by Paula Lester
Zoey’s attention moved to the fireplace’s mantelpiece, which was crowded with small items. A little bronze statue that appeared South American, several candles, a necklace with a thick silver chain and round, pounded metal medallion that looked ancient, and a medium-sized, tarnished old flute were just some of the items stacked on it. As she turned around, Zoey could see a bunch of similar items on most of the free surfaces in the room. It appeared as though Demi had been a collector of old or ancient items.
“Who was she?” Zoey crossed to study a picture on the mantle. A studious-looking woman with dark hair cut in a bob and a thin fringe of bangs stood smiling out at her. Zoey swallowed hard. The woman in the picture wore the glasses she’d just seen smashed on the couch.
Luke moved next to her. “Yeah, that’s her,” he affirmed. “And that’s her boyfriend in the picture. Grant Simons.” The man in the photo was thin, with shoulder-length blond hair and crooked teeth. “He lives here too. He’s at the station waiting for me to question him.”
That made sense. No signs of a break-in and the appearance of a crime of passion would most certainly lead to Grant being the main suspect.
“Tell me more about her.”
Luke ran a hand through his messy hair again and turned away from the mantle to watch the other officers work. “She was a paranormal investigator—a ghost-hunter.”
“Like somebody who takes equipment to haunted houses and tries to prove there are spirits around?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah, pretty much. And probably cleared troublesome ghosts out for people. She had a few employees and made a decent living at it, I guess.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Can I see the rest of the house?”
Luke waved an arm. “Be my guest. Just don’t disturb anything.”
Zoey made her way through each room of the house. There were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and the kitchen. Except for the living room, there were no signs of anything having happened. More knick-knacks and old stuff sat displayed in all of the rooms. Many of the trinkets were covered in a thick layer of dust, obviously not handled very often.
Zoey returned to the living room. Luke was talking to a gloved officer, but he turned back toward her when she appeared. “See anything interesting?”
“She sure did like doo-dads. But no, I didn’t see any clues or anything.”
Luke nodded. “Which direction would you go next?”
A clear, strong voice interrupted them. “Am I late to the party?”
The woman who’d spoken was standing in the home’s doorway, arms crossed and stance relaxed, as though she visited a murder scene every day. Zoey bit her tongue to keep the curse in. What was Hope Vega, owner of Sunnyside’s only occult shop and Zoey Rivers’ lifelong frenemy, doing there?
Chapter 3
Zoey shot a glare toward Luke, who shifted his feet and avoided meeting her gaze. “I asked Hope to help too,” he mumbled. “I want to get this case wrapped up fast, and the two of you have different knowledge and skill sets.”
“I’ll say,” Hope said. She dropped her arms and stepped farther into the room. Zoey had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes at the fact the woman was wearing heels and a knee-length black skirt. At a murder scene.
Hope pulled the sunglasses off her face, flipped her wavy blond hair back over a shoulder, and grinned. “It’s good to see you, Zo. You haven’t been into the shop for a while.”
Zoey didn’t make a habit of going to Hope’s occult store, Hopelessly Magical, very often. If she needed something for a spell or potion, she tried to send Steve or Kelli for it instead.
It wasn’t that she and Hope were enemies, exactly. Rivals might be a better word. Or competitors. The two had been at odds with each other since high school. Zoey didn’t know why other than being around Hope made her feel inferior somehow. Of course, when your mother was a powerful dark witch who scared people, kids at school tended to keep their distance from you, so Zoey had suffered from the feeling of being less than quite a bit as a teen.
And when her mom disappeared, presumed eaten by one of the demons she’d summoned, a lot of the kids at school began to taunt and hassle her. Zoey had become a scrapper, fighting for respect and regard every day of her life. And Hope had resisted giving it to her. Zoey had never examined the issue too closely. They didn’t like each other much, and neither of them wanted the other to be better at something than they were.
And now they had to work together. Zoey clenched her fists but tried to keep her face smooth. She didn’t want to give Hope the satisfaction of knowing she was rattled by the shop owner’s presence.
