Murder Under a Mystic Moon

by Yasmine Galenorn

  I leaped up, ready to charge the television, but Randa grabbed my wrist and I slowly lowered myself to the sofa again, holding my breath as I waited for what he might say next. And then George dropped his bomb.

  “I really don’t consider Ms. O’Brien to be a legitimate psychic. She refuses to let anyone observe her in action, which obviously means she’s hiding something—”

  An appalled look on her face, Cathy frantically motioned to the camera man. “I think we have a breaking news report—” she started to say, but George went right on talking.

  “Emerald obviously hasn’t read much about how real psychics act. Most psychics wear black to draw in the spirit world when they’re reading the cards or performing a séance, and they don’t run around listening to rock music and playing tea party all the time. I think she’s bilking the town and playing off of the gullibility of her clients—”

  The screen suddenly cut to Jack Sullivan, who cleared his throat and said, “We seem to be having technical difficulties. Cathy will return in a moment. Meanwhile, let me remind our viewers that the opinions of our guests do not necessarily reflect those of the station, its owners, or its newscasters. KLIK-TV offers absolutely no opinion about the abilities of Ms. O’Brien, and makes no accusations or confirmations as to the validity of her claims.” He hastily cut to another human interest story.

  Everybody broke into shouts at once.

  “Mom, how could he say that—?”

  “He deserves a kick in the nuts—” This from my daughter. I gave her a long look, then sat back in shock.

  “He’d better watch his back or he’ll be in the next big news story.” Joe crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the phone. I sat there, speechless, while he turned back to Kip. “Hey kiddo, lower the heat on the noodles so they won’t burn, would you?”

  Before I could stop Joe, he’d punched in the number of KLIK-TV. “Let me talk to your guest, George Pleasant… Where can I find him? I know he works for you.” He paused, then in a low, firm voice, said, “Oh really? Well you tell your boss not to be surprised when we slap a law-suit against your damned station.” He slammed the phone down.

  Still in shock, I couldn’t muster a single word. The phone rang and Joe grabbed it. “Yeah?” His voice softened and he held out the receiver. “Murray.”

  I took the phone as he disappeared back in the kitchen. Murray was about to blow a gasket.

  “Of course I saw it,” I said. “I always manage to tune in when Cathy’s making a fool out of me. I’m not sure what the hell to do. Joe just called the station, on the hunt for George.”

  “I think he’s out to get you, Em. You made him mad and he’s acting like a jerk. He’s young and cocky; you took him down a notch.”

  “I’ll take him down more than a notch, if I catch him.” Feeling at a total loss, I asked, “What do you think I should do? Will people listen to him?”

  She laughed. “Oh Em, your regular customers adore you. Don’t let this get you down… it’s just more of Cathy’s screwed up tactics to buy a ticket into a major station. Unfortunately, she picked the wrong guy to interview this time. She’s never going to make it out of Bellingham, regardless of how smart she thinks she is. Please, don’t worry about this.”

  Not worry. Right. I’d not-worry myself over to George’s apartment and kick his ass right down the street. My son had labeled me a Lara Croft clone earlier this year and right now, I really wished I was.

  “Anyway,” Murray continued. “That’s not the only reason I called. I just got off the phone with Stryker.”

  “And?” I held my breath. Murder? What else could it be?

  “Stryker’s caved. He’s labeling it cougar attack. No investigation warranted.” Her voice told me that she felt the same way as I did. “Scar was ripped up pretty bad… I guess it could be taken for an animal mauling.”

  “Stryker’s a professional. He should know!” I stopped myself. Might as well beat my head against a wall for the good it would do. “What about the evidence? Did you guys find anything to suggest that it was murder?”

  She lowered her voice. “Coughlan took the bags from Deacon and Sandy as soon as they got back to the station. I have no idea what’s in them. I’m going to ask the boys what they found out there, but I have to wait for the right time. Can’t do it around Coughlan, he’d have my head, but I’ll find the time.”

