“I never met her, but from everything you said I have to believe someone else was sending out the Tweets.”
“I bet it was her assistant, who I happen to have an interview with in an hour. I can’t get ahold of Salma’s parents. I’m hoping this woman will be able to help me.”
“You don’t want them finding out their daughter died from a news report.”
“Definitely.” He grabbed the spatula and started doling out the pancakes. “I’m going to have a busy day dealing with the festival and interviewing workers. What do you have planned?”
“May is coming by to give me a lesson on how to be a psychic.”
“Oh, yeah?” His smile was back. “Does that mean you’ll be able to read my mind when I get back?”
“I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what you’re thinking. I’m serious about this, though, which means I need to learn. I think May is my best bet.”
“I agree. Plus, you’ll be safe working here with May. What’s not to like about that?”
I figured I should pick a fight with him strictly on principle for that one, but I let it go. There would be plenty of time to bicker. For now, we had other things to worry about.
AS A GHOST, MAY OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T need or use a watch. She showed up at ten o’clock on the dot, though, and she looked ready for action.
“How are you?” she beamed at me as I drank my fourth mug of coffee. She seemed overly perky, something for which I wasn’t sure I was in the mood.
“Tired,” I admitted. “It was a late night.”
“Oh. You and Galen?” She asked the question in a prim and proper manner, telling me her mind was clearly in the gutter.
“Murder.”
Her expression shifted in an instant. “Who died? I was out at Wesley’s place playing Scrabble last night. We didn’t hear anything about anyone passing on.”
“The news didn’t break until late. Galen and I found the body on our way back after dinner last night. Someone named Salma Hershey.”
May was already pale to the point of being transparent, but I swear she lost two shades of color. I didn’t even know that was possible for a ghost.
“Salma? Benton and Barbara’s girl?”
“Um ... I think that’s what Galen said.” May was obviously familiar with her, but it wasn’t exactly sorrow I saw reflected on her face. “What can you tell me about her?”
“I don’t know.” May had kept her mannerisms from life, displaying them now as she sat on the couch. She looked shocked and saddened. “I didn’t know her well.”
“You obviously knew her parents.”
“I did,” she nodded. “We were all property owners together.”
She delivered the line as if it should mean something to me. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, well, you haven’t gotten your first invitation to the landowners’ association quarterly dinner. You would’ve been here for the last one, but they probably didn’t invite you because you were the new element in town. I don’t think you’ll be lucky enough to wiggle out twice.”
“Is the landowners’ association like the DDA?”
“They’re similar, and yet they’re different. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for you. You can judge the group for yourself. As for Benton and Barbara, they weren’t really my cup of tea. I mean, they weren’t horrible people, but they were out of touch with pretty much everything in the real world.”
“Galen says they’re uber-rich.”
“They are. What’s worse is they know it and feel the need to lord it over others.”
“Galen said that, too.” I shifted on my chair. “She was stabbed seven times. That seems to indicate that she knew whoever killed her. That’s a lot of rage to take out on a stranger.”
“It is, but I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility. Ted Bundy killed women he’d never met with enough blows to practically sever heads.”
I frowned. “Why do you know Ted Bundy facts?”
“Netflix had a documentary Wesley and I watched a few weeks ago. It was fascinating. He was truly a sociopath, but one who was worried about public perception more than anything else.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said dryly. “I’ve never been a big fan of serial killers ... though I do love horror movies. Maybe I should check out that documentary.”
“You’ll love it. Galen will find it fascinating. Did you know Bundy escaped from police custody not once but twice? He killed multiple young women at a sorority house in Florida after the second escape.”
“I think that’s just going to cause Galen’s blood pressure to go through the roof. He’s already agitated enough.”
May’s expression shifted to one of consternation. “What’s wrong with Galen?”
“Things aren’t going his way right now. Alastair Herne is threatening to call the DDA on him and there’s a big festival happening on the beach this week that’s supposed to draw thousands of people.”
“Yes, I heard about the festival.” May made a harrumphing sound and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t like talking bad about people — really, I don’t — but Alastair Herne is the biggest tool in the shed. I mean ... I can’t believe someone hasn’t killed him yet.”
It was rare for May to go off on the island denizens. They’d been her family for most of her life and she often took up for them, even if they harbored a few quirks that I found bothersome. Apparently Alastair was the exception.
“Tell me about him,” I prodded.
“Have you met him?”
“Yesterday, before dinner. He was on the beach giving Galen a hard time.”
“I imagine Galen didn’t take that well. No blood was shed, I hope. Well, unless it was Alastair’s blood. I wouldn’t mind if he lost a pint ... or ten.”
My mouth dropped open and a laugh escaped. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I hate Alastair Herne. He’s a ridiculous, pompous, self-serving, egocentric ... moron.”
“That’s quite the combination. Why do you hate him?”
“He’s a jerk of the highest order ... and he’s the reason that my friend Rebecca Blythe is dead.”
