Murder Under a Mystic Moon

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “Remember what you promised or I’ll just leave it at that.” After she’d quieted down, I continued. “You are not still ‘stuck.’ The school has decided to implement a program for gifted students that it’s been planning for several years now. You are not the only genius at your school, whether or not you want to believe it. You’ll spend most of your day in accelerated classes, although you’ll still be required to attend gym class.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly. I had the feeling she wasn’t too happy about the decision but she knew better than to complain.

  “The school would like you to contribute thirty minutes a day as a tutor for students who need remedial work in mathematics. Your studies will still cover the required subjects, but you’ll be accelerated in those areas in which you have the highest scores. You aren’t a whiz at English, young lady, and you know it.”

  Actually, I thought the idea was brilliant. The school would assign rotating shifts for their current teachers to monitor the children, and so they would only have to hire one new staff member to direct and organize the program.

  Even with the budget cuts going on in education, Chiqetaw schools did their best to cover all their students’ basic needs. Every year the local PTA held a fundraiser before school opened; all monies earned went to purchase supplies that teachers would otherwise have to do without, or pay for on their own. That was one committee that Harlow would probably be welcomed on. I jotted down a note to mention it to her. With her little girl due any day now, she’d be taking more interest in child-oriented activities.

  Randa took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Okay… okay. I guess that’s better than nothing. Thanks, Mom.” She hung up as I smiled. Her ego had been bruised, but she’d snap back, and the accelerated classes would be good for her. Maybe being around other gifted students would take the edge off the superiority complex that she seemed to have been developing over the past year.

  Picking up my mocha, I headed back to the shop. Man, I could use a few weeks on a quiet beach somewhere, with only the waves and Joe to disturb me.

  JOE DROPPED BY the shop right before I closed; he was headed to the fire station to take over the night shift. I pulled him into my office, filling him in on my day. He plunged his fingers into my hair, mussing me nicely, then checked his watch.

  “Damn, I have to get going. I work the rest of this week, but do you want to take the kids and go camping next weekend?”

  “I’ve been thinking about taking a vacation.” I leaned against my desk. “Next month is Murray’s annual family fish fry and I’d like to wait until then. We go every year. You’ll come with us, won’t you? It’s a lot of fun.”

  With a laugh, he grabbed up his backpack. “Just try and stop me! Get the dates to me so I can make arrangements.” He laughed, then turned to go.

  “Just a minute, buster!” Before he could dive out the door, I pulled him back into my arms for another long kiss, reaching up on tiptoe to meet his lips. Oh, I could get used to this so easily.

  He brushed my bangs off my face. “Hey, Emerald, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  Stupid? Where did that come from? “Like what?”

  “You know, this whole business with Scar and Jimbo. Be careful, please? Stay out of trouble? For me?”

  Blushing, I put my hands on my hips and huffed. “Name me one time when I’ve gotten myself in trouble!”

  He groaned, shaking his head. “Uh huh, tell me another one, lady. I know you, and I know you’re a danger magnet. So, if you do end up gallivanting out to that valley, take Murray and her gun with you.”

  I waved him out the door. Silly man. As if I deliberately sought out danger. I had to admit, though, it felt good having somebody worry about me.

  A glance at the clock told me it was time to head home. I retrieved the crystal ball from my desk drawer and packed it in my shoulder tote. Then, after arming the security system and making sure all the doors were locked, I climbed in the Mountaineer.

  “You really are a nice car,” I said. “I should give you a name.” I patted the steering wheel as I started up the engine. “Let’s see… you’re a Mountaineer, and you carry everything for me. How about Tenzing?” After all, Tenzing Norgay had climbed to the top of Everest right alongside Sir Edmund Hillary, as his Sherpa and porter.

  Tenzing gave a satisfied purr of the engine, and we took off for home.

  WHEN I WALKED through the door, I could smell something cooking. Kip and Randa were in the kitchen. Randa was grating cheese and her lips were set; she looked like she was trying not to cry. A pot of noodles bubbled away on the stove. I could see a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a salad sitting on the table, where Kip was struggling to arrange a bouquet of zinnias in a vase.