Luke quickly ran through the basics of the case again, and Hope looked around a little. Then she said confidently, “I’d say it’s pretty obvious this was a hex. Maybe a curse or some other kind of spell. But it definitely had a witch’s input. Someone magical targeted Demi Hill.”
Zoey wondered how in the world Hope had come to that conclusion so fast. She certainly hadn’t seen any evidence to support such a theory. In fact, there wasn’t much evidence to be found at the scene at all. And her own feeling about the case so far had been quite different. “I think some kind of magical creature got in here and did it,” she said firmly. “There’s no sign of a spell or hex.”
Hope leveled a cool, amused look at her, which made Zoey clench her jaw. “I think I’d know when a hex has been used,” the occult store owner said. “It’s my business, you know.”
Zoey took a step forward. “What kind of hex knocks everything over and claws someone up?” She spoke through clenched teeth.
Hope lifted a delicate shoulder and let it fall again. “There are as many hexes, curses, and spells as there are witches to think them up. If someone was really upset with Demi, they could hit her with a curse horrible enough to do all of that.”
Zoey opened her mouth to argue, but Luke held up a hand. “Ladies, you both make good points. And I appreciate the passion with which you’re diving into this. But I need you to work together. Combine your talents and magical knowledge. Get along.”
Zoey crossed her arms and looked at her feet. “Yeah, fine. Whatever,” she mumbled, knowing she sounded like a petulant teenager.
“I’m going to have a look around, if that’s okay,” Hope said, and Luke repeated his warning not to touch anything. Once she’d headed back to the bedrooms, Zoey said, “I’ll do my best to work with her, but if I think she’s on the wrong path, I’m going to forge my own.”
Luke grinned. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Zoey grinned. “Is it okay if I talk to the crowd outside?”
“Sure. I’ll introduce you. And I’ll call you later to let you know if we find anything interesting out from Grant.”
She nodded and headed for the door. Let Hope look for evidence of a hex if she wanted to. While she was busy doing that, Zoey was going to figure out what kind of being had been summoned that ultimately killed Demi. After all, she had experience with such things.
Taking a deep breath when she got outside, Zoey stood still for a moment and let the sun wash away the residual icky feelings the crime scene had left with her. She was glad to be done with that part and super happy the victim’s body had been taken away before she’d arrived. Her eyes fell on the throng of people standing just outside the caution tape, and she made her way toward them.
Luke fell into step beside her, and when they arrived at the edge of the driveway, he lifted the caution tape so they could both step under it. “Howdy, folks,” he said to the people standing there. “Thanks for your cooperation this morning. This is Zoey Rivers. We’ve brought her onto this case as a special investigator. She’d like to ask you some questions if you don’t mind. Now, I know you’ve already talked to our officers, so I do appreciate your willingness to answer some of the same questions over again. Please know that the Department is grateful for all your help.”
He grinned charmingly at everyone, nodded to Zoey, and strode back into the house. Zoey gave h
er own smile to the crowd in front of her, which had dwindled down to four—two women and two men. “Thanks, everybody. Are you all Demi and Grant’s neighbors?”
Four heads bobbed up and down.
“I see. And did any of you see or hear anything unusual at their house last night or early this morning?”
The tallest man, standing behind the others, spoke in a low rumble that sounded like rocks knocking against each other. His long, gray mustache wiggled a little, but his mouth hardly moved when he talked. “It happened around seven this morning. I’m in that house right across the way, there.” He waved a hand toward a brick ranch almost identical to Demi’s directly across the street. “Our living room windows sort of stare into each other. I heard a loud pop that sounded like a car backfiring, and I looked out the window to see who it was. Larry down the street has trouble with his old pickup sometimes and I help him when I can. But I didn’t see Larry or any other car. I did see Demi, though, flying across the living room like she’d been thrown.”
“Thank you, Mr. . .”
“Carter. Jeb Carter.”
“Mr. Carter, did you see or hear anything else?”
