Magician's Muse

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “If I hear from him, you’ll be the first person I call,” Nona lied with a sweet smile.

  “Yes, I’m sure you will,” he said sarcastically. “Tell Mr. Smith—or Sarver—that it would be in his best interests to contact me. He could be the beneficiary of a large estate.”

  Of course a PI would say that, I thought. Such a pathetic lie! Offer an inheritance to lure out the suspect, then before he can ask “Where’s the money?” handcuffs are snapped on and he’s listening to a cop read him his rights. I knew better than to believe anything the PI said.

  “I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear that,” Nona said wryly.

  “You already have my card, so you know how to reach me.” Mr. Caruthers gave a polite bow. “Thank you, ladies, for your time and hospitality.”

  Nona and I stood silently together, watching him climb into his car and drive away. It wasn’t until the car was a small speck in the distance that I turned to my grandmother.

  “That was intense.” I frowned. “I hope he doesn’t come back.”

  “Don’t count on it. I sense we’ll be seeing him again, which is unsettling.” Nona puckered her lips. “He has a suspicious aura.”

  “What questions did he ask you?”

  “Everything about Dominic—how long I’d known him, when he started working here, and if I’d met any of his relatives.”

  Lilybelle leapt up to the porch rail and I stroked her soft fur. “So what did you tell him?”

  “That Dominic quit his job recently. I insisted that his last name was Smith, not Sarver, and that I’d known his mother so I knew for a fact he didn’t have any uncles.”

  “You didn’t really know his mom, did you?” I asked, remembering what Dominic had told me.

  “Well, no. I can lie well when I need to,” Nona said with a sly wink. “I wanted to make sure the PI stopped looking for him. That story about an inheritance is complete rubbish! If Dominic’s parents had money, he wouldn’t have been forced to live with that disgusting uncle. That PI can’t fool me.”

  “I didn’t believe that story either,” I admitted.

  “To make sure Mr. Caruthers doesn’t show up again, I showed him Dominic’s apartment.”

  “You didn’t!”

  Nona chuckled. “All he saw was an empty loft apartment.”

  “Empty?” I jerked my hand off Lilybelle, which startled her and caused her to jump off the rail and scamper underneath the chaise lounge. “But what about Dominic’s stuff?”

  “Hidden.” Nona answered gravely. “And so is Dominic.”

  *

  I had to see for myself.

  Jumping off the porch, I raced across the driveway to the barn. I climbed up the stairs and stared into the loft. The walls were missing Dominic’s photos and paintings, his favorite books were no longer stacked across shelves, and the dresser top was clean of dust and personal belongings. The only hint that he’d ever lived there was the wooden perch for his falcon, which stood lonely by the open window like the only tree standing in a devastated forest.

  When I went back to my grandmother, she refused to tell me where he’d gone. “If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you,” she said calmly, then walked into her office and shut the door.

  If he wants me to know!

  I wasn’t sure who to be more angry at—my grandmother or Dominic. Didn’t they trust me? How dare they shut me out!

  Stomping up to my room, I couldn’t concentrate on homework or TV or my needlework. To numb my emotions, I jacked up the volume of my stereo.

  That’s why I didn’t know I had a phone call until Nona tapped on my door about an hour later. I didn’t call for her to come in because I was still pissed off. But she did anyway. After pausing to turn my music volume way down, she handed me the phone.

  I knew it was my father before I heard his voice—and that he was worried about someone in my family.

  “Dad?” I tensed. “Is someone sick? Is it Mom?”

  “Most people answer with ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing.’”

  “I’m not most people. Are Amy and Ashley okay?”

  “Your little sisters are fine, too.” Dad cleared his throat. “But I’m not so sure about your older sister.”

  I tightened my grip on the phone. “Oh?”

  “Jade didn’t come home last night and her mother is worried.”

  Biting my lip, I resisted pointing out that Jade’s mother was usually the one who caused her daughter to worry. She had a gambling addiction and often left for weeks with no word.

  “Crystal called Jade’s friends,” Dad went on anxiously. “They haven’t heard from her and seem to think she was with a new boyfriend, but no one knows.”

  “Why are you calling me? I barely know Jade.”

  “I thought you and Jade were getting on better. Amy mentioned you’d been texting each other.”

  “Well … a little.”

  “Do you know anything about her new boyfriend?”

  Yes, I knew plenty, but did I want to admit this to Dad? Hmmm. I hesitated, thinking, struggling against my bitter emotions, and finally decided I didn’t have to tell Dad the awkward stuff. I just told him I’d seen Jade with Evan Marshall yesterday.

  “So she’s probably still with Evan?

  “If not, he’ll know where she is.” I told him where Evan lived, then we hung up.

  Staring at the phone, I resented Jade more than ever. I bet she was creating drama just to stir up trouble. I wasn’t worried about her—far from it. She was an inconsiderate bitch who didn’t care about anyone else. She wouldn’t even take the time to call and let her family know she was with Evan. Or was she with him? Now that I thought back, I’d seen Evan strutting in his usual egotistical way down the hall with some b-ball buddies at school today. If Jade wasn’t with him or at her own school, where was she?

