The Innocent Dead: A Witch Cozy Mystery (The Maid, Mother, and Crone Paranormal Mystery Series Book 1)

by Jill Nojack

  After entering the stairwell to the second floor where the unhappy specter roamed the hall, she made a small gesture with her left hand which was still in her pocket. All of the lights along the hallway extinguished at once, leaving the zzzzzt of bulbs burning out to hang briefly in the sudden dark. She stopped for a moment to let her eyes adjust. It wasn’t really necessary. The sheen of ectoplasm that lit the spirit was more than enough for her to see by.

  A glance at her wristwatch told her that it was nearing midnight, the witching hour, the moment when the barrier is thinnest between this world and the next. She walked on, pulling the jar full of dirt out of her bag. She hoped that none of the residents were late-nighters; it wouldn’t do to have one of them stumble through the ritual. It was a thing to be done in the dark and alone.

  The specter bobbed up and down in the center of the hall, moaning the refrain that had stuck her to this place: “Make him stop, make him stop, make him stop.” Natalie approached her, unscrewing the lid of the jar as she went. The sound of the metal rasping against glass was loud in the empty hallway.

  She made a circuit around the ghost, sprinkling the earth liberally in a wide circle. It made a dark line as it piled up. As she went, she whispered the spell she’d memorized earlier that day. When the circle was complete, the air inside sucked at the specter’s sheen, expanding it to fill the circle.

  Natalie picked up her pace, continuing to sprinkle the earth to ring the unfortunate ghost again, more urgently now. The specter was confused, screaming “Make him stop, make him stop!” louder than before. It hurt her ears, but Natalie continued.

  The portal opened above the circle, illuminating the specter in the bright, white glow. For a moment, she resisted, then she stopped screaming, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling. She smiled when they finally looked toward the light. Her body floated upward, the mists of ectoplasm curling into the opening, drawn by the force that Natalie had made irresistible.

  When the portal closed, Natalie used the toe of her shoe to break the circle of mounded earth and release the spent spell. No one would thank her. No one ever thanked the witch who made doors for the dead, and she couldn’t blame them. Who wasn’t afraid of passing through that door no matter what they believed was beyond it?

  9

  Natalie drummed her fingers on the counter with a steady tappa tappa tappa tappa, repeat, repeat, repeat. No one had come into the shop to browse in at least an hour.

  “It’s dead in here. I’m going for my constitutional,” she announced, walking into the hallway and taking her jacket off the hook. “Try not to give the shop away while I’m gone.”

  Gillian looked up from where she was sitting on a low stool with her long, colorful cotton skirt pooling around her. She dangled a string in front of Cat, who eagerly chased it and grabbed for it each time she pulled it out of reach. “You mean your daily nosey-parkering around town? I think I can manage the shop without you for a while.”

  Natalie tried to leave through the back, remembering it wasn’t an option only when she turned the knob and walked right into the unmoving door. She turned around and went out the front, ignoring Gillian’s smirk as she passed by, then cut through the side yard between the shops into the back parking space where William was waiting. No matter how dead it was inside, it was deader outside, she thought.

  At least he’d been keeping his promise to leave her alone while she worked.

  “Anything new in the investigation? It’s put color in your cheeks being out there in the world poking around, hasn’t it? You look so alive. I’ll be waiting years and years for you still. But you’re worth it.”

  She rolled her eyes. His niceness seemed even more unrelenting in death than it had in life. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was honing it specifically to irritate her. “Nothing certain, although I’m not ruling anything out at this point. Except that girl they call Teak or Blink or some other nonsense. She’s tiny. I don’t see how she could take that angry woman down. She’s protecting her boyfriend though, telling a lie to give him an alibi, but I hope that’s just loyalty. No one ever wants to believe that—”

  “The person they love could be capable of something so horrendous?” he said, his transparent mouth turning down at the corners, his barely there eyes drooping like a basset hound’s.

  Something stirred in her. She tried to push it down, but it forced its way out, and as she walked, eyes straight ahead, she said, “I never for one minute believed you hurt anyone, William. That’s not why I made the ward. Nor is it why I pushed you away.”

  She turned to him, her sweet, lost William, and reached out a hand to brush his cheek, then stopped when she remembered all she would feel there was emptiness. She started forward down the alley again. Even as she stalked along, she was running out of steam.

  “People didn’t just think I was crazy, catching me talking to someone who wasn’t there. I was going crazy. Slowly. And my mother knew it. She forced the ward on me. Made me say goodbye to you. And she was right about it. It saved me.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “You didn’t do me a favor, William, waiting for me. It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do. It’s taken all my focus my entire life to keep going, knowing you were just outside that barrier, waiting. And all I had to do to be with you was to die. Do you know how hard it was for me those first few years? How hard it was not to die?”

  She felt old suddenly, a feeling she seldom experienced. Her shoulders stooped forward, her limbs felt heavy. She forced herself to straighten up and to keep walking to the end of the alley.

  When she turned to look at him again, he’d gone. She was alone.

  The rope passed by her eyes so quickly she didn’t have time to process what it was until it bit into her neck.

