by Jill Nojack
Cassie looked to Natalie, who said, “I told William. But he was hardly going to be flapping his lips to anyone, seeing as how he has no lips to flap.”
“Then who told Lou Frank that I was pregnant? He knew about it the day after Tom found out. He brought me flowers to congratulate me.”
“Don’t look at me,” Tom said. “I was too busy loving up my beautiful wife that night to go out and gossip about myself.”
Natalie nodded sagely. “Yes, I expected so given the way you carried her out of the shop. Was there talk of the baby that night?”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Well, duh. Talk of the baby. Kissing of the baby. Rubbing of the baby. Planning for the baby.” She squeezed Tom’s hand tighter, and they grinned stupidly at each other. “And then more kissing of the baby.”
“Did any of this happen in the bedroom?”
Tom gave her the hairy eyeball. “Is there a reason you think you need to get so personal?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. I sensed magic in the house that didn’t feel like it belonged there. That’s why I had you take me on a tour. That magic was located in your bedroom.”
Cassie giggled, still looking at Tom, swinging her feet out from Robert’s big leather couch like a child and then swinging them back again. “Well, that is where the magic happens.”
“Focus, girl! The painting that Franconi gave you. How long have you had it?”
Cassie’s brow wrinkled while she calculated. “Yeah, it was, ummm . . . two days after Caroline Akers came in and returned it. The day after we found her body.”
“Has there been anything else that he’s seemed to know that he shouldn’t?”
“Well . . . each time he was really mean to Dash and I got upset, he showed up at the gallery with a big apology right afterward. Which is odd because he could have apologized the first time long before that. But he didn’t until Dash and I talked about it.”
“And, once again, his paintings decorate the walls in the room where you had these conversations?”
Cassie’s eyes went wide. “Omigoddess!” she exploded. “That creep has been spying on me.”
“Yes. And quite possibly on anyone he’s ever sold a painting to.”
Cassie huddled in to Tom’s shoulder. “Oh ick, ick, ick, and ick some more.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed. “I’m going to take him apart.”
“No, you’re not. I’m sure Cassie would prefer you to be at home when the child is born instead of locked up for assault. But you’re going to help me catch him at his own game. We need to be sure before we move forward that we have our murderer. I think his motive to kill Caroline is clear—she made him angry when she returned his painting. He could have eavesdropped on everything she said. As to his motivation to kill the handyman . . .”
Cassie gasped, and her hand moved to cover her mouth. When she took it away, her eyes still wide, she said, “Sean broke one of his statues! Caroline insulted his work and Sean ruined his work. I mean, with Lou Frank’s ego? Do we know if any of the original victims were connected to his art in any way?”
Robert shook his head. “I’m not aware of a connection, but it was a long time ago, and once they settled on William Stanford as the perpetrator, the investigation stopped.”
Natalie nodded. “No, I don’t know of one either. But there has to be, don’t you think? The spying? The magic pictures? The death of two people who gave him insult or injury? And all of this happening again as soon as he comes back to town? It can’t be a coincidence, and it’s up to us to prove it. We can’t leave it to Denton; magic was involved. My dears, it’s time for a huddle.”
They all leaned in, ready to follow her into the fray.
18
After a quick breakfast at the house along with a frostily received reminder to Natalie not to reactivate her dormant shoplifting skills on the trip, Gillian buzzed along the pavement at a strip mall in Salem. Natalie stalked ahead at her usual breakneck pace, and the two witches nearly collided when Natalie stopped suddenly to peer through the plate glass window of a medical supplies store.
“Yes, this should be the place,” Natalie said. “I don’t know why I cleared out so many of the things I’d collected over the years as a nurse. I’m sure I had a cervical collar at one time. But no matter, they’re easy enough to replace.”
Inside, she quickly identified what she needed while Gillian browsed the assortment of nearby braces. She picked up a particularly sporty knee band and asked, “Do you think this would help Robert’s arthritis? Our best healing efforts have only gone so far, and his doctor says that some people find relief through compression, but Robert thinks anything that even comes close to looking like support hose signals the beginning of the end of our sex life.”
Natalie replied, not looking back from the counter where she was now carefully counting out change, “Perhaps that would be for the best, dear. Then you would be less likely to discuss your romantic activities in public places with disinterested parties.”
As Natalie walked past on her way to the door with the bulky plastic bag, Gillian fell into step beside her. “You certainly would have been interested in Robert’s sex life last year before he chose me, so don’t act all holier-than-thou when I know better.”
Natalie half turned and looked at her through slitted eyes. “Yes. I had some idea that I didn’t want to die an old maid. But the fancy has passed. I will be a maid until they plant me in the ground, and that’s the end of it. It’s not like I could mother anyone at my age anyway, so I might as well remain as I am.”
“I understand. Martin and I were lucky enough to have most of the same girls on the softball team he coached through their teens even though we met too late in life to have our own child. Things would have been so different for me, I think, if I hadn’t met Cassie that way. I do feel that I somehow made up a little for what her grandmother, Eunice, had become.”
Natalie opened the trunk of the car, set her bag inside, and slammed it. “It’s a shame that perfectly good children end up with nightmare families. Not that I would know what to do with a child, but surely someone could come up with a better distribution plan.”