I was aghast ... and curious. “He killed her? How is he running free if he’s a murderer? Galen didn’t mention him being a murderer and I can’t help but think he would’ve led with that.”
May’s scowl was pronounced. “He didn’t kill her with his hands ... or a knife or gun, for that matter. He killed her with words.”
This looked to be turning into a convoluted story. “I’ll need more information than that.”
“Of course you do. It happened more than thirty years ago. Galen obviously doesn’t remember. Becky was gone long before he started forming memories.”
“What happened to her?”
“She was a local girl, like me. Her father owned one of the hotels downtown. It has since been razed and replaced with a bigger hotel, even though the older one had more charm. Becky was younger than me by a good decade, but we got along well. We met at the landowners’ association meeting when she stood in for her father one night.
“Anyway, she was the shy sort and didn’t go out much, which I thought was a real shame,” she continued. “She claimed that men made her nervous, but I think she spent all her time with her head in romantic clouds, something I worried you might be doing with Galen until I realized you were just high on love for a bit and would settle.”
I shot her a dark look. “Let’s stay on the subject, shall we?”
She chuckled, but pushed forward. “Fair enough. Becky was sweet, unassuming and in line to inherit a vast fortune. That’s why Alastair started sniffing around.” The disdain on her face couldn’t have been clearer if she’d painted frown lines in to deepen the effect.
“He pursued her with a great zest, squired her around town, professed his love and made her believe that they were soul mates,” she continued, her voice cracking. “Then Becky’s father made an offhand comment about how he would
have to sign a pre-nup before they got married so he couldn’t touch any of the family’s money.
“Well, he hemmed and hawed and kicked up a fuss, said he wanted to be a true part of the family. Becky’s father held firm, though, and in the end Alastair dumped Becky because he said she didn’t trust him and he couldn’t live like that. In truth, he just didn’t like being cut out of the money. And he had grand designs on that hotel.”
“He sounds like a real douche canoe,” I noted. “I still don’t understand how he killed your friend.”
“I’m getting to it,” May tsked. “Becky was so upset about losing Alastair that she followed him to one of the town festivals and begged him to reconsider ... in front of everybody. He was already dating someone new, one of the Woodbridge morons who lost their shirts in the stock market crash of 2008. He laughed at her in front of everyone, insulted her, and then sent her on her way.
“I made a choice that night that I regret to this day,” she continued. “I let her go, thinking I would track her down the following day — after she’d had herself a good cry — and help her start to heal. I never got the chance. She took a handful of sleeping pills thirty minutes after Alastair embarrassed her. She never woke up.”
My heart sank at the admission. I’d suspected the story would go down that road, but it was still jarring. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t do it.” May heaved out a sigh and mimed patting my hand. “I’m sorry for being so dark. It’s just ... I hate that man. I mean, I truly hate him. He didn’t even bother going to Becky’s funeral. Ten years later, when her father died of what I’m sure was a broken heart, he tried to swoop in and buy the hotel.
“Lawrence — that was her father’s name — left the decision up to me about who to sell to,” she continued. “All the money was going to charity, but it was my decision who would be allowed to buy the hotel. Guess who didn’t make the cut.”
My lips twitched at the evil way she delivered the line. “I’m guessing that would be Alastair.”
“You’re darned tooting. You should’ve seen his face when he realized there was no way that hotel would ever get in his hands. I made the sale contingent on the fact that he could never purchase it, through personal or business finances. I completely shut him out.”
“You got your revenge.” I couldn’t help being impressed. “That’s ... pretty cool.”
“No, it’s bitter,” May corrected. “I’m still bitter about what he did. Nobody deserves to feel how Becky felt at the end. Nobody deserves to die alone like that.”
May had died alone. She’d been poisoned by her attorney because he wanted her land. Ultimately that blew up in his face — and Wesley took revenge for that deed — but she’d still been alone when she died.
As if reading my mind, May slowly turned her eyes to meet mine. “I wasn’t alone. People sat vigil by my bedside at the end. I was sick but didn’t realize I was dying. It happened faster than I would’ve thought possible. But I wasn’t alone, even when others weren’t in the room. I felt their love and strength all around me.”
Well, that was a relief, but it sparked something in the back of my mind. “We should probably get started on our lesson. While we’re doing that, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“Wesley. Well, Wesley and June Seaver. I just ... learned something yesterday and I want to talk to you about it. It’s not a big deal, but I have questions.”
“Lay them on me. I have all day.” She chuckled hollowly at her own joke. “Actually, I have forever. I’m eager to hear what you have to say. Something tells me it’s bigger than you’re letting on because you’re unbelievably nervous.”
She wasn’t wrong.
6
Six
I worked harder than I expected and was mentally fatigued. At one o’clock, May let me go, but only after I promised that I would set up another lesson ... and soon. We both agreed I needed to recover. I had no idea how taxing trying to read minds could be.
“You look rough.”
Booker — he claimed to only have one name, but I had my doubts — sat at a table in my friend Lilac Meadows’ bar. He had a glass of iced tea in front of him. His dark hair, normally immaculate, was shoved away from his face in a haphazard manner. He appeared legitimately happy to see me, which was a bonus.
