Third Witch's the Charm

by Valia Lind

  "I never did that."

  His words, and the way he says them leave no room for argument. He believes what he's saying. But how can that be true?

  "I remember it. I cried for hours. It was my ticket—" But then I stop. He's looking at me in disbelief, and I suddenly don't know what's true and what isn't.

  A few months ago, I found out my aunt had magically altered my memories to protect me. She hasn't been able to tell me more than that, not yet at least. But is it possible that some of my experiences are different from what I remember?

  I glance up at Dean, at the confusion and apology in his gaze, and I decide that it doesn't matter. We're not the same people we were as kids, and I can't hold this over him forever. No matter how much that project set me back. Or ruined my acceptance into the school of my dreams that my mother attended. It doesn't matter anymore.

  As I stand there, processing all of this, Dean takes a step toward me. I glance up, as he fills my personal space with his scent, his eyes intense on mine.

  "Can we start over?" he whispers, holding out his hand toward me. "I'm Dean, Monroe Cove's handyman. I used to have trouble expressing my emotions, but I have really matured since then. I like coffee, pie, and road trips."

  I stare at him, and his crooked smile, then down at his hand. Didn't I just decide to put everything behind us?

  Well, get to it, Cassie. Haven't got all night.

  Taking a deep breath, I place my hand into his. His half smile becomes a grin, and I can't help smiling back.

  "Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Cassie, part time interior designer, full time Auntie Grace’s babysitter. I don't like pie, I'm partial to eclairs. But I do love coffee and road trips."

  We stand like that, hands clasped, grinning at each other.

  I've been acting like a child when it comes to him for way too long. Maybe it's simply a protective mechanism, a way for me not to accept the ever-growing feelings I have toward this man. But it's time I've stopped being childish. It's time I gave us a new start.

  We make our way back toward the bungalows shortly after, walking a little slower than usual. Maybe I'm romanticizing this situation, but it almost feels like he's not ready to say goodbye to me either. We don't talk, but there's a new sense of something here. I would call it friendship, which is not a place I ever thought I'd find myself.

  "I'll see you tomorrow," Dean says, stepping up onto the little porch at the bungalow beside mine.

  "See you tomorrow."

  He waits until I'm inside before reaching for his door. I shut my own softly, hoping not to wake up Penny. Leaning against it with my back, I think of how different things appear all of a sudden. It's true what they say, I suppose. Everything can change in the blink of the eye.

  I push away from the door when something stops me. An uneasy feeling rushes over my skin, and I search the darkness to try and figure out what it could possibly be. This feels similar to how I felt at dinner. It's definitely my magic, that much I can tell. Since I've begun working on learning more about it, I'm more attuned to it. And I know not to ignore the pulls.

  That’s what is happening now. The magic is tugging on me, pulling me back outside. Glancing over to make sure Penny is fast asleep, I step back out. The night is quieter than before, with only an occasional owl or a rustle of leaves. The bungalow next to ours is dark, so Dean must've gone straight to bed.

  I close my eyes, centering myself and my magic. The man from my dreams suddenly fills my mind, his face in panic, his mouth open, as if he's trying to say something. My eyes spring open. I almost expect him to be right in front of me, but I'm still alone. And now I’m more concerned than ever.

  Scanning the night once more, my gaze latches onto a little glow coming from the direction of the pool house. Because it's so dark out, the sliver of light is more visible. It’s also gone before I can pinpoint what's making it. But the moment I focus on it, the magic inside of me tugs me in that direction.

  Alrighty then. I guess I'm going to the pool house.

  My feet carry me across the pathway, passing the silent bungalows. It must be after midnight at this point. I'm sure most people have an early day here tomorrow. I strain to listen to any unnatural sounds, but there's nothing.

  When I reach the pool house, I find the door cracked. All my internal alarms were already going off, but they are even more so now. One of the things this place is known for is how careful they are with everything. They would never leave the door open, not when there are children on the premises. In fact, the manager made sure to mention that to us when we arrived. She did a quick overview of the resort with us, and I remember her saying so.

  Without touching the door, I push it open with the tip of my shoe and slip inside. It's slightly darker in here, and I give my eyes a second to adjust. As I peer into the shadows, I don't see anything or anyone. Deeming it safe, I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. That's when I notice something in the water.

  Stepping closer, I shine the light over the calm surface when I see it.

  A body, floating face up in the pool. His mouth is open, as if he's trying to say something.

  It's the man from my dreams. And he's dead.

  Without a moment's hesitation, I open my phone and dial the police. This vacation has become anything but.

  5

  The police are on scene within ten minutes. I was told by the nice dispatcher to step out of the pool house and wait on the lawn. They also called the manager, Lizette, down from the main house. I'm still on the phone with the police when she shows up.

  “Is it true? Someone is dead in there?” She looks distraught, her shirt wrinkled as she moves toward the door.

  “Don't go in there. The police are on their way.”

  Just as I say that, I see lights pulling up to the front of the main house. The dispatcher asks if they have arrived, and only when the officers step out of the vehicles do I hang up. They kept their lights on, but sirens off, as a courtesy to the guests. Even so, I see people peeking out of their bungalows.