  “Mom! You’re home early!” Kip jammed the last few flowers in the vase and rushed over to give me a big hug. Something was off-kilter; I could feel it.

  Not sure what was going on but not wanting to immediately start demanding explanations, I watched as Kip opened the kitchen door to let in some fresh air, and Samantha came bounding in, followed by her kittens, Nebula, Nigel, and Noël. The youngsters were all a good ten months old now and were almost out of that awkward gangly stage.

  Kip filled their food dishes without being told. “Nigel’s gonna be a big cat, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but I bet Nebula gives him a run for his money. She’s starting to gain weight,” Randa said. “Noël’s probably going to be pretty small. She was the runt.” Runt, indeed. But the little cat definitely had an appetite, as did they all. The furble brigade rushed the pantry at the sound of Kip pouring kibble.

  I meandered over to the counter and nibbled on the cheese as Randa scooped it into the drained noodles and added milk and butter, just like I’d taught her. She started to stir and a fragrant aroma drifted up, whetting my appetite.

  “So, how about telling me why you guys fixed dinner? To what do I owe this special treatment?”

  “Can’t we do something nice for you just because?” Kip tugged on my hand, trying to pull me over to the table.

  I looked him straight in the eyes, then turned to Randa. “Okay, let’s hear it. What’s up? Don’t think I don’t appreciate this, because I really do. Dinner looks delicious, but something’s going on and you might as well tell me now.”

  She fidgeted. Biting her lip, she said, “We didn’t want you to be upset.”

  Uh oh. That didn’t sound good. Just what had they done for me to get upset about? They were still on summer vacation so it couldn’t be a “F” on a test. “Did somebody break something?”

  They shook their heads. Kip took a deep breath and let it out. “Dad called today.”

  Oh shit. Roy, nightmare Father of the Year. “Oh yeah?” I modulated my voice carefully, trying to conceal my distaste. Roy seldom bothered with the kids, disappointing them over and over again, never coming to see them, never bothering to send them gifts, never talking to them on the phone. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  Randa’s lip trembled. “Yeah. He did. He had something to tell us.”

  My intuition reared, telling me that I should step carefully. The kids’ energy fields were flaring with mixed emotions. “What did he say to you?”

  Kip lost it then. He burst into tears. “Dad’s… Dad’s…”

  “He and Tyra are having a baby.” Randa broke in, her voice flat. She plunked herself down into the chair opposite me, her gaze focused on the table. “He never comes to see us, he doesn’t give a damn about us, and now he’s making himself a whole new family.”

  “H-h-h… he’ll forget all about us, won’t he?” What composure Kip had left crumpled as he started to stutter. I pulled him to me and motioned for Randa to join us. She crept over, and I slid my other arm around her waist, holding them both tightly; never wanting to let go. How could I erase this pain? How could I convince them Roy wasn’t going to forget them when he already had?

  I’d been wondering if
this was going to happen, though I admit, the speed with which Roy had managed to knock up Tyra took me by surprise. He hadn’t enjoyed playing father when I’d been with him, and he preferred his women slim, not pregnant. But then again, I hadn’t been the perfect trophy wife. Tyra was young and blonde, without a thought in her ditzy head unless it was how to dig more money out of Roy-the-goldmine. She might have convinced him that she’d be able to regain her figure and not embarrass him with sagging breasts or that tummy that most women never get rid of after they have their children. I had no doubt that, after the novelty wore off, Roy would probably neglect his new child as much as he neglected Kip and Miranda.

  I kissed my children softly on the head, first one, then the other. After a few minutes, Kip’s sobs began to lessen. Randa looked up at me, her expression fluttering between hurt and anger. Roy had traumatized her too much for her to ever trust him again; and now he’d proved her mistrust right on target.

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” I stroked Kip’s hair out of his eyes. “Your father, well, we all know he’s never been very good at being a father. He will probably go on exactly the way he has. You’ll have a half-brother or sister, and I’d like for you to be able to get to know him or her, but that may not happen if your dad doesn’t allow it.”