  “Mur, that was no cougar attack. There are some heavy-duty bad vibes out in those woods and they have something to do with Scar’s death.” Now I was sounding like Jimbo. I paused, wondering if I really did believe in the Klakatat Monster. “Maybe Scar was a thief, but Mur, he was murdered.”

  “Well, cougar attack is the official verdict, but you’re right. I’ve tended to cougar wounds before. My cousin Edgar managed to get between a mother and her cubs and he almost died. He was lucky I was there. But his wounds were different than the ones on Scar.”

  “How’s Jimbo taking Scar’s death?” I tried to keep my voice level; not wanting to spark off unwelcome curiosity. Randa was still in the room, watching Nova. She could hear me and I didn’t want to spill Mur’s secret.

  Murray sighed. “Hard. They were best buddies. He can’t believe the guy was really wanted for—get this—seventeen robberies. Of course, they all took place a long time ago, and nobody was hurt, but still… he trusted Scar.”

  It suddenly occurred to me that Murray knew a whole lot more about Jimbo than I did, or probably ever would. I wondered how long they’d been hiding their relationship. It couldn’t be more than a few months. But she was right. If the Chiqetaw police force discovered her secret, they’d find a way to fire her. Chief Bonner liked her but Coughlan was a bastard of first measure, and in the last tarot reading I did for her, the cards showed he was just lying low, waiting for her to make a mistake so he could begin his harassment campaign again. Come to think of it, the Lovers card had also shown up and I’d mentioned to her that maybe somebody was in the wings, waiting to enter her life.

  “Em, Em? Are you there?”

  Startled out of my reverie, I coughed. “Sorry, just wool-gathering. They say the mind goes first.”

  She laughed. “Okay. I promise I’ll drop by the shop tomorrow and fill you in on Jimmy and me. Okay?”

  “Okay. Mur, you know we’re going to have to find Scar’s killer on our own.”

  With a sigh, she said, “I know, but I can’t do anything in an official capacity since Coughlan closed the case. Whatever I do has to be off the record.”

  “Gotcha. And tell Jimbo… tell him, I’m sorry that he was right about Scar.”

  I hung up, and Randa and I joined the boys in the kitchen. Joe and Kip had prepared a marvelous smoked salmon fettuccine and Caesar salad and we settled in for a late dinner. I took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. I refused to think about Scar or George Pleasant or monsters during dinner. As I looked around the table at my children and my boyfriend, I realized that, regardless of all the mayhem and violence in the world, the universe had given me with an abundance of joy, and I’d do my best to live up to the blessing.

  AFTER DINNER, WE puttered around until I glanced at the clock.

  “Nine-thirty, kiddo. Half an hour until bed, Kip.”

  I flipped on a CD—Talking Heads, Speaking in Tongues—and took over the computer while Joe helped Kip finish building a model plane. Randa went racing upstairs for an early evening of stargazing. I plugged in the words “Klakatat Monster” into the search engine and watched as the results came up. Not many, but enough to start my search. Too tired to read at the screen, I printed off page after page of information.

  As I settled on the sofa with my reading material, Joe and Kip high-fived each other. “We did it!” Kip grinned at me. “Joe helped me get the last few parts on; I was having trouble but he showed me what to do. See?” He held up the plane and I cheered.

  “Yippee! That looks really good, honey. What are you going to do with it?�
�� I admired the model. My son really did have a good eye for detail.

  “Put it in my room, on the shelf over my desk. Sly made the same model but it kinda looks dumpy. He’s not too good at getting things straight.” Kip gave me a goodnight peck on the cheek and took off for the staircase.

  Joe watched him go, then curled up next to me on the sofa. “He’s got a lot of talent for his age.”

  I set aside my reading and stretched out, leaning into his arms. “It’s been one hell of a long day. So, when’s your next shift?”

  He folded his arms around my shoulders and nuzzled my neck. “Tuesday night. May I stay here tonight?” He always asked, even though by now he was a regular fixture in my bed, and I appreciated the gesture.

  I nodded, too exhausted to do more than smile when I thought of our afternoon tryst. At least we’d gotten in one private celebration today. I poked at the papers. “I should read these, but I’m so tired.”

