Ghost Witching

by Ally Shields

  Jenson shook his head. “Stop. Too much information, York. Thursday night then. Three hours. I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me. Or the case.”

  “It won’t.” Maggie was confident the evidence would be secure. She was less positive about the effects of the ceremony. But then, they weren’t doing it for her. It didn’t matter what she thought.

  “Now that’s settled, how about getting back to police work? Have you narrowed your suspect list?”

  “Um, no. Not yet.” Maggie looked at Josh, but he too was at a loss. “It’s hard to tell what’s relevant and what’s not. We’re collecting a lot of evidence, and we’ll get there. Soon. We’re close to something happening…possibly something big.”

  “Yeah?” Jenson gave her a strange look as if wondering where her confidence came from. A recurring worry flashed through her head that he’d heard about her witch heritage or was remembering last year’s gossip about ghosts. “In that case, get to work and be prepared when it comes.”

  “Did you mean that?” Josh whispered as they walked out. “About a break coming?”

  She turned her head to frown at him. “I didn’t say a break. I’m not even sure it’s anything good.” Maggie slid into her chair, picked up her field notes, then put them down again. “I’m not sure of much on this case. The curse stuff has to be the coven in action. But I still can’t see how its activities tie into our three murders. Our victims were ordinary women who only dabbled in the occult and liked to dress up on Halloween. No one has alleged they had any real power. What’s the coven’s interest?”

  “Witchcraft is your area of expertise. Not mine.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Maggie propped her elbows on the table, supporting her chin, and lapsed into thought. “We’ve been spread all over the place on this case, forced to hop from one incident, one revelation to another. If we could narrow the focus… The one thing for certain is the coven tried to kill Michaels. What more can we do to identify its members?”

  “Find the one that has to be on the Witching Hour board. For that, we still need the board members’ names.”

  “We have three of thirteen—Madame L, Stephanie Michaels, and Fiona Gordon. So far they’ve refused to give us the rest.”

  “Is it possible the threat against Annie—someone who’s been targeted because she helped them—might have changed their minds?”

  “Guilted them into it, you mean?” Maggie thought about it. “Gordon won’t budge, but maybe Madame L. And Michaels might relate to Annie’s fears. We could try again.”

  It seemed serendipitous when Dennis Michaels walked into the Major Crimes squad room only minutes later. He headed straight toward Maggie and Josh, and they both stood.

  “Mr. Michaels, what can we do for you?” Josh asked.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  “One of the interview rooms.” Maggie gestured toward the small rooms along the right wall.

  As soon as they stepped inside the first empty one and Josh had closed the door, Michaels started talking. “I’m taking Stephanie away from New Orleans. She’s a bundle of nerves. To be honest, so am I, wondering what they’ll do next, when the next attack will come. My company has a New York office, and I plan to work out of there for the next few weeks or months, as long as it takes.”

  “We’d like to talk with her again before you go,” Maggie said.

  He was shaking his head even before she finished. “I’m sorry, but you could make it worse. She’s having nightmares, reliving her ordeal every night. She cries if we talk about it. And she heard about the latest curse. The doctor has her on tranquilizers.”

  So the news was out, and it had only served to make matters worse. Maggie’s voice softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. She seemed to be dealing well when we saw her.”

  “She was hiding her fears from everyone…even me.” He blinked away sudden moisture in his eyes. “If you need to reach us or you catch these monsters, contact my secretary. She’ll relay the message.” He handed Maggie his card. “I’m hoping Steph will snap out of it once she knows they can’t find her.”

  “Good luck.” Josh shook his hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

  If…no, when…we have the coven behind bars, Maggie vowed.

  They watched Dennis Michaels’s determined departure, one avenue of access to the inner-workings of the Society going with him. Maggie turned to Josh. “I guess that leaves Madame L.”

