Mystic Pieces

by Ada Bell

  One thing I loved about cleaning up was being able to see the immediate results of my labor. The floor shone when I was finished, even if I did say so myself. I was about to leave when the bells over the door rang, and a police officer walked into the room, stomping snow and ice off his boots onto the mat.

  The officer approached the front counter. His baby face surprised me. Police always seemed like real adults, the kind of adulty adults who were in their forties, at least. But this guy looked only a couple of years older than me. Of course, you didn’t need a college degree to join the police force, so a twenty-one-year-old could have been working there for three years.

  I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m Doug Matthews.”

  “You’re Sheriff Matthews?” My eyes widened. I swept my gaze from his close-cropped black hair to his wide smile and the adorable cleft in his chin. I’d never met a hot sheriff before, at least not outside of the movies.

  “What, you’ve never seen a Black police officer?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “No, not at all. I’m surprised because—” you’re really hot. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t let him think I believed Black men couldn’t be sheriff. Finally, I went with, “You’re so young. You’re practically my age.”

  “I’m twenty-seven,” he said proudly. “And no. Sheriff Timothy Matthews is my uncle. Based on your surprise, I’m guessing you didn’t vote for him.”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t lived here long. How can I help you, Officer?”

  “Please, call me Doug,” he said. “I’m here to talk to Olive.”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

  About Earl. Someone must’ve told him about their argument. There was no other reason for police to show up. Before I could think, I blurted out, “Earl was alive when he left yesterday!”

  “Well, yes, I assumed so,” Doug said. “Considering that he wasn’t in the store when he was found. Do you know where he went after he left?”

  “No, but he drove south on Main. While I was walking home, I saw him.”

  Doug pulled out a tape recorder. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

  “Uh, sure?” He gave me a puzzled look. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. But I don’t know anything. I only met Earl once, for less than five minutes.”

  “Anything you can tell me will help with the investigation.” He put the recorder on the counter, then pressed a button.

  When he motioned for me to continue, I went over everything that happened. How I’d been in the store interviewing for a job when Earl tried to return a statuette, and Olive told him there were no refunds. He was angry, she was calm. No reason to think she was upset with him. I’d left, and he’d stormed past me on the sidewalk. Then he got in his car and zoomed away, out of sight.

  “Like I said, I don’t know much.”

  “You know more than you think,” Doug said. “The timing suggests that, other than the murderer, you may have been the last person to see Earl alive.”

  A shiver went down my spine at Doug’s pronouncement.

  It shouldn’t bother me. There was absolutely zero connection between me seeing Earl shortly before he died and his getting killed. But it still weirded me out.

  “What was he wearing?” Doug asked.

  I blinked at him several times. I had no idea. Unless someone showed up in something really unusual like Olive’s Civil War-era dress or his uniform, I rarely noticed clothes. In fact, I probably couldn’t tell him what I was wearing without looking down first. Probably jeans and a shirt, though. I didn’t own much else.

  “Sorry. I don’t know. Is his outfit a clue?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “If it wasn’t what he was wearing when he was found.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked. “All I know is that Thelma found Earl, and they were supposed to have dinner.”

  “Obviously, any information related to the investigation is confidential.”

  “Right. I knew that.” Of course he wouldn’t tell me anything. Not only was I a random stranger to him, I was the last person to see the murder victim alive and I worked for the woman who had a loud argument with him only a few hours before he died. Now that I thought about it, I was lucky Doug hadn’t slapped handcuffs on me yet.

  “But Thelma has been broadcasting her story all over town,” he said. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that her official statement was posted in this morning’s Gazette.”

  “In the newspaper? Is that normal?”

  “No. No, it’s not. We prefer our key witnesses talk to police before the media. Articles usually come from speaking to a source at the police station—here, that’s me or Uncle Tim. However, Thelma was on the phone with the press when we arrived on scene.” He shook his head in a “what are you gonna do?” gesture.

  “I don’t want you to get into any trouble, Officer,” I said. “Why don’t I go get Olive for you, and I’ll read the Gazette while the two of you chat?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Five minutes later, my boss explained to Doug how Earl tossed the figurine at her head while I settled into the nearby table, pretending to read the morning paper. I wanted to actually read the story later, but this conversation was more important at the moment.

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” Doug asked. “That’s assault.”

  Olive shrugged. “He missed.”

  “But still.”

  “Look, Dougie, if Earl had come any closer, I’d have walloped him. But he threw the statuette, I ducked, he left. That’s the end of it.”

  Under his breath, I heard the officer mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “Would have walloped him.” Olive wasn’t helping her own case. Maybe I should call Kevin. He didn’t practice criminal law, but at the very least, he could advise Olive not to tell police that she’d thought about “walloping” the guy who later died of a head injury. Even I knew that. Hoping I looked casual, I picked up my phone and tapped out a text.

  Moments later, the store phone rang.

  “Excuse me, sweetie,” Olive said. “I need to take this. Missing Pieces, how can I help you?”

