Down the Hatch

by Constance Barker

  A moment later, the knifer flashed past. But in the dark, I had no idea who it was. And that person didn’t stop. I didn’t give chase either. It wasn’t that I was an abject coward, but I had not come for a knife fight. That was something I would leave for Jacob, and I was sorry I hadn’t convinced him to come with me. Because the knifer had come after me without hesitation. I was supposed to die.

  I waited ten minutes before I sneaked back to Rogers’ grave. I closed my eyes and felt for a ghost. No, Rogers’ ghost was not there. I was disappointed, but finding a ghost was always a long shot. It was then that I noticed something on the stone marker. Besides some wood shavings there was a small, wooden arrow. It was almost an arrow. I held the wood, and I interrogated the wood. The information that came through was that the carver, whoever it was, knew Thomas Jamison. And the carver wanted the secret of the murder dead and buried.

  I waited for more, but the half-finished arrow provided nothing more.

  Arrow.

  It meant something, since the murder weapon had been an arrow.

  What?

  I didn’t know. But the animosity of the arrow came through loud and clear. The carver-knifer might have recognized me, even in the dark. If the carver-knifer knew me... I didn’t finish the thought. I needed a place to go to, a place to think. I turned around in a circle in the dark cemetery and wondered just where I could go.

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” GWEN asked as soon as she opened the door.

  “I think I’m in danger,” I said.

  “Get inside.”

  I passed Gwen who locked the door behind me. I heard her mutter a protection spell, and that made me feel better. Anyone trying to get in would find the entire house doubly locked. Only another magical would be able to get inside, and I was almost certain the carver-knifer was not a magical.

  “Sit down,” Gwen said. “I’m going to call Penelope. I need help with this.”

  I sat, but my mind and body didn’t sit. They were running on fear and adrenaline. I wanted to do something, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I was in danger. I was certain of that. The carver-knifer wanted to kill me. I had felt that. My head swam with possible people.

  Eric.

  George.

  Jennifer.

  All those men who had lost women to Thomas.

  And I didn’t have a clue who the carver-knifer might be.

  Gwen arrived with a shot of whiskey.

  “Penelope is coming, and when she gets here, I want you to tell both of us what happened. Now, a bit of whiskey never hurt anyone. Down it goes.”

  I took one look at the amber liquid and downed it in one swallow. The liquid burned, but, as Gwen pointed out, it didn’t hurt me. She patted me on the shoulder.

  Minutes later, Penelope arrived. She sat next to me and took my hand.

  “All right, Helga,” Penelope said. “Tell us what happened.”

  “Well, it started with Lance DeChambeau.”

  “Who’s that?” Gwen asked.

  “An artist, and a good one.”

  “Well, that’s a start,” Penelope said. “Go on.”

  “That led to Arthur Rogers.”

  I told them all about the effort to find Arthur Rogers through Evelyn Dubois and Lance DeChambeau. The tale that led to St. Louis Cemetery. The story ended with me holding onto the half-carved arrow, that I pulled from my pocket and handed over.

  “I have no idea who the carver is,” I said. “But since I spoke to him, maybe the carver knows me.”

  “Oops,” Penelope said. “That wasn’t your finest move”

  “I’m sure the carver has no idea who it was,” Gwen said. “It was dark, right? And your voice is hardly distinctive.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said.

  “That’s a benefit,” Gwen added.

  “Well, in case it’s not, I have to go.”

  “What do you mean you have to go?” Penelope asked.

  “I can’t stay here,” I said. “I’m radioactive. The carver might show up any second. You are my sister, Gwen, although sometimes, I wonder if babies were switched at birth.”

  “Now, you’re the one trying to be funny. Penelope, talk to my sister while I get us some tea.”

  I watched Gwen leave, even as Penelope squeezed my hand.

  “You know you’re better off here, with those who love you,” Penelope said. “We’re all accomplished witches, so I don’t think some mad wood carver with a knife is going to walk into the room.”

