Nann crashed into the door, rebounded, got ready to run.
Sam Laden aimed a gun at her. “Hands!”
With that one word, it all came to her. The dream. The ring. The Band Aid. The cards. Not playing cards. Index cards, the kind a speech might be written on. Nann had seen who had taken Roger Paine’s speech, but with the shock of seeing the man die, it hadn’t registered. Sleight of hand, she thought. She raised her palms.
Laden took a crowbar from his belt and let it clang to the concrete. “That will match the tool marks from the break-in. Apparently, the would-be thief returned, but you surprised him, Nann. Open the door. Slowly.”
She didn’t see any other choice but to comply. “You’re the one who stole Roger’s speech.”
“I thought you might’ve seen me. You were close enough. But you never told the cops.” He gestured with the weapon. “Inside.”
Nann backed in, eyes glued to the gun. “But why?”
“Because he was wrong.” Laden entered the dark store. “All of them were wrong. My galère was at odds, each of them with the wrong idea. I put it right. After 9-11, like many corporations, we wrote an emergency plan into our bylaws on the chance that we might lose many or all of the board members in an attack. It gives me full reign until a new board is elected. I’m reopening the mill.”
“Okay, fine,” Nann was surprised she had a voice. “So why point a gun at me?”
“Because you will come after us, Druid. Or, rather, you would have come after us.”
Nann, hands still raised, hiked her shoulders up to her ears and held her palms out.
“We’ll use the buy-back committee’s plan, the green plan, at first. Maybe for a year or two. Then we’ll reintroduce wood pulp production. This plant is too ideally located to let it rot, or let it make a fraction of the product it could.”
Fear gave way to outrage. “Wait. You’re gonna steal the committee’s idea, and then go back to poisoning the lake, the town?”
“I was drunk when I told you business could use more ruth.”
Nann’s head bobbed to the left. “Well, yeah, ruth not being a real word, outside of a name.”
“Because that’s wrong, Nann. Being ruthless is key. Being ruthless, and using magic. You never thought twice about the board of one of the largest paper manufacturers in the country, in the world even, being made up of a bunch of local kids from Calamity Corners, New York?”
“Well, no, you lived here, worked at the mill.”
“Which of course would qualify us to run a company spanning two continents.” Sam Laden mocked her, she was pretty sure. “A long time ago, when we were kids, we decided we didn’t want to be bailers, or feeders, or third-shift forklift drivers. We wanted a piece of the action. But how do a bunch of blue-collar kids get into management?”
Nann started to get it. “Magic.”
“Brock, Joe and me, as well as Brock’s future wife formed a coven. Of course, in time we learned that the black magic we studied made us a Modern Sorcery galère. It took some time, MBAs, and a lot of blood spells. Some of the old guard had to fall so that we might replace them.”
Nann looked at the gun and tried to buy some time. For what, she didn’t know. “But Cindy isn’t one of you. She’s half your age. How did she get involved?”
“She came later, much later. Roger never wanted her anywhere near the paper business. Partly because of the health risks. Partly because of his constant badgering from the press. Mostly because she was a tree-hugging hippy who wanted to cull any production that was harmful to the frickin Earth. It took quite a bit of magic to get her on the board. And then there were all were, the Galère d’Merlinite, in charge of this huge company.
“It didn’t take long before the in-fighting began. Cindy with her green BS, Brock with his guilt-ridden alcoholism, Joe trying to hold us together. We had the control if we just stuck together.”
“And you with your greed,” Nann added, hoping he didn’t shoot her for that.
Instead, he smiled. “You don’t head a billion dollar company without a love for money. Hell, money is made out of paper, Nann.”
“But what does it have to do with me? Any of this? Brock and Cindy coming after me, it makes no sense. I’ve got nothing to do with any of this.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Nann-with-two-n’s-at-the-end. We were masters of the universe, wealthy executives, and even more so, sorcerers who could make the world tremble before us. We thought we were untouchable. And then, in the early ’70s, the Clean Air and Water Acts were passed. No big deal to us. We were millionaires. We had magic on our side.
“But we were pathetic. Our blood-and-candle, sympathetic spells, we learned we were nothing against the directed forces of nature. The private beach beneath our mansions became flooded with waste from the mill. Easy enough to cover up—it was private property. But the mess wasn’t contained there. The EPA began receiving regular soil and water samples from the surrounding area. They were sent in by a growing construction firm. Lakeshore Properties, LLC.”
Nann wasn’t following. Lakeshore were the people out to steal her house, to make a land-grab while Calamity Corners was so depressed. They were the ones who tried to take Pokey, and probably summoned an unearthly presence that devoured rats before moving up the food chain to human children. Nann wanted Lakeshore Properties shut down more than anyone.
“Of course, the original owner of the business has long since sold it. Not before making a good deal of money himself, building Port Argent into a thriving community, a community that puts poor Calamity Corners to shame.”
Nann knew one of the people who built Port Argent into a town. “You can’t mean my Great-Uncle Ed?”
