by Sharon Pape
“Matilda Wilde, my aunt.” I turned to Tilly. “Everything is under control here. If you’re looking for Merlin, you’ll find him upstairs.” It wasn’t like I’d betrayed him. There were a limited number of places where he might have fled, since we’d impressed upon him that without identification he could be picked up and sent to a psychiatric ward from which it would be difficult to spring him.
“My apologies for barging in,” Tilly said to the detective. “As a rule, I don’t leave my house until I look presentable. Charlotte? Charlotte, is that you?” Tilly opened her arms and Charlotte allowed herself to be smothered in layers of faded blue muumuu.
“Merlin?” I reminded her.
“I’m on it. I’m on it.” She kissed Charlotte’s cheek and headed for the stairs.
“Should we expect any other visitors, Ms. Wilde?” the detective asked as we all resumed our seats.
“No, Tilly and Merlin are all the family I have left.”
“Well they do a fine job of seeming like more.” She must have realized she’d overstepped the bounds of polite discourse, because she immediately apologized. “A murder investigation stresses everyone,” she added. Nice way to spread her guilt around to all of us. Curtis must have seen the anger flare in my eyes, because he gave me a subtle shake of his head—a warning to let it go.
“Maybe this is a good place to stop for today, Detective?” he said. “We can always come back if we have more questions.” For a moment, I thought she was going to lambast him for interfering in her investigation, but she must have thought better of it.
“Maybe so,” she said getting to her feet. She stowed the pad and pen and withdrew a business card she handed to me. “If you think of anything that might help us find Ms. Harlowe’s killer, please give me a call.”
After they left, I made Charlotte the hangover tea we sold in the shop. It was a blend of Creeping Thyme, Rose Bay Willow, Meadowsweet, Roseroot, Self-heal, White Willow, Stinging Nettle, and Dandelion. By itself it was marginally effective, but with the infusion of Morgana’s spell it was pure magick.
Charlotte took my advice and went back upstairs to sleep for a few more hours. I wished I could have done the same, but I had to see if Merlin needed saving from Tilly’s wrath.
Chapter 3
“He does what he wants without giving a thought to how it might impact the rest of us,” Tilly said. We were sitting around the kitchen table nibbling on the spare coffee cake I’d taken out of the freezer and reheated. Some families kept emergency kits at the ready. My family kept emergency cookies and cake.
“I have every right to summon a familiar of my own,” Merlin said, dribbling crumbs into his beard as he spoke. “I believe a familiar will have a beneficial effect on my magick. It may even restore it to full function and capacity, which should boost your abilities as well.”
I plucked a walnut off the top of the cake and popped it into my mouth. “That’s fine, but you need to be cautious. Your unexpected journey here should be proof of how out of whack things can get.”
“I still contend that it was not your doing alone that snatched me from my home and century. I was casting a spell to find my favorite mushrooms for dinner at the selfsame moment you were summoning a familiar. Our magick clashed in the ether and the resulting shock waves sent me spinning through time and space to wind up here.”
Tilly cut another sliver of the cake. “There is another issue to take into account. You are no longer a young wizard and your memory is not what it was.”
He turned to me, spewing crumbs in my direction. “Do you hear that, Kailyn?” Maybe we needed to rethink the type of cake we kept for emergencies. “She resorts to insults to make her point!”
“If the truth is an insult, you’d better grow a thicker skin,” she replied before I could jump in to referee. “Need I remind you about that little duck problem you had?”
“A mistaken word or two proves nothing,” Merlin sputtered.
“Aunt Tilly,” I said in the best diplomatic tone I could muster, “we gave Merlin carte blanche to cast spells as long as he was discreet about—”
“Aha! You see!” he pounced on my words, claiming victory too fast.
“And you, Merlin, promised to keep us in the loop at all times.”
“I don’t remember your lordship mentioning that you wanted to summon a familiar,” Tilly said, clearly enjoying his comeuppance. The wizard grabbed the cake and pulled off a big chunk of it with his hand. Tilly took the opportunity to remind him that he was no longer living in the barely civilized Middle Ages. “In this century, we use utensils when we eat.”
“Okay,” I said, raising my voice over theirs. “Tilly, you and I will consider ourselves informed that Merlin wants to summon a familiar. Merlin, you will keep us abreast of your attempts so that one or both of us can be present if we wish to be.” They both grumbled their acceptance. My grandmother Bronwen had taught me that a good compromise left both parties somewhat disgruntled—job done. I carried my teacup and plate to the sink, feeling pretty good about the way I handled the problem. “Now,” I said, turning to them, “you can stay here or not, but I have a shop to open.”
“But what about the elephant in the room?” Tilly asked.
“Excuse me? What elephant?” Was there some important subject I failed to address? I looked from her to Merlin, who was focused on eating every last crumb on his plate.
Tilly sighed. “The one in my living room.”
“Are you talking about a metaphorical elephant or an actual one?” I dreaded the answer.
“A very real elephant who is presently dining on an infinite supply of peanuts Merlin conjured up to keep him busy.”
