The thing is, I haven’t fired a gun since my police academy days. And we all know how that went, don’t we?
I place my feet on my pedals, square my messenger bag across my back, and push off. Maybe Turkey—I mean, Thomas—was right. Maybe I have matured over the last five years. I’ve changed since my police academy days. I’m wiser, more focused, and much more experienced. Maybe my aim has improved too.
That seems like a long shot, pun intended, but I’m going to have to hope that it’s true.
I know just the gun that I want.
I’ve looked at it a few times when shopping around the local hardware store.
Most recently, I peeked in on it while I was purchasing about a million catch-and-release mouse-traps last month, with hopes of trapping the mouse that had taken up residency within my apartment’s pantry. It seemed that this critter liked chocolate flavored cereal as much as I did, and I was tired of sharing my supply. Turkey wasn’t into mouse catching. He acted like it was beneath him, and now I know why. He’s more of the crossword puzzle type.
The gun I’ve had my eye on was in the case then, and I hope no one’s purchased it since.
I park in front of the hardware store and duck in. I’d like to get in and out of here without being seen. I’m not in the mood for small talk.
The first part of my mission goes well. The gun is in the case, and I’m able to purchase it without incident. It’s a beauty: A little silver handgun with a pearl handle. It matches my new necklace! I also buy a small box of bullets.
I’m actually feeling pretty pleased with the whole situation as I tuck my purchases into my bag. I head for the sidewalk, thinking that I might just make it to my bike without actually having to engage in small talk, when I see Lucy approaching.
“Penny!” She says, waving in my direction. “Penny, dear! Did you hear about Buttercup’s arrest?”
Hear about it? Heck, I was there for it. My cat was on her operating table, for goodness sake!
“Yes,” I say. “I was there.”
“You were? Isn’t it such a relief? This whole thing has been giving me ulcers. I’ve barely been able to focus on the move. Now I finally feel that maybe life can get back to normal.”
She motions to the hardware store. “I’m just popping into the store to get lights for the Life Savers Ball. I’m on the decorating committee.”
Of course, she is.
I didn’t go to high school with Lucy because she’d graduated Hillcrest High years before I became a student there, but I’m sure she was on the prom committee back then. She’s just that kind of person. Type A perfectionist. Miss Popular. She may have even been the prom queen. And Ken is just the type to be the prom king.
How fitting that now the king and queen were taking up residence in Hillcrest's ‘castle’—the Terra Mansion.
“Great,” I say. “I’m sure they have a good selection of lights in there.”
“Oh, I know they do. The selection is wonderful. Did you find what you needed?”
I’m not about to tell Lucy about my purchases, so I nod vaguely and change the subject.
“How is the move going?” I ask.
“Very well,” Lucy says. I catch a flash of concern cross her face, but soon her too-perfect-to-have-problems mask is back on. “I mean, it is a huge undertaking,” she says. “We are so blessed to have come into such a fortune, so I’m definitely not complaining, but it’s a monumental task to move all of our belongings up that wretched road. Ken is insisting that we’re moved in by the end of the month, because our house is already on the market.”
“You’re selling your house already?” I ask. I can tell that there’s more to the story than Lucy is letting on.
“That’s how things go in real estate!” Lucy says. “Gotta move fast! It’s not like we have debt that needs to be paid off or anything.” Lucy laughs, nervously.
I read between the lines. I can see it in her face: The Wilburs have debt. And from the high pitch of Lucy’s nervous laughter, I sense that it’s a lot of debt.
“Well, good luck with the move,” I say. “And with decorating.”
“Thank you, Penny.” Lucy seems to relax now that the conversation has turned to safer grounds. “The theme this year is ‘The Love Bug.’ We’re going to park Bess Johnson’s antique Beetle in front of the town hall for photo ops.” She smiles, broadly. “Will you be there?”
Begrudgingly, I nod.
“Oh! That’s a first. You never go to the Life Savers Ball. You’re the only one in town who—”
“I’m going, alright?” I snap.
Oops. I don’t mean to have such an attitude about it. I think I’m just nervous about what the evening has in store.
Lucy continues, undeterred by my sharp response. “Who with?” She asks. “Captain Chris Wagner?”
“You’re not on the police department,” I say. “You don't’ have to call him ‘captain’.”
‘Oh, I know,” she says, blushing a little bit. “I just think it suits him so well. Such an upstanding man! That’s who you’re going with, isn’t it? You two were an adorable couple.”
Why does everyone keep on saying that?! “We were not an adorable couple!” I cry. “We were a terrible couple!”
Lucy backs away from me. I admit, my voice did get a little bit scratchy and shrill just then.
I take a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. It’s been a tough couple of days, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe tonight will help you unwind a little bit. Dancing does that. I’m looking forward to it, I know that much. Maybe I’ll be able to shake off some of the tension from the move...” She becomes lost in thought.
“So you’re going?” I ask.
“Of course!” She says.
“With Ken?” I’m assuming the answer is yes, but I want to keep her talking. I’m manipulating the conversation back towards her so that she doesn’t have the chance to ask me who I’m going with again.