“The very one. He effectively shut us down a number of times. But it was your Aunt Nancy that put the nail in the coffin. Only a Druidess could shift the currents of the creek, the lake, returning our toxic waste back to where it had come from. Toxins seeped from our sludge piles, contaminating the grounds around the mill for miles.
“I’m rebuilding the mill here. It will be fully functioning, and churning out tons of paper by the day. Under our new green banner, it will take until long after I retire to uncover the byproducts of such huge production. I can’t afford to let you become powerful enough to shut it all down again.”
With zero emotion on his face, Sam Laden leveled the gun at her face.
NANN CLOSED HER EYES. She couldn’t stop her head from turning away, or her hands rising to protect herself. Neither of these were any more useful than the tear that ran down her cheek.
She heard a loud noise. When it turned out not to be a gunshot, she opened her eyes. Sam Laden crawled across the floor to the door. The gun spun around on the hardwood. Blood gushed from his butt.
What the what?
Nann was frozen in fear, but curiosity quickly melted her. She chased after Laden. Nann saw him limp up the street toward the mill. His left pant leg was black with blood.
At the sound of a slithering scrape, she turned. And gaped. An alligator stood on the sidewalk. It bumped the door to the apartments with its snout. Nann registered a pink bra strapped around its upper body. A matching pair of thong panties hung from its tail.
“Zinnia?”
The gator gave her wide eyes and bumped the door with its snout again. Knock, knock. Who’s there? Alligator. Alligator who? Alligator who wants you to open the door before I change back to human and someone sees me naked.
Shock can do funny things to your brain. Nann didn’t want to be anywhere near the bloody jaws of the monster reptile.
“Zinnia, go back to the gallery. Put your clothes back on.”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“You called 911?”
The alligator knocked more frantically on the door. Nann leaned over the rough body and opened the door. The gator fled with surprising speed. She could hear its claws on the stair tread and the drag of its belly.
Eek.
TWO POLIC
E CARS SCREECHED to a halt on either side of Cricket. Keith leapt out and grabbed Nann by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Nann, still a little sniffly from fear nodded like a bobble-head. Mouth trembling, she pointed at the gun on her floor. “Sam Luh-luh-luh-Laden.”
“A paper company executive tried to rob you?”
Her head swiveled, so fiercely Nann feared it would screw right off her neck. “He’s the one who stole Roger Paine’s speech. It took me all this time to put it together.”
“Hey, Keith.” Another deputy, Olson or Dowhen, she still wasn’t sure (how hard was it to read a name tag?) stood outside. He held a crowbar with his gloved hand.
“Where is he? Why is there blood everywhere? Are you hurt?”
“Freaked out. Not hurt.”
“Blood trail goes up the street.” Deputy Obvious pointed with the crowbar. “Heading toward the mill, I guess, if it’s Laden.”
“What happened here, Nann?”
Her head went back to swiveling. She put her hands on both cheeks to stop it. “I don’t know. He pointed a gun at me. I kinda closed my eyes.”
“We’ve had a few reports of feral dogs around,” Olson or Dowhen said. “I’m in pursuit, calling for backup.”
The deputy jogged up the street, flashlight out, following the blood trail. A moment later, Zinnia appeared. Fully clothed. “I’m the one who called 911, Deputy.”
“So do you know what all the blood is—say, is that blood on your lip? Did you get hurt?”
Zinnia touched her lip and looked at her fingertip. “Oh, I uh, bumped my head into the door.” She gave Nann narrowed eyes.
Keith folded his arms, gaze shifting between Nann and Zinnia.
“I was working on my exhibit when I heard a man scream. I ran outside and saw a guy sitting on the ground. He was talking about the burglar coming back to Nann’s store and Nann surprising him. When I saw the gun, I ran back in and called.”
Keith faced Nann. “Why was he sitting on the ground?”
“I bit his hand, stepped on his foot, and elbowed him.”
He took out his notebook, scribbling. “City girl,” he said under his breath. He stopped writing, looking at the blood on the ground. His eyes strayed to the repaired door frame. “Well, it looks like you’ll get that DNA test after all, Nann.”
Two more sheriff’s cars roared up Cemetery Street, turning left at the truck entrance to the mill. Schwenk stared after them. “I guess I’d better go help catch the bad guy.”
“Be careful. He was talking about my Aunt Nancy siccing the EPA on the mill. I don’t think he’s too stable.”
Keith tipped his hat, giving her a reassuring smile. Once his car roared up the street, Zinnia’s face fell.
“Sorry I didn’t get the door sooner. I have an alligator phobia.”
“It’s not that. I’m just feeling—unsettled, I guess.”
Nann flapped her hand against Zinnia’s arm. “Well, that whole thing was pretty unsettling.”
“No, not that. It’s just that when I took a bite out of Sam Laden’s butt.” Zinnia looked away. “I kinda liked the taste.”
THREE DAYS LATER, NANN was helping Zinnia drag partitions around the gallery. Two walls were already hung with paintings, most of them by Zinnia. Pizza Landscapes, a few alligator portraits, a highly detailed cheesecake slice. It made Nann hungry. All except the alligators.