“Don’t you think you should have led with the elephant headline?”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose I should have,” my aunt allowed, “but what concerns me the most is what happens when all those peanuts reach the end of the beast’s digestive tract.”
“We have to get back there before he destroys your house.” Why was I the only frantic one? I herded them out the door, and we piled into Tilly’s car that was behind mine in the driveway. Her house was only a couple of blocks away, but at five miles per hour it felt like we’d never reach there in my lifetime.
Although I’d been told about the elephant, it was still astonishing to see the huge creature standing in the living room where his head skimmed the vaulted ceiling. He was calmly eating the peanuts Merlin had left for him. Uneaten and crushed peanuts were everywhere, and the air was heavy with the pungent aroma of elephant. When he saw us, he raised and lowered his trunk a few times as if he were waving hello.
I looked around for my aunt’s Maine Coon and found him on the top shelf of the bookcase, his go-to when he felt threatened. He appeared none the worse for the circus going on below him. I turned to Tilly. “Did you try to reverse the spell?”
“We each tried and then we tried together,” she said. “Needless to say, it didn’t work.”
“An animal of this size may require more magickal thrust,” Merlin said, scratching the elephant’s chin.
“There’s no time to waste,” I said. “Let’s join hands and repeat the reversal spell at the same time. And pray it works.”
“A spell was cast
Now make it past
Remove it here
And everywhere.”
To play it safe, we recited the reversal ten times. The magickal power the three of us generated was substantial. It crackled like a live electrical wire, rampaging through our ring of hands. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold onto each other. I tried to stay positive and banish any thoughts of failure. After a couple of torturous minutes, during which doubts laid siege to my good intentions, the elephant started to fade back into the ether from which he’d come. The large bubble of anxiety that had set up shop in my chest diminished with the pachyderm.
When it was over we were all drained and wobbly as Jell-O. My aunt gathered me into a weak embrace, her arms limp from her efforts. Merlin rubbed his eyes like an overtired child and announced he was going to take a nap.
Tilly held up her hand. “Oh no you don’t. You’re going to open all the windows in this house to clear out the smell of elephant, then you’re going to pick up every last bit of the crushed peanuts. And try to be quiet about it, because I’m going to take a nap.”
I must be a coward at heart, because I double-timed it out of there before they could draw me into their drama.
I stopped at home to check on Charlotte, who was still asleep, and to pick up Sashkatu. When I tried to kiss the top of his velvety head, he turned his face away from me, punishment for allowing the earlier commotion in his home. In spite of his snit, he followed me to the shop. I wasn’t surprised. One of his greatest pleasures was napping on his tufted window ledge where the sun warmed his ancient bones.
By the time I opened for business it was ten thirty. Not bad, given all that had transpired that morning. Several locals came in for refills of products and to poke around for gossip. They expressed their sympathies over the death at the reunion and their hopes that I wasn’t close to the young woman who perished. They wanted to know if I thought she was poisoned, and they wondered what she could possibly have done to deserve such a death.
I kept my answers vague, which was easy. I didn’t know any more than they’d already heard through New Camel’s grapevine. It was a good thing they loved my products, because they didn’t leave with any new information.
Lolly popped over at noon, when the shop was empty. We hugged, no words needed. “How are you holding up?” she asked, taking stock of me with sharp grandmotherly eyes. “I know this one hit pretty close to home.”
“You’d think I’d get used to death, or numb to it, but it’s wrenching in a different way every time.”
Lolly rummaged in the pocket of her candy making apron and handed me a piece of wax paper holding an oversized dark chocolate caramel—my favorite. “Eat it when you’re alone so you can savor each bite. Chocolate has its own magick.”
I thanked her and leaned over the counter to put it on my desk. Lolly was my unofficial investigative assistant; the fudge shop was her headquarters. People in the throes of chocolate ecstasy had been known to have loose lips. “I haven’t spoken to Travis yet today. Have the police issued any statements?”
“All I heard was that the rest of the reunion festivities were canceled, but the police want everyone registered for it to remain through the weekend.” It made sense. Once they left for home, follow-up interviews would be a whole lot more difficult to conduct. “The official police statement is that they won’t be talking to the media, until the ME issues his report.” Nothing surprising there.
“Beverly came in bright and early,” Lolly added. “She told me Genna will be laid to rest in California. I guess that makes sense, since it’s where she lived and where her husband and children are. But given the source, you might want to verify it.” If Beverly ever moved away, the entire New Camel grapevine would probably collapse. “I’d best be getting back to my shop,” she said. “With all the folks here for the reunion, I’m busier than ever.”
I picked up the candy she’d brought me and sank into the chair I kept near the counter for weary shoppers or bored spouses. I had hoped to say goodbye to Genna here in New Camel where we spent our childhood together. It was selfish on my part. I would concentrate on finding her killer—my farewell gift to her. I bit into the chocolate and was working my way slowly through it when the phone rang.
In answer to my hello, the voice on the other end said, “Scott Desmond isn’t dead.” It was a man’s voice, one I didn’t recognize.