To my surprise, she shakes her head. “Ken’s not coming with me tonight. He’s been out of sorts lately—I think the pressure of this move is really taking a toll on him. He’s up all night, barely sleeping or eating, and so terribly crabby.”
She frowns briefly but then pastes a smile back on. “He just needs a quiet night at home. So I’m going to be on my own tonight. I don’t mind at all—It’s going to be a blast just the same.”
“A real blast,” I say.
She doesn’t seem to pick up on my sarcasm. “Well, I better get those lights! The decorating committee is waiting for me! I’ll see you tonight at the ball, Penny!”
With that, she’s off. I’m left to think over our conversation as I ride home.
A few days ago, her allusion to financial troubles would have raised a warning flag for me. But now I’ve discounted Lucy as the killer. She’s a woman, and Turkey definitely saw a man plant evidence on Buttercup’s property. Where does that leave me?
Confused, nervous, and armed—that’s where.
So far, I haven’t felt any more powerful since performing the Love Spell. Hopefully it kicks in soon. Tonight, I’m going to need all the help I can get.
*****
When I said that Hillcrest only has two eateries, The Place and The Other Place, I was failing to count The French Table, a little hoity-toity establishment that is only open on Saturdays and Sundays. That’s because I’ve never actually dined at the French Table, so it slips off my radar.
Imagine my surprise when Max turns off of the sidewalk, heading towards the fancy establishment.
“Um... Max?” I say. He picked me up right at seven, and we’ve just walked across town. “That’s not The Place.”
“I know,” Max says with a grin. “I made reservations here for us.”
“The French Table?” I ask. “This place is for Hillcrest’s well-to-do, and even then only on special occasions.”
I know this because Marley’s parents eat at The French Table once a
year on their wedding anniversary.
“This is a special occasion,” Max says, a glimmer in his eye. “I’ve been looking forward to our first date ever since I first laid eyes on you, Penny Banks.”
He holds out a hand to me, beckoning me forward.
I have to say, the man does clean up nicely. He always looked handsome in his running clothes, but now that he’s wearing a crisp black suit, white button up shirt, and crimson tie, he looks even better.
If that’s possible.
His dark hair is still tousled, and I realize as I look him over that I’m glad about that. I like how his curly hair is all wild and untamed. It suits him.
Uh oh, there goes that fiery feeling in the pit of my stomach again. I’ve been fighting it all evening, since we left my apartment and headed across town, but it seems my guard is coming down.
He’s just so smokin’ hot!
I step forward, and accept his waiting hand. He grins as he pulls me in, and lifts my hand up to his mouth.
His lips are soft as he kisses the back of my hand.
If he wasn’t holding onto me, I might melt into a puddle right here on the sidewalk.
“Have I told you yet that you look absolutely beautiful tonight, Penny?” He says.
I laugh. It sounds giddy and bubbly. Was that me?
I pull my hand from his. What is he doing to me?
“Only about a million times,” I say.
“Well, get ready. Because I might say it a million more. You’re simply stunning.”
I feel myself blush. “Thank you,” I say.
The restaurant hostess, a girl I recognize from Zumba class, shows us to our seats. There’s a scattering of other guests around the place, probably because it’s the night of the ball.
Our table is in a private little alcove, and I’m relieved that we won’t have prying eyes watching us all night. At the same time, I know that help isn’t far, incase our conversation gets too heated. I do mean to get information out of Max tonight, whether he likes it or not.
He pulls the chair out for me, and I sit, reminding myself not to get too swoony over his chivalry. He might be a killer, after all.
“So, Max,” I say as he pauses the wine list. “You promised that you’d answer some of my questions, if I was your date.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He says, not looking up from the list. “But we have all night for that, don’t we, Penny?”
He looks up from the list. “Do you drink red wine or white? Red is preferable, really, because it has much higher flavonoid levels.”
“I’m not going to have wine,” I say, thinking of the gun in my purse. I may not be a good shot as it is, and I’m pretty sure I’d be a terrible shot if I tie a buzz on.
“No? You really should, you know. Don’t shy away because of health concerns. Wine can actually help with—”
“I’m not shying away because of health concerns,” I say, lifting the ice water that sits on the table in front of me. I take a dainty sip and then set it down. “I just want to keep my wits about me tonight, that’s all.”
“Oh,” he says. He sets the wine list aside, and leans his chin on his hand, gazing at me. “You’re all on edge. You’re still upset about the deer... is that it?”
“Not just the deer!” I say. “Max, there’s a killer on the loose in Hillcrest. Two people have been murdered. Two days after you appear in town, a man is strangled to death. You happen to have a signature strangling move. It’s a little bit suspicious, don’t you think?”
I inch my hand towards my purse, incase I’ve pushed him too far. My only hope is to pester him enough that he cracks. It’s not much of a plan, but it’s all I’ve got.
However, he seems far from cracking. On the contrary, my monologue seems to have amused him.
“I don’t strangle humans, Penny! That would be barbaric!”
“Oh, you want to talk about barbaric, do you?” I ask, glaring at him across the table. “How about the sight of you, sucking the blood out of...”
