“I think Midnight is going to be okay,” I said. I really did feel this, in my bones. My witch senses were on high alert, and something deep inside of me was telling me that whoever was behind all this wasn’t intent on hurting Midnight.
They’d been after The Miser.
I sent a little wave of healing, calm energy to Joy, who was starting to get worked up. She visibly calmed again.
“Then what?” I asked.
“I remember patting Midnight’s nose, and feeding him carrot sticks. I brought plenty. And then I... oh yes, I took the gun out of its case and I was about to empty out the bullets. Jim from the Historical Society showed me how to do it when I picked up the gun.”
She scratched her head. “That’s the last thing I remember,” she said. “I was about to empty out the bullets and I was talking aloud to Midnight about it, I think. Then—I don’t know, maybe I fell? Because I can’t quite... it’s all very fuzzy. I barely remember feeling very frightened. And then something that sounded like Latin. It was a language I don't understand at any rate. But that can’t be right...”
It most certainly could be right. Many spells are conducted in Latin.
But I didn’t say that. Joy had enough to worry about. I just sent her another wave of calmness.
She took a deep breath, and then exhaled. “I’m sorry... I’m sure it will come back to me once I can think straight again,” she said.
“Yeah...” I said, though I wasn’t sure I agreed with her. If a magical being was behind the attack that had just occurred, it was possible that they’d cast some sort of forgetfulness spell on Joy, and she’d never remember the incident.
I spotted Chris Wagner, the Hillcrest Police Department captain, up ahead. He was questioning a group of locals, who all looked eager to add their two cents.
Joy and I walked up to them just in time to hear, “And we all thought it was Joy, and that she’d forgotten her lines!”
The man who’d played Jake the Snake piped up. “I thought that was strange, because Joy never forgets her lines! But everyone has a bad day now and then, in the acting business. So I said my line, and then—”
Chris was furiously writing on his pad, trying to keep up.
The actor playing Jake the Snake looked in our direction. “Hey! Everybody! There’s Joy!”
Joy headed toward them, but I hung back.
I didn’t want to talk to the police captain at that moment.
I scanned the crowd, and spotted Max and Penny standing next to the magical beings that had accompanied me to the bar. I hurried over to them.
The Miser hung back from the group. His head was now hatless. I was guessing that his worn top hat was now part of a taped off crime scene.
“Ahem—Miss Greene!” he said, waving me over.
I greeted him with a nod.
“Can I have a word with you, in private?” he asked.
“I think that would be a good idea,” I said. I wanted to talk to him, too. If I was right, and that bullet had been meant for him, I wanted him to know about it.
“I’m concerned...” The Miser said quietly. He looked over his shoulder at the scene that carried on in front of the bar. “The man next to me was shot—and he was wearing my hat.”
“I know,” I said. I lifted my hand up and smoothed down my braid. “I’m so sorry.” One of the unfortunate things about owning and operating a retreat center, I’ve found, is that I constantly feel bad when unfortunate things happen to my guests. It’s like I feel responsible for everything. I didn’t ride into the bar and shoot Old Two-Cats, but I felt almost as if I had.
“I’m worried...” he began. Then he stopped. He reached up and stroked his beard. I thought for a moment that his statement was complete, but just before I spoke up, he went on.
“I’m worried that the bullet was meant for me,” he said.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I told him. I eyed him. “Can you think of anyone who would want to kill you?”
“I can think of a few people,” The Miser said. “I don’t go out of my way to be likeable, you know. Being liked is overrated.”
“You seem to go out of your way to help your brother,” I countered. It may not have been the most polite thing to say, but I felt a sense of urgency. There was no time to be polite. A murderer was off galloping around town. “I mean, you were the one who fed him, when he... um... received his powers. Right?”
“Yes, yes,” he said.
“That’s going out of your way to be liked, isn’t it?” I said.
“You don't understand,” he said. “King Midas is my brother. We’re a team. He doesn’t count. Now...” He pulled out a bag from the bulky pocket of his brown leather jacket. “I’ve done some calculations, and this is the amount of King Midas' budget that we can spare this month. I want to give it to you.”
He jingled the bag in front of my face. “I always keep some gold on me, just in case of an emergency such as this,” The Miser said. “I’m in charge of the gold that my brother creates. He learned long ago that I’m better at budgeting than he is. He creates the money, and I oversee the spending of it. We work well, as a team. It’s how we function. Now, as I said, this is the most we can spare. It works out to about twelve thousand dollars. I’m prepared to give it to you, if....”
He let the silence hang for a minute as he peered at me through his beady eyes, out from under his bushy gray eyebrows.
Finally he continued. “If you can figure out who that was who tried to kill me.”
“Me? Why me?” I asked.
“You have a reputation for healing,” he said, still peering intently at me. “Figure out who had a grievance against me. Figure out who is trying to end my life. And then put an end to it, for heaven’s sake, before they actually succeed. Heal this problem. Can I trust you to do that?”
I wanted badly to say no. I’d been through so much since opening the center. I was hoping that this little five-day workshop would be low key. Easy peasy. Stress free. Enjoyable, even.
