner hung across the front of the shop, and a couple of small chalkboards on the sidewalk advertised specials. At mid-afternoon, there was a healthy crowd inside the shop.

  Iris did have some help—a woman working the cash register. Based on descriptions I had heard, I wondered if the woman was Helen Donnelly.

  I browsed through the shop, found the nook with books, and saw nothing of interest. I did pick up an oven glove, a couple of dish towels, an assortment of dried herbs in plastic bags, and a tea infuser. I waited until Iris and the other woman were alone at the register, then approached them.

  “Your re-opening seems to be going fairly well,” I said, putting my purchases on the counter.

  “Hi!” Iris said. “Yes, business has been good. I don’t plan to carry a lot of stuff Agnes had in her stock, so I put it all on sale. Do you know Helen?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure,” I said. “I’m Savanna Robinson. Helen Donnelly, I take it?”

  The Donnelly woman smiled at first, but the smile left her face when I identified myself. I paid, and as Iris bagged my goods, pulled out my phone.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have run into this gentleman, would you?” I asked, turning the phone toward the two women.

  They both peered at the picture. Iris smiled. “Oh, yes. He stopped by yesterday. Said that he knew Agnes from years ago. Very pleasant. Expressed his condolences and asked if I knew why she had been murdered. Wondered if it was a robbery or something. He asked about grimoires, but of course, Agnes carried only those gardening books back there and some silly books on pseudo witchcraft.”

  She looked up from the phone. “That reminds me. Lieutenant Kagan said that they didn’t find Agnes's grimoire. I’ve looked all over for it. I don’t suppose she might have left it in her office on campus?”

  I shook my head. “No. The girls who work in the greenhouse say that she always took it with her. That’s the odd thing. Two murders, and although I’m told that both Dr. Kavanaugh and Agnes had grimoires handed down through their families, both books are missing.”

  Helen’s head jerked up. “Brett’s spell book is missing?”

  “So I’m told,” I said, giving the woman a smile. “Of course, I came along after his death and never met the man, so I really don’t know. I’m just curious about why so many people die around here.” I raised an eyebrow at Iris. “It’s like moving into a war zone, or a TV mystery show.”

  Iris nodded.

  “It’s just a weird coincidence that you moved here at the same time as a murder,” Helen said.

  “Or there’s a homicidal maniac on the loose,” I responded, then picked up my bags, and left the store.

  It was a six-block walk to Fourth Stre
et. I turned right when I got there and saw a sign ‘Books’ halfway down the block. I stopped, looked back the way I had come, and chuckled. The man the police had removed from campus was watching me from across Main Street. The man Kelly and I had seen at breakfast was half a block behind me. I didn’t spot the third man Kelly’s mum had sent a picture of.

  Proceeding down the street, I looked in the windows of the bookstore—across the top of the window was painted, ‘Carragher’s New and Used Books’—then went inside. The man behind the counter was reading a book and glanced over the top of his glasses at me. A gray fringe encircled his bald head, his long hair pulled back in a short ponytail. His beard was neatly trimmed, and he wore a bright blue Hawaiian shirt. The book he was reading was David Hume’s Moral Philosophy.

  I glanced around the shop, taking in the way it was laid out, and how the books and book categories were presented. Best sellers at the front, of course, but the shelves on the walls near the front had a healthy serving of fiction—romance, science fiction, and fantasy. Books on Pennsylvania—geography, history, and tourist attractions—were a little farther back.

  “Excuse me,” I said, approaching the counter. “I’m Dr. Savanna Robinson. I just started teaching at the college, and I hoped you might carry some books I would be interested in.”

  The man slowly lowered his book, raised his eyes, and gave me a thorough inspection.

  “Lowell Carragher. I guess that would depend on whether you were looking for books in your academic field, or a romance to fill your evening.”

  “I’m more of a sword-and-sorcery kind of girl.”

  His mouth twisted into a grin. “Heavy on the sorcery? Around the corner, or over there.” He motioned to what appeared to be a hallway with a ‘Restrooms’ sign hanging above it, then to the science fiction section. “Take a right, and then another one.”

  “Thank you.”

  The books in the small room he directed me to included some I might consider for a serious academic reading list. I picked up a basic apothecary book that I already owned, thinking to put it in the lab rather than my own copy, which had scribblings in the margins. After another half an hour looking around the store, I took the book to the counter.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in grimoires, would you?” Carragher asked.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “The company you keep,” he said, his eyes flashing briefly toward the front of the store. Outside, one of the men following me watched the store from across the street, the other was pretending to look at the books in the window.

  “Oh, of course. Do you have any spell books that require an exotic accent? I’ve been hunting forever for one written in either Cockney or Glaswegian.”

  He snorted a laugh.

  “We told them at the college that Brett Kavanaugh doesn’t live here anymore, but they’re still hanging around. Unfortunately, they seem to have attached themselves to me this afternoon.”

  “I’m getting ready to close up for the day. If you like, I’d be glad to escort you to your car.”

  I smiled at him. “That’s awfully sweet of you, but since I don’t have a car, it would be a rather long walk.”

  “I could offer you a ride, but it might be quicker to walk to your place. I live about five blocks from here and didn’t bring my car today.”

  “My apartment is on campus. But I don’t think I have anything to fear from them.”

  “They just strike me as a rough crowd.”

  I turned and studied the men outside. “Well, thank you. I do appreciate it, but I have a bit of shopping to do, then I’ll take the bus.”

