Murder in Moon Water

by CeCe Osgood

  Wyatt stood on the porch. "Happy Halloween.” He nodded at the door. “Like the clown zombie.”

  Lulu came up behind Abby. She craned her head around Abby to get a good look at him. "I haven’t met you.”

  "I’m Wyatt, George's nephew."

  "George never mentioned a nephew to me." She stuck out a stiff hand. "Lulu Dupree."

  He took it, made a face and winced when she squeezed it hard, showing off her muscle man grip.

  Wyatt exaggerated his reaction by shaking his hand as if it ached. "Ouch. Holy crickets."

  Lulu’s face brightened a kilowatt. "George used to say that."

  Wyatt beamed back. "He taught it to me when I was six. That, and how to properly brush my teeth."

  He jangled the keys in his hand. "You two ladies wanna come have a drink with me at Willard's?"

  Lulu declined. So did Abby.

  With a wave, he left.

  Abby closed the front door, leaned against it, with a pensive look. "George was a dentist."

  "I told you that.”

  Abby tilted her head. "And dentists keep patient records, don't they?"

  Abby retrieved the spare key hidden under the rock. Within seconds, she and Lulu had entered the second bedroom of George’s cottage.

  "I should have thought of this," Lulu said as Abby pulled open the top drawer of the first metal file cabinet. It was filled with art supplies and drawings signed by Doris. The other three drawers were too.

  The second file cabinet contained romance novels. "Doris loved them,” Lulu said. "That's why he kept them.”

  Abby pulled open the first drawer of the third cabinet. "Tax returns, business filings.”’

  The next three drawers were what they wanted: patient records from George’s dental practice. Abby handed Lulu a stack. “See if there's anything that sticks out to you.”

  Abby lifted out more to look through. “Shouldn't there be more files than this after thirty years as a dentist?”

  Lulu sat on the floor to shuffle through her stack. “Must be like tax returns. The law only requires you keep seven years."

  Abby sat next to her, searching her pile. "These are all from his practice in Chattanooga.”

  An hour later, they were engrossed in their search when someone banged on the front door. Abby froze while a startled Lulu put her hand on her chest. A kid's voice yelled, "Trick or treat.”

  They sat in silence, waiting for the trick or treaters to leave. "I can't take this," Lulu said.

  Abby grabbed the rest of the files out of the last drawer. "Let's do this at my house.”

  Once they settled down on the maple leaf sofa, they paged through the files.

  Voices outside yelled, "Trick or treat."

  Abby grabbed the bowl, opened the door and cooed when she found a tiny pirate, two superheroes and a mermaid.

  She came back to find Lulu waving a pink While You Were Out message slip. "Looks like it says 'Rob ... Mor- Morris called again' and it's marked important and underlined with a black marker."

  Chapter Thirty-two

  "Got any wine? Lulu chirped as she rose and headed into the kitchen.

  “With your pills? Not a good mix.”

  "Two sips. That’s all I want.”

  "It's in the fridge." Abby had her laptop out searching for Robert, Rob or Bob Morris in Chattanooga.

  "Oh, Abby. You can't do this!" Lulu cried.

  "What?”

  Lulu shuffled out of the kitchen in her tiny ballet shoes, holding a bottle. "Never refrigerate red wine, Buttercup.”

  "I like it cold sometimes."

  "That is a sacrilege. Red should always be room temperature."

  She peered at the label. "Flintstone. Never heard of it. Is it a California wine? Print's too tiny for my hundred-year-old eyes.”

  Abby reached up, took the bottle and read the label. "Cellared and bottled in Flintstone, G. A."

  Her brow creased deeply. "Hm."

  "Hm, what?”

  Abby's fingernail tapped the label. "Let me see the post-it note again. The third one."

  Lulu unzipped the fanny pack, pulled out the postage stamp-sized yellow post-it note and handed it to Abby. She glanced at it. “This could be the abbreviation for Georgia."

  Their eyes met.

