by Sharon Pape
Elise came to my rescue. “I guess we’ll all have to wait and see. Your turn. Tell us how you spend your time when you’re not crocheting.”
“I read and watch my programs on TV. Would you be scandalized to know I watch the Bachelor?” We all laughed. “On Wednesdays I meet my sister for lunch. She lives over in the Glen. I have a book club meeting once a month. A group of us started it years ago when Oprah was still doing her show.”
“How is Charlie doing?” I asked. He was Scott’s older brother by two years.
“He’s well, thanks. Married a girl from Pennsylvania. They have a three-year-old little girl,” she added beaming. “My one and only grandchild. They come to see me when they can. That old Irish saying is true, at least in my case: ‘A son is a son till he takes him a wife, but a daughter’s a daughter for the rest of her life.’” She shrugged. “We don’t get to choose.”
We thanked Lillian, declining her offer to take donuts home with us. “If Tilly catches us with contraband baked goods there will be hell to pay,” I said.
Lillian chuckled as she walked us to the door. “Tilly is a force to be reckoned with.”
Elise and I were silent on the way back to my shop, deep in our own thoughts. “What do you think?” she asked after parking at the curb.
“She’s trying to live her life the best she can under the circumstances. Would she like to see someone pay for Scott’s death? I’m sure she would.”
Elise nodded. “I’m going to invite her over for dinner from time to time. She might enjoy seeing the boys.”
I unhooked my seat belt and opened the door. “Tilly and I will have to do that too. She might get a kick out of Merlin.”
“Thanks for the ride-along,” Elise said. “I think that’s what cops call it when they take a civilian out with them.”
“What’s the phrase for when an amateur detective takes another amateur along?”
She grinned. “Poking their noses where they don’t belong?”
Sashkatu gave me a bleary-eyed glance when the door closed behind me, grumbled like the old man he was, and fell back to sleep. “Thrilled to see you too,” I said. I stowed my purse behind the counter and put the Open sign in the window. Two minutes later someone rapped on the door. People knocked on the door of a house, not on the door of a shop, especially if said shop had an open sign clearly displayed. I was more bewildered when I realized it was Lolly. She never stood on ceremony. Then I saw the carton in her arms. She was leaning it against the door to free one hand for knocking.
As I turned the doorknob, she called out for me to wait. She shifted the carton off the door and took its full weight back into her hands and gave me the okay. She toddled over the threshold, where I took the carton from her and set it down gently on the hardwood. The address on the return label told me it was my rushed shipment of jars to replace the ones that crashed and shattered during Merlin’s earthquake.
“I’m sorry they delivered this to you by mistake,” I said. “If it happens again, just call and I’ll come right over. You shouldn’t be lifting such heavy things.”
Lolly took a minute to catch her breath, her face flushed with exertion. “No, they did deliver it to you, but you weren’t here to take it inside. I didn’t want to leave it out there. I heard on the news about thieves who follow delivery trucks so they can steal the packages when no one’s home.”
“Here in New Camel?” We’d had an uncanny number of murders lately, but no theft, unless you counted Beverly’s claim that the three pounds of Swiss chocolate she ordered online must have been stolen, because she never received the package. The company made good on the order, but those of us who knew Beverly, knew she wasn’t above a lie or two where expensive chocolate was concerned.
“They were talking about New York City,” Lolly admitted, “but there’s no telling when criminals around here decide to give it a try.”
After she left, I unpacked the carton and set the jars on the shelving unit in my supply room. Now all I had to do was mix the components of every product I’d lost to the earthquake and add the magick spells that elevated them far above the more pedestrian products available in regular stores. My aunt had said Merlin was indentured to me until that work was completed, so I went down the short hall to the interior door that connected our shops. As I opened the door and was about to walk in, Merlin shouted for me to close it. Before I could react, a brown furred creature bounded past me and down the hall toward my shop. Merlin, with another one of the creatures in his arms, rushed after it as fast as his old bones could carry him. A third one scooted through the open door behind him, followed by Tilly, who looked like she’d seen better days.
Chapter 9
I could tell by the determined look in my aunt’s eyes that she was not going to stop to answer questions, so I followed the crazy train of humans and critters back to my shop. With any luck, no customers would come along until we had things sorted out.
Merlin was pursuing the two animals that looked like huge squirrels up and down the aisles of the shop, raising the possibility that any glass still intact after the quake would now meet its end. The animal in his arms leaped down to join the game. They were having a dandy time. They moved like squirrels in bounding leaps, then sat up on their hindquarters to get their bearings before taking off again. Although they appeared brown at first glance, now that I was close enough to study them, they were a motley combination of brown, gray and a yellowish white that must have provided camouflage in their natural habitat.
We needed some strategy if we were going to capture them. Merlin and I took up positions at each end of the last aisle. Tilly was to shoo the creatures into that aisle, after which we’d use the old squeeze play and each grab one. I made a dive for the biggest one. It was two feet long and had to weigh at least ten pounds. Merlin scooped up another one, but the third one broke free from Tilly’s grasp.
