Sabers, Sails, and Murder

by Nola Robertson

  “Hey, Rylee.” He glanced at the box and smiled. “Oh good, you brought us more supplies.” He shifted the sword tucked into the dark red sash tied around his waist as he turned and went back up the stairs, so I could finish my trek to the deck.

  Several strands of blond hair had escaped from the leather tie at his nape, and he nervously tucked them behind his ear. “Thanks for covering for me while I was out. Chloe said you did a great job.” He held his fist to his mouth to stifle a cough. The lingering signs of a recent cold proved he hadn’t faked being sick.

  He seemed fine and probably wasn’t contagious anymore, but I kept a few feet between us anyway. “Not a problem. I was just glad my uniform still fit.”

  He smiled and eased toward the staircase, a sure sign he wanted to leave without being rude. “I understand you guys have been busy,” I blurted out the first thing I could think of to make him stay. “Do you think it’s because of the murder?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” His frown deepened.

  “I heard the police talked to everyone who was here that day.” My window for questioning him was rapidly getting smaller, so I risked being pushy.” Did they ask you about the argument you had with Jake? How about your relationship with Arlene?” When Lucas’s eyes widened with shock and his body tensed, I regretted not being more subtle.

  “How did you…” he stammered. “Yes, they did, but it’s not what you think.”

  “It’s not?” If I hadn’t been holding the box, I would have crossed my arms to appear more intimidating. Turns out, it wasn’t necessary.

  “I do tarot readings in my spare time.” Lucas nervously glanced toward the empty ramp leading to the dock before continuing. “Jake doesn’t, I mean didn’t believe in the paranormal and got upset when he found out I was doing readings for Arlene. That’s what the argument was about, I swear. You can even ask Arlene if you don’t believe me. I was at her house the other night.”

  “So you and Arlene aren’t…”

  Lucas wrinkled his nose. “Heck no. She’s way too old for me.”

  “Rylee, are you still up here?” I heard heavy footsteps before Max appeared at the top of the ramp.

  Lucas’s face flushed, and he lowered his voice. “You’re not going to tell him, are you? I really like working here and can’t afford to lose this job.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was referring to his side business or his association with Arlene. Since Grams also did tarot readings, I was leaning toward the latter. “I’m sure he’s not going to care.” I reassured him with a grin. “But if it makes you feel any better, he won’t hear it from me.”

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Lucas said, then headed for the stairs.

  As soon as he disappeared, I walked over and gave Max a hug. “Your shelves are full, but I can bring more supplies if you think you’ll need them.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on them and let you know.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” I asked when he stepped aside so I could leave.

  “Not at all.”

  “I know you had problems with Jake trying to steal your customers, but did you know about his other shady business dealings?”

  Max scratched his jaw. “If you’re talking about his attempts to get people to partner with him, then yes, I knew. He approached me when he first moved to town, but I refused. It’s probably why he put so much effort into being a pain in my backside.”

  “Did you also know he approached Greg Abernathy?”

  “I hadn’t heard, but I’m not surprised.” He narrowed his gaze. “What’s with all the interest in Jake?”

  “Um…” I bit my lip.

  He placed his hands on his hips. “You’re not going around asking people questions because the police think I might be involved, are you?”

  Unlike me, who’d panicked when Logan told me he thought I had something to do with Jessica’s death, Max didn’t seem upset to know he was considered a suspect.

  “Rylee, does Grams know what you’re doing?” he asked.

  When it came to my family, one answer always led to more questions, so remaining silent was always best. At least I thought it did until he groaned. “Of course, she does.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me she hasn’t made another one of her predictions.”

  “Well, no, but…” I backed closer to the ramp.

  “No buts about it,” he said. “Getting involved is dangerous. The killer could be anyone, and I think you two should let Roy handle it.”

  His lecture was cut short by the sound of voices coming from the walkway below. With any luck, they were passengers for the next tour and would keep him busy.