  Not for long since Abby grabbed her phone to search the web. Her battery was dead. She tossed it on the couch and yanked the laptop off the coffee table. Lulu settled on the sofa next to her.

  "Flintstone is near the border of Georgia and Tennessee,” Abby read from the screen. "Twelve miles south of"—she looked at Lulu—“Chattanooga.”

  She clicked on another link, scanned several news reports, found one of interest. "There was a murder in 2014. A guy named Dixon, accused of killing his wife with a homemade bomb. He was on trial but died when his house blew up. It was labeled a suicide. The police had to use dental records to identify him."

  Abby kept reading. “The district attorney on the case was Robin Morris."

  She looked at Lulu. "Robin, not Robert. It was this guy, Robin Morris, who called to get Dixon's dental records from George.”

  A chill prickled up Abby's spine. Jay Browder had given her the bottle from the Flintstone Winery. Was he connected to this Dixon guy?

  A knock sounded on the door. Abby grabbed the candy bowl, rushed to the door and swung it open.

  Instead of trick or treaters, she stared into the grinning face of Jay Browder. "Thought you might like a Halloween treat." He held up a bottle of wine.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Panic sent shock waves through Abby. She barely heard Lulu coming up behind her, crowing, "I found a picture of Dixon."

  Browder's eyes flashed. Abby saw the change as his baby blues went from alluring to deadly.

  Suddenly the palm of his hand smacked against her collarbone, shoving her back into the room.

  She stumbled into Lulu who had come up behind her holding the laptop. Abby caught a glimpse of the screen: a photo of a younger Jay Browder.

  Lulu blurted out, "It's him.”

  Browder lurched over the threshold, slammed the door shut and locked it.

  Tiny Lulu bolted forward, striking him with the laptop, but the blow glanced off his shoulder.

  He grabbed her, shaking her so hard she lost her balance and crumpled to the floor, clenching her chest. "My heart.”

  Abby rushed to her, but Browder grabbed her red hair and dragged her down the hallway.

  Cursing, he opened the hall closet, shoved her inside and locked it.

  "No," she yelled, banging on the door. "Let me out! Let me help Lulu!"

  There was silence. She couldn't hear his footsteps or any moaning from Lulu. Her eyes watered. She's dead. Lulu's dead.

  Abby thought of the first spell Selene had taught her. To lock and unlock doors. "What was it? Portas ... something, what?”

  She couldn’t remember it. Panic was shutting down her thought processes while adrenaline buzzed through her. “Stop panicking." she told herself. "I need to get angry. Get those blue sparks shooting out of my hand . I need this magick stuff to work now!" she yelled in furious frustration.

  The broomstick she'd hidden in the back of the closet tumbled forward.

  Just then the door rattled. Browder.

  He'd let Lulu die right there on the floor, and now he'd come back to kill her.

  Her fingers curled around the broomstick handle. It was her only weapon.

  The door jerked open.

  Lulu stood there shaking so hard her voice quivered when she yelled, "I was faking it. He drove off in his car.”

  In a flash, Abby knew what she had to do.

  “My phone's dead," she yelled. "Go home, Lulu. Call the sheriff!"

  Out on the back steps, Abby straddled the broomstick. "Volanrum, volanri, volanris," she chanted, repeating it faster and faster.

  The broomstick rocketed up into the sky to soar over the mountainous terrain.

  She clutched the handle, ba
tting away her fears. Don't look down, whispered her cautious side. This time, her impetuous side agreed.

  It was a clear night with a full moon.

  She glanced down at the earth, uncertain of the right direction. She sensed he was heading to Pine Ridge ranch and turned in the general direction. Where was the turn-off road?

  She soared past a flock of birds. They looked like the blackbirds in her nightmares. Funny, instead of fear, she felt a kinship. Silently she asked them to guide her to the ranch.

  The flock veered east. She trailed after them. Down below, she saw headlights. She swooped down. It was his SUV speeding up the narrow road to Pine Ridge Ranch.