“The only way we’re going to round up these…” I looked at Merlin, “what the heck are they anyway?”
“Marmots,” he said. “I’ve always had a fondness for them.”
“Yes, lovely, but we have to send them back from wherever you summoned them.”
“I’m keeping one as my familiar,” he said in a tone that brooked no debate.
“Oh dear, I hope it will get along with Isenbale,” Tilly murmured. “He’s used to ruling the roost, you know.”
“One issue at a time, please.” The marmot in my arms was struggling to free himself and since there was no longer any point in holding onto him, I set him down. “Which one do you want to keep?”
“I rather like the little lady I’m holding.”
“How did you wind up with three of them?” I was afraid I already knew the answer.
Merlin looked up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, from marmot to marmot, to undeniable marmot, to his fingernails bitten to the quick. “It would seem my magick wasn’t quite up to par,” he mumbled finally.
My heart sank. “In other words, your attempt to reset the ley lines failed.” All the inventory I’d lost as a result of the earthquake had been lost in vain. My frustration was building to a scream, but since that wouldn’t change anything, I talked myself out of it. However, the marmots chose that moment to let loose with a trio of high-pitched, whistle screams that pierced our heads like metal skewers. We clamped our hands down over our ears, about to run for the door and relief. But the marmots’ synchronized shrieks ended as suddenly as they’d begun. They looked at each other, their little buckteeth chattering in what was clearly satisfaction for a job well done.
“I guess that’s why they’re also called whistlepigs,” Merlin said. “Nasty sound. I don’t know what set them off, but I intend to figure it out so it never happens again.” I had my own idea about it, but I wasn’t ready to go public yet. Tilly didn’t look like she could take any more.
“We need to resolve this now,”
I said, locking eyes with the wizard who was being nuzzled by his marmot. “Do you think the undo spell will work to send the other two back?”
He hesitated. “There is the chance that we overused it too recently on the elephant. Perhaps you can create a new spell. Your ability in that regard is quite amazing.”
“Flattery won’t make up for the disaster of the earthquake. Now please get the marmots out of here so I can concentrate on creating a new spell,” I said through clenched teeth.
Merlin giggled. “She could be a ventriloquist like that fellow we saw on TV. All she lacks is a dummy.”
“I happen to know one she could use,” Tilly said as they herded the marmots out of my shop.
In spite of everything, I had to admit that the creatures were cute, even charming, like big old ground squirrels on steroids. I sat down in the chair near the counter and tried to settle my mind enough to weave a spell. The door chimes announced a customer before I made any headway. Beverly, the person I liked least in all of New Camel. Aunt Tilly shared that opinion, as had my mother and grandmother. With excess marmots weighing heavily on my mind, I didn’t have the patience to deal with her.
“Why Kailyn, from what I’ve heard, you have far too much work to be sitting there like a bump on a log. What would Morgana and Bronwen have to say about that?”
I pulled myself out of the chair. “I’m fine, Beverly, thanks for asking.”
“No need for attitude,” she said indignantly. “You’re not the only one who suffered damage in the earthquake.”
“What can I do for you?” I asked in a sugared tone while counting to ten and then to twenty in my mind.
“Well that’s more like it. I came by to see if you were having a sale on items that sustained minor damage. That’s what most of the other shopkeepers are doing.” I found it curious that she’d stopped in to most of the shops, yet she wasn’t carrying any shopping bags. She must have realized the hole in her con, because she was quick to add that she’d dropped off her other purchases in her car.
“Everything that was damaged here was beyond use,” I said, which was true.
“You don’t mind if I browse on the off chance of discovering something you might have missed?” she asked heading for the first aisle.
“Be my guest.” Ten minutes later, Beverly was back with a few items. She set them on the counter. At first glance, I didn’t see anything wrong with the bottles. When I said as much, she pointed out that the lid of one had a slight dent in it. A second one had a label with a corner torn off, but the third item, a neck firming cream she favored, was pristine.
“That one’s okay,” she said, when I asked where it was damaged. “I just thought you might throw it in for half price, seeing as how I’m taking the other damaged merchandise off your hands.”
There were so many things I wanted to say, but Beverly’s salon counted among its clients most of New Camel’s female population and a good percentage of the women in greater Watkins Glen. She could have a serious impact on any business with a few well chosen lies. I sometimes let her think she’d gotten the better of me, because I had other ways of settling the score. I didn’t even need gray magick to accomplish it. All it required was a simple weakening of the magick in the products she bought.
I rang up her purchase, silently casting the spell of dilution over the items as I packed them in a tote.
Reduce the magick in these jars,
Water down their charm
Enough to get her wondering
What’s wrong, yet cause no harm.
If she mentioned the drop in efficacy to anyone who used the same products, they’d think she was crazy. And she couldn’t blame me for what she’d bought, because she had picked out the bottles herself. I handed her the tote and wished her a good day with a smile that was genuine since she was leaving.