  But the priestess wasn’t in her shop. A young woman in her early twenties, wearing cutoff jeans and a strappy top, popped up from a stool behind the display counters. She pulled out an earbud attaching her to a smartphone or android device in her hand. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  “Madame L,” Maggie said, flashing her badge.

  The salesgirl’s eyes rounded. “Oh, she won’t be back until later. I’m not sure what time. I’m just filling in. You can come back, or I’ll give her a message.”

  “Is she at a Society board meeting?” Maggie asked, taking a guess.

  “Um, I wouldn’t know about that.” The young woman chewed her lips in discomfort and shifted her gaze.

  Not a very good liar. So, an emergency meeting? The organization had just been notified of the hacker’s arrest. Was that the main topic on the agenda? How was Madame L handling it with a conspirator on the board?

  Josh handed the salesgirl his card. “Thanks for your time. We’d appreciate it if you’d tell her we were here and ask her to call as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, sure.” The girl laid the card on the counter and returned her attention to her electronic device.

  When they reached the precinct, Josh’s message light was blinking. “Quick response, if this is Madame L already.” He hit the playback button, and Maggie stopped to listen.

  “Hi, sweetie. This is Ellie. Can you call me at home? TaTa.”

  Silence.

  Josh recovered from the awkward moment first. “Now what?” he mumbled. He pulled out his cell phone and walked away.

  Sweetie? Seriously? And Josh had jumped to return the call. Maggie’s eyes clouded with annoyance. He’d never explained why he went to Boston, and it still rankled that he’d come back because of Jenson’s order. Now this…

  Josh returned five minutes later without a comment. Claiming she had errands to run, Maggie left for lunch. She didn’t want to start an ugly argument, but the phone message was a timely reminder things weren’t back to normal or even approaching it. He still had something going with a woman who called him sweetie.

  After fuming for an hour and no longer hungry for lunch, Maggie returned to the station shortly after one o’clock. Josh was immersed in paperwork. He glanced up long enough to say a casual hi and seemed on the verge of adding something when his computer beeped with incoming data. He went back to work. She concentrated on her own reports, and the afternoon passed without interruption…not even a return call from Madame L.

  At five o’clock they parted for the day after agreeing to visit the voodoo shop again the next morning. Maggie went from the station to the gun range, and Josh went…wherever. He didn’t tell her his agenda these days. Except for the time they spent together, after-hours activities had become off limits. Was Ellie the reason? When they were on the job, Josh was ignoring the sensual awareness that shimmered under the surface and kept her on edge…unless he just didn’t notice it.

  * * *

  The phone rang shortly after ten that night. Maggie was reading on the sofa in her pjs. She laid her e-reader aside and retrieved her phone. Josh’s face popped onto the screen. Why would he be calling so late?

  “Are you watching the news?” he asked. She started to say no, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “Madame L’s shop is on fire.”

  “Oh, no. Did she get out safely?”

  “They don’t think anyone’s inside. What are the chances this is arson?”

  “Damned high, I’d say.”

  He offered to pick her up to avoid adding
two vehicles to the traffic jam. She agreed, changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and was waiting when his truck stopped at the curb. Maggie slid onto the passenger seat.

  “You predicted this,” Josh said.

  She gave him an uneasy look. “Not exactly this. It wasn’t a brilliant guess to assume we’d have another incident of some kind.” He’d suggested once before her abilities might be expanding. A ridiculous idea. Wasn’t it?

  Josh sped through the back streets, shortening the time to reach the temporary blockades near the fire. When an officer objected to leaving the truck in the street, Josh flashed his badge and the officer waved. They skirted the wooden barriers and located a fire department supervisor at the edge of the heavy, acrid black smoke. Maggie blinked her eyes and fanned the air with one hand. Her throat already tickled.

  She was coughing as they reached the fireman’s side. “This shop belongs to a witness on our homicide case,” she said. “What can you tell us?”

  “Not much. We’re still working to keep it from spreading to the adjacent buildings. The living area in back was well-engaged when we arrived.”

