Trick or Deceit

by Shelley Freydont

  But fortunately she didn’t, just more reenacted horror. And by the time she finished searching the room, she was about to admit the futility of her search. This area had been totally cleaned out and restructured. If someone had found a shawl, it would either be in a pile of discards, appropriated for use in one of the scenes of horror, or tossed in the garbage.

  She headed to the next room and encountered the Man in the Iron Mask, New England style. She methodically searched that room and the next until she’d made the complete rounds and was thoroughly sick of horror.

  And she still hadn’t found the scarf. She wandered upstairs to find most of the rooms padlocked shut. There was no way she could get in without asking Barry and blowing her cover.

  She went back downstairs and into the sewing room, where several volunteers were bent over sewing machines. They were surrounded by stacks and stacks of material.

  “What is all this for?” Liv asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “To replace what was not repairable. Miriam donated all of it. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “I’ll say.”

  “You can see what we had to discard, such a shame.”

  “It truly is,” Liv said as she peered at the pile of dirty crushed fabric that lay in the corner. She didn’t see one tiny patch of fabric that looked like Lucille’s shawl.

  If someone had taken the shawl home, no one would ever be the wiser. If the killer had gone to the trouble of throwing the shoes on Ernie’s yard, what might he have done with the scarf? Liv wondered if Bill’s men had been any more successful.

  She had looked everywhere but outside. With a sigh, she went out back to look through the trash. Fortunately for her, the trash had been separated with the fabric contained in plastic bags to be sent to be recycled.

  It only took a few minutes to admit defeat. If the shawl was on the property, it had to be locked up or very well hidden.

  Liv did a quick cleanup in the kitchen sink, thanked Barry, and left. If anyone thought it odd that she was poking around, they didn’t say a word.

  She walked past the theater, where a man on a ladder was putting up the marquees for Little Shop of Horrors. She cut diagonally across the park, and even though the Buttercup and a second latte beckoned, she didn’t give in to temptation.

  When she reached the far side of the park, Liv paused to look for the doom and gloom man, who was blessedly gone.

  But she did see the Peterson Glass truck parked outside the Mystic Eye and two of their workers carrying a large piece of plate-glass toward the store.

  Yolanda Nestor stood at the sidewalk, watching them. The men passed by her to the store, momentarily blocking Liv’s view of Yolanda.

  Then Yolanda turned and looked straight at Liv.

  Liv detoured over to the Mystic Eye.

  “What happened?” Liv asked, as she watched the men carefully fit the glass into the gaping hole where the window had been.

  “Someone threw a rock through the window sometime last night.”

  “That’s terrible. Did they take anything?”

  “No,” Yolanda said. “But that’s hardly the point.”

  Liv totally understood. And she bet money that this wasn’t the first time Yolanda had suffered from this kind of vandalism.

  “I hope you called the sheriff?”

  Yolanda shrugged. “I’d rather not call attention to the fact.”

  “Well, you should. Sheriff Gunnison will want to know. We don’t accept vandalism in Celebration Bay.” Liv sighed. “Though we seem to be having a rash of bad behavior lately.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “It’s very unusual.”

  Yolanda nodded. “Will you come in? I can’t really open the store until the window is fixed. And I could use a cup of tea.”

  Liv had lots of stuff to do, but she certainly didn’t want Yolanda to feel that she was snubbing her. “I’d love to.”

  Yolanda gestured her inside. She turned the Open sign over, and reached for a round piece of cardboard that read Be Back at with a clock beneath. She moved the cardboard hands and hung it below the Closed sign.

  Liv looked around the store. It was far different from Pyne Bough, which had been in the space until last winter. Then it had been filled with natural woods, hand-dyed colorful wools, wind chimes, hand-carved Christmas ornaments, and orange and cinnamon sachets.

  This store was dark except where the missing window allowed weak shafts of light to penetrate the gloom. A large astrology chart painted on the remaining window blocked out any other daylight.