  Minutes later, she stood in the shadows, holding the broomstick like a staff, and watched as the SUV's headlights flashed at the entrance.

  A wailing siren cut through the dark night, still a distance away.

  Jay Browder braked at the ranch house, left the engine running and sprinted inside.

  Seconds later, he reappeared with a briefcase.

  "Jay!"

  He spun around.

  Abby said, "Or is it Dixon?"

  In the dark, her red hair glimmered in the moonlight.

  His face registered astonishment but that didn't stop him from taking a threatening step toward her.

  In his belt, a pistol gleamed. He reached for it.

  Her right palm itched as if stung by a thousand bees. A tiny orb suddenly appeared, blue sparks shot out of it.

  The sound of gunfire cracked the air. A bullet fractured the broom handle; a long piece of the wood flew off into the shadows.

  Browder fired again. The blue sparks caught the bullet and melted it. Then flew to the weapon.

  Browder shrieked, dropped the red glowing gun as it melted, and sprinted to the SUV.

  Flashing lights from the sheriff's Jeep landed on Browder.

  Sheriff Moser scrambled out of the vehicle, armed. “Hands up! Lemme see 'em.”

  Knowing she had to get out of there fast, Abby dove to where she thought the piece of the handle had landed in the dirt.

  As she reached for it, a flashlight flicked on and caught her in the bright white beam. She snatched the broom handle piece out of the dirt and jerked back to the shadowy area under the trees.

  Fitting the splintered piece into the rest of the handle, she gripped it with both hands and rose into the dark night.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Three nights later, Abby accepted a cup of tea from Mr. Steed.

  He said, “I understand that Dixon's alias was Jay Browder, but who was the body the police found inside the bombed house?"

  Abby replied, “Some poor homeless guy Dixon found on the street."

  Harriet uncovered the plate of cookies she’d brought from the diner. “George was Dixon’s dentist, right?”

  Abby reached for a pumpkin spice cookie. “That’s right. Sheriff Moser contacted the police in Georgia, and they then questioned a former medical examiner who confessed he’d been bribed to tamper with the dental records.”

  Abby, Harriet and Mr. Steed were in Selene's living room for an emergency coven meeting. Selene had returned earlier in the day but hadn't yet made an appearance.

  The story of George’s murder and Dixon's capture had excited media outlets up and down the Oregon coast. Reporters had invaded Moon Water, asking for interviews.

  Disliking the thought of publicity, Abby asked Lulu to take charge of the interviews and leave her out of it.

  At a press conference, Lulu described the events leading to the discovery of Browder's real identity. She barely mentioned Abby.

  The police did question Abby concerning her whereabouts while Lulu was on the phone with 911. She told them she was dizzy and faint. “I didn’t want to pass out so I stayed inside until I felt better.”

  Harriet and Mr. Steed knew the real story. She had already told them of her flight to the ranch and how she disarmed Dixon.

  Harriet refilled Abby's teacup. "I guess, when George saw Dixon in the diner with the mayor and Inglewood, he recognized him, but was too confused and stunned to believe what he was seeing. That's why he left without eating his pie.”

  Abby nodded. "I believe Dixon recognized George too that day. He started planning how to kill him and make it look like an accident.”

  “Are you certain Sheriff Moser saw you at the ranch?” asked Mr. Steed.

  Abby lifted a shoulder. "He hasn't said anything to me or given me any weird looks, so I could be wrong.”

  Harriet patted her hand. “Don’t worry too much. In the year or so he’s been in this county, I think the sheriff has seen some strange things.”

  The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. Selene entered and greeted them with a grave face as she took her seat in the circle of chairs arranged near the fireplace. "The news is not good. The League has detected twelve cases of Dim Fever.”

  Mr. Steed gasped.

  “What's that?" Abby said.

  "Dim Fever is a spell, an evil spell. It causes a significant dimming of our powers. It starts with being unable to remember a chant or conjure a charm, then a victim's powers fade completely. This new strain is different. It’s become lethal to some of us.”