Zinnia whistled as she worked, using a tape measure to position a folding partition. The petit blonde was in a good mood. The story unfurled on the TV news and in the papers. Keith told Nann that they caught Sam Laden at the mill. He lawyered up after his arrest. But you can’t lawyer up against crazy. They put him in the hospital on a three-day psychiatric hold.
Over those days, the cards with Roger Paine’s speech were recovered, along with voodoo doll materials and a bunch of books on magic, grimoires of spells, and histories of Druids.
Zinnia put the sliver lining in the whole gigantic dark cloud. “Well, at least he ordered the mill reopened before he went all mental.”
“Maybe not before,” Nann shrugged. His decision would certainly be challenged in court. Or by the new board. By somebody, but Nann hadn’t the slightest idea who.
With practiced hands, Zinnia hung up a local artist’s landscapes on the partition.
“These don’t hold a candle to yours, Zinnia.”
“Oh, stop. These are beautiful. Hey, here’s one with the mill.” She held it out to Nann.
Nann had enough of the mill for now.
Apparently, so had Tink. She waved a hand in front of her face, features squinched as she walked in. “Ugh, that mill smells like chemical vomit.”
“Yay, Tink.” Zinnia hung up the mill landscape. “I could really use your help with the lighting.”
“Your lights aren’t working?”
“No, it’s just that you’re really tall.”
“Oh.” She gave Nann a hip-bump as she passed. “And how are you doing, Nancy Druid? Solved another case I see.”
Nann’s brows bunched. “I don’t know if I solved it so much as got in the way. But thanks, I guess.”
“And you, you took a bite outta somebody’s butt. Is Branden all jealous?”
“Branden doesn’t know. I mean, you really gotta know a person before you talk about things like turning into an alligator.”
“Mm.” Tink grabbed some clip lights and attached them to the top of the divider. “Personal stuff. So what happens now?”
Nann thought about it. “Well, I guess the workers get their jobs back, even if they didn’t get to buy the mill. The town will have money. More people will move here for jobs. Maybe some will buy books, or art, or need to get their car fixed. Maybe the town council will have a budget again.”
Tink grabbed more lights. “You don’t seem all that happy about it, Nann.”
“Happy enough.” She thought about telling them what Sam Laden said about Uncle Ed, Aunt Nancy, and the evil redevelopment company, Lakeshore Properties, LLC. Nann didn’t think the time was right. She needed to do some research. With Aunt Nancy’s records stolen, it would take her some time. But Nancy Druid was on that case.
No, never mind. She hated the name Nancy Druid.
“How about lunch? I just sold a five-volume set of Magic Charms: Components, Assembly, and Spells. I’m running in the black. This week, anyway.”
Tink fixed another lamp in place, angling it over a canvas. “No more Margie’s. I want pizza.”
“Maybe this town will start booming soon and some fool will open a pizza joint,” Zinnia smiled.
“In the meanwhile, I brought the Chevelle. Been meaning to do a test run. Pizza run would be better.” She walked over to the display of Zinnia’s paintings. “I think this one,” Tink pointed.
Nann smiled. “Pizza road trip!”
“Pizza road trip!” Zinnia shouted.
They locked up the gallery and piled into the dented, dusty Chevelle. Tink smiled when she turned the key and the big V8 engine roared. “That’s the stuff.”
Nann stretched out in the back seat. So okay, she was feeling pretty good. She was with her friends, her store was humming along (quietly), no one was trying to kill her with a voodoo doll anymore. Plus, she still had a mystery to sink her teeth into. One way or another, she would find out what the redevelopment firm was up to, even if it once belonged to her great-aunt and -uncle. All that, and pizza, too. What more could a Druid want?
DON’T MISS THE NEXT book in the Calamity Corners Witch Cozy Mystery Series:
Better the Witch You Know
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Catalog of Books
Triplet Witch Sisters Mystery Series
Two’s Company, Three’s a Coven
Resting Witch Face
Bewitched and Bewildered
Triple Toil and Trouble
WITCH DETECTIVE SERIES
Payback’s a Witch
Come Witch or High Water
Witch Boots on the Ground
THE WITCH SISTERS OF Stillwater
Hoodoo and Just Desserts
A Shade of Murder
That Ol’ Black Magic
A Whole Lotta Witchin Goin On
The Beast Cometh
Secrets and Sorcery
THE LUCKY DILL DELI Mystery Series
A Yuletide Wallop
Haunted Homicide
The Leprechaun’s Loot
THE SINISTER CASE SERIES
Mirror, Mirror Murder Them All
A Wicked Enchantment
A Scorching Spell
THE GRUMPY CHICKEN Irish Pub Series
A Frosty Mug of Murder
Treachery on Tap
A Highball and a Low Blow
Cursed With a Twist
A Whiskey Sour Wipeout
OLD SCHOOL DINER COZY Mysteries
Murder at Stake
Murder Well Done
A Side Order of Deception
Murder, Basted and Barbecued
Murder Ala Mode
The Candy Cane Killer
The Blue Plate Slayer
THE CURIOSITY SHOP Cozy Mysteries
The Curious Case of the Cursed Spectacles
The Curious Case of the Cursed Dice
The Witch is in the Details Page 10