  “Not unless the carver is a magical too. We don’t know what we’re looking at, Penne. It could be anyone. This city is filled with witches and warlocks and fairies and well, every sort of magical person. We’re good, but are we that good?”

  “We’re more than that good. Besides, together we’re much stronger than apart. We can protect each other.”

  I was about to tell her that if I wasn’t in the house, there would be no reason to protect anything, but before I could, Gwen walked in with a cup of tea.

  “Here you go,” Gwen said. “Just what you need. Coffee wakes you up. Tea soothes you to sleep.”

  The tea smelled so good, I couldn’t resist. I downed half the cup, as Gwen watched, that knowing smile on her face. That was when I figured it out. Gwen had put a sleep spell on the tea.

  I didn’t stand a chance.

  “Sleepy time baby,” Penelope said as she lifted my feet to the couch.

  “Don’t worry, Helga,” Gwen said. “You’re in the best of hands.”

  That was when I went to sleep.

  I WOKE ON THE COUCH, and I had sat up for maybe five seconds before Gwen put a cup of coffee in my hand.

  “You’re welcome,” Gwen said.

  “I won’t forget this,” I said.

  “You better not,” she said as she walked away.

  “And I don’t owe you anything!”

  She laughed.

  Twenty seconds later, Penelope called. Before I could say hello, she started.

  “I know you are probably pissed as hell, but remember that what we did, we did for your own good. I think you know that, so I won’t apologize too much. Now, since you slept like a baby, it’s time to get to work. Ta-ta.”

  The line went dead, and I shook my head. That was classic Penelope. And I did need to get to work.

  I arrived at the store earlier than normal, and it was a good thing I did.

  The front door stood ajar. As I walked through, I gaped. On both sides, several of what I thought were tasteful displays, had been smashed. For a moment, all I could do was stare.

  Then, I whispered a little spell and touched the smashed vase. The shards told the story. The person who had broken in and ruined my displays was not trying to rob me. It wasn’t for money. The person had meant to send a message. I was to stop what I was doing, or I would go the way of the vase.

  I spun from the damage. “GET DOWN HERE!” I called out.

  Within seconds, the ghosts appeared. I could tell that Orchid and Zephyr were sheepish, afraid to face me. Roxanne stayed some distance away, as if she didn’t want to get involved. I didn’t blame her.

  “All right,” I told the ghosts. “Who broke in and smashed things?”

  “We don’t know,” Orchid said.

  “It was very dark,” Zephyr added.

  “And the person wore a hood, so their face was covered.”

  “And they were quite violent,” Zephyr said

  “So, you two hid, right?” I asked.

  “There was no reason to confront the person.”

  “We had no idea just how aware they might be.”

  “You’re ghosts,” I said. “Not much can hurt you.”

  “You’re not going to turn us out, are you?” Zephyr asked.

  “I should,” I said. “But no, I’m not going to throw you out.”

  I could tell the ghosts were relieved.

  “In that case,” Orchid said. “You might want to talk to Roxanne.”

  “What about?”

/>   “She’s coming apart, I’m afraid,” Orchid said. “Very unstable.”

  “If we don’t find the necklace soon, she might turn nasty and attach herself to the store.”

  “Or me,” I said. “That wouldn’t do, would it.”

  “It would make things difficult,” Zephyr said.

  “Well, I’ll see to her, right after I clean up this mess.”

  Before I started cleaning, I took photos of the damage. I didn’t know if my insurance would cover the loss, but I would need them for the police report. As I swept and gathered and tried to determine just how much the break-in had cost me, anger bubbled up inside. I knew that if I stopped investigating, I would always be afraid. And I did not like feeling afraid. No, the only way to overcome the damage was to solve the murder. If that meant visiting graveyards and dodging knives, then that’s what I would do. No one was going to intimidate me.