“I was just about to say the same to you,” I responded as I slid into the booth seat across from him. The bar was blissfully cool because Lilac preferred keeping it that way. When I first moved to the island I assumed that was for the benefit of the customers. Now that I knew she was a demon and could make brimstone weapons appear out of thin air I was starting to think she simply ran hot and needed the chilly atmosphere to feel comfortable.
Either way, given the temperatures outside, I felt blessed to be inside with friends.
“I asked first.” Booker leaned back in his seat and tipped back his iced tea, drinking long and hard until there was nothing left but ice. Something told me his day hadn’t been any easier than mine, which was interesting.
“Well, for starters, I discovered a dead body last night,” I offered.
Lilac, who had been breezing by with an empty tray on her way back to the bar, took an exaggerated turn and slid into the booth next to me. “You found Salma? Dish.”
She looked far too excited at the prospect. “It’s not something to be happy about,” I chided.
“Of course not.” Lilac adopted a morose expression that didn’t make it all the way to her eyes, which twinkled as if she were having a grand time. “Dish with the proper respect.”
Booker barked out a laugh. “I’m a little curious, too. I heard the news that she died, but I didn’t realize you were the one who found her. I’m officially intrigued.”
“It’s not that great of a story,” I lamented. “Galen and I went to dinner and he was checking on the beach on our way back when I thought I saw something weird. It turned out to be a body. End of story.”
“That’s pretty lame,” Lilac agreed. “I was hoping for more.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe someone shaved her bald and made her wear shoes from a discount store.”
It shouldn’t have been funny — a woman was dead, after all — but I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “That is ... absolutely horrible,” I sputtered. “It’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Lilac was matter-of-fact. “That’s simply how I always dreamed of her going. And trust me, I have dreamed about it ... long and hard.”
I flicked my eyes to Booker, expectant. “Would you like to explain?”
“Sure.” He was seemingly unbothered by Lilac’s uncouth showing. “Salma tried to ruin Lilac. Our favorite bartender wants to throw a party now that she’s dead.”
“Um ... you’re leaving out pertinent details,” Lilac complained.
“My bad.” Booker feigned contrition. “We want to throw a party now that she’s dead. I didn’t like her either.”
I was starting to feel as if I was trapped in one of those After School specials about good kids going bad. “Let’s focus on the important stuff,” I suggested. “Like, for starters, what did Salma do to you, Lilac?”
“She came in here drunk one night — I want to stress she was already hammered before she walked through the door — and started causing a scene. The cops were called. Galen wasn’t on that night. It was one of his deputies, and because she was underage at the time I was looking at some pretty stiff fines.”
“That sucks.” I felt bad for my friend. “Obviously you survived.”
“She’s not finished,” Booker interjected, lifting his glass to shake the ice in an effort to get the passing waitress’s attention. She shot him a dirty look, which he immediately brushed aside with a flirty smile and wink, and before I could even acknowledge what was happening she’d retrieved his glass and was getting him a refill. “There’s more to the story.”
He adopted an innocent expression. “How was that evil?”
“You don’t have any interest in that woman.”
“I didn’t say I did. I’m doing nothing but slaking my immense thirst. Some of us were out working in the sun all day.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I brushed my hand at him and turned back to Lilac. “What else happened?”
“The deputy called her father to the scene,” Lilac replied, her eyes darkening. I looked for signs of fire lurking in her irises and came up empty. Good. That meant she wasn’t about to lose her cool and conjure a sword of flame. While cool to watch, it was utterly terrifying ... especially when her hair turned red and looked as if it had caught fire.
“He started yelling, ranting and raving, and said he was going to take some trip away from her that she’d had planned for a long time,” she continued, grim. “To get herself out of trouble, Salma lied and said that I had not only served her but forced her to drink. I’m a demon, and everyone knows it, so he went to the DDA and tried to get the tiki bar taken from me.”
I was absolutely horrified. “No way. How could he believe a drunk teenager over you?”
“Not everyone is comfortable with my demon lineage,” Lilac argued. “Half of the town thinks I’m something to fear and the other half thinks I’m something to kill.”
My mouth fell open as I looked to Booker for confirmation. He appeared unusually stoic. Normally he would be cracking jokes about now, but he didn’t appear to have any to offer.
“That’s heinous,” I said when I regained my senses. “I can’t believe you had to go through that. Obviously the DDA sided with you.”
“Only after certain people argued on my behalf, including Wesley, May and Galen. All three of them went to bat for me.”
“As did I,” Booker reminded her. “Of course, I don’t have nearly the pull with the DDA that Galen does. He’s their golden boy.”
I thought of the threats Alastair had spewed the night before. “Are you sure?” I related the tale to them, leaving nothing out. When I finished, I was almost as angry as I had been the previous night. “I don’t think he’s the golden boy you think he is.”
Hex Type Thing Page 5
