May Day Murder

by Jennifer David Hesse

  I stopped myself at the word. The term killer called to mind a vicious-looking villain or a crazed maniac. But to Denise, the killer—her visitor—probably appeared normal. Maybe the visitor offered to make the tea. They could have even brought the tea, claiming it was a special herbal blend.

  I suddenly recalled Viper’s interest in psychedelic substances. I could just picture him with a devilish grin, holding up a baggie of some illicit plant—like ayahuasca or magic mushrooms. “Lookie what I have,” he’d say. “Want to have some fun?”

  I shook away the image and forced myself to stick with the facts. What else did I know?

  Denise and her friend, or at least acquaintance, sat across from each other at Denise’s divinatory table. Denise offered to read the visitor’s cards—or perhaps that was the ostensible purpose for the visit. If only Denise’s appointment book would turn up. If it was a scheduled reading, the client’s name would be in the book. Of course, I realized it was likely that the killer took the book. That, in itself, would be another indication the visitor must have known Denise pretty well—well enough to know about the appointment book in the first place. I hadn’t heard anything about Denise’s cell phone or computer. I assumed the police had searched them, and they didn’t provide anything useful . . . unless there were messages between Denise and Erik, which strengthened the cops’ interest in Erik. And, by extension, me.

  Josie mewed, and I scratched her beneath her chin. “Right. Back to the tainted tea.” Obviously, it wasn’t an accidental poisoning, because only Denise ingested the belladonna. And the so-called visitor washed out the cups before leaving. Then, there was the whole business with the bleach and ammonia. The killer must have covered their mouth and nose, dumped the chemicals, and fled. But why? To make Denise’s death appear like an accident? Maybe the killer figured the cops wouldn’t order an autopsy for a tragic cleaning mistake. And they weren’t supposed to find traces of belladonna. Maybe the killer wasn’t able to thoroughly wash the cups and put them away as planned, because he or she heard someone at the door. As Poppy stood on the doorstep ringing the bell, the killer could have been sneaking out the back door. I shuddered at the thought.

  But why belladonna anyway? I supposed it wasn’t exactly an obscure plant. I was pretty sure it had been used as a murder weapon before, at least in movies and novels. In theory, anyone could grow it. From what I’d read, there were medicinal uses for the plant, in small doses. As a pharmacist, Erik would know that. But the cops had found the raw stuff. It would seem that someone had harvested it in their own backyard or greenhouse, dried it, and then decided to use it to murder Denise.

  Who would do such a thing? What would motivate someone to such an extreme—and extremely sick—action?

  Someone who didn’t like Denise, that was for sure. Or someone who had a lot to lose by her continued existence.

  I thought back to Viper’s online comment to Billy that their “problem” was solved with Denise’s death. Then there was the thing that was “bothering” Denise that she mentioned in her email to Poppy.

  I moved Josie aside and stood up from the bed. I had a notion to Google these characters again, starting with Poppy. I knew so little about her. I picked up my smartphone and opened a browser. When I entered her name in the search field, the first thing that came up was an announcement for an art show. Her photographs were scheduled to be displayed at a gallery here in Edindale—tonight. For a second, I considered showing up. It could be a good opportunity to smooth over my blundering questions at the art fair and ask her about Denise in a more delicate way. But then I reconsidered. Maybe it would be cruel to accost her at her own art opening. She already didn’t seem to like me much.

  However, there was one person I was pretty sure she did like. Maybe I could enlist Wes to go to the opening. He could probably slip in some questions, while genuinely admiring her work.

  I turned back to the bed and gathered up the oracle cards. As I put them away, I looked at the Viking card once more.

  Meow. Josie nudged me playfully.

  “Yeah. I agree. This card has to mean something. But what?”

  Whatever it was, the place for answers wasn’t here, hidden away in my altar room. It was in Fynn Hollow. That much I knew for sure.

  I grabbed my phone again and pulled up Erik’s name in my list of contacts. I touched the name, then pulled back. I called Farrah instead.

  “Hey, girl,” she answered. “What’s up?”

  “How would you feel about going to ‘game night’ again? I’ve been promised that Viper won’t be there.”

  “Um.”

  “I know it was a snooze. But I thought this time we could do some actual detective work. I have more questions for Erik.”

  “I would go with you, snoozefest or not. But I actually have a date tonight.”

  “Really? You’re going out?”

  “I’m not completely lame, you know.”

  “Never.”

  “But the date is here. Sorry, honey. You should go anyway.”

  “Yeah, I might. So, who’s your date? Is it Randall?” For a while, Farrah had dated one of my old partners at the law firm. I thought they’d gotten along really well.

  “Randall? Nice guy, but way too busy. I told him to call me when he can stay out later than nine o’clock. Anyway, call me tomorrow. ’Kay?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  I hung up and looked at Josie. “I guess I’m on my own tonight. Oh, well. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” What could happen in a roomful of gamers?

  Except that one of them might be a murderer.

  Maybe I should find someone else to come along.