  “Are you sure no one’s in there?” Josh asked.

  A gust of wind turned the smoke on them, and they stepped back to avoid the worst of it.

  “As sure as we can be without getting in there. It’s too hot to enter. No sign of life, for sure.” The fireman’s attention shifted along enough to direct hoses toward the building behind Madame L’s. He glanced back at Josh and Maggie. “I’ll let you know as soon as we know anything.” He jogged toward the fire, shouting new instructions to his men.

  They backed off until they reached more breathable air.

  “Can you see LeMontaire?” Maggie asked. “I’d expect her to be somewhere in the crowd.” They both scanned the throng of onlookers. Maggie finally let out a relieved breath and tugged on Josh’s sleeve to get his attention. “She’s OK, Josh. Madame L’s over there.” Despite her somber face, the Jamaican woman looked like any other New Orleans’ resident in slacks and a summer top.

  He leaned down to her ear. “Yeah, I see her now. Brice is here too.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He took her shoulder and turned her in the opposite direction. Sure enough, the reporter aka cable producer aka witch hunter stood on the far side of the street snapping pictures. But it wasn’t against the law, and they already knew he was monitoring the police bands. In a way, it was logical he’d be there…but that didn’t mean he hadn’t set the fire. In fact, she could think of two theories why he might burn a voodoo shop—his inbred hatred of the occult and to promote controversy he could exploit on his cable program.

  “I’ll have a word with him—provided he doesn’t run again—while you talk with LeMontaire,” Josh said. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

  He moved off, working his way toward Brice, and Maggie finally reached the priestess’s side. “Are you OK? Nobody was inside?”

  “Sybil was in the back.”

  “Oh, no. Is that the salesgirl?” Maggie swung around looking for the fire chief. “We have to tell someone. Maybe it isn’t too late.”

  The priestess grabbed her arm to stop her. “Sybil’s my cat, and I already told the firefighters.”

  “I remember now.” Maggie’s urgency subsided. She pictured the black cat with knowing golden eyes who’d sat on the couch. “I’m so sorry, I’m afraid…”

  Madame L remained composed. “Thank you, but I have hope.”

  In that inferno? It would take a miracle…or something else. She glanced at the priestess’s face but read nothing.

  A nearby shop owner stopped to commiserate with Madame L, and Maggie moved away a few steps, keeping an eye on the crowd for other familiar faces or anyone suspicious. Arsonists often returned to watch the havoc they’d caused. Was he or she standing close by even now?

  She located Josh still talking with Brice and shifted her gaze to the other end of the crowd. For a second, she thought Sutter was in the back, but when she looked again, the guy she found in that same spot wasn’t Preston’s former neighbor.

  Josh returned, shaking his head. “Same old story. Police radio. Couldn’t resist a voodoo shop on fire. He’s either innocent or the most careless criminal I’ve met.” He tipped his head at LeMontaire. “She know anything?”

  “Not that she told me.”

  They continued to watch the fire, mostly in silence, until it was down to smoldering patches. The businesses on both sides had suffered significant damage from water and smoke, but most of the fire itself had been contained to the voodoo shop.

  The firefighter they’d already talked with headed toward them, and Madame L edged forward to listen. “We’ll be here a while to make sure none of these hot spots rekindle,” he said. “But the arson squad will check it out in the morning. The color of the flame, the black smoke…and one of my men smelled gasoline along the back wall. It wasn’t an accident.”

  Maggie shook her head. She’d hoped, just once, there was a simple answer.

  As the firefighter walked away, Madame L motioned toward the back of the crowd. “We should talk. Privately.” She made her way through the onlookers, stopping to accept encouragement from those who knew her. She didn’t say anything else until they were in the clear. “The council met earlier today. I presented your request, but as I feared, the answer was no. It wasn’t a quick decision, but they concluded the risks from outside are greater than possible risks from within.”