  I called Jacob and told him about the burglary. He said he would be right over, and I sensed more than the usual concern in his voice. As soon as I ended the call, Roxanne approached, and she wasn’t weeping for once. I thought that was a good thing. I thought.

  “When are you going to find my necklace?” Roxanne demanded.

  “I’m working on it,” I said.

  “I don’t see you working on it,” she said. “It seems you’re doing everything but working on it. In fact, you’re not even here half the time.”

  “Roxanne, you know these things take time. Right now, I have a murderer on the loose, and I think that’s the person who caused the damage last night. Surely, you don’t believe that the necklace is more important than my store.”

  “I have been patient,” she said. “But even my patience is wearing thin. I demand that you stop whatever silly thing you’re doing and find my necklace.”

  Before I could argue with her, she disappeared, and I knew I had another problem on my hands. I was of a mind to do something drastic—like an anti-ghost spell—when Orchid and Zephyr reappeared.

  “We tried to tell you,” Orchid said.

  “Roxanne has become rather irrational,” Zephyr added.

  “I can’t deal with her at the moment,” I told them. “I have to solve the murder before my entire store is devastated.”

  Orchid glanced at Zephyr who nodded.

  “We’ve been considering things,” Orchid said.

  “Since we often overhear what you say,” Zephyr said.

  “Not that we eavesdrop,” Orchid interjected.

  “We would never do that, not on purpose.”

  “We are quite diligent in our social responsibilities.”

  “Everyone needs and deserves their space.”

  “But we do hear things.”

  “Accidentally, strictly accidentally.”

  “Stop,” I said. “Just tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

  “We think it’s the Cupid,” Zephyr said.

  “And the widow,” Orchid added.

  “Only a Cupid would have the skill to shoot an arrow straight into the heart.”

  “And the widow had every reason to rid herself of a feckless husband.”

  They smiled at me, as if Eric and Jennifer had already confessed. In a way, they were cute. But I had to agree with them. Eric and Jennifer had to be the killers. Nothing else made sense. George Ross and his ilk may have had plenty of reasons to do away with Thomas, but how many of them were expert bowmen? I was guessing not a single one of them could hit the side of a barn with an arrow. No, it had to be some unholy alliance between Eric and Jennifer.

  “You’ve convinced me,” I said. “Eric and Jennifer had to do it.”

  Orchid and Zephyr beamed.

  “See,” Orchid said. “We’re very valuable, aren’t we?”

  “There is no reason to send us packing,” Zephyr added.

  “Who said I was going to send you packing,” I said. “Don’t be like Roxanne. If I catch either one of you weeping...” I didn’t finish the sentence, as they backed away, their smiles disappearing.

  “Now,” I said. “Don’t leave. I’m going to talk to the flower shop and get the truth out of the Cupid. When Jacob arrives, tell him where I went. You’ve talked to him before, so just speak up.”

  “We will,” Orchid said. “We’ll tell him straight off.”

  “And I’m certain he will come right after you,” Zephyr added.

  “He doesn’t have to do that. Just tell him.”

  They smiled, happy that I had given them something to do, something that showed I still had confidence in them.

  “One more thing,” I said. “Keep Roxanne from breaking anything. She’s getting angry, and you know what an angry spirit can do.”

  “We will keep a sharp watch,” Zephyr said.

  “You may rely upon us,” Orchid added.

  I nodded and headed for the door. I didn’t want them to see my smile. They really were engaging women. I lit the CLOSED sign in the window and started off.

  I hurried to the flower shop, as I wanted to catch Eric before the place got busy. I was lucky in that way, as he was all alone when I arrived.

  “Good morning, Helga,” he said, as I approached. “Although I can see from your face that you’re not here to buy some honeysuckle.”

  “Indeed, I’m not,” I said. “First, let’s put our cards on the table. You’re a Cupid, correct?”

  He smiled, a sly smile, the kind of smile that could be interpreted as almost anything.

  “And you’re a witch,” he said. “So, we’re both involved with a bit of magic, aren’t we.”