  “Then read them tomorrow.” He hauled me to my feet. “Time for bed. The dishes are done, the house is clean. Get your butt upstairs, woman.”

  I stuffed the papers in the shoulder-bag briefcase I’d finally broken down and bought when the strap on my aging but beloved Perlina handbag finally bit the dust. I’d take the information to work with me and read it there.

  After arming the alarm system that monitored the front and back doors and the windows on the lower level, we headed upstairs, with the cats following. I made sure that Kip was getting himself to bed. Nigel—our male orange tabby—had joined him and was curled up on his pillow. When I peeked in on Randa to make sure she hadn’t fallen off the roof, Noël and Nebula crawled up on her bed.

  “Inside by midnight and don’t let the cats out on the roof,” I called. She waved at me and held up her wrist, her watch clearly visible.

  Samantha padded into my room, curling up in her usual place on the bottom of the bed. I opened the window a crack for a breath of fresh air. Joe gave me a gentle kiss and brushed the hair back from my face.

  “Time for my girl to get some sleep.” He climbed into bed and patted the space beside him. I rested my head on his chest as he enfolded me in his embrace. Within seconds, my eyes were closing and I was off in dreamland.

  THE MORNING SUN broke through the window, splashing us with a brilliant wash of color. I struggled out of the fog that always enveloped me during sleep, and turned over to find Joe staring at me. I blinked, trying to focus.

  “Hey you.” I cleared my throat and fell back against the comforting, cool sheets.

  He leaned over and planted a kiss on my nose. “It’s still early, the kids aren’t up yet, and I’ve got a surprise for you.” With a grin he lifted the sheets.

  Oh my. Surprise, indeed. “You know me.” I let my eyes travel up his body, and followed the look with my lips. “I love surprises.”

  BY THE TIME we headed downstairs to breakfast, Randa was trudging out of her room wearing a pair of grey shorts and a navy top that looked like the same ones she’d worn yesterday. I suspected they were. My lovely daughter often slept in her clothes. Kip was in his Spiderman pjs. The second they spotted one another, they both dove for the bathroom. Kip made it first and Randa immediately began pounding on the door.

  “Kip! You got to shower first yesterday!”

  I tapped her on the shoulder. “No whining, please. Go use the downstairs shower.”

  “Can I use yours?” She flashed her big dark eyes at me, trying to look winsome.

  “You know the answer to that. Now go downstairs and shower and I’ll make breakfast before I head to the shop. And when you dress, make sure you put on some clean clothes.” She grumbled her way back to her room.

  When we were all gathered in the kitchen, I scrambled up the eggs while Joe buttered the toast, Kip set the table, and Randa made my espresso for me. Joe watched as she poured the four-shot serving into a mug and added three tablespoons of Nestlés Quik and two teaspoons of Coffee-mate.

  “Emerald,” he said. “How the hell do you drink so much caffeine without turning into a basket case? I’d be climbing the walls if I drank what you do.”

  I grunted. “The only way caffeine is going to hurt me is if I try to stop.” I offered Randa a plate of eggs and toast in exchange for my mug. “I couldn’t get through the day without this little jolt of black gold.”

  Joe coughed. “Have you by any chance, checked your blood pressure lately?” I stuck my tongue out at him and he responded by giving me a quick kiss. Kip groaned, while a faint smile flickered over Randa’s face.

  Over breakfast, Kip toyed with his food. “Mom, what’s the Klakatat Monster? Is it real?”

  Oh boy. I should have known this was going to come up.

  “Hold on.” I retrieved the pages from my bag. “Okay, let’s see here. According to legends—and keep in mind, we don’t know if the stories are real, Kip, they may just be old folk tales. Anyway, the Klakatat Monster is a little like Sasquatch.”

  “Bigfoot, right?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, only this creature is supposed to be more unpredictable. Legends place it around these parts since before the white settlers came into the area. Murray’s heard tribal stories about the creature.”

  Randa took a long drink of her orange juice. “Is it dangerous?”

  I shrugged. “If it really exists, it might be. There have been several unexplained deaths attributed to it, but nobody came up with any conclusive proof. The wounds might have come from animals.”

