by E. M. Moore
“What? Oh, never mind. I’m sorry. I’m passionate about it. I know my requested salary was higher than Eliza Penn’s but you get what you pay for.”
“Mrs. Adams will realize you were worth it all along.”
“I hope so.”
“I have faith in you, and so does Mom. You’ll make it happen. Eventually, Mrs. Adams will be putty in your hands. You’ll win her over just like the rest of the board.”
“I—”
“Don’t you say I hope so. Think positively. You know so.”
I laughed into my napkin. “You really think that works?”
“I know so,” he said, winking at me.
Ugh. Jackson was always super confident. I was so envious of that and ready to change the subject back to his case. “What do you think the results of the forensics will be?”
“Well, it would make my job a heck of a lot easier if we found prints on the weapon.”
“Even easier if they were Sandy Sanders, right? Then, you’d have her at the scene and with her prints on the murder weapon.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Are you serious?”
“What? I watch a lot of TV.”
“Actually, what would make it easier is if we had her at the scene, her prints were on the knife, and she came in voluntarily and signed a sworn statement that she did it.”
“Open and shut.”
“I don’t think she did it though. At least not yet. She doesn’t seem the type.”
“Did his family say he had any enemies?”
“Just the one we all knew about, Troy Levine.”
I reached down and scratched Maxie’s head. Thought that was true, I couldn’t see Mr. Levine harming his rival. What would be the reasoning behind it? “They were both rich, so what would be the point? It’s not as if one was taking business away from the other. That I could believe. But their businesses didn’t affect the others. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Murder rarely makes sense and people kill for the stupidest of reasons. You’re better off staying in your librarian world, Maddie.”
“It’s not all sunshine and roses in my world either,” I said. “Did you know little Tommy Martin stole a DVD last week? I had to have a very uncomfortable conversation with his parents.”
Jackson shook his head and laughed. “I had to tell Mr. Sanders’ family he died…in the library. I win.”
I stared at him over the top of my cranberry juice glass. He totally won, but I wasn’t going to concede the point.
His gaze flicked past me and the smirk fell from his face. “That’s interesting,” he said. I moved to turn, but he put his hand on mine. “Don’t.”
He leaned forward, and I copied him. Maxie must have felt the shift in our emotions because he stood and started looking past me, too. “What is it?” I asked.
Without looking at me, he said, “It’s Sandy Sanders and John Williams. They’re arguing.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s heated.”
“That is strange. I would think she’d be too overcome by grief to fight with anybody.”
“It’s not just her.”
“You’re killing me,” I said. “Can I please turn around?”
Finally, he looked at me. “Do you want to interfere with a murder investigation?”
“Oh yeah, ‘cause looking at two people arguing is something way out of the realm of possibility. If they’re arguing, they’re probably drawing attention everywhere.”
“Just stay put.”
He turned his attention away from me again and Maxie started to prance and whine. “It’s okay,” I said, reaching down to comfort him. Before I could even get to him, he took off down the sidewalk at a dead run. “Max!”
I whirled in my seat. That damn dog could run like the dickens. He was already halfway down the block. Jackson was up and out of his seat, “Stay here. I’ll get him.”
I gave his back a disgusted look and followed them both. Tell me what to do when it concerned my dog…he was something else.
“Max,” Jackson yelled, “Down!”
I looked around the broad shoulders of Jackson in front of me to see Maxie jumping on John Williams who shielded Sandy with his body. I ran past Jackson and was the first to get to Max. “I’m so sorry,” I said, grabbing his leash and pulling him back. “Sit,” I told him.
Maxie did as he was told and then looked up at me with the most precious look on his face. He was too darn cute to get mad at.
“You should have had a better hold on him, Miss Styles,” John said.
“He never acts like that. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him.”
Sandy peeked around John, her hands clutching his upper arms. When she noticed Max was under control, she let go of him and came around. Her face was still red and John was breathing hard.
Jackson walked up next to me and stopped, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
I looked at Sandy and frowned. “I’m so sorry about your father, Sandy.”
Her cheeks flushed an even deeper red, brining attention to the dark circles under her eyes. “Thank you, Maddie. I—” She shook her head and stopped talking.
John motioned toward Max. “Ward, is there anything you can do about this dog? He attacked us.”
“That’s not fair!” I said. “He did not.”
Jackson put a hand on my arm. “I think the arguing is what got his attention,” Jackson explained. “Dogs can sense things more than we can and I even saw you arguing from a block away.”
John and Sandy exchanged a glance. She stared at the sidewalk afterward and John squared his shoulders. “Just a difference in opinion, Detective. I’m sure you understand there are a lot of details to iron out after my partner’s—Sandy’s father’s—death.”
“I still don’t think it was Maxie’s fault,” I muttered. “And he definitely didn’t attack anybody. He would never do that.”
Jackson squeezed my arm, and I clamped my mouth shut.
“You both still have my card, right? If you can think of anything that might help the investigation, please let me know right away.”
“Of course,” John said.
Sandy finally looked up and nodded.