  “Does he even love us?” Randa bit her lip.

  I never lied to my children except when it came to Roy. “I’m sure he does, honey. He’s just not cut out to be a dad the way some other men are. It’s not your fault, it’s not Kip’s fault, it’s just the way Roy is.”

  Kip wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sniffling. “I don’t care, if he wants another kid then he can have one. We don’t need him.”

  “I know this hurts, but everything will be okay. After all, we’re together, and we have Samantha and her babies. We’re a family, even if your dad doesn’t live here. Maybe he isn’t the best dad in the world, but at least he called you to tell you instead of letting you find out by accident.”

  I gave them a bracing smile, feeling like a total fraud. If I could, I’d make sure Roy’s equipment could never father another child. He refused to take care of the ones he already had; he didn’t deserve to have any more.

  As their distress faded, I pointed to dinner. “That looks so good. I’m starved, and macaroni and cheese is just what I wanted.”

  Randa gave me a faint smile. “Really?”

  “It was Randa’s idea,” Kip said. “After Dad called, she said maybe we should make dinner for you. So I went over to Mr. Ledbetter’s and asked him for some flowers.”

  I flashed Randa a silent “thank-you” over the top of Kip’s head. She knew perfectly well that his favorite meal was mac ’n cheese.

  “Well, it was a brilliant idea,” I said. “Now, let’s wash up and eat.” After a few more sniffs, they ran off to wash up and I finished getting dinner on the table. It really did smell good, I thought, my stomach rumbling.

  Thank heavens for one immediate crisis over. I was relieved to see that, as upset as they were, Kip and Randa’s appetites remained intact. After we ate, I shooed them out of the kitchen. Since they’d cooked, the least I could do was clean up the substantial pile of pots and pans in the sink. Randa took off for the roof, Kip took off for his room.

  I’d no sooner finished rinsing the dishes and filling the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. Who could that be? I wasn’t expecting company. Wiping my hands on a tea towel, I hurried to the front door and swung it open.

  “Uh… hi, Emerald. I just got back in town and I really want to talk to you. May I come in?” Speechless, I stepped aside as Andrew, my ex-boyfriend who had dumped me for a starlet, walked through the door, carrying a bouquet of yellow roses.

  “Andrew? What the hell are you doing here?” Rude? Of course, but after he’d dumped me earlier in the year, he was nuts if he thought I’d roll out the welcome mat.

  Still as gorgeous as ever, with his long black ponytail draping down the back of his suede jacket, he flashed those wolf eyes at me, but there was no spark for me this time. Whatever hold he’d had on me was gone.

  “I don’t expect the red carpet treatment, but I thought maybe we could talk. Do you mind?” He handed me the flowers.

  Mind? Hell yes, I minded, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. He’d dropped me like a dirty diaper right at a time when I felt terribly vulnerable. I wasn’t ready to forgive him. I set the roses on the foyer table and jerked my thumb toward the living room, where he took a seat on the sofa.

  I crossed my arms and stood next to my desk where I paid bills and kept my ledgers. “So you’re back in town. To stay?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, so it seems. I was in Seattle for a month, but then decided I wanted to come home.”

  “What happened to Hollywood and Zia Danes?” There. I said her name without crumbling. Feeling proud of myself, I straightened my shoulders.

  He winced, then shook his head. “The movie’s on indefinite hold, and Zia…” He stared at his feet. “Zia told me to get lost.”

  So he’d been tossed out like a pair of old shoes. The studio had scrapped the movie and Zia Danes had scrapped Andrew. I repressed an urge to shout “hallelujah.” Nanna had always reminded me that it wasn’t polite to gloat when I had the upper hand.

  “Gee, that’s too bad. What will you do now?”

  He blushed. “Go back to what I’m really good at—writing. Learn from my mistakes. Listen… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I treated you like dirt. I really screwed up.” He gave me a long, expectant look.

  Wait a minute. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could waltz back in and resume where we left off? I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yeah, you screwed up big time. But I’ve moved on, so if you’re looking for some sort of forgiveness, leave it at this: I’m happy now.”