I guess that was too much to hope for.
When I first opened up the center, I’d sent the intention that the place was meant for healing.
Deep healing.
It turns out, deep healing takes a lot of work. Things have to get worse, before they get better. I’d already noticed that, for sure, over the last few months.
I sighed. There was no way I could turn down The Miser, even if I wanted to. He needed help, and it was my duty to give it. Even more, my necklace was glowing with warmth again, which was a sure sign that healing was in the works.
The healing had something to do with The Miser, and the attempt on his life. I felt in my bones that my necklace was prompting me on.
Maybe on the other side of the ugly case, some actual healing will occur, I thought. Getting the bag of gold would be nice, too. Maybe I could even use it to pay off my debts.
“Yeah, I’ll help,” I said.
Chapter Five
Penny and Max helped me guide our magical guests to the van, and then all of us drove back to the center. Once the guests were taken care of, I was able to have a private word with Penny and Max. I told them about The Miser’s offer to pay me twelve thousand for solving the case, and both offered to help.
Penny, who has her PI license, said we had to focus on people close to The Miser. That gave us a list of suspects to start with: King Midas, Polly, and June. Penny wanted me to also include Two-Cats' furry little workers, but I refused to put them on our list. She insisted that cats could be quite devious and intent on getting their way, but I insisted right back at her that holding a gun and pulling the trigger really did require opposable thumbs.
Max served as a tiebreaker, thank goodness, and sensibly took my side; the cats did not make the suspect list.
We planned to begin interviewing suspects in the morning. After saying goodnight to them both around seven, feeling satisfied with our list and our plan, I checked on Skili and Blueberry Muffin. They were both happi
ly napping at my campsite. Then I joined the meet and greet gathering in the center lobby
The gathering went well. King Midas, his wife, and June didn’t mingle much, and The Miser didn’t show up at all—which was understandable to me, seeing as I knew he was probably still freaked out about almost being shot at. I tried to keep an eye on my suspects, but it was hard given all the socializing I had to do with the other guests. After quite a few hours of wine drinking and eating, most guests headed off to bed. However, one guest remained seated at the piano in one corner of the lobby. It was the cute guy I’d spotted up at the portal gate.
He was playing a beautiful melody which was slow and soothing—just what I needed at the moment.
I worked with one of my employees, a fairy godmother named Margie, to magically clean up the lobby. Even using magic to clean requires some effort, and sometimes, especially if my mind is tired, I find it easier to just pick up the debris instead of using magic.
My mind was definitely fatigued, so I resorted to wandering around, picking up wine glasses, and putting them on trays.
As I tidied up the last glass I could see, Margie fluttered over to me. She wore a lavender house dress with a white, ruffled apron, and her white hair was up in a bun. She yawned as she flew, and patted her little hand over her mouth. “How are we looking?” she asked as she joined my side.
I scanned the lobby. The tree in the middle was my favorite part. Above us, the skylights gave way to an open midnight blue sky, filled with millions of stars and the shimmery silver moon. Little white votive candles floated above us, and the waterfall, which was magically enchanted to pour out sparkly, rainbow colors, made a relaxing sound that mingled with the piano music. The rustic wooden tables and chairs were all spotlessly clean. Besides one bus bin of dishes, to which I planned to add the glasses on my tray, everything looked good.
“This is the last of the dishes,” I said happily. “I’ll apply a cleaning spell to the last bin, and magically store them so they’re ready for next time. You go on to bed, Margie, it’s been a long day. Thank you so much for all of your help. I totally couldn’t do this without you.”
“My pleasure, Marley,” Margie said, before giving another yawn. “I’ll turn in then, and see you bright and early in the morning.”
She glanced at the piano player, who was still bent over the keys. “Would you like me to gently suggest that he turn in, too?” she asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said with a sleepy smile.
She fluttered off, and I deposited the tray of glasses in the bus bin. It took me a few minutes to apply the right magic to make them sparkly clean. With a whispered spell I made them disappear into a magically invisible storage space. It was one of my favorite spells, which Margie had taught me just two weeks prior—with the simple phrase I was able to put the dishes out of sight and out of mind, yet they were easy to retrieve, too. I’d used the spell on quite a few items that I used to store in various bins and boxes around my van. It was very convenient.
Once the dishes were away, I paused and just listened to the piano music for a moment. It really was lovely, and along with the dimly lit space, the starlight, and the vast empty quietness of the lobby, it made me feel very relaxed. It had been such a hectic afternoon; I welcomed the sense of peace that the music helped me to feel.
Finally, I walked toward the man who was still bent over the keys.
I could only see his back as I approached. I recognized the curls and the lean figure. It was definitely the cute young guy that had caught my eye. I recalled that up at the portal gate he’d been very quiet, and watchful. I knew his name was on one of the lists Cora had prepared for me before she left town, but I couldn’t quite remember it.
I took a seat a little ways away from the piano, but within the man’s line of sight.
When he finished his song, he looked up at me. He had gentle eyes, and a serene expression. He lifted a corner of his mouth in a subtle smile and gave a tiny nod in my direction.
“That was really nice music,” I told him. “Thank you.”