  ***

  William spun away, drifting swiftly down the alley, dispersing as he went, not sure where he was going. Why go anywhere at all? It’s not like a ghost has a calendar full of social engagements. But Natalie didn’t want him around, that was clear.

  He thought about what he’d just learned: he’d hurt her when all he wanted to do was love her. Why hadn’t he ever taken the time to consider her side? It was just selfishness that had kept him here all these years, he realized, hanging on to a shadow life.

  As the realization swept through him, the pull of the Summerlands beckoned, like a welcoming friend. If Nat truly didn’t want him, he could go. He would go as soon as he found someone who was passing, he told himself. He’d share their portal.

  The sound of strangled cries brought his dispersing spirit back.

  Natalie. A rope around her neck. Behind her, a man in a black hooded sweatshirt choking the life out of her.

  He rushed toward them, becoming more and more solid as he went. This wasn’t some letter opener he wanted to carry up the stairs. This was the life of the woman he had always loved, and no one was going to take that life away before she was done with it. Nearly solid now, he rushed forward and seized the arm that pulled the rope tight.

  The man looked up, his face covered by a stocking under the sweatshirt hood, and William heard his sharp gasp. Whoever he was, he’d seen William, which meant William’s ability to coalesce had grown to match his need. William’s hand hadn’t gone through the man’s arm; it had a grip on his sweatshirt. He tightened it. If he could hold him and pull the mask away, he might finally know who’d set him up for the murders.

  But the attacker tore away easily as William’s grip began to evaporate. He tried to cradle Natalie as she went down, unconscious now, but the effort he’d expended chasing away her attacker was tearing his essence apart. She slid through his arms to the ground. Her head hit the gravel. He tried to hold himself together, but it was no good. He was fading away.

  His final thought before he slipped out of the visible world was of her. If the predator came back, no one would be there to help her.

  ***

  Natalie surfaced to pain. The side of her head ached and som
ething sharp dug into her cheek. Her neck felt like it had been in a vise; there was something wrapped around it. She raised a hand to it weakly.

  It was wet. Wet rope. And as she remembered what had happened, she couldn’t understand how William had accomplished it, but she was sure she was only alive because of him.

  She sat up slowly, pulling herself to her feet. She took one step, accidentally kicking something that skipped forward a foot in front of her. It cut through the silence with the sound of plastic scraping against gravel. She stooped to pick it up. Bad idea. She nearly blacked out again, but managed to straighten up and push the blackness away.

  A fake nose attached to a pair of glasses? She would have had to wear them into the Summerlands if the killer had placed them on her as she died; they would have been part of her wardrobe forever. She was now more determined than ever to catch the killer. Whoever he was, he had made it personal.

  She pulled herself up, shoulders back, the rope still trailing across them like a scarf, but she was moving now, back the way she’d come, one foot forward, then the other. The sound of her heart pounded in her ears. A concussion? She struggled around the side of the shop, her hand up against the wooden siding.

  She made it in the front door, where Gillian turned to look at her in horror as Natalie sank to the floor. “Whoever that mangy murdering maggot is,” she croaked, “he underestimated Natalie Taylor! Nobody comes after the people I care about! And nobody comes after me . . .” Her voice started to fade, but she forced her eyes open. “When I regain consciousness, I’m going to . . .”

  She didn’t have time to finish the thought.

  The kitten that had approached her when she went to her knees skittered away as Natalie slumped forward. Her face hit the hard floor with a thwack.

  10

  “Just give her some air, ladies and gents!” Natalie heard as she surfaced. Was she drowning? Had she drowned?

  If not, why was the neck of her blouse damp? Why was she laying on her back looking up into the eyes of . . . Denton? Of all people!

  “Slap me with a mackerel and call me a macaroon!” she cried out after she sucked down a big gulp of air.

  She recognized quite a few of the shoes that gathered around her. Lots of black ones next to boxes of equipment that could only belong to EMTs. Gillian’s vintage earth shoes that had the heel lower than the toe. Tom’s zip-up ankle boots. Cassie’s black work flats with the tiny pink bow at the back.

  But no barely there penny loafers with a real Indian head penny in the slot. No William.

  Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? And why had someone called Emergency Services when they had all the supplies for healing most emergencies right here in the shop?

  Well, something had happened that the EMTs could not have done. The pounding in her head was gone. Gillian’s work, most likely.

  “Take it easy, ma’am. I’ll help you sit,” came a young voice. Then a strong arm in a white uniform supported her back as she rose. The entire thing was certainly undignified, but she was glad she’d worn a pantsuit today instead of a skirt.

  William. How had he done it? The dead should never be so alive. But he’d been right there. Solid. He’d grabbed the man who had held her. Forced the hands that gripped the rope to slack it. She’d seen it happen before she passed out.

  But it never should have happened. Spirits don’t have that kind of power.

  She barked, “The show’s over. The shop is closed. Everyone out.” She looked down at the blood pressure cuff still wrapped around her arm. “And get this off me.”

  “Ma’am, you—”

  “Except for a sore throat, I’m fine. You can go.”

  “In a strangulation incident, we really need to take you in for an X-ray to make sure your hyoid bone isn’t broken.”