  Mr. Steed's voice wavered. “What did the League say?”

  “They're searching for answers. They have assigned the entire staff of scholars to scour the ancient scrolls for possible counter spells and are compiling every detail of the twelve known cases concerning those who lived and those who didn't."

  Harriet leaned forward. “I believe what happened to you with that gust of wind and the strumming I heard inside of you is part of this.

  Selene nodded. “You’re right. The League says it may be a test for weakness. Which means we may have a scout among us.”

  Abby’s forehead creased. “A scout for what?”

  "A scout for the Dark Rivals, a faction of enchanters who favor the Black Arts. They've been in abeyance for decades. Now, the League suspects there is a new uprising and they’re spreading seeds of division to grow stronger.”

  Selene turned to Abby. "I believe that is why your mother wanted you here. She foresaw these events and knew we would need you.”

  She faced the others. "I will be returning to headquarters for another week or so. I'm here to warn you and gather a few minerals and elementals I will need in the search for victims of the Dim Fever."

  Harriet looked distraught. “What can we do?"

  “Stay alert and in contact with each other. Once the League has identified these scouts or the methods used to spread the Dim Fever, you’ll receive a message from me.”

  She turned to Abby. “On a lighter note, did you bring the book?”

  Abby reached down into the tote bag next to her chair and withdrew the velvety black book. The swirly title on the cover still read Make Room for A Broom.

  Selene rubbed a finger on the cover and touched the golden swirls of the title. Then she addressed the book. “I have asked to appoint as an official trainer while I'm gone. Do you prefer to stay in this form? Or do you choose a more mobile one?”

  The book wriggled out of her hands and dropped to the floor where it flipped opened to a blank page. A drop of black ink appeared and spread rapidly on the blank page. Soon there was a silhouette of a black cat with blank white eyes.

  Selene reached into the pocket of her cloak and brought out the gray linen bag. She pulled out the rainbow crystal Abby had chosen.

  "This is yours, Abby." She directed Abby to hold the crystal directly over the drawing of the black cat.

  The crystal grew warm in Abby's hand. Then the rainbow colors of the crystal glowed and coalesced to form a golden mist that floated over the cat drawing.

  When the mist cleared, a black cat with golden eyes sat where the book had been. It stretched, lifted its butt up and swished its tail before turning its head to stare at Abby.

  “Meet your housemate, companion and trainer, Abby. ”

  Wide-eyed with astoni
shment, Abby slowly shook her head. “That won't work. My daughter is allergic to cats.”

  “Not to this one, dear. What will you call him?”

  Abby stared at the cat, still unable to comprehend the stunning transition.

  The cat, with its tail high and twitching, sauntered toward her and raised up on its hind legs to place a velvety black paw on her knee. "Cat got your tongue?"

  She sputtered, "You t-talk?”

  "I communicate, yes." The touch of snark did not go undetected by Abby.

  Her cautious side whispered to her. Holy crickets. This is going to be trouble.

  "What should I call you?" she said in a honeyed voice, hoping that by being deferential she could soften the cat’s attitude.

  "I prefer Maurice or Simon.”

  Later that evening, when Abby introduced the cat to Jill with a woeful tale of finding him abandoned on Mount Dapple Road, Jill scooped him up in her arms and hugged him tight. "I'm calling you Bubsy."

  The cat slit his eyes giving Abby a death stare to express his displeasure.

  “Um, I think, sweetie, I’m kind of liking the names Maurice or Simon."

  "Nope. He's Bubsy. Funny, I'm not sneezing around him. Guess that's because," she stared into his golden eyes, "you're such an adorable Bubsy."

  The cat gave Abby another daggered look. Abby lifted her hands and shoulders in a what can I do gesture.

  Then with a mischievous and teeny tiny wicked smile, she said, "Guess that’s it, Bubsy. Welcome to your cozy new home on Curiosity Lane."

  THE END

  Hello from CeCe

  Thank for reading MURDER IN MOON WATER.

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