Jackson pulled on my arm and I let him steer me back toward the table at Red’s. I looked up and Jackson was rubbing his chin again as we sat. Not wanting to disturb him, I reached down to pet Maxie. “You didn’t attack anybody, did you, boy?”
His eyes slowly closed under my attention. He looked like he was in heaven.
Jackson put his empty orange juice glass on the table. “You ready?” he asked. “I’ve got to get back to the station.”
“Sure. I’m sorry about Maxie.”
He smiled down at Max and gave him a pat on the head. “He did me a favor.”
Chapter 7
Mrs. Ward toed the flowers closer to the center of the bottom of the elevator doors and we both stepped back to look at what we’d accomplished. It looked beautiful. Truly.
Yesterday, after I’d returned to the library, I’d finished looking up Mr. Sanders’ good deeds in the newspapers and printed out article after article dating back to the 1970’s. He had accomplished a lot for this town.
Mrs. Ward had ordered the flowers and coupled with her quick stop at the local arts and crafts store, she’d finished the whole effect off for us. It looked stunning. I stepped back and took a picture with the library’s camera so I could add it to the library’s history binder. A hundred years from now, after whoever sees it gets over the shock of someone being murdered in the library, this would be a nice mention in its history.
A flash lit up that area right after mine and I glanced at Mrs. Ward. She had her cell phone in her hands and she was typing out something. “I see you looking at me,” she said. “It’s for Jackson. I thought he would appreciate it. Maybe I can get you in front of it.”
She looked up, but I shook my head no. That was too creepy. That was like taking your picture in a cemetery. Smile… Facebook will l
ove this gravestone selfie.
No. Just, no.
Mrs. Ward shrugged, sent her text, and slipped her phone back in her purse. “It really lightens up the place, huh? I was getting a bad feeling over there before, but now it’s better.”
I agreed with her. I’d even gotten those chills up and down my back when I was in the tech closet with Jackson. She was right though. The atmosphere was less intense in here now. The memorial seemed to liven the place up, bring it back to its earlier state.
“What a shame about John Williams.”
I took my seat next to Mrs. Ward, my brows furrowed together. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“You didn’t hear? John sold his portion of Sanders, Inc. to Troy Levine.”
“You’re kidding.” My mind immediately went to the argument Jackson and I witnessed between John and Sandy yesterday morning. The sale of his shares had to have been what it was about. “I wonder why he did that.”
“Jackson is trying to figure that out. He says he has to set up interviews with both Troy and John now to figure out why one bought and the other sold.”
I did not envy him there. John said my dog attacked him and Troy always freaked me out. He was always walking around with so much confidence and charisma. I felt like a bumbling idiot next to him. Thank goodness our paths hardly ever crossed.
“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? I’d love the company.”
“I’d love to.” I smiled at her. She was the only reason I ever ate home-cooked meals. I was a disaster in the kitchen.
“I’m making lasagna,” she said.
“Yum.” I grabbed my stomach, knowing it was about to rumble. Why did the mention of good food always make me hungry?
“Invite Mel over too if you want.”
“It’s her late night at the store or I would. I’m sure she would love some of your lasagna.”
Mrs. Ward waved at a young kid who pulled his mother down the steps to the children’s area. “I’ll give you a plate to take home to her then and I’ll catch up with her some other time. I hope the shop is doing well and that she’s staying out of trouble.”
Ha. I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think the shop is doing great. As far as keeping her out of trouble, I’m not sure it’s even possible.”
“You two were always opposites,” she mused, staring after the young kid. “She embraced your family’s past, embraced the new pull of tourism. You always liked things classic and just so.”
Uncomfortable as I always was when someone brought up the fact that my family thought we were witches, I was about to change the subject when I didn’t need to. A subject changer came waltzing in the front door—Jackson.
“Hey, Honey. What you got there?”
He plopped down a white paper bag on the desk and stood back, looking pleased with himself. I recognized the store’s bag right away. “Chocolate,” I said.
“Thought you two could use a little pick-me-up. But then I got my mom’s text and see you’ve turned something bad into something really nice.” His gaze caught mine. “It was a great idea.” He turned to look at the elevator, a touch of calmness softening his usually strong jaw. “Looks even better in person. You should get the newspaper down here to do a story on it. It would be a real public interest piece.”
“This from the man who said they misrepresented him.”
“Well, they did,” he said, shrugging, unapologetic.
Mrs. Ward took the bag and combed through its contents, her eyes widening as she spotted a chocolate covered s’more. Her favorite. She bit into it and smiled. “How did your interviews go?”
I took the bag and pulled out two chocolate-covered Oreos. I was barely paying attention when I heard Mrs. Ward say, “Your interviews with John and Troy. You told me you had a lead.”
“Mom,” he said, exasperated. He motioned toward me with his head and then stared her down.
“Well, I already told Maddie what was going on.”
Jackson rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Mom, I told you not to do that.”
“Why?” I asked.
At the same time, Mrs. Ward said, “You should have told me before I said something to her.”
“I put it in the same text!”