  “I’ll make sure to let Grams know what you said.” After flashing him a triumphant smile, I waved goodbye and made my escape down the ramp.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I arrived at the Classic Broom early, hoping to visit with Edith and Joyce before they got busy with customers. While I paused outside to mentally review the list of questions I planned to ask them, my gaze was drawn to the store’s front door. The name of the shop, along with a witch flying on a broom beneath it, were intricately carved into the dark wood.

  The place didn’t seem as ominous as it had the last time I was here, but I was still reluctant to go inside. Maybe it was the store itself that made me wary. Or maybe the source of my tension stemmed from having to speak with Edith and Joyce. It was uncanny how the sisters knew things. Things that went beyond being exceptionally perceptive.

  “Ye nah be goin' in thar, are ye?” Martin had joined me on the sidewalk, his somber mood getting worse the longer he examined the door.

  “You’re a ghost.” I shot him a disapproving glance. “What do you have to be afraid of?” I was the mere human who lacked any useful magical abilities, not that I’d want any powers if someone offered them to me.

  “Witches cast spells 'n curses. They can nah be trusted.” He crossed his arms. “Wha' if the women ye be meetin' 'ave the power to send me to the otherworld afore we find Pete?”

  The Haverston sisters might offer psychic predictions, but I was pretty sure making unusual potions and candies was the extent of their abilities. They hadn’t been able to do anything for Jessica when she was haunting me, so I didn’t think they had the power to ship Martin off to another realm either.

  “First off, I don’t know for sure that Edith and Joyce are actually witches.” I raised my hand when he opened his mouth to argue. “And if they are, I don’t think they have those kinds of powers.” Jessica had shown the same trepidation, had refused to go inside, the one and only time I’d sought their help. “Look, I’m not thrilled about going inside either, but this is our last option if we want to find Pete.” I raised a challenging brow and reached for the door handle. “I’ll understand if you want to cower out here on the sidewalk.”

  “I shall 'ave ye know I 'ave ne'er cowered in me life, 'n I do nah plan to start now,” Martin ranted as he followed me inside.

  “Okay.” I closed the door behind us, ignoring the loud thud it made.

  Martin stopped fuming long enough to glance around the shop, then glare at me. “Ye tricky wench, ye provoked me on purpose.”

  I grinned at how easily I’d coerced him. “Hey, no one said you had to come inside. You can leave whenever you want, but I’d like it if you stay. Edith and Joyce might have questions that only you can answer.”

  Other than a shelf now filled with what looked like voodoo dolls, the place hadn’t changed a bit. The overhead lights were dimmed, creating a spooky ambiance.

  Now that Martin was inside and could see for himself that there wasn’t an unsuspecting witch ready to cast a spell on him, he seemed to be a little braver. He walked over to the nearest display case and perused the unusual items inside. “Did ye know they 'ave love potions in here?” He pointed at the wide assortment of colored bottles filled with liquid.

  They also had wart removal and candy for broken hearts, if I remembered correctly. I was
getting good at reading his facial expressions and recognized the desire to cause havoc immediately. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “But Lass, would ye nah like to 'ave a wee bit of fun wit' that Lavender wench?”

  “Maybe some other time.” It was difficult to keep my interest masked. The thought of treating Lavender to some of Martin’s mischief was tempting, but the fun would be short-lived. Messing with the woman gained the same results as provoking a rattlesnake, not something I recommended. Not when I was still waiting to see what kind of backlash I’d be dealing with from Trudy’s witchy proclamation.

  “Rylee, it’s so good to see you.” Edith emerged from a doorway on the left, then swept across the room. Her long black skirt billowed as she walked, and the absence of footsteps or even a creak on the hardwood floor was unnerving. She glanced around the room, her crystal blue eyes narrowing on the spot where Martin was standing. “And who were you talking to?”