  * * *

  It was nearly dusk when I arrived at Billy’s place—alone. I had called Catrina, thinking she might be up for the adventure, and she had said yes. But then she bailed at the last minute . . . something about a friend visiting from out of town. Thanks, Catrina. By that time, I was already all geared up and ready to go, wearing every lucky charm and protection amulet I owned. After a short meditation and a quick grounding exercise, I decided to go anyway. I felt pretty good when I climbed his front steps and knocked.

  This time, there was no big welcome like before. When Billy answered and saw me by myself, his face fell. “Farrah couldn’t make it?”

  “She had other plans.”

  I followed him into the living room, where Erik and Thorna sat on a sofa watching TV. Erik flipped off the set and stood up. “Hey, Keli. It’s good to see you again. But I don’t know if game night is happening now.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “We’re two short,” Thorna explained. “And Billy is very clear on the rules. You must have exactly six to play.” She rolled her eyes.

  “The guys from work already bailed,” said Billy glumly. “And Viper was busy, too.”

  Busy? I hoped that was just Billy’s polite way of saying Viper wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t have come if I knew there was even a chance of Viper being here. I was in no hurry to repeat what had happened the last time.

  “Wait a minute,” said Billy, brightening. “I thought of somebody else I can call. There’s still hope.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched in some numbers as he walked to the kitchen.

  “Yes, let’s hope,” said Thorna drily. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m just gonna visit the powder room.”

  Erik dropped back onto the couch, and I sat in an adjacent rocker. “So, just wondering,” I began. “Do you work with tarot cards much?”

  “Not a lot. I did for a time, when I was younger. I’m more into runes now for prophecy work.”

  “I was thinking about Denise and the cards on her table when we found her. It looked like she was giving a reading for someone.”

  He nodded somberly. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too. I mean, she pulled cards for herself all the time. But she also had people come by and pay her for readings sometimes.”

  He tapped his chin thoughtfully, then suddenly sat up str
aight. “I’ve got it! I know where Denise’s appointment book might be.”

  “Really? That’s great! I have Langham’s number in my phone. We should call him right away.” I reached for my purse to dig out my phone.

  He put his hand on my arm to stop me. “No, we can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “This place I’m thinking of... it’s secret. It would be better for me to find the book and give it to the police myself.” He grabbed my hand and gave me a little tug toward the door. “Come on. It’s not far from here. If we hurry, we can make it before dark.”

  “Um, by car?”

  “Nah, we can walk. That’s one of the benefits of living in a small town. No need to bother with a car. Besides, a car can’t get back there anyway.”

  Back there?

  We were already halfway out the door when Billy came into the living room, with Thorna at his heels. “Are you guys leaving?” he asked.

  “Sorry, buddy,” said Erik. “There’s something we have to do.”

  “Bye,” I called over my shoulder, as Erik pulled me along after him. When we reached the sidewalk, I extricated my hand from his. Glancing up at Billy’s house, I noticed Thorna standing in the doorway. She had a worried expression on her face. I wondered if I should be worried, too.

  “Why don’t we ask Billy and Thorna to come along?” I suggested. “The more people who look, the better, right?”

  “Not necessarily,” said Erik. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of worried about whose name we’re going to find in the book.”

  He started off down the sidewalk, and I had to trot to keep up with him. “What do you mean?”

  “Just a feeling. Never mind.”

  As we passed my car on the street and rounded the corner, it occurred to me that I was breaking a promise to myself. Based on past experience, I had vowed never again to let myself be alone with a murder suspect. The truth was, I still felt comfortable with Erik. But I was no dummy. I wouldn’t have stuck with him if not for the fact that we were out in the open and headed toward downtown Fynn Hollow. Though it wasn’t exactly broad daylight, there was still a fair amount of light in the western sky.

  A few minutes later, we approached a low-slung gray building next to a half-full parking lot. A sign out front said FYNN HOLLOW HIGH SCHOOL. Instead of going inside, Erik skirted the building and led us past the practice fields in back. Groups of kids played soccer or ran around a track, while others hung out on the bleachers to watch and enjoy the evening. I was mystified.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “You’ll see.”

  And a minute later I did see. Erik kept walking, until we were beyond the school grounds and nearing a tree-covered bluff.

  I slowed my steps, as the whistles and shouts from the high school faded in the distance. Oblivious to my hesitation, Erik hiked up the bluff and disappeared into the trees.

  I took a deep breath and pressed my hand to my chest. “Goddess, guide me,” I whispered. Then I trudged up the hillside, following Erik’s lead. When I reached the top, I looked around. The forest continued, but there was a cleared area here, with boulders and logs arranged like seats around the remnants of a fire pit. Beer cans and cigarette butts littered the ground. It was obviously a well-used teen hangout. A few yards away, Erik was poking around in the bushes. Why he thought Denise’s appointment book would be up here, I had no idea.

  As if reading my mind, he looked up and grinned. “I’m trying to find a footpath. It’s hidden, but I know it’s around here someplace.”

  “Um, okay.”

  We spread out and looked together, picking our way through the brambles. To my surprise, I found the trail. It was narrow at first, but soon opened up and wound upward. I kept Erik in my sights, as he hurried up the trail. Finally, we came upon another clearing at what must have been the highest point of the bluff. At the peak was a tall flat-roofed steel structure that resembled a free-standing tree house. Four flights of exterior stairs switch-backed to a small cabin at the top.