“We’ll just see about that.” Mrs. Ward grabbed her phone from her purse and fumbled with it until it fell on the desk. “These newfangled contraptions!”
Jackson was too busy rolling his eyes to see the wink she gave me. Considering she’d just sent him a picture text, I was pretty sure even he knew that she was playing up her inability to use technology to her advantage.
“I’m not going to say anything to anyone, Jackson. I hope you solve this case sooner rather than later. I hate having it hanging over our heads. Are you any closer to solving it?”
Jackson put his hands in his pockets and looked between the two of us. “I can’t discuss this with either of you. And next time, Mother, don’t think you’re going to guilt me into saying something about a case I’m working on just so you can tell Maddie all about it.”
“She has a right to know. It happened in her library. We should be given regular updates.”
“That’s not how it works. We don’t even give Sanders’ family regular updates. You should trust us to do our jobs.”
“Told you,” his mother said, looking at me and frowning. “Moody as all get out when he’s working a case. It isn’t as if we were asking him for specifics.”
Jackson stepped back and shook his finger at his mother. “There you go again. I’m on to you, Mother. No more guilt trips, I mean it.” Eyeing the white bag, he shot forward and grabbed it. “And don’t think you’ll be getting any more treats from me with this kind of treatment.”
He started to walk away with the bag when Mrs. Ward stood. “Jackson Gregory Ward, if you know what’s good for you, you will leave that bag with us.”
I giggled into the back of my hand and watched as Jackson returned the white bag. “I haven’t heard you call him that since we were little kids.”
I ran up the stairs to my apartment. I told Mrs. Ward I had to let Maxie out before I headed over to her place for dinner. A note was taped to my door. Sis, Made you this. Please wear it. Love, Sis
A small plastic bag was taped to the note. Inside it was a wooden beaded bracelet. The center stone was an all-seeing eye.
I tore the note off and went inside. I dropped my purse and keys on the table and took the bracelet out. A feeling of power washed over me, which I dutifully ignored. Maxie scratched at my leg. I peered down at him and frowned. “She knows I hate this.”
Mel had woven a spell into the bracelet. It was undoubtedly a protection spell, signified by the main stone, the all-seeing eye. It was a ward against evil.
Thoughtful, but Mel was gifting it to someone who least wanted it. A patron at her shop would have gone nuts over something like this, but I couldn't care less. I didn’t like all the witchcraft hocus pocus stuff. It wasn’t for me.
I took Maxie out to the wharf and let him run around a little in the grass. My mind fixed on that bracelet, on that jolt of energy it gave me when I touched it. Mel and I were brought up in a witch household. She took to it, I didn’t. Mostly because I saw how the kids in school treated her with her weird hair and independent thought, and it scared me. I liked my things just so. Most of all, I liked things tangible and real. Book learning was real, justified with proof and evidence. Witchcraft was in that hazy area. I didn’t care for hazy areas.
I whistled for Max. “Come here, boy.”
He stopped chasing a butterfly and ran toward me at a dead run. I knelt just as he got to me and he put his paws on my shoulders and kissed my face.
“You’re so sweet, aren’t you?”
I put him back on the leash and walked him toward the alley to get to the main road. He bounded up the steps and when I let him in the apartment, he went straight to the table and jumped up on his hind legs near the bracelet.
Reading Mel’s note again, I
set it back down. She had said ‘please’ after all. Reluctantly, I pulled the bracelet on, standing still for one second as the spell engulfed me. Or, maybe it was the witchcraft equivalent to a placebo effect. I only thought it was a spell because Mel gave it to me. Maybe she just made me a pretty bracelet, and that was that. I shouldn’t look too much into it or imagine any crazy stuff. That never did anyone any good.
Chapter 8
Mrs. Ward and I were just seated at her dining room table, the smell of the bubbling lasagna in front of us wafting through the air, when the door opened. “Hey, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”
I stared her down as the front door shut and footsteps made their way to the dining room. I was facing that way, so I noticed the surprise register on Jackson’s face when he saw me seated at the table with his mom. So, she hadn’t told either one of us the other was coming? Sly.
“Oh, hey, Maddie,” he said, sliding into his seat. He smiled at me and then stared his mother down, who looked absolutely beside herself with happiness. “I didn’t realize you would be here.”
“Watch your manners,” she said, pointing the spatula at him. “For that, you’re getting the last helping of this delicious lasagna.”
He frowned, his eyes skimming toward the lasagna. At this point, I would fight him for it. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just said I didn’t know she was going to be here.”
“Kind of like how he didn’t mean to say anything bad about the library to the press,” I said, smiling in his direction as I took a sip of water.
Mrs. Ward laughed. “That sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
She slid a piece of lasagna onto my plate. I gave him a triumphant smirk. He narrowed his eyes at me while his mother served him before serving herself. She was way too giving to follow through on her earlier threat. Though she was queen of the guilt trip, she had a good heart.
“I explained that already,” Jackson said.
“Oh, I know,” I said, teasing. “It’s just one of those things I’m going to keep bringing up so you know you should never do it again because I just don’t let stuff like that go.”