  "News travels fast, huh?" I comment. Lizette doesn't hear me. The officers reach us at that time, and I point them in the direction of the body. Auntie Grace is going to have a field day with this. The whole point of me leaving Monroe Cove was to get away from all the murder. Yet, here we are again.

  One of the officers comes back out, walking over to where Lizette and I are waiting.

  "Which one of you found the body?" he asks. I raise my hand. "Are you able to answer a few questions now?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "What do I do? I have to get in there and see who it is, no? I mean, this happened under my watch. I just don't—" Lizette begins rambling, and the officer gives me an apologetic look before turning to the manager.

  "Ma'am, it's going to be okay. Can we take a seat over here?"

  I let him fuss over her as I watch people coming in and out of the pool house and all around it. It seems that while I wasn't watching, another fifty people arrived. My eyes are cataloguing everything, and I itch to take out my phone and start making notes. It's one of the things that translates from my interior design business to solving murders. The devil is in the details.

  Just then, my eyes land on a man on the other side of the lawn. He's dressed in a suit and a long coat, very big city detective vibes, as he speaks to the officer who arrived first on the scene. Both men look up toward me, and the well-dressed man nods. Definitely a big city detective. I have no idea how he got here so fast though. I stay where I am, waiting for him to approach.

  "Hello, I'm Detective Ames with the state police. I was told you found the body?"

  "Yes. I'm Cassandra."

  "Cassandra...?"

  "Duke. I'm here on vacation with my friend." I know how this works. He's going to need every little bit of detail, no matter how irrelevant it is. It never looks good when I find a body, but especially like this. I had no business being in the pool house this late at night, and I can't exactly tell him my ma
gic led me here.

  "Why were you in the pool house this late, Miss Duke?" the detective asks, just like I expect him to. He looks to be in his late forties, well-groomed but sad around the eyes. I always feel for law enforcement personnel. They don't get called when there's good news to share.

  "I was a bit restless and decided to go for a walk. I saw a light in this direction, so I came here and found the door ajar. I didn't touch it, by the way. I stepped inside and found the man floating."

  "You didn't touch the door?"

  "What?"

  "You mentioned you didn't touch the door. Why wouldn't you? It's a natural thing to do."

  He's right, of course. But I guess I've been around crime scenes one too many times now that I automatically stay extra vigilant. I'm a little nervous to tell him that though. It might look bad. But it might look bad not saying anything either.

  "It's not the first time I've found a dead body," I admit and watch his gaze turn more curious.

  "So, it's a habit of yours to stumble onto homicide investigations?"

  "I've been...misfortunate enough to aid in a few."

  "Aid?" But before I can reply, one of the officers calls his name. "Stay close, Miss Duke. I think we're going to have to have a more in-depth conversation about that."

  "I'm not going anywhere, except to my bungalow, if that's alright?"

  "Yes."

  He leaves me then, and I turn toward the houses. I want to stay and poke around more, but I don't need to look any more suspicious than I already made myself look.

  He's going to be watching me like a hawk, I can feel it already.

  As I make my way back to the bungalow, I glance over at Lizette, sitting on a bench with an officer hovering beside her. My heart goes out to her. This is not the kind of thing anyone should be dealing with, but I can imagine how stressful it may be when you have a whole campus full of people depending on you.

  More of the bungalows have lights on now, and people are looking out behind the curtains as I walk back. When I reach our bungalow, Penny pulls the door open before I can.

  "Hi," I say, a little surprised.

  "Don't you even “hi” me like that, Cassandra Duke. What have you gotten yourself into now?"

  Penny brings me a cup of tea, and I wrap my hands around the warmth, inhaling deeply. It's past one o'clock now, and I'm finally feeling it.

  "Are we just going to ignore the part where you have stumbled upon yet another dead body?"

  Penny is clearly not having a good time with this. Not that I am either, but at least the whole dream haunting makes more sense now. Somehow. Or it will. Maybe? I'm still not sure how I was dream-haunted before the man was even dead. The next time I see him, I’ll be sure to ask. There has to be something he can tell me, considering this isn't a typical ghost interaction.

  How funny is that? I now have typical ghost interactions. Ha.

  "Pen, I honestly think this is just my lot in life now." I shrug as Penny nods, sitting down on her bed.

  "I think so too. But I don't like it. I don't like it one bit."

  "I can't say that I'm a fan either."

  I take a sip of the tea, letting it warm me from the inside as my mind races through the night. I've already pulled out my phone and made a bunch of notes, just so I don't forget anything later on. Or when I'm questioned next.

  Feeling restless, I make my way to the window and pull back the curtain. There's an array of activity on the lawn now. A few deputies stand around talking to the guests, but I don't see the detective. He really seemed not to like me. Or maybe I'm just projecting. Sheriff Bernard doesn't like when I interfere in his investigations. Maybe that's how the detective is feeling too. Or maybe I'm making stuff up. I don't even know anymore.

  "Was it really the man from your dreams?" Penny asks, pulling me back to the present. I drop the curtains into place and walk back over to sit down on the couch. She’s the only one I told.