  She listened and nodded for about thirty seconds before putting the receiver back into the cradle. Then she shot me a look I couldn’t read before turning to Doug. “I’ve been advised by my attorney not to answer any further questions without him present. And to stop calling you ‘Dougie’.”

  Doug narrowed his eyes at me but directed his comments at Olive. “Oh, yeah? What a coincidence. Your lawyer?”

  “Yes. I am now represented by Kevin Reynolds, Esq.”

  “Aly, you wound me. I thought we were becoming friends.”

  “You’re cute, Doug, but not that cute,” I said. “Don’t you have a murderer to catch?”

  “I suppose that’s my cue to leave. But I’ll be back.” The words dangled in the air ominously. A moment later the bells jingled as the door swung shut behind him.

  As soon as the ringing stopped, Olive turned to me, hands on her hips. “Just what do you think you’re doing, missy?”

  I stood up, mirroring her posture. “Don’t missy me! I’m saving you. You practically told the police that you thought about attacking Earl. Why not post ‘I’ve got a motive!’ on a billboard?”

  “You obviously didn’t know Earl,” she muttered. “Half the town had a motive to kill him.”

  “Those comments aren’t helping your case.”

  “My case doesn’t need help. I know I’m not a killer.”

  “You know that, and I know that,” I said with a glance at the closed door. “But we may need to convince the rest of the town. You practically gave a confession.”

  “I did no such thing!” Her features softened, though. “But thank you for looking out for me. I’ve known little Dougie Matthews since he was in diapers.”

/>   “Everyone’s known everyone for years around here. No one thinks their friends and neighbors are capable of murder. And yet, someone had to do it.”

  She sighed. “True enough. What does the paper say?”

  According to the front page, Earl worked as a gardener in the summer, snowplow driver in the winter. This time of year, he worked early to make sure his customers could get out of their driveways when they needed to leave their homes. Since it snowed late Tuesday night, he’d been working early on the day he died. He’d finished his normal rounds, but only one of the homeowners saw him. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. That wasn’t too helpful.

  I didn’t know why I hoped it would be. It’s not like he’d show up to plow her driveway with “LATER I’M GOING TO BE MURDERED BY THIS PERSON” painted on the back of his truck.

  Earl ate lunch at Penny’s Diner, which was also no surprise since it was one of only two restaurants around and the other didn’t serve lunch. Also because Kevin had already told me. Then no one saw Earl again until he turned up at Missing Pieces. He left here a few minutes later, presumably driving home. If he stopped, no one had yet reported seeing him. (Or they were smart enough not to tell the Gazette.) Thelma found him a couple of hours later, dead.

  Not much to go on.

  “Have you talked to anyone else about this?” I asked Olive.

  “Just Maria. And we called Sam last night. Why?”

  “I’m wondering if we were his only stop on Main Street. Maybe he went somewhere else before he came here. Someone else might know something about what happened.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. A lot of businesses shut down over the past year, but there are a few places he might have gone.”

  My boss seemed completely unconcerned at the prospect of police thinking she may have killed someone. I didn’t know how to help her understand the severity of the situation. Hopefully Kevin could talk some sense into her. But I knew one thing: I needed to get to the bottom of this.

  If Olive went to jail, I would never find out about my gifts or how to use them properly. I didn’t really know what was happening to me, but I didn’t want to lose my only chance to find out.

  Chapter 7

  “We have to find out who did this,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  “What? Why on earth would we get involved in finding a killer?” Olive asked. “Leave that to the professionals.”

  “Did you hear anything Officer Matthews said? Right now, you’re their most likely suspect.”

  “That’s absurd! Lots of people probably wanted to kill Earl.”

  Hmmm. Not exactly a fervent denial. Not that I really thought she was guilty, but… “Did you do it?”

  Her eyes widened. “How can you even ask me that?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think you did. But I just met you, and in science, the best course of action is to form a hypothesis and then test to eliminate possibilities.”

  “So your hypothesis is that I killed Earl?” Under her breath, Olive muttered, “you’re lucky you’re gifted, Kid. I need you.”

  “No,” I said patiently. “My hypothesis is that someone killed Earl. I know it wasn’t me.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me, either,” she snapped.

  “I believe you. So, in a town of ten thousand people, we’ve eliminated two. Let’s move on.”

  “Is this your master plan? Walk around town and ask everyone if they’ve killed Earl until someone says yes?”

  “I don’t have a plan,” I said. “I’m twenty-one. I haven’t finished college yet. It’s my first day of work in an antique store. I thought I’d learn to use the cash register, not investigate a murder.”

  Her face softened. “I’m sorry. Of course not. I’m all out of sorts today. I’ve known Earl for more than twenty years. I went to high school with his younger brother.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “Thanks. It’s just unsettling.”

  “What about motive? Who might have wanted Earl dead? Any pending inheritance? A jealous lover or ex? Something like that.”