  “It’s not, and if it is, I’m quite sure it won’t be tomorrow. Go on. You’re no longer needed,” she rasped.

  She turned her head to look up at Chief Denton as she crossed her legs loosely. “I’ll give you a statement as quickly as possible and then you can run along too.”

  She had little to say to him. The man had come from behind. And yes, she felt sure the attacker was a man. He’d been over six feet tall, based on the feel of his hot breath on the crown of her head as he’d pulled the rope tight.

  “You need to find out where that Sean Harper and that young Marcus were when this was happening,” she said, pointing a finger at Denton.

  He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “Ms. Taylor, may I remind you who’s conducting this investigation and who’s supposed to be the victim? If you let me ask the questions, we’ll get through this quickly.”

  “Ask away. It’s not like I could stop you.” That wasn’t strictly true. She could stop him. But it would be an abuse of her powers, so she refrained. And anyway, her head ached too much for the required focus.

  “Did the attacker say anything? Did he have any distinguishing vocal characteristics? An accent maybe?”

  “Like, for instance, being a pipsqueak with the voice of a much more imposing man?” Although he must have known this was a dig at him, the chief didn’t flinch. “It would be hard to put a finger on an accent when the only real exchange was his grunting and my trying to scream.”

  “Details of clothing or shoes?”

  “Black sweatshirt with bands at the cuffs. Hood. Black gloves. But I didn’t get a look at his face. The sweatshirt could have been a pullover. Could have been a zip up too. Couldn’t tell you what age, race, or creed he was, and I’m not going to guess.”

  “Wouldn’t want you to guess. It wouldn’t be helpful. But what you’ve given me is.” Now that she’d stopped taking her frustration out on him, the chief was all business. “Shoes? Anything you noticed there?”

  Natalie paused and closed her eyes. She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

  Gillian appeared from the direction of the kitchenette with the teapot and four cups. Enough for the trio of witches and Tom. She said, “Karl, I’m sure Nat is exhausted from the attack and the excitement.”

  The police chief nodded. “I’ll be telling the mayor about this development. You may want to get to him first so that he doesn’t worry.”

  Gillian nodded. “Yes, I don’t want him flying down here to protect me when there’s no reason to suspect I’m in danger. I’ll call him right away.”

  When the police chief left, Gillian pulled out her phone and made a call while Cassie turned the open sign on the door to closed and locked it.

  Tom helped Natalie to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her waist. As she leaned in to him, she said, “It’s such a shame you and your lithe body won’t be performing at my upcoming birthday party now that your debt is cleared. I may have to cancel the event all together.”

  Gillian winked at Tom as she finished up her call with Robert. “Yes, I’ll tell her. But she seems fine now. Right back to her old self. In fact, she’ll likely be getting a bollocking from Tom if she’s not careful.”

  When she hung up the phone, Gillian smiled at Natalie. “Robert’s glad to hear you’re okay. He’s going to make sure the force stays on this around the clock if they have to.”

  “Phfftt,” Natalie responded. “I know more than the force does at this point, I’m sure. You could say I’ve been a busy bee. I’ll have this investigation wrapped up in a jiffy.”

  Cassie made a shooing gesture. “Everyone in the kitchenette now. I don’t think Natalie has been filling us in completely on what she’s been up to.” She held out a finger as Natalie started to protest. “You’re a terrible liar because you never bother telling the little white ones to make other people feel better. That means you don’t get any practice for the big ones. Plus, Gillian is giving you another going over with some exploratory magic before you even think about stepping outside this door. I can’t believe you refused to go the hospital!”

  “I was a nurse for longer than you’ve been alive, young lady. I can tell when I’m da
maged and when I’m not.”

  Cassie’s face said she meant business. “You know what, Nat? I just don’t care. You’d be the first one ordering people to sit down to get checked out if it was anyone else who got hurt, no matter how much healing any of us had thrown at an injury. We’re witches, not doctors, remember?”

  ***

  Cassie boiled water for tea while Gillian ran her hands gently down Natalie’s neck, over her head, and finally over her shoulders, her fingers feeling for places where Natalie’s aura felt disrupted.

  When Cassie came to the table with the tea tray, Gillian said, “She’s right. No permanent damage. Clean bill of health.”

  She took the seat next to Natalie as Natalie added, “Exactly as you had already been advised.”

  “Good,” Cassie said, sitting next to Tom after pouring the boiling water from the pot over the cups. Mint, jasmine, rose, and lavender scents filled the air. “Now I don’t feel so bad about pressing you for the details of what you’ve been up to. This guy came after you for a reason, didn’t he? And you didn’t tell Chief Denton everything, I’d bet.”

  “You know he doesn’t want to know anything about the choir or our ‘music.’” Natalie said, making quotes with her fingers. “He is intentionally and happily tone-deaf. Where do you think I’d be right now if I’d told him that my attacker was chased off by the ghost of the man who was supposed to have committed the original crimes?”

  “Fair point,” said Gillian. “Despite his loyalty to Robert, Denton makes sure not to know what Robert does in his off-work hours on the ritual grounds. However, I certainly want more details.”