  Martin froze but didn’t disappear like I’d expected. “I…”

  “I’d like to know as well.” Joyce swept into the room, her smile welcoming, her unusual entrance no less concerning. Other than the blood-red shawl draped over her shoulders, her dark outfit was similar to Edith’s. Her eyes were the same sparkling shade of blue as her sisters, but her dark brown waist-length hair was a contrast to Edith’s long blonde strands. “I’m assuming from the chill in the air that you were accompanied by a spiritual visitor.”

  “Jessica’s not back, is she?” Edith asked. “Was there a problem with her staying in the afterlife?”

  The possibility of spirits returning from their ghostly realm was disconcerting. I knew Grams was convinced that my great-great uncle Howard made random visits in the form of small animals whenever one of us needed help, but I’d never truly believed her predictions. “No, not that I know of. My visitor is a lot older and somewhat famous.” The last part of my statement brought a wide grin to Martin’s face.

  “Really? That sounds interesting.” Joyce rubbed her hands together.

  “Yes, it does.” Edith shared a knowing look with her sister, then returned her attention to me.

  “Who is it?” they said in unison.

  “Believe it or not, it’s Martin Cumberpatch.”

  Joyce gasped. Edith muttered, oh my, then asked, “Are you sure?”

  I bobbed my head. “I’m sure all right.” I didn’t take her disbelief personally. I’d had a hard time believing it was him myself when we’d first met.

  “Well, then.” Joyce’s shock transformed into intrigue. “You need to tell us how this transpired and don’t leave out any details.”

  I was getting tired of repeating the story and spent the next five minutes telling the sisters everything they wanted to know. I started with the way I’d been zapped by Martin’s saber and how he’d appeared on Max’s boat. Martin interrupted me a couple of times, insisting I provide additional details about his prankster exploits with the water cannons, which of course, I didn’t think were necessary.

  When I told Joyce and Edith what he’d said about his curse, he leaned against the counter listening intently, so I assumed I’d relayed the information correctly. I’d also expected a surprised reaction from the sisters; instead, I got a tsk from Joyce and a headshake from Edith.

  “Through the years, there’s been a lot of speculations made about how Martin disappeared, but nothing anyone in the magical community could prove,” Edith said. “The local coven forbid anyone from talking about it.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t they want anyone to know what really happened to Martin?” I asked.

  “Those kinds of rumors are bad for business,” Joyce said. “Tourists love the paranormal, but they aren’t going to buy from someone who can cast a wicked spell on them.”

  That explained why nothing appeared in the town’s history books. I thought of Shawna and her quest to turn an old boyfriend into a frog. Of course, that was when we were teenagers, but I had a feeling my friend wouldn’t pass on the temptation if she learned it was available, and she’d had her heartbroken again.

  “I know you were hoping the magic you acquired from the spirit seeker was temporary, but from what you’ve told us, it appears to be permanent,” Joyce said.

  “And since you were able to break Martin’s curse, it must have given you additional spirit related powers.” Edith shared an envious glance with her sister.

  Having them confirm what I’d already concluded didn’t make accepting my unwanted ability any easier. Hearing I’d received extra powers was even more troubling, but what worried me the most was not knowing what else might pop up in the future.

  “There is an upside,” Edith said when I frowned.

  I knew the sisters thought my ability to see ghosts was a special gift, but being spirit free was the only positive thing that came to mind. “And what would that be?” I didn’t want to be rude and forced the sarcasm from my voice.

  The way she rolled her eyes reminded me of the silent scoldings I received from Grams whenever I struggled with figuring out the obvious. “You only have to deal with one spirit at a time.”

  “Edith’s right.” Joyce patted her sister’s shoulder. “Could you imagine what it would be like if you had a cemetery full of ghosts following you around?”

  Just thinking about the awful possibility had my stomach knotting. “Well, when you put it like that…”

  “It is curious, though, that Martin continues to haunt you. I would have thought he’d move on once the curse was broken.” Edith’s contemplative gaze drifted in Martin’s direction.