  Several rows of shelves were filled with books. Liv walked over to read the titles. Mostly books about witchcraft, chanting, casting spells, a few fantasy novels, even a couple about meditation and Buddhism.

  Posters hung on the wall, all dark colored with magical signs and depictions of imaginary creatures. Tiny bottles of oil, a row of clothing, a basket of diaphanous scarves. And behind the counter, unusual silver and wooden instruments, probably used in some kind of rituals, Liv guessed.

  The smell of incense hung in the air. And another smell . . . sage. Something Yolanda and the previous owner had in common. The whole space seemed a bit overpowering and the smell was cloying.

  Yolanda turned and smiled.

  “It’s very . . . interesting,” Liv said.

  “It is.”

  “And it doesn’t look like the vandal even came in. You’re sure nothing is missing?”

  “Fairly certain. At first I was afraid Elemanzer had gotten out. Oh ye of little faith, isn’t that right, El?”

  Liv didn’t think Yolanda was talking to her so she wasn’t totally surprised when a huge black cat rose up from the counter and stretched. He jumped down to the floor, made a figure eight around Liv’s feet, and padded over to Yolanda.

  A black cat. Of course, Liv thought. Yolanda had gift for presentation. Everything in the store helped to create the otherworldly atmosphere. Including the cat. Smart. Liv bet she was a successful businesswoman. She also wondered what had happened to her last store that she had to move.

  Yolanda smiled. “He says you’ll do.”

  “Well,” Liv said taken aback. “Thank you, Elemanzer . . . I think.”

  Elemanzer meowed.

  Yolanda laughed, a large, throaty sound that seemed to fill the room. “You passed muster, and he’s very particular.”

  Liv smiled. Rein in your imagination, she admonished herself. Even Whiskey comes when he hears his name. She’s just an ordinary woman with a marketing plan.

  “We’re all ordinary women,” Yolanda said. “Shall we go in back and have some tea?”

  Wordlessly, Liv followed her past a curtain and down the short hall to a back storage room, bracing herself for whatever she might see there. The space had been transformed into a comfortable sitting room with two overstuffed chairs with a small antique table placed between them. The shipping area was shielded by a series of dark wooden trifold doors. Still, Liv couldn’t suppress a shudder.

  “Phantom emotion,” Yolanda said quietly.

  “What?”

  “That’s why you shivered, you felt it. Much sadness here.” Yolanda shook her head. “Happiness floats out into the world to be shared by all. Dark emotions are tenacious, they linger. It takes some work to dissipate them. Won’t you sit down?”

  Liv sat in one of the chairs and watched as Yolanda went about making the tea. She moved gracefully, and her hands as she reached for the tea tin, poured water from an electric tea kettle, were mesmerizing to watch.

  When the tea was steeped, Yolanda handed Liv a cup. Not a heavy mug but a delicate red china teacup. Liv breathed in the steam, a heady mixture of herbs and honey.

  “My own blend,” Yolanda said. She placed her own cup on the table between them and sat opposite Liv. When she reached for tea, Liv notice
d that the nail of one of Yolanda’s long, supple fingers had a Band-Aid around it.

  Yolanda looked at it. “Split. Between the weather and some stubborn cardboard boxes. I should really cut them short but I have so much fun with them.” She held out her hands. Her nails were long and curled under slightly. Each was painted a deep purple and dotted with little stars and moons.

  Liv smiled, but she was thinking about what Bill had said. If Lucille had been unconscious, a woman would have the strength to strangle her.

  Yolanda might be strong enough, but what motive could she possibly have? She’d just moved here. Besides, nails that long would have left marks, and Bill had only said bruising, not cuts and bruising.

  “How are you liking Celebration Bay so far?”

  “It’s a lovely town, and perfect for the Mystic Eye. Almost everyone I’ve met has been welcoming.”

  “There are always a few of the others,” Liv said.