  She thought for a minute. “To my knowledge, Earl didn’t have any kids or much money, so probably not an inheritance. No recent exes. He’s been dating Thelma for years. Wendy was pretty pissed when her beat her for the bowling championship, though.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Angry enough to kill him?”

  She sighed. “Aly, I don’t know. We’re talking about people I’ve known half my life. I don’t want to believe any of them could be a killer. But yeah, Wendy was mad. She suspected he made her miss the final game, but there was no way to prove it. Also, Benji’s been in love with Thelma for years, and she was never going to notice him while she was dating Earl.”

  “Okay, thanks. Sorry to push so hard. Having police come in here freaked me out. I just want to help.”

  “I know. And I do have one idea.” Turning away, she rummaged under the counter for a few minutes before pulling something out and putting it on the counter. A small silver statue of a woman, about four inches tall. She had enormous breasts, a rounded stomach, wide hips, and no facial features at all. I recognized it immediately.

  “That’s the figurine Earl wanted to exchange yesterday, right?”

  “Yeah. He chucked her at me on the way out the door. Luckily, his aim sucks as bad as his personality.”

  “Possibly not the most helpful thing to say about a murder victim when you’re the only suspect.”

  She tilted her head at me. “Then don’t repeat it.”

  We were getting off track. Now, I was no expert, but to me her animosity toward Earl made it seem an awful lot like she had motive. “What’s that for? Did you want to give it to Officer Matthews?”

  Olive shook her head. “The interesting thing here, Aly, isn’t that Earl tried to exchange something or even what it is, but what you and I can do when we test it with our gifts.”

  Thus far, I’d had exactly two visions, neither of them clear. The idea of solving a murder with superpowers sounded great, but I didn’t think for a second that I could learn anything of value from rubbing a fertility trinket.

  I examined the tiny figurine silently for a moment, trying to think what to say. “She’s pretty. Who is she? It’s not Aphrodite, right?”

  “Right. Oshun. Goddess from the Yoruba religion. Sexuality, fertility, love, beauty, luxury, pleasure, the river, and fresh water.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at her. “The goddess of fresh water? Maybe Oshun told you she belonged to Earl because he needed a bath, not so he could fall in love.”

  She snorted. “If she’d told me that, it could have saved all of us some trouble. Come on. See what she can tell you.”

  My suspicious gaze moved from the statue to Olive, then back. “You first.”

  “I already tried, early this morning. No dice. Our gifts aren’t the same. My power tells me who the true owner of an item is. Oshun told me to sell her to Earl when he came in, and I did.”

  “Does your power tell you why you should give an item to a specific person?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said. “And now that Earl’s dead, I don’t get anything. It’s just a paperweight.”

  “So that’s it? No one else can ever own it?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, or maybe the right person isn’t in my sphere yet. I don’t have all the answers. I’ll stick Oshun in the back room, and if the right person shows up, she’ll let me know.”

  “Seems like a weird way to sell second-hand stuff.”

  “I don’t question my gifts,” she said. “I help people find the pieces that are missing in their lives.”

  Realization dawned. “Like the store’s name.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know, when I saw the sign for the first time, I wondered if you sold puzzles. Then I walked in and saw an antique shop. But now, I realize, you really do solve puzzles. Just
no one knows what they are except you.”

  She beamed at me. “That’s a lovely way of looking at it. Take the statue.”

  “What? Why? I definitely don’t need any love or fertility in my life.”

  “Not like that,” she said. “Just hold it.”

  I couldn’t think of any way to tell her that I was terrified of her suggestion. “You know, I’m tired. I should probably go get some coffee.”

  “You’re stalling. Take it. We need to see what happens.”

  “We don’t know what happened with that ring. It could’ve been a fluke.”

  What about the textbook?, my traitorous brain asked.

  “Do you really believe a fluke brought you in here, to me? On the same day my gift told me to expect you.”

  Weakly, I said, “I want to be a scientist. There has to be a rational explanation for this.”

  “Ah, that’s right. Science explains everything. Well then, let’s construct a hypothesis and test it.”

  It didn’t escape my notice that she parroted what I’d said earlier. “Well-played. What’s your hypothesis?”

  “I hypothesize that when you touch this figurine, you’ll get a clue about Earl’s death.”

  Even if she was right, I couldn’t imagine calling the local police and telling them I’d solved a murder using my newfound psychic powers. One thing at a time, though. I nodded. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Excellent. Here.”

  “If I get pregnant, I’m blaming you.” Hesitantly, I held out my hand. Olive placed the small statue in my palm. It was cool to the touch, heavier than I expected. At first glance the figure looked like a cheap trinket, but now I suspected she was made of pewter.

  Bracing myself, I closed my eyes and curled my fingers around the tiny goddess.

  Chapter 8

  Nothing happened.

  The statue sat in my palm, cool and smooth and doing absolutely nothing. Opening my eyes, I uncurled my fingers. “What’s she supposed to be doing? Is the statue supposed to come to life and tell me things?”

  I felt like a total fool. Tears of embarrassment prickled at my eyes, but I blinked them away.