She was halfway to the door when she turned back. “I almost forgot,” she said, returning to the counter. My smile drooped. “I have an odd bit of news to pass on to you. It may be useful in your investigation of that young woman’s death.” If it was, she would expect some kind of remuneration. With Beverly you had to pay to play.
She set her tote and purse on the counter. “One of my clients graduated the same year as you and that young man who died the night of the prom.” She had my attention. “She moved back home to New Camel with her little boy a few months ago, after her philandering husband left her. But that’s neither here nor there.”
“Trudy Campion?” I asked. Tilly had mentioned she was back living with her parents, until she figured out her life. I hadn’t paid much attention at the time.
“Well yes, she did go back to her maiden name after her divorce. Look –if you keep in touch with her, there’s no point wasting my time telling you what you already know.” Beverly sounded put out, as if I’d purposely covered up a relationship with Trudy.
“We don’t keep in touch. We weren’t even close in school.”
Beverly seemed placated. “Okay then.” She shifted her shoulders and gave her head a little toss as if she was changing positions at a photo shoot. “Trudy was very agitated when she came in to have her cut and blow out this week. I asked if she was all right, and she started crying. I took her into the room where we do waxing to give her some privacy. I’m all about protecting my clients from the gossip mill.” Beverly was the gossip mill, but I bit my tongue to keep from pointing that out. “That’s when she told me about the ghost.”
“Whose ghost?” As the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake.
Beverly narrowed her eyes at me. “You don’t seem very surprised. Most people who hear the word ghost are at least taken aback, if not completely rattled. Whose ghost is not the first thing they say.”
“Of course I’m surprised, but everyone reacts differently to these things.” I had no intentions of telling her that I’d already heard this particular ghost story from two other people.
“I suppose,” said Beverly, who’d never come across a situation that didn’t require a dramatic response. “In any case, Trudy claimed this ghost was the spitting image of Scott Desmond.”
I widened my eyes and sucked in my breath for effect. “You’re kidding!” Once again I wondered why the two ghosts who visited me were simple energy clouds. But why would Beverly make it up? I’d have to ask Bronwen and Morgana about it the next time they dropped in, unless that was restricted knowledge too. I didn’t want to get them in more trouble.
“Did the ghost speak to her or threaten her?” I asked.
“All she said was that she saw him twice and almost had a heart attack each time.”
I clapped my hand over my heart. “Well who can blame her! Did she say where she saw this ghost?”
“No and I wouldn’t pump her for more information. Poor thing is afraid she’s losing her mind as it is and she doesn’t know where to turn for help.”
“I should talk to her—for the sake of the investigation, I mean. Do you have her phone number?”
“I’ll ask her to call you. Privacy and all. You understand.”
If someone else had said those words, I would have understood. But Beverly had just betrayed Trudy’s confidence. How could she have qualms about giving me her number? Did the woman ever listen to herself? A moment later, I realized what Beverly had in mind. After she arranged for Trudy to call me, she’d expect a little thank you in the form of a freebie from my shop. She probably wanted to leave it for another time, because I’d already given her more than she deserved for one day.
My aunt called as Beverly was walking out the door. “Do you have the spell yet?” she screeched. If her voice rose any higher, only dogs would be able to hear her.
“Not yet. Beverly was here so I couldn’t work on it. How are you doing in there?”
“I don’t mean to rush you, but two more marmots have fallen out of the ether and they’re a
ll hungry. I fed them the leftover scones and now they’re gnawing on the table legs.” Perfect, a little more pressure to get my creative juices flowing.
Chapter 10
I put the closed sign in the window and sat down in the comfy chair at my desk. I tried to clear my mind. Not easy when your life is being overrun by marmots. If the table legs didn’t agree with their digestion, I’d have to take them to a vet. How many marmots qualified someone for the label crazy marmot lady? And what if the beasts kept falling out of thin air in the vet’s office? By sheer force of will, I shut out every thought except the spell I had to write. Fifteen minutes later I had a basic one. Time to take it out for a spin.
I opened the connecting door and stepped into Tilly’s shop, hoping the marmot deluge had finally stopped. It was strangely quiet, which kicked my anxiety level up a few notches. Neither my aunt nor Merlin was ever low-key in a crisis. I had a horrible thought—could a pack of hungry marmots attack a human? Would they? I was afraid to peer around the corner into the main part of the shop.
At that moment, Tilly cried out, “I’ll have to turn this place into a Japanese restaurant where you sit on the floor.” A remark like that would normally make me run in the other direction, rather than become caught up in their drama. But this time was different. This time her complaint brought with it a wave of relief. At least she and Merlin were still among the living. When she saw me, she let loose with a hallelujah. “Do you have the spell?” she asked. “If not I’m leaving home and never coming back.”
Merlin didn’t react. After a year of living with Tilly he’d learned that she was just venting and the less he said the better. He was sitting on the floor, rubbing the tummy of his new familiar. The other marmots, seven by my count, were feasting on table and chair legs.