  “I was wondering the same thing myself.” Joyce crossed her arms and joined her sister in staring at the space where Martin was standing.

  Martin’s yellow T-shirt started to glow as he pushed away from the counter. “Did I nah warn ye they would try to send me on me way?”

  “Martin, no one is sending you…” He vanished before I got a chance to finish.

  “Is everything all right?” Joyce asked.

  “No,” I groaned. “Martin was afraid you were going to cast him into the afterlife, so he left.”

  “Oh, dear.” Edith clasped a hand over her mouth.

  “I’m afraid that’s not how it works, not if he has unfinished business,” Joyce said.

  “Exactly,” Edith agreed. “Did he happen to mention why he refuses to leave?”

  “He told me his best friend, Pete, was also cursed.”

  “I see. Well, that does present a bit of a problem,” Joyce said.

  “Indeed.” Edith bobbed her head in agreement.

  “That’s why I’m, I mean we were here. I’ve looked for Pete’s eye patch everywhere in town I could think of and haven’t been able to find it.” I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I’d reached the point where I feared using mystical powers, something I had limited knowledge about, was the only way we’d be able to find Pete.

  Unlike my father, who could write a book about the paranormal, I was out of my realm and didn’t know if it was considered polite to ask the Haverston sisters if they were witches, let alone if they possessed any powers. “I was hoping you’d be able to help us.”

  “I assume the eye patch was Pete’s personal item?” Joyce asked.

  “Yeah.” I glanced at some of the nearby display cases, then as a hopeful afterthought, I asked, “You don’t happen to have any do you?”

  “No, I’m afraid not, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find it another way.” Joyce clasped the ends of her shawl as she stepped around the counter near their cash register and came back with a cell phone. “From what I understand, dealing with binding magic is tricky.”

  “I agree, it can be difficult and requires someone with a lot of experience. Since it also revolves around the dead, we might need a necromancer,” Edith said, then hovered next to Joyce as she scrolled her finger along the screen of her phone.

  You didn’t grow up with my father without having heard the term me
ntioned once or twice. It was believing someone who could raise spirits from their resting place existed, and actually lived in Cumberpatch, that I was having a hard time accepting.

  When Joyce stopped scrolling, Edith grinned and said, “Excellent choice.”

  “I thought so.” Joyce tapped whatever number they’d agreed upon and placed her phone next to her ear.

  “Good morning, Deeann.” Joyce smiled and nodded. “Everything is fine.” She listened for a few more seconds. “Do you remember Jonathan Spencer’s daughter Rylee?” Another pause. “Yes, she requires our help.” She paced in front of some nearby shelves, adjusting items as she told Deeann about Martin.

  I wasn’t happy that another person now knew I could see ghosts. At least Joyce kept her explanation to the specifics of what we needed to help Martin, not sharing how I’d gotten my powers or my previous experience with Jessica.

  My scowl hadn’t gone unnoticed by Edith. “Don’t worry.” She gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “Deeann will be discreet.”

  “I’ll ask,” Joyce stopped and turned in my direction. “Did Martin happen to mention who the witch was who cursed him?”

  “Is it important?” I was good with names, but at the time Martin had shared the information, I was too busy making sure he understood my rules about privacy.

  “Not necessarily, but the more information we have, the better,” Joyce said.

  I concentrated harder. “I think it was Isabella something.”

  “Fernsby?” Disgust was not a good look for Edith, or Joyce for that matter.

  “Yes, Isabella Fernsby.” I wiggled my finger, then listened to Joyce repeat the name to Deeann.

  “In case you were wondering,”—Edith leaned closer—“we’re familiar with the Fernsby family. Not a friendly bunch, but thankfully they live further up the coast, and we shouldn’t have to deal with them.”

  Until she’d said something, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been worried about the curse wielding witches or that I’d been holding my breath. “That’s good to know,” I said after gasping some much-needed air.