  “What else do those reports say?” Joe spread jelly on his toast.

  I thumbed through the pages. “Let’s see… the prospectors used to hear growling and screaming in the woods at night, they thought it was the monster. Over the years, there were several sightings, especially near Goldbar Creek at the point where it flows out of Klickavail Valley, down toward Miner’s Lake. That’s where I was yesterday.”

  “What’s this thing supposed to look like?” Randa asked.

  I skimmed until I came to one eyewitness description. “Over eight feet tall. Stocky, covered with a gray fur. Jet black eyes. Strong, hunched over, a little like an ape walking upright.” Setting the papers to one side, I finished my breakfast and eyed the espresso machine wistfully. Two more shots sure would be nice.

  Kip polished off his breakfast. “I’m still hungry, can I have a doughnut?”

  I sighed. “One, and something without a lot of frosting, please.”

  He dug through the basket until he came up with a cinnamon roll. “Do you believe the monster’s real?”

  With a sigh, I pushed back my chair. “I can’t say I do, and I can’t say I don’t. There are strange things in this world that a lot of people don’t believe in, things I know exist because I’ve seen them. Maybe there is a creature like this out there in the woods. But I’ll tell you this—if there is a Klakatat Monster, I’ll bet you anything that it’s more afraid of us than we are of it.”

  I gathered up everything I needed for the shop. “Okay, guys. Chore time.” During the summer, they took over most of the housework while I was at the shop. It taught them responsibility, and I paid them for the time they put in as long as they did a good job and didn’t slack off. “Randa, clean the bathrooms, vacuum, sweep and mop the kitchen, please. Kip—dishes, cat box, empty the garbage, and dust. And no—”

  “Internet while you’re gone.” He had it down pat.

  “You’ve got that right.” I fought back a smile. “And no turning on the computer until your chores are finished. When you’re done, if either of you decides to take off, call me before you leave to let me know where you’ll be. And remember to set the alarm, please.”

  Joe gave me a kiss and waved at the kids as we headed down the porch steps. I loved my house. Set back well away from the street behind a jungle of rhododendrons, forsythia, maple, cedar, and oak trees, it was truly a haven from the storms of life.

  “What are you doing today?” I asked as he headed for
his truck.

  “Going to put in some time at the gym and then drop by the station, make sure everything’s in order.” Even though he didn’t need to be there until tomorrow night, I knew that Joe would stick around, make sure his men were okay, inspect the rescue units to ensure that everything was in order, and in general, keep an eye on things. He was devoted to his job, a trait that both endeared me to him and made me uneasy. He worked under hazardous conditions, and thought nothing of putting himself in jeopardy to rescue someone in danger. His men respected him, even for the short time he’d been captain.

  I watched him drive off and took a deep breath. Joe had wormed his way into my heart over the past few months. He brought me flowers when I’d had a hard day, he made me soup when I was sick, he even went to the store and bought me tampons when I ran out. But could I really be falling in love again, after all these years? Without a single hesitation, I knew that the answer was yes.

  Chapter 8

  THE MINUTE CINNAMON opened the door, a handful of my regulars crowded in, but I didn’t kid myself that they were all here to shop. Nope, my money was on Cathy’s newscast; these folks wanted the inside scoop. I never knew how to deal with these sorts of things. Diplomacy just wasn’t one of my strong points and too often, the words tumbled out before I realized I was about to say something stupid.

  Frustrated and uncertain what to do, I puttered around my office, picking up the porcelain panorama egg that I’d found at an estate sale a month ago. The ones made out of sugar were more delicate, but porcelain lasted far longer. The autumn vista inside of the ornament made me glad that summer was nearing an end. Four more weeks and we should be entering the rainy season. I placed the egg on my desk, deciding to take it home. I’d been intending to sell it, but didn’t have the heart to let it go.

  Unable to procrastinate any longer, I took a deep breath and headed out to the counter. As I entered the room, I felt the inquisitive eyes of my customers, peeking at me surreptitiously. Their questions churned just beneath the surface, a whirlpool of curious energy.