As both of the women entered the car, Gillian said, “At least Tom and Cassie’s little one will be lucky—one real grandfather, one borrowed grandfather, and two grandwitches in the mix. We may not be blood family, but I already love her like my own.”
Natalie gunned the engine and started the car across the parking lot toward home. “Who says the child will be a she?”
“I do! Her energy is undeveloped, and with Cassie’s magic wrapped around the child, it’s hard to tell, but I’m sure it feels more silver than gold. Don’t you think so?”
“I have no idea. All I get is the presence of life. Detecting male or female isn’t part of it.”
Gillian’s head cocked to the left as her mouth drew up at the corners. “Do you mean there’s something I can do that the great Natalie Taylor can’t?”
“There are many things you can do that the great Natalie Taylor can’t. For instance, I have never had any talent whatsoever for making an attractive and edible dessert.” The car stopped abruptly at a stop light, causing Gillian to throw a hand out to the dashboard to stop her forward motion.
“Of course,” Natalie continued, “that doesn’t make you the more talented witch, does it?”
Gillian rolled her eyes as Natalie donned her best cat-with-the-cream expression.
“Then again, we might both be poor detectives, no matter how good we are at witching.” Natalie hesitated, putting her thoughts in order. “You yourself discovered that Gerald Akers is fluent in Italian. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to write him off as a suspect. The two victims of this were, after all, his cheating wife and her lover. And his family summered in Giles during the approximate timeframe of the original murders.”
Gillian braced herself as the car neared another stop sign. “I can’t see it, Nat. The man is a marshmallow, a
nd he’s absolutely a mess over his wife. When I stopped by unannounced to invite him to dinner, I found him sitting out on the back deck, still in his pajamas and slippers, without a coat. On a damp and chill day. No, I can’t see it.”
“I agree. He isn’t the type, is he? He’s more the sort you’d find cowering in the corner while the other boys make fun of him.” Natalie rolled the car to a gentle stop this time, then looked both ways and eased across the intersection. “I simply want to make sure I’m not missing anything. I suppose we’ll have an answer soon enough if everything goes to plan with Franconi.”
“If Tom doesn’t kill him first,” Gillian said, her voice trailing off at the end.
Natalie nodded, eyes still on the road. “Yes, that would complicate things.” She sighed. “I suppose we can’t just let him at it once we’ve got the evidence?”
***
Cassie settled into her husband’s strong arms on the couch in the living room at Robert’s house where they’d agreed to stay until it was time to put the plan in place. She said, gently, for what seemed like the hundredth time, “Tom, it wouldn’t work. Natalie says glamours are extremely taxing and she’s not even sure she could glamour herself to look like me, but she’s sure it wouldn’t work on you. If you had your own magic you might be able to do it yourself, but since Anat bound it all except for your ability to shift from man to cat, there’s no point in talking about it.”
Tom pulled her slight body firmly against his. Too firmly, she thought. It was like he planned to hold her there and keep her from taking part in the plan by force if his words couldn’t convince her. “Listen,” he said, “I’m not being a Neanderthal if I’ve got a problem with my pregnant wife using herself as bait for some psycho who’s been running around town killing people.”
“Tom, I don’t know how many ways I can say this—it’s not like I’m helpless, right?” She flung out a hand and a heavy leather chair on the other side of the coffee table blew back a couple of feet before she snatched her fingers together, stopping it.
“Yeah?” he said. “How’s that going to work with a rope around your neck? Push an attacker who’s strangling you with a cord away with that kind of force and it’s likely to pop your pretty head right off your shoulders.”
Her hand started to rise to tug at her lip, but she realized what she was doing before it got there. Okay, what he’d said made her a little nervous, but there was no point broadcasting it. He’d know he was getting to her if he saw her anxious gesture.
“Look,” she said. “It’s decided. Nat is our friend, and you know she’d do this for us if the tables were turned.”
“I’m not going to argue with that part. I just want to do it differently. Let me go with you, at least.”
“You know you can’t. He’s got to think that I’ll be alone and helpless. He doesn’t know about my magic. It’s not like I talk about it at the gallery or in the bedroom.”
“True.” He gave her a squeeze, but this time it was gentle, loving. “We always find much better things to do and say in the bedroom.”
With his body against her like that, her frustration with his over-protectiveness threatened to turn into a different kind of frustration all together, and that would definitely endanger her resolve.
Her man sure knew how to play her.
She pushed his hands away and sat up. “Oh no, you don’t!” She scooted to the other end of the couch. “I know your evil ways, Tom Sanders!”
She paused suddenly, and beamed. There was something else they had never talked about in the bedroom.
“I just realized we don’t have to fight any more. We’ve never talked about Kit and Sheba in our room, have we? And I haven’t shifted in the bedroom since the day we found Caroline’s body. If you haven’t either, he can’t know about them. I mean, it’s not like anyone would tell him, right? It’s an open secret in the choir, but what happens in the choir stays in the choir. Nobody sings outside of the group, right? Even the worst of the gang—the ones who were loyal to Anat—keep that rule with outsiders. They don’t want to face the wrath of a coven full of angry witches.”