When he shook his head, Jeb’s mustache flapped in the air. “No, I called the police station then.”
“I just can’t believe she’s gone!” a woman in front wailed. Her face was tear-stained and stricken. “I just had her and Grant over for dinner two nights ago.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose on a sleeve.
Zoey nodded sympathetically. “It must be such a shock.”
“I don’t understand it. Poor Grant. They were so in love.”
“Nothing struck you as out of the ordinary while they were at your house?” Zoey kept her voice as gentle as possible.
“No. I mean, Demi checked her phone more than I remember her doing in the past. She was texting a lot. But I know she’s been busy.” She snorted and tears began to flow down her face. She swiped at them with her sleeve.
Jeb stepped forward and put an arm around the woman. “It’s okay, Chrissy.”
“I was walking by this morning with my poodle, Crunchy, and I heard some banging in there.” The third speaker, a small, elderly lady next to Chrissy, spoke up. “I figured they were hanging a picture or something. Demi was always picking up this or that at the yard sales and decorating.”
“Did you see anything through the window?” Zoey asked.
The woman shook her head. “I got the strangest cold chill as I passed by, so Crunchy and I hurried home for a cup of tea.” She grinned a little. “I’m through the stage of life when hot flashes are the norm, but I never had a cold flash before.” She chuckled. “Anyway, I turned the television on to see what was happening in the world. Not much good, I’ll tell you that.” She turned to the man beside her, who wore a baseball cap and prominent hearing aids. “Ed, did you hear that the Go-Bananas was broken into yesterday?”
The old man said, “Eh?”
The woman spoke louder. “The Go-Bananas Produce Market! They had a break-in yesterday. All their plums were stolen.” She looked at Zoey. “Maybe the same person who stole the plums killed Demi.” Her eyes narrowed and she leaned over to peer past Zoey toward the house. “Did you find any plums in there?”
Zoey bit her tongue to keep from laughing. “I can’t comment on the crime scene, but I’ll talk to Officer Kellen about a possible connection between those two crimes.”
“A plum-thief can’t be the killer, Nellie. Use your head!” Ed scoffed at his wife. “No one steals a bunch of plums and then commits a gruesome homicide.”
“It was gruesome?” Chrissy cried and then burst into tears again.
“How did she die?” Jeb asked, and Chrissy quieted herself as they all listened carefully. Ed reached up and fiddled with a hearing aid.
“I’m afraid that’s something I can’t say. Is there anything else any of you can tell me about Demi and Grant? Maybe unusual comings and goings from their house or strange activity there?”
All five neighbors shook their heads, but Chrissy bit her lip and avoided Zoey’s eyes.
“I’ll tell you what’s strange,” Ed shouted in the way that people who are hard of hearing sometimes do, “the city of Sunnyside refusing to fix that pothole at the end of the street. And Demi Hill was on the road commission committee. I tell you, I could have throttled her when she told me there wasn’t any money in the budget to fix it. What do we pay taxes for?”
Nellie patted Ed’s arm and said, “Shhh. Dear, don’t get yourself agitated.”
Chrissy sniffed. “And don’t speak ill of the dead,” she insisted. “Demi was a gem. She cleared my house of poltergeists for me.”
“You didn’t have poltergeists,” Ed scoffed. “You had a family of rats.”
Chrissy spun around and glared at the mustachioed man. “My house does not have rats. It had an angry poltergeist and Demi got rid of it for me. Of course, her fee was exorbitant. There was no way I could afford it.” The woman became quiet again and looked at her hands.
“Did you work out a payment plan with her?” Zoey asked.
Chrissy shook her head and said vaguely, “Oh, no. I just had them over for dinner every so often. You know, in my poltergeist-free home. I think that was thanks enough for her.”
“You know, I just thought of something that might be helpful to you,” Nellie said. “When I was at the Go Bananas the other day, I ran into Grant. He seemed agitated. I spoke to him for a few minutes, but it was pretty obvious his thoughts were elsewhere. I asked him how Demi was and he got an irritated tone. Said he wouldn’t really know because she’d been too busy for him lately. Well, I didn’t want to get my big nose in where it didn’t belong, so I changed the subject and said my goodbyes fast. I chalked it up to a lovers spat at the time, but now . . .”