  “We are,” I said. “But I don’t go around shooting arrows into people.”

  “You know we don’t do that any more, although we could.”

  “You did. You shot Thomas Jamison.”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “I’ll admit to trying to steer Thomas toward a single woman, but I didn’t kill him.”

  “Where were you?”

  “With Jennifer, trying to steer her away from Thomas and toward someone who would be faithful to her.”

  “Try again.”

  “This whole event owes its life to Thomas Jamison,” Eric said. “When I first met him, I thought he flirted because he was with the wrong person. Unhappy people do that sort of thing. So, I tried to help him. I touched him, and I touched a number of women I thought might make him happy. Boy was I wrong. Unlike most people, Thomas did not have the desire for a single partner. He was incapable of loving someone exclusively. Call it a personality defect. Anyway, while Thomas was a lost cause, Jennifer is not. I was helping her find a suitable person post Jamison.”

  “You were in the alley,” I said. “I found one of your silver feathers.”

  He looked at me as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “I was there, but I wasn’t alone. I was with George Ross’s girlfriend. She had had her head turned with Jamison’s flattery, and I knew that would be a terrible match. So, I escorted her away from Jamison. We weren’t there at the time of the murder. Cupids don’t kill, and we don’t allow killing, when we can stop it.”

  “What’s her name?” I asked.

  “Sylvia Saint-Roberts. She lives outside the quarter, but she’ll tell you the same story.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I spent a few more minutes with Eric, but that simply provided more details about his alibis. I left, still not convinced that he and Jennifer hadn’t conspired to kill Thomas, but I had no proof. I knew I would give the information to Jacob and let him do the legwork. He would chase down Sylvia. That was his job. Mine was to sell some antiques, while I still could. If I didn’t qualify for an orange jumpsuit, I might find myself facing the carver-knifer. Neither possibility thrilled me. Worse, I was no longer certain about the killer. I had managed to take a lap around the murder and end up in the same place.

  Back in the store, I stared at the ruined displays and wondered what items I would add. No one ever accused me of being a tried and
tested window dresser. Usually, I just placed some things that I found interesting. I was still ruminating, when the phone rang.

  “Penelope,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Gwen, Gwen is on my mind. Is she with you?”

  “No, she’s not. I left her at her house. Why?”

  “Because I’m standing in the living room right now. The front door is busted in, and Gwen isn’t here.”

  “Wait, what, Gwen is gone?”

  “That’s what I said. And from the condition of the furniture, I’d say Gwen put up a good fight.”

  Chapter 15

  “Oh my gosh,” I said. “You’re saying someone took her?”

  “It looks like it.”

  I thought a moment. “Stay there. I’ll call Jacob and have him come to you. I’ll meet the both of you, and we’ll do...what we have to do. There’s no clue as to where Gwen might be, is there?”

  “Her purse and phone are right here. You know she never goes anywhere without her phone.”

  “I know. Gotta go. I’ll call back.”

  I killed the call and speed-dialed Jacob. He answered immediately.

  “I’m almost at the store,” he said. “Ten minutes.”

  “You need to turn around and head to Gwen’s.”

  “Why? I’m only minutes away.”

  “Because I think she’s been kidnapped.”

  I explained Penelope’s call. How she found the door broken open and Gwen missing. I didn’t need him nearly as much as Gwen did.

  “It’s better that you come with me,” he said. “That way, I won’t be worried about both you and Gwen.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  “No, you’ll come with me. I’m not far. And I’ll put out an alert for Gwen.”

  “All right,” I said.

  I was touched by Jacob’s concern. And he made sense. Keeping one of the Richardson sisters close meant there was only one to find. As I waited, I looked over at the large desk I had found for Gigi. While I was waiting, I thought to give Gigi a call. Then, as I looked up the contact information, I suddenly knew who the murderer was. It was as clear as day.

  “Orchid, Zephyr,” I called out.