  I paid for the book, tucked it into one of the bags from the other store, and walked to the grocery store. The men from England were nowhere in sight. Iris’s shop was still open, and she still had customers. I hoped people were drawn to the sale, rather than by macabre curiosity, but didn’t delude myself.

  Later, standing at the bus stop with my bag of groceries and watching the sunset, I was startled by a voice, speaking in a cultured British accent.

  “You could earn a very handsome finder’s fee for a certain grimoire.”

  I turned, smiled, and batted my eyes. “I’m sure the same could be said if I discovered a cure for cancer. Tell me why I would give either one to you instead of selling them directly.”

  The crunch of a footstep on gravel alerted me that the nicely dressed Englishman and I weren’t alone.

  “It would be far safer to let someone more experienced handle the book.”

  “How kind of you. You’re probably right. A woman shouldn’t worry herself about such weighty matters.”

  “Quite right.”

  There was a faint stirring of the air behind me, the scuff of a shoe on the sidewalk, an indeterminate feeling that someone had entered my personal space. I bent over and set my bags on the ground. When I straightened, I stepped away from both men while pulling my wand from my sleeve.

  The man behind and to my left stepped toward me. I took another step back while whipping my wand out into the space between us. He was a little too slow, and the wand slashed across his chest in a burst of tiny stars.

  “Glacio!” I cried. Both men froze where they stood.

  “Quite impressive.”

  I whirled about to find Lowell Carragher standing fifteen feet away. He was taller than I had thought he would be.

  “Perhaps, but I have no idea what to do with them now. The bus will be here any minute.”

  “Is that spell figurative or literal?” Carragher asked.

  “Literal, I’m afraid. I didn’t plan ahead. They won’t survive very long once their blood finishes freezing.”

  Carragher walked over and touched one man’s cheek with his fingertips. “Ah, yes, quite frosty. You do know what they seek, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “They tried to intimidate people in London for information a week or so ago, then broke into Merriweather’s.”

  “And obviously didn’t find what they were looking for.”

  “They stole some correspondence between Harold Merriweather and Brett Kavanaugh. I assume that’s why they’re in Wicklow.”

  “That makes some sense. You’re friends with Kelly, I presume. There’s your bus. I would be fascinated to continue this conversation. Dinner some evening, perhaps?”

  “What do I do about these idiots?”

  “Just leave them here. Release the spell when you get on the bus.”

  “What about you?”

  Carragher smiled. “I don’t think I’ll have any more trouble with them than you did. Call me at the store.”

  The bus pulled up, I hastily snatched up my bags, showed the driver my bus pass, and muttered, “Inrita.” As the bus drove away, I saw Carragher and the man in the suit standing and talking to each other.

  Chapter 22

  David Hamilton met me at the bottom of the steps leading from the street to our apartments. He reached for one of the bags of groceries.

  “I’m really not as helpless as you seem to think,” I said, surrendering the bag.

  “Looks like you have your hands full.”

  I opened my door, then snatched my groceries away from him.

  “Do you know Lowell Carragher? Well, I assume you know him, the size of this town and all. I mean do you know him very well?”

  “Yes, we go fishing quite often. Why?”

  “Was he friends with Brett Kavanaugh?”

  “He was. He’s also good friends with Kelly Grace and Anton Ricard. And probably most of the faculty here. He teaches an occasional course, and works with the bookstore to help us order books. Why?”

  I took a deep breath, glanced down at the bags in my arms, and said, “Do you have a little time? Would you like to come in and have a drink?”

  David followed me into my apartment and took a seat in the living room while I put my groceries away and came back with two glasses of wine.

  It took me about half an hour to tell him about
the men confronting Loretta Grace and her sister in London, and the men’s appearance in Wicklow.

  When I finished, I said, “That’s why I was asking about Lowell Carragher.”

  Hamilton was quiet for a few minutes, shifting his gaze from his wine glass to me, then to the view out my window.

  “Lowell is all right,” he finally said. “I would trust him with my life, if that were necessary. A very strong witch, especially adept at manipulating nature. And if Brett did have the Gambler Grimoire, and had questions about it, then Lowell is who he probably would have spoken to. But as far as money is concerned, Lowell has no need for money, at least in the amounts you’ve mentioned. If he was interested in the book, it would be for the content, not as a business product.”

  “I’ve always found that people say they aren’t interested in money until they have a chance to get some.”

  He shrugged. “Since he owns that entire block where his store is located downtown, as well as the shopping center on the west bank of the river, and a resort north of the city—with no debt on any of it—I feel fairly confident that a hundred grand isn’t going to entice him too much. He and Harold Merriweather were friends, so he might know about the book.”

  Swallowing the last of his wine, he added, “I’m concerned about these guys from England. Did they physically accost you?”

  “Not really. I never let either of them get close enough to actually touch me, but I did feel threatened. I prefer not to engage in mage battles in the middle of downtown. I mean, there were people around, families and kids.”

  “You froze them? I mean, actually froze them with cold? You blinded me, froze them, what other kind of goodies do you have up your sleeve?”

  I sighed. “I’m not a very subtle sort of girl. Oh, I could fight fire with fire, ice with ice, and some of my students think my sarcasm should be classified as a deadly weapon. I’m not going to start any earthquakes or call any tornadoes. I should have used the spell that Kelly used on you. The one I used was probably a bit too dangerous, but them following me around all day just put my teeth on edge, and maybe I wanted to frighten them a little.”