“Glad you liked it,” he said. “Where is everybody?”
“The meet and greet is over,” I told him. “It’s past ten. I’m going to call it a night, too, myself. You’re welcome to stay here and play, if you like.”
I stood up.
He stood, too. “I lose track of time when I’m playing,” he said. “I should get some sleep, too. I want to be sharp for the lectures tomorrow. I’m hoping to learn a lot from King Midas.”
“I guess it would be okay to pick up a few tips,” I said, thinking of my late taxes.
“I'm excited about the abundance lecture,” he said. “I really, um, need to learn about it. Finances can be so stressful. That’s why I signed up for this workshop.”
I picked up something insincere about him, but it was hard to discern what it was.
Perhaps it was that his confession of stress did not match the calm look on his face, nor the pace of the music that was flowing from his fingertips just moments before. Music like that could not come from an inner landscape that was as tumultuous as he was claiming.
“Hm...” I said, eyeing him thoughtfully. “You feel stressed, is that right?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, averting his gaze. “Most all the time. That’s why I’m here—to get past that. Money, boy.” He shook his head. “It can be a real problem.”
He eyed me, and I had the strange sense that he was waiting for me to join in and complain with him. I wasn’t going to take the bait.
“I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering your name,” I told him. “I’ve met so many people since opening the center. I’m Marley Greene—the owner.” I offered my hand.
“I’m Hal,” he said. “Hal Holt. It’s great to meet you, Marley.”
His handshake was nice. Gentle yet firm, and warm, too. Hal struck me as very relaxed. I liked him. He was attractive and struck me as very kind and thoughtful.
But why didn’t his words match his demeanor?
Because of all that I’d dealt with over the course of the afternoon and evening, my guard was definitely up.
My witch senses were on high alert, and they were tingling now—as though trying to alert me to something.
What?
Did it have to do with the murder? Was Hal involved, somehow?
I eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t have a personal relationship with The Miser—that I knew of.
“Are you related to King Midas and his family, by any chance?” I asked. “Maybe a distant relative that he doesn’t talk about that much, or something? Is that why you’re excited to learn from him?”
“Me... related to King Midas? No, no,” he said. “I barely—I mean—I don’t know him at all. I’m just here as a student—a first time student. That’s all.”
“And where are you from?” I asked.
“The Water Realm,” he answered quickly.
“Oh. Cool,” I said.
He looked back at the piano. “That’s a really nice piano, you know. I’ve never heard one so perfectly tuned, and I really like the vines painted on it.” He motioned to the swirling, painted vines and flower blossoms that covered every inch of the piano except for the keys. “Did you do the artwork?”
I grinned. Now I sensed he was being genuine. It was a relief. Lies make me uncomfortable and tense.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, not directly. That piano just sort of showed up here, painted and everything, when my witch sisters and I created this place. We intended for the space to serve the highest good of all who entered, and I guess the piano is part of that.”
“Music certainly is good for the soul,” Hal said. He drifted into silence again. Then he met my eye, and a strange sense of intimacy coursed through me, as though he was looking into me.
I realized I was standing just a bit too close to him. A sense of thick, alive energy filled the space between us, and suddenly I felt eager to dissipate it.
&
nbsp; My ex, Justin, had only left town two and a half months before, and I wasn’t over him. Plus, it had been a long day, and I was drained. Too drained to make decisions about who I was attracted to.
Too tired to be staring into the gentle eyes of a guest at my center—a guest I barely knew, who I sensed was lying to me, no less.
“Well, I’m glad that you like the piano,” I said, making my tone a little bit lighter. “Music has always been a very important part of my life. It always makes me feel better, and it seems to make my magic stronger, too. Actually, my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now, I suppose; we’re taking a break—he’s a musician too. He’s on tour right now, in Oregon this week.”
“I’m sure he’s very talented,” he said abruptly. Then he stepped back. “Good night, Marley.” He raised his hand in a little wave, and his eyes caught mine again.
For the second time, I was filled again with the strange sense that he was looking into me. There was something very deep about this man, and I didn’t understand it.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he turned and walked toward the stairs.
When he began climbing, I made myself look away. I crossed the lobby. When I reached the doors and pulled them open, I couldn't help myself. I chanced one look over my shoulder, in Hal’s direction. My heart fluttered in my chest when I saw that he’d paused in front of the doors that led to the third floor. He was looking back at me, too.
Even from across the room, I felt our eyes lock. I quickly looked away, and rushed outside.
The cool, early summer air struck my burning cheeks. A sense of giddiness filled my body and made me feel light as I headed for my van. I didn’t understand the feeling.
It was almost like I had a crush on the guy.
No. That’s impossible, I thought. I ignored the foolish smile on my lips, and headed for my van so that I could go to bed.
I wanted to be well rested for my upcoming investigation.
Chapter Six
The next morning, I opened my eyes and lay still in bed, trying to figure out what woke me up. Outside, the sky was pale silver; the sun had not yet come up, and I could tell that it was going to be a beautiful, clear day. It was very early. By the look of the sky, it was about five.
King Midas' Magic Page 4