  “Amanda said you’ve only been here a year.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you seem to be respected by everyone.”

  “I try, but it takes time.”

  “Amanda says you’re the person everyone goes to when there’s a problem.”

  Liv sat up. “Are you having trouble? Besides the window, I mean?”

  Yolanda shook her head. Looked into her cup and back at Liv.

  And Liv was struck at the change in her face. That slightly mysterious and eternal look had gone and Liv saw a much younger-looking woman, at least ten years younger. And worried.

  “As you might have guessed, I didn’t choose the location of my old store well. I was met with resistance from the close-minded uptight citizens of the neighborhood and some of the more backward-thinking ‘spiritual’ leaders. Amanda invited me for a visit last year. She thought Celebration Bay would be perfect and would be near to her.

  “Amanda and I go way back, boarding school, college. We went through a lot of things together. And I’m worried about her.”

  “Worried about her health? Her safety?” Liv asked.

  “Both. She isn’t happy. I could tell that right away. And I think it’s because of that husband of hers.”

  Liv felt slightly uncomfortable with this kind of gossip, but she had a feeling Yolanda wasn’t just gossiping.

  “She doesn’t say so, but I can tell. Even if I didn’t know her, I could tell. His aura.” Yolanda shuddered. “A mass of cloudy miasma. And now with Jonathon here . . . there is much conflict. That much I can see.”

  “You can actually read people’s auras?” Liv didn’t know how much of this to believe.

  “I can see them. But they’re not as simple as you might think and I can’t always tell what they mean. Do you want to know what yours is?”

  “No . . . thank you.”

  That throaty laugh again. “Afraid? Don’t be. Yours is clear as a bell.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes. You’ve found happiness here.”

  Really? Up to her eyeballs in murder and vandalism, Liv didn’t think this was one of her better days.

  She smiled. “Well, thank you for the tea.” Liv stood. She had the strange feeling that Yolanda’s reason for telling her about the Marlton-Crosbys was more than just idle gossip, but Liv wasn’t sure what those reasons were. She’d have to talk to Yolanda again later. Right now she wanted to get back to work.

  There was something more important pulling at her brain. She needed to talk to Bill about one more thing.

  Fingernails.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Liv left the Mystic Eye a few minutes later, her mind spinning. Two vandalisms. Were they related? She’d have to tell Bill even if Yolanda didn’t want to involve him.

  It was obvious Yolanda didn’t trust the police to look after her interests. And all that stuff about auras, and the dissension between Jon Preston and Rod Crosby. Heck, Liv had seen that herself and she didn’t need an aura to tell her. It was pretty clear that Rod married Amanda for money. Maybe Yolanda, too, wanted to reconnect with her old friend and her old friend’s money.

  Sad, Liv told herself, but the situation really did nothing to bring them closer to finding out who vandalized Barry’s museum or who killed Lucille Foster.

  Ted looked up from his desk when she walked into the office.

  “Fingernails,” Liv said.

  “As in the catfight variety? Don’t tell me you and Janine have been at it again.”

  Janine? Liv paused. Who had said Janine and Lucille had a fight at the manicurists the week before?

  “Uh-oh, I know that look,” Ted said. “I’ll just grab my notebook.”

  Liv hung up her jacket and went into her office. Whiskey got up from his corner, which, Liv noticed, had more crumbs on it than when she’d left that morning. She knelt down and scratched his ears.

  “I guess I don’t have to feel guilty for neglecting you, since I’m sure Ted has been taking very good care of you.”

  Ted, who had just stepped into the room, frowned at Whiskey. “Have you been telling on me?”

  “Aarf.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He leaned over and said in a stage whisper, “She’s smart like that.”

  Whiskey let out an “Aar-roo-roo-roo.”

  “I know,” Ted said, and sat down, pen poised above a legal pad.

  “You guys are weird,” Liv said, and sat down on her side of the desk.