My heart was pounding. “Of course he is.” I saw him at the wake. I went to the burial.
“Well I saw him two days ago looking very much alive.”
There was a click and the line went dead. I sat there staring at the phone as if I could will the man to call back and provide details. I tried every white magick spell I knew to encourage him to call, with no success. More powerful spells that forced someone to act against their will were generally in the realm of black magick—forbidden territory. I was still sitting there when Travis walked in.
Chapter 4
“It could have been a prank,” Travis said.
We were sitting at a two-top in The Soda Jerk, discussing the strange phone call. Since I’d opened my shop late, I’d intended to work through lunch. But when Travis turned up on my doorstep, starved for food and my company, how could I resist? Charlotte had finally slept off her hangover in my guest room, but she declined an invitation to join us. Instead she asked to be dropped off at her hotel. She said she needed to have a good, sober cry for our lost musketeer and she preferred to do it in private.
The restaurant was always busy during the tourist season, but that weekend was crazier than ever with all the reunion people stuck in the New Camel area with nothing to do until Sunday at noon, the time detective Gillespie was lifting the travel ban.
As soon as Margie had spied Travis and me in the crowded waiting area, she grabbed my hand and propelled us over to the small table that was being cleared from its last occupants.
“Sorry it couldn’t be a booth,” she whispered.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said. “If someone complains, you could wind up in trouble.”
“The way I see it, our regular customers deserve preferential treatment like quick seating and extra whipped cream. Besides, the owners need me too much to let me go. I’m the oil that keeps this machine purring. Do you need menus or do you know what you want?”
“Same menus as always?” Travis asked.
“Let me put it this way—the only things that ever change on the menu are the prices.”
“In that case I’ll have a cheeseburger medium and fries.”
“A small salad and a chocolate ice cream soda for me.” A well-balanced meal in my opinion. After hearing me, Travis tacked a strawberry ice cream soda onto his order.
“Coming up.” Margie stopped at the next table to drop a check before heading to the kitchen. A lanky teenage boy came by with water that slopped over the rims of the glasses when he put them down. He didn’t apologize or bother to clean it up. In recent years, the summer staff of teenagers seemed less interested in doing a good job, as if the work was beneath them. Or was I just looking down my adult nose at them?
“Do you really think someone would pull a prank like that?” I asked, getting back to the phone call once we were alone again.
“There are plenty of creeps out there who love messing with people, especially if they can be anonymous.”
“You mean like a kid making a phony phone call?” I shook my head, answering my own question. “This guy was no kid, and what he said didn’t sound like a joke.”
“Okay, but why would he claim Scott was alive, when it’s common knowledge that he not only died, but was autopsied? I’m telling you, the caller was a nut job.”
“Maybe what he saw was Scott’s ghost.” Travis seemed about to roll his eyes. “Come on,” I said, preempting him, “you may not like it, but you do know ghosts exist, courtesy of my mom and grandmother.”
“Your family has magickal DNA, and yet Bronwen and Morgana only appear as energy clouds. I’m not convinced regular people can appear as ghosts – much less ghosts who look exactly like they did when they were alive.”
He had a point. But why was I having such a hard time shrugging off the call? I ran my finger through the spilled water, making spirals and infinity loops like a kid finger painting.
Travis reached across the table and took my hand in his. “You’re still reeling from last night. It’s no wonder that phone call spooked you. Maybe we should wait a few days before starting the investigation.”
“No, we have to start now. I’ll do better having the case to focus on.”
“All right—suspects, motives, and opportunity!” he snapped like a sergeant drilling a group of green recruits. I knew he was trying to nudge me into a lighter mood, but I was too knotted with emotions to relax.
“I wish I’d had a chance to really reconnect and catch up with Genna at the dinner. We might have had a better starting point.”
“I doubt it would have helped. Reunions are all about the way things were. That’s why I never went to any of mine. You can’t recapture the past. You get all hyped up over this momentous event and it’s always a letdown, because you’ve all moved on. You’re not the same people you were.”
“Why didn’t you say any of that to me before I went to my reunion?”
“Some things you’ve got to find out for yourself.”
The lanky teen returned and plunked our lunches down in front of us, dropping half a dozen fries in Travis’s lap when he angled the plate too sharply. Margie followed with our sodas.
“Sorry about the fries. That’s why I’m carrying the sodas. Yell if you want a free order of them,” she called over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen.
Travis dug into his burger like he hadn’t eaten in three days. “Do Genna’s parents still live around here?” he asked when he came up for air.
I was lost in ice cream bliss for a moment. Music may soothe the savage beast, but my drug of choice has always been ice cream. “No, they followed Genna out west when she decided not to come back here after college. Her dad died of a heart attack a few years ago. I don’t want to intrude on the family’s privacy for now. If we can’t make any headway with the investigation, I’ll reach out to her mother down the road. Our first priority has to be talking to people here for the reunion—they’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Right—Gillespie’s freeze on leaving town. I heard some griping about it outside. From her viewpoint, the people here for the reunion had planned on staying until Sunday anyway.”