  Maggie’s heart sank. If this woman wouldn’t help them, who would? “But—”

  Madame L interrupted her protest. “I must consider the greater good of the Society. But of course, the murder and violence among us can’t continue.” Madame L’s eyes strayed toward the burned building. “This is a warning of more to come.” She spoke without anger, her features calm. Somehow it made her more inscrutable…and even a bit scary.

  Where was the priestess going with this?

  “I’m overruling the council. I’ll give you any information you need…within reason.”

  Maggie’s mouth dropped open.

  “Just give us the names of the board members,” Josh said quickly.

  “And the contestants for this year’s ball,” Maggie said, recovering her voice.

  LeMontaire frowned. “The council members are obvious suspects, but the contestants?”

  “They’re potential victims. Three have already died.” She didn’t mention the other—more likely—possibility.

  But LeMontaire wasn’t fooled. “And you think one of them might want to win badly enough to kill.”

  “It’s one theory.”

  “A sad thought. But yes, you may have both lists. I hope you will protect this information from the media.”

  “We won’t release it unless the case goes to court. Unfortunately, reporters seem to find their own sources. So, no guarantees it won’t get out there.”

  “I understand.”

  Now that they had LeMontaire’s cooperation, the next problem was accessing the data. Her computer had been in the back of the destroyed shop.

  “It’s all stored online. Naturally, I know the names of the board members, but I’ll have to look up their contact information and this year’s ball contestants.”

  Despite the late hour, they went to District 13. LeMontaire wrote down a list of the other twelve board members. Maggie was only mildly surprised they hadn’t heard any of the other ten names. The Society was very good at keeping its secrets.

  Using the department’s computers, LeMontaire accessed her Internet file storage directory. She frowned and tapped in her password a second time. Maggie and Josh watched the screen over her shoulder and stared at each other when Madame L suddenly dropped her hands.

  “I don’t understand. Except for the last few days, our files are gone.”

  Damn, Dorsey! The freaking hacker hadn’t told them he’d erased the Society’s online storage—every single file more than four days old. She called Annie to see
if recovery was possible, but her friend wasn’t optimistic. Dorsey was smart enough to have wiped and data-shredded the backup files too. Maggie hung up cursing Dorsey. Any goodwill he’d earned for cooperation was torpedoed by this huge omission in his story, and she’d make sure the DA heard about it the following morning.

  “We’re screwed,” she said, turning to look at Josh and LeMontaire. “Did anyone else have the membership info—addresses, phone numbers, emails—on their personal computers?”

  Madame L shook her head. “I don’t think so… But wait.” Her face brightened. “I can’t do anything about the ball contestants, but I have the council’s emails on my phone. I use them to send out meeting notices. We can still reach them.”

  Maggie’s scowl turned to relief. “Terrific. We’ll send out an e-mail and go from there.”

  “Let me do it,” the priestess insisted. “It should come from me. I’ll tell them about the fire and explain why I released their names to you.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Josh said, supporting her. “It might get us off on a better footing for interviews.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I know it’s late, but as soon as you can.”

  LeMontaire promised she’d handle it first thing in the morning, and Maggie stifled her impatience. After the priestess left, Maggie realized Madame L hadn’t given them the e-mail addresses. An oversight or lack of trust? It wasn’t worth calling and making an issue of it tonight. They’d reach the board faster with LeMontaire’s help, but they already had the list of names. With or without continuing cooperation, she and Josh would locate them soon. The question was…would it be soon enough?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Maggie spent the first half hour of the following morning arguing with the DA, who rejected her assertion that Dorsey’s omission breached the earlier deal. It was a self-serving decision on the prosecutor’s part. The master hacker was helping them on a score of other serious website breaches. Ingratiating himself. The DA also argued that the non-disclosure didn’t affect Maggie’s case. The damage had already been done. Which was true, but it was the principle of the thing. Maggie left the DA’s office disgusted with the system, and her mood soured further when she returned to District 13, and Josh told her Madame L still hadn’t called.