  “So what have you been up to?” Ted asked. “What’s all this about fingernails?”

  “Where to start?”

  “How about when you left the office, before anything else happened.”

  Liv told him about visiting the community center, seeing Marla Jean wearing Lucille’s shoes. “I called Bill, of course . . .”

  “Of course.”

  “Once we made Marla Jean hand over the shoes, Bill had his men search the property for the scarf, too. Then he drove me over to Barry’s. I just wanted to check out the state of the museum for the tour tomorrow, but while we were there, Bill asked me to search for the scarf—without letting anyone know what I was doing.

  “I came up empty-handed. But when we arrived, Carson Foster was having it out with Barry. Accusing him of murdering his wife.”

  “The mind boggles,” Ted said.

  “He thought it was Barry’s way of getting back at him for bad investment advice.”

  “Like I said . . .”

  “And then when I was on my way back here, Yolanda flagged me down. Someone threw a rock through her window.”

  “Was Bill there?”

  Liv shook her head. “She seems less than enthusiastic about informing the police.”

  “Probably had run-ins with them before.”

  “Because of her store or because she’s a witch?”

  “Both, I imagine.”

  “Once you take them out of Halloween or the Salem business district, witches do have a way of pushing some people’s buttons.”

  “Is that what drew that street-corner provocateur here? The thought crossed my mind that maybe he was the one who’d broken the window. She and her friends were pretty aggressive toward him.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Just an isolated case of hooliganism, or part of plan? Could he have trashed the museum, too?”

  “And killed Lucille?”

  “It does seem a bit farfetched, but certainly better than finding out it was one of us.” Liv leaned back in her desk chair, then sat up. “I don’t suppose Doomsday Man would have any reason to kill Lucille?”

  Ted shrugged. “Convenient, but not a shred of evidence.”

  “Well, there’s lots of evidence,” Liv said. “Just none of it pieces together.”

  “True.” Ted stuck his pen behind his ear. “If it’s any consolation, the mayor
pulled old Doom and Gloom’s permit. It turns out the guy’s name and check were both bogus. Helen down at Permits and Licenses said she warned Gilbert, but he was blinded by a few measly dollars.”

  “He’d make a good suspect,” Liv said. “Except the police escorted him to the town line and he’s gone.”

  “I heard. But I also heard that Bill put out a ‘something-something-something’ on him—I forget the police code, you’ll have to ask Edna and Ida. Anyway, it warned other communities to be on the lookout for bad checks.

  “Turns out he’s already wanted in several towns up the road. So hopefully if Bill doesn’t nab him, somebody else will.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “And how does all this lead to fingernails?”

  “Oh. Well, Yolanda is very . . . compelling, I guess is the word. And I was watching her make tea and thinking how it looked like conjuring. Her nails were polished purple with little moons and stars. I noticed a Band-Aid around one of them. She said she’d split her nail opening a cardboard box.” Liv frowned.

  “And?”

  “Well, suddenly I remembered Bill saying that Lucille might have been unconscious when she was strangled.”

  “Ah. Making a woman a more viable suspect than if Lucille was able to fight back.”

  “There was no sign of a struggle.”

  Ted nodded. “And as far as we know, no nail marks.”

  “But would it be possible . . . Sit back.” Liv got up from her desk and went around to stand in front of Ted.

  Ted looked dubious but leaned back in his chair.

  “If she was lying on her back, and I . . .” Liv put her fingers around his neck and thumbs resting over his Adam’s apple. “If I put my whole body weight behind it . . .”

  Ted moved her hands away. “So are we adding Yolanda to the list of suspects?”

  “Seems like we have too many suspects already.”

  “It seems to me,” Ted said, “that if we could just figure out where Lucille went that night, the case would solve itself.”

  “Sure, but everyone thought she went with her husband. Except for her husband. He says he didn’t pick her up, didn’t even notice she was gone until the next morning.”