  "Yes. It's so strange. I know he seemed to have called me toward the pool house, but I still have no idea how. I'm hoping he'll show up in my dreams again and will be able to offer some information, but we both know that's probably not going to be the case."

  I'm referring, of course, to the uncanny way ghosts seem to forget everything the moment they die. It's like a reset switch is flipped or something. It makes helping them so much more difficult. I mean, I've only had two instances with them. And with a zombie. But once you're dead, your memories are no longer there. At least not in any useful way.

  It's kind of like talking to an amnesia patient. They remember how to talk and walk and read but can't remember their own name. That reminds me, I need to find out what this man's name is. Maybe that will shed some light on him.

  "So, what's our next move?" Penny asks.

  "I would say try and get some sleep?" I take another sip of tea. "Tomorrow is already here, but we both could use some rest."

  "Won't they be coming around to interview people?"

  "I think they'll hold off until morning. They're mostly talking to those who have stepped out of their bungalows on their own. Or so it seems."

  Just then, the resort phone rings, making us both jump.

  "Okay, that was not helpful to my heart rate," Penny says before picking it up. I sip my tea as I watch her listen to whoever is on the other line. She agrees with whatever is being said and then hangs up.

  "That was the resort staff. They're asking everyone to meet in the main dining hall in the morning. No one is allowed to leave the premises until after they've been spoken to by the police."

  "Makes sense," I say, standing up. I really need a good shower and some sleep. Today has definitely been a rollercoaster of a day. I'm not sure what will happen come sunrise, but I do know that I will need to do my best to stay ahead of the game. Since my magic is the one that brought me to this man, I have to be the one to solve the murder. I don't think it'll be an easy one.

  6

  The next morning, I'm up before the sun. I'm pretty sure I won't be getting a good night of sleep until this murder is solved, and I can give my dream phantom some "rest in peace" so that I can rest in peace. He didn’t show up this time. Because of course he wouldn’t the one time I actually need him to. But I know he’ll be back. Those are just the rules.

  Leaving Penny in the room, I grab my jacket and boots and tiptoe outside, shutting the door softly behind me. The cool air hits my skin. I breathe in deeply, taking in the quiet morning for a second. I've never been a morning person, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the beauty of it when I am awake.

  Sitting down on the steps, I pull on and zip up my boots before tugging on my jacket. As far as I can see, there isn't a soul in sight. That works in my favor. I need to go study the scene of the crime before the charming detective shows up.

  Okay, yes, that charming was way too sarcastic, but seriously. Just because I don't have a badge, doesn't mean I can't think like a cop. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt though, I'm sure he's dealt with plenty of meddling do-gooders. I just have to prove to him I'm an asset, not a hindrance. And maybe then he'll let me take a look at the medical examiner’s report.

  Ha. Even as I think it, I'm laughing at myself. I sound so official, and I know better than to expect him to share anything with me.

  When I reach the pool area, police tape is wrapped over the door. But the door is open. I crouch down, making sure not to touch the tape or the walls, and slip inside.

  It's just as warm in here as it was yesterday, but a chill still runs down my spine. It has nothing to do with the actual temperature. I know that, which makes it all the more ominous.

  I give the room a quick scan, but no one is there. Not even my dream phantom. I don’t expect him to show up, but just in case. It seems that I have no actual knowledge on how the whole dead thing works, because each time, it's been different. Partially, I wonder if it's because my magic keeps growing and developing, so I'm getting bombarded from every side, but that's ju
st guess work. As much as Auntie Grace has promised to be more open about magic with me, it's still a work in progress.

  I walk over to where I stood yesterday, glancing down at the water. My memory is sharp when it brings up the image of him floating face up.

  This has really become a situation I find myself in way too often, but it also feels right somehow. I have no idea what to think about that.

  I take my time walking around the pool area, looking for anything I may have missed yesterday. As far as I can see, there's nothing out of the ordinary here. No splashes of blood or anything else, no scuff marks, no forgotten towels. Logically, I'm sure the police have picked up anything that might've been discarded. They would've looked for the same things I'm looking for.

  I'm getting ready to head back to the door when something occurs to me. This place is too clean.

  There aren't any pieces of dirt or dust anywhere. I know this resort prides itself in keeping things clean, but shouldn't there be something?

  "Why am I not surprised?"

  I turn just as the detective walks into the pool area, hands in his pockets. I stand, where I've been crouching to study the floor and shrug.

  "Because you're perceptive?"

  His lips curl up in an almost smile before he shuts that down. I still feel like I just won a tiny victory.

  "This area is off limits," he says. He doesn't come farther in, and I don't move from my spot.

  "You know, this pool is the cleanest I've ever been to. Not a speck of dust to be seen. Curious, isn't it?"

  I'm watching him like a hawk, so I see the way his eyes work at staying focused on me. He's trying not to give anything away, and in doing so, he's giving me just enough. Of course he noticed that, but I still want him to admit it.

  "It's a very good resort."

  "Oh, it is. But we both know the resort wasn't the one to clean up the scene."