Zoey nodded. “That’s very helpful, thank you. And if anyone else remembers anything that might help us—no matter how tiny and insignificant you may think it is—please call Luke or give me a call over at Sunnyside Retirement Community. I hope we’ll have this figured out very quickly, so we can get the murderer behind bars.”
“Do you think the rest of us are safe?” Nellie wrung her hands.
“I don’t see any reason to think otherwise at this time,” Zoey reassured her. But as she turned to head back into the house, she wondered if what she’d said was true. If the killer was a human like Hope believed and any of the neighbors had seen or heard something they shouldn’t have, maybe they were in danger.
Chapter 4
When Zoey got back inside the house, Hope was poking around the mantle. “Find anything interesting?” she asked the shop owner.
The beautiful blonde shook her head. “I’ve been looking for evidence of a hex or curse.”
Zoey gave her a blank look. That area of magic really wasn’t her strong suit. Hope gave an obviously pained sigh and continued like she was speaking to a five-year-old. “You know—small leather bags filled with magical ingredients or traces of sprinkled herbs and crystal dust on surfaces. No luck yet.” At Luke’s raised eyebrows, she hurried on, “But that doesn’t preclude a hex. It just means whatever they used was subtle.”
“Wouldn’t someone have had to be inside the house to throw a spell?” Zoey asked pointedly.
“Usually, yes.” Hope’s tone was annoyed. “But someone strong enough could be a short distance away. Even outside. Still, the boyfriend’s the most obvious suspect.”
“I guess,” Zoey said slowly. “But from the looks of the picture on the mantle, the guy’s barely bigger than Demi was. And one of the neighbors saw her fly past the window. That’s probably when she crashed into the bookshelf or coffee table. So, unless the guy is a taekwondo master or something, I really don’t think it’s likely he was strong enough to do that.”
Luke’s jaw clenched and Zoey guessed his team hadn’t gotten that tidbit of information from Jeb. “Did this neighbor see another person in here through the window?”
Zoey shook her head.
His facial muscles relaxed a touch. “I think he must have misunderstood what he saw, then. She might have been leaping on her own or something.”
Zoey thought that was unlikely, but she wasn’t about to contradict the detective. Sassing Hope was one thing. Giving Luke grief was another.
“I just think it’s more likely that some kind of creature gained entrance to the house through magical means. Something strong and vicious.”
“I didn’t find anything to indicate that’s the case,” Hope said, crossing her arms. “There’s no circle drawn or built anywhere. Besides, who could have called such a beast? It would have to have been a witch. And, anyway, the hex could have thrown Demi across the room.”
“There’s no evidence that your idea is right, either,” Zoey grumbled.
“Okay, ladies,” Luke interrupted. “I know you two aren’t the best of friends or anything, but you’re going to have to dig yourselves out of these entrenchments and work together. Stop treating each other like the enemy and figure out who the truly evil person,” he caught Zoey’s eye and sighed, “or thing is who killed Demi, so we can catch the perp and make everyone safer.”
Both women looked at their feet and mumbled acknowledgements. Zoey decided she’d had enough and took the opportunity to escape. “I’m going to head out and do a little research on my own.” She gave both Luke and Hope her cell phone number and fled the house. The neighbors had dispersed, and the way was clear for Zoey to walk with her own thoughts the short way back to the retirement home.
When she stepped into the lobby and took in the chaotic scene there, Zoey wished she’d taken more time away. Kelli, Steve, and Susan the cook were all there, along with several residents. The chef had a red face that clashed with her hot pink hairnet. “If I don’t get those groceries in the next half hour, there won’t be any lunch for anyone!” Lowering her voice, she muttered, “I should get the most respect around here. I’m the one who feeds everyone. But I’m the low woman on the totem pole, and I can’t even get groceries delivered in a timely manner.”