  “It’s a fire lookout tower,” Erik explained. “It hasn’t been used for any official purpose in years, but Denise used to come up here to get away. She’d come out here to do ‘sky magic,’ as she called it.”

  I turned away from the tower and let my eyes roam across the vista beyond the bluffs. The sunset made pink, orange, and purple streaks across the sky, as the hills of Shawnee National Forest melted into velvety shadows below. “It’s beautiful.”

  Erik strolled over to stand next to me. “I know. That’s partly why I wanted to hurry up and get here—so we could watch the sun set.” He draped his arm casually over my shoulders, and I immediately pulled away.

  “Erik—”

  “Plus,” he said, cutting me off, “I don’t know if there’s a light up there. Probably not.” He walked over to the tower and looked up. “You think the view is spectacular now. Just wait ’til we see it from up there.” He grabbed the handrail and placed his foot on the bottom step.

  “Are you sure it’s safe? It’s going to be dark soon, and some of those steps look rusty. Maybe it would be better to come back tomorrow.”

  “I’m too anxious to wait. But you do have a point. I don’t want to put you in any danger. Why don’t you wait for me down here? I won’t be long.”

  Before I could argue, he was scrambling up the steps. “Erik, you shouldn’t put yourself in danger either!”

  “I’m fine,” he called over his shoulder. “Besides, you can catch me if I fall.” I heard him laugh, as he ascended out of sight.

  Hugging my arms against the growing chill, I turned to watch the sun sink below the horizon while I waited for him to return. Before I knew it, I was standing in the gloom. I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was after 8:00. I thought of Wes, gamely gathering information for me at Poppy’s art opening. I hoped at least he was having a good time.

  I heard a rustle on the side of the bluff. A small animal probably. What was taking Erik so long? I was growing impatient. I paced to the base of the tower and strained my neck to see into the cabin above. I was a poor judge of distance, but I guessed the height was anywhere from forty to sixty feet in the air. It appeared dark up there.

  I checked the time again. Erik had been gone for more than ten minutes. As I replaced my phone in my purse, I noticed my small, silver flashlight tucked between my wallet and a packet of tissues. I’d forgotten I had it; otherwise, I would have lent it to Erik.

  Another minute passed, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I clicked on the flashlight and shined it on the bottom few steps. Maybe I should just go up partway.

  Halfway up the stairs I called Erik’s name. “Is everything okay up there?”

  He didn’t answer. I sighed and continued climbing the stairs, carefully placing my feet on each step. When I reached the top, a little out of breath, I saw that the door was ajar and the lock busted—probably years ago by the looks of it. I peeked inside. It was dim, but not completely dark. A yellow pillar candle flickered on a ledge, revealing a spare one-room cabin, about seven-feet square, with glass windows on each wall. I saw an ancient-looking cot on one side of the room, and a built-in desk on another. I imagined the desk had probably once held communication equipment, back in the days when a keen-eyed watcher was the best hope for early detection of forest fires. In the center of the room was a square metal table and two canvas folding chairs. Erik sat at the table with his head bowed. He was crying.

  “Erik?”

  He looked up and wiped his eyes. “Hey.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I just got . . . overwhelmed. This place is filled with her energy. Can you feel it?”

  I sat down across from him. I did feel something. It was a palpable sense of loneliness, and it seemed to be emanating from Erik. I reached into my purse and handed him a tissue.

  “Did you find the appointment book?” I asked.

  “No. But she did leave a few other things, like t
he candle and some stones. I also found this on the floor.” He held up a piece of paper and passed it to me across the table. I shined my flashlight on the paper to examine it. It was frayed on the edge, as if ripped from a spiral notebook, and it was covered in scribbled writing with lots of strike-outs and doodles in the margin. I had no doubt about what it was: a homemade magic spell.

  “This is Denise’s handwriting, isn’t it?”

  Even before he nodded, I knew the answer. The writing on the paper matched the writing in the book I’d bought from T.C. The author’s poetic style was the same, too. My skin prickled with goose bumps, as I read the words out loud.

  “You will leave from here.

  You’ll go far away.

  Disappear from my life,

  Like nightfall shrouds the day.

  You’re not wanted here.

  No longer say my name.

  The connection is severed—

  I’ll never play your game.

  I banish you. I banish you. I banish you.”

  I looked up and met Erik’s eyes. He bit his lip.

  “Who is this about?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “I swear. I wish I knew. Whoever it was—this isn’t good. Denise was afraid of somebody.”

  I continued to eye Erik, trying to get a read on him. I thought he was telling the truth, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “Erik, forgive me for asking, but when you and Denise split up, who ended the relationship? Was it mutual, or—”

  “She did. She kicked me to the curb.”

  “Oh!” I was a little startled by his honesty.

  “She accused me of cheating on her—which I wasn’t! I told her so, but I don’t know if she believed me. She said I wasn’t good for her anyway. She called me a freeloader and a slacker. Said I was bad luck.” He flinched at the memory. “It was a low point.”