“I haven’t shifted in the bedroom, I don’t think. So?” he asked.
“Wow, you’re slow on the uptake today. I mean, if my faithful cat is right at my heels when I go out tonight, how is a cat a threat?”
His smile lit the room. “Come back over here you smart, sexy minx. I want to show you exactly how I feel about that plan.”
19
The school bus dropped Twink off at the end of main street. She was in no hurry to get home. Daria would be sure to hang over her like a big, hungry buzzard until she started on her homework, anyway.
She looked in the window at the little dress boutique, but the stuff in there was for oldsters. It was quality, some nice labels, but not something anyone under thirty would wear. Which made sense—she was one of maybe twenty teenagers in town, judging by the usual crowd on her school bus. Although there might be private school kids or ones who had their own cars; there were lots of fancy houses in Giles, even if they were, like, really old.
The kids she’d met weren’t real friendly, either. She’d say “hi” and they’d pretend they didn’t see her.
Not that Twink planned on staying. Her mother would come around sooner or later. She had to keep it cool, stay out of trouble, which always seemed easier than it was. Trouble loved her.
The smell of cinnamon and ginger drew her nose to Bountiful Bakery, making her stomach grumble. She crossed the street and passed by the gallery and a book store, then had to scoot real close to the storefronts to get around some old guy yelling at some other guys working around the bronze statue on the sidewalk. There were ropes attached to a tall metal frame that was set over a pickup truck. A rope and pulley system, right? Who knew what that was all about. It was kind of an ugly statue anyway—some bearded guy in a big hat—so maybe the town just got smart and decided to ditch it.
Unless it was like some bold daytime robbery. That would make Giles a lot more exciting. They’d have to be some really stupid burglars, though. Twink stopped just beyond the truck and turned back to snap a mental picture of the three guys as they lifted the statue into the truck and maneuvered it over the bed. Just in case she had to testify or something.
She wanted to go to the bakery and pick out something good from the trays of fancy decorated cookies and cakes, but she didn’t have any money. Just thinking about one of those big chocolate muffins they always had in the window made her stomach start leading a cheer for the home team. She needed to eat now! She darted between two cars that were parked at the curb to cross the street where the mostly healthier contents of Daria’s fridge were waiting.
She hadn’t looked both ways; when a horn sounded to her left, she realized that had been a mucho stupid thing to do. When the oncoming car didn’t slow, her heart raced, and a jolt of adrenaline hit her system. She kicked it into high gear, but lost one of her purple high heels and stumbled. She scrambled up and made it to the sidewalk. She was out of harm’s way when she heard the crash.
She looked back into the street, breathless. The driver of the car that had almost hit her had swerved right, slamming the car’s backend sideways into the front fender of the truck, pushing the pickup up against the curb. It still rocked from the force.
The workers were standing out of harm’s way. Nobody was holding the statue steady where it dangled from the crossbar; they watched from a distance as it stood on its own, swaying, while the white-haired man screamed, “Idiots! Get in there and keep it from falling!”
But the workers didn’t move. The statue toppled sideways, crashing out the side of the truck and onto the street. When it hit, it cracked all the way down the middle and fell apart in two halves, like a clamshell opening.
And wow. You sure wouldn’t see something like that in Boston. Maybe Giles was more exciting than she’d thought. Because she couldn’t think of a single statue she’d ever heard of having a skeleton insi
de it. And definitely not one wearing an ugly old sweater some hipster would go crazy over.
The guy with the white hair screamed at the workers one last time in some foreign language, then ran to a little black sports car and barreled down the street, nearly causing a couple more accidents on his way.
No way was she waiting around for the cops to show up and question her. Me? she asked herself. I didn’t see nothin’. She took off her other shoe and looked both ways before she popped into the street to pick up the lost one, then ran like crazy toward Cat’s Magical Shoppe with the cement roughing up her bare feet. She darted through the narrow side yard to get to her and Daria’s place, locking the door behind her when she was safely inside the house.
***
The commotion outside drew both Cassie and Gillian out the door of the shop. Gillian shaded her eyes and squinted, then tsked. “Another accident. Parallel parking again, I’d wager.”
“Hey Twink,” Cassie called as she spotted the teen blasting toward them like she was trying to win the hundred-yard dash. But the girl didn’t acknowledge her—she just slipped between the shops and disappeared. Probably still mad at her.
That reminded Cassie that she was going to have to follow up with Daria, and soon. With everything else that was going on, it had been easy to forget that Twink was still running around town with unpredictable magic following behind. She hoped that wasn’t what had caused the accident. She followed Gilly back inside.
Ten minutes later, when the sound of too many sirens for a parking accident had gone blaring past, Gillian’s phone rang at the same time that Cassie’s did.
Their responses were much the same. Gillian’s “Oh my” was slightly shorter than Cassie’s “Omigoddess,” but they looked up at each other with startled expressions and said into their phones at the same time, “A skeleton?”
Their conversations diverged from there with Gillian saying, “Any distinctive features? I mean, the statue has been there since the sixties. Who disappeared back then?”