  He jumped up and held out his hand. “Em, please—hear me out.”

  I kept my arms crossed, ignoring the gesture. “No, Andrew.”

  Wincing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and began to pace. “I know I made a huge mistake, and I’m sorry. But things can be different. Give me another chance? I’ve changed. You’ll see!”

  I shook my head. “No, Andrew. Joe and I have been together since early May. We’re happy and the kids adore him—”

  “Stop, please! Don’t say anything yet. Just promise me that you’ll think about us, about what it would mean?”

  “I don’t need to think about it, Andrew. I love Joe—”

  Ignoring me, Andrew headed into the foyer, stopping to turn as he opened the door. “You were angry at me, and rightly so. But Emerald, please, don’t shut out the possibility just yet. I’ll prove that I’ve changed! It may take months, but I’ll make you realize just how sorry I am about what I did.”

  Stupefied, I stared as the door closed softly behind him. As he pulled out of the driveway, I decided to postpone my call to Roy. I couldn’t handle two exes in the same evening. I turned off the light and headed upstairs for my bathtub, where I emptied the last of my Opium bath gel into the water, crawled into the suds, and tried to forget that once again, I seemed to be on the Universe’s private little roller coaster ride.

  Chapter 12

  BY THE TIME Murray came to pick me up on Wednesday evening, I’d roughed out a plan. I packed up Maeve’s—or rather, my—crystal ball, a packet of sea salt, and a bottle of Florida water.

  When I showed Mur what I’d chosen to bring, she held up a black pouch. “I brought some of White Deer’s spirit cleansing powder.” Her aunt, White Deer, was a Native American medicine woman. Several tribal members didn’t approve of the way she mixed traditions, but White Deer never let anybody’s opinion bother her.

  Before I climbed into the cab of the truck, I showed the crystal ball to Murray and told her about Maeve. “I wasn’t going to accept it, but the cards said go ahead. She really seemed to want me to have this.”

  “May I touch it?”

  I n
odded, and Murray lightly grazed the surface of the crystal with her fingers. “This was made for you, Em. It has your energy written all over it. I think Maeve may end up being more of a friend than you realize now. She seems quite… efficient.”

  Laughing, I agreed, and tucked the orb back in the box, shoved everything into the truck, and fastened my seat belt. “Okay, let’s head out.” As she stepped on the gas, I casually said, “Guess who ended up at my front door last night?”

  She glanced at me. “Roy?”

  “No, but you’re close. He’s having a baby, by the way—or rather Tyra is. Roy must be thrilled to pieces. Another little interference to cope with.”

  Murray cleared her throat. “His karma will catch up to him, Em. Wait and see. So who was at your door?”

  “Andrew.” And we were off and running on that subject. By the time we drove past Miner’s Lake and turned onto Klickavail Road, we had dissected what was wrong with the male population in general, and were on to planning Miranda’s birthday. We’d just agreed to order a cake baked in the shape of Saturn, complete with rings, from Davida’s Choco-hol Bakery when the road narrowed. We passed over Goldbar Creek and turned right at the “Y” in the road.

  The one-lane road was rutted, compact hard dirt. I could only imagine how hellish it would be to traverse after a rainstorm. The road was so narrow that tree branches whipped against the truck windows as we passed, and if two cars were to meet head on, one of the drivers would have to reverse until he was able to back into one of the turnouts scattered along the shoulder.

  A glance at the sky told me that we’d still have enough light to work by for an hour or so. “When we’re done, we should head back to Highway 9 from the north end of the valley.”

  Murray agreed. “Sounds good to me. I don’t want to get stuck out here in the dark,” she added, echoing my thoughts.

  We emerged from the forest onto a rough road of sorts, pitted and overgrown, that led through Klickavail Valley. As Jimbo had outlined, the open meadow stretched to our left. Dotting the vale were all sorts of structures, from shanties to trailers to old converted school buses… the biker’s enclave. Power lines drooped between a row of makeshift poles; the line of roughly hewn trees that led to a main power pole standing near a three-story house at the end of the dirt road.