The waitress, passing us by on her way to another table, pivots her head in our direction. I lower my voice. “...Out of a deer that only moments ago was bounding happily through a meadow! That’s barbaric, Max. For all I know, you get off on violence.”
“I do not ‘get off’ on violence, Penny.” Again, he seems amused by me. He also looks a bit intrigued by my crass language.
I feel myself blush as he repeats my words back to me.
He catches my eye and then lets the tension sizzle between us for a moment before he continues. “I know my practices might seem strange to you, but—”
“That’s just it!” I say, interrupting him. “Your ‘practices’... they do seem strange! I don’t understand what it is exactly that you’re practicing, Max.”
“I’m a vampire,” he says, as casually as if he’s announcing that he’s a Gemini.
“A vampire?” I repeat. Just then, the waitress arrives with our rolls. She sets them down on our table and then hovers over us, as if she’s hoping to catch more of the conversation.
I sit back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest until she bugs off. Then I lean forward and keep talking, this time with my voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.
“What does that mean?” I ask. “Do you kill people and drink their blood? Because if that’s the case, I really don’t think you should hang around here in Hillcrest.”
“I told you... I don’t strangle people. Only wild game. I’m an animalitarian.”
“An animal what now?” I ask.
“An animalitarian. I only hunt for wild game. You see, Penny, vampirism is much like any religious practice. There are different sects. I found Vampirism when I was in my twenties... Much like you are now, discovering witchcraft.”
He smiles as if in his mind he’s going back to that time. “That was five hundred years ago, now. I learned from a great pioneer of longevity and life mastery. It’s my mission in life to continue his work. Thus, I teach classes to students who are willing to learn.”
“You teach students how to become vampires?” I ask.
“Not at first,” he says. “No. At first we cover the basics... anthropology, sociology, foundational health and longevity strategies. Next, we move into more specific skill sets such as killing game, drinking blood, and working with the circadian rhythm to harness life-force energy.”
“Okay...” I hold up my hand. This is getting too esoteric for me. “So you’re saying that vampires are real? Like, this is a real thing? Are there lots of you?”
He shrugs. “Over the past hundred years, our numbers have been decreasing. Culturally, people have shut down to magic. They just aren’t interested. But within the last five years, I’ve noticed a spike in the enrollment numbers for my classes. It’s in the air...” He lifts his glass and looks meaningfully at me. “All around us. Magic, Penny. Magic is in the air.”
The waitress returns with the rolls. I grab one, smother it with butter, and bite in.
“You know,” Max says. “That’s something my students learn in Physiology 101—if you’re going to eat carbs, make sure there's no refined flour products in—”
I look up, mid-bite, and silence him with a glare.
“Fine, fine,” he says. “Do what you want. I’m just saying...”
I chew and swallow. I don’t know where to go from here. It’s sounding more and more like Max didn’t kill Claudine or Gunther. And his story about being a vampire actually makes sense to me.
I wanted this to go differently.
I wanted to pepper him with questions, and then have a dramatic shootout in which I captured him and saved Hillcrest at the same time.
It doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.
Instead, I’m sitting across from a man who just told me that he’s a vampire, and I think I like it. Am I actually enjoying his company?
“Now, may I ask you a few questions, Penny?” He asks.
Because I’m running low on strategy, I nod.<
br />
“Okay. What do you think about being a witch? You’ve been performing some magic lately, if I’m not mistaken?”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“You have an aura about you this evening. I’m thinking that you performed a spell last night. Let me guess...” He studies me while tapping his finger to his mouth.
“The Love Spell, was it?” He asks.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
He laughs. “Oh, I’ve gotten to know my fair share of magical beings over the past five hundred years. Witches who have just performed the Love Spell have a certain glow about them. Any results, so far?”
I lift my water glass nervously. “Nope,” I say. “Not that I can tell.”
“Well,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll start noticing things soon.”
“Like what?” I ask.
I’m really curious. If he’s seen the spell in action, I’d like him to tell me what I can expect.
He laughs. “Oh, you are so green!” He says. Then, “For starters, humans usually think of love as pleasant. They use words like ‘sweet’ to describe it. But the truth is, love isn’t sweet. Love is powerful, Penny. Love is raw, and potent. It also only shows up where there’s honesty.”
“What does that mean?” I say. “Tell me something I’ll understand.”
He’s frustrating me with all of his philosophical talk. He’s also making me more than a little bit nervous.
Historically, honesty and I don’t have a good track record.
“Well,” he says. “If you drank the Love Spell potion, than be prepared to come face to face with some of your most honest feelings. Ones you may have been stuffing down or ignoring for quite some time.”
He sits back in his chair, still studying me.
I scrunch my lip to the side. “I don’t ignore my feelings,” I say.
“Oh, no?” He grins. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Oh great.
The thing is, I’m an expert at ignoring my feelings. And I’m wondering just what will happen when they all come bubbling to the surface.
“Good,” I manage. “No problem. Feelings? Eh! I’ve got this. Feelings don’t scare me.”
They scare me. A lot.
The Case of the Love Spell Page 15