  I remembered the calls from Jade today that I deleted, and that weird IM she’d sent me: Wkg on prob. Need 2 talk. Urgent!

  Only I hadn’t texted back.

  Damn. Now I was feeling guilty. I was furious with Jade but I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. I looked at my phone, but there weren’t any new messages and I’d deleted the previous ones efficiently. Maybe she’d emailed.

  I checked my computer—and found four emails from her.

  The first two just said: Call me!

  The next one: Y haven’t U called????

  The fourth and last email was dated yesterday at 2:25 p.m.

  Sis,

  Would U freaking reply?

  FYI: Meeting Grey @ 9PM TT 2-nite.

  B there.

  Jade

  Why had Jade met with Grey? How had she hooked up with him? And what did “TT” mean? Even more puzzling, why ask me to “B there”?

  Only instead of going there, I’d ignored her messages.

  She’d gone to meet Grey alone.

  And now she was missing.

  After calling Dad and telling him about the email from Jade, I went to bed early.

  Unfortunately, sleep was as elusive as answers to the questions that were buzzing in my mind. It was like someone had pressed the “crazy” button on my life and whirled everything out of control. There must be a curse on names starting with “J.” Jade and Josh were missing. And poor Jacques was dead.

  When Nona first started training me in how to use my psychic abilities, she’d talked about the strange mysteries of coincidence. Family members sharing the same birthdays, people dying on the same date they were born, and how you can meet someone and feel like you’ve known them forever. Most people chalk these happenings up to coincidence, but Nona assured me that there was a master plan for all our lives. Even names, often random, could hold deep meaning to our life paths.

  But my worries about Josh and Jade were overshadowed by the hole in my heart left by Dominic. His face was all I saw when I closed my eyes. His voice whispered sweet memories of our special moments together. And my lips ached to feel the soft caress of his again
.

  To ward off spirits, I always slept with a nightlight on. Tonight I’d chosen a heart-shaped light, and its soft red glow shined across the wall to my bed. Somehow this seemed to calm my anxiety, as if the heart’s light connected me to Dominic.

  The next morning, I was surprised at how soundly I’d slept. No dreams of guns, dead bodies, or evil magicians who could make people disappear. Although I immediately remembered everything as soon as I opened my eyes. Getting ready for school seemed like such a futile, ordinary thing. But what else could I do?

  Besides, I had a test in English.

  I was a little disappointed when Penny-Love didn’t show up to pick me up, so I texted her. She responded: “CU@L8R.”

  When I got to school, I found her waiting for me—only she wasn’t alone.

  Thorn’s pink fishnet stockings, chalky makeup, and tiny metal skull earrings were a stark contrast to Penny-Love’s skinny jeans with flower-shaped pockets, empire waist striped blouse, and hair snagged in two bouncy red ponytails.

  “You two together?” I asked.

  “A lapse of sanity,” Thorn answered, scowling.

  “We need to stick together—at least until this little problem is over,” Penny-Love said.

  “Little?” Thorn mocked.

  “Give me a break, okay? I’ve had a bad night.” Penny-Love’s eyes were puffy and shadowed as if she’d slept badly. “Sabine, have you heard anything?”

  “About what?”

  Looking around furtively, Penny-Love hissed in my ear, “Jacques! What else?”

  “Oh … yeah. And no, I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Me neither! And it’s making me insane!” She grasped my arm, her nails sharp against my skin. “I checked the news and there was nothing about Jacques at all! How can that be? No reports about the murder of a local high school student?”

  “I told you we should have called 911,” I retorted. “His body probably hasn’t been discovered.”

  “Oh yes it has,” Penny-Love assured me.

  “How can you be so sure? It’s not like you went back to check …” I watched a guilty blush darken her face. “Ohmygod, Pen—you didn’t!”

  “I had to. After Thorn went home, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jacques. I just had to know. So I drove back, expecting to see police cars and flashing lights. But it was calm. So I went into the apartment building … just to check.”

  “You idiot!” Thorn glared. “You deserve to be on that TV show about stupid criminals.”

  “But I’m not a criminal.” Penny-Love’s shoulders shook like she was close to breaking down.

  “We know that,” I assured her as I slipped my arm around her. I shot a venomous look at Thorn. “Right, Thorn?”

  “Oh, all right,” Thorn said ungraciously. “She’s not a criminal. She’s just acting stupid.”

  “I couldn’t help myself,” Penny-Love sobbed. “I had to know what was going on and to make sure someone found him. I was careful and pretended like I was going to a different apartment. His apartment door was closed and I heard voices inside. So I figured it was the police, although I wondered why there wasn’t any of that murder-site tape you always see on TV shows when they find a dead body.”

  “TV shows aren’t always accurate about stuff like that,” Thorn put in.

  “Still, it couldn’t have been the police, because I checked online and there is not one single mention of Jacques’ murder. I couldn’t find anything at all on him. It’s like he wasn’t just killed—he was erased from existence.”

  “Weirdness.” Thorn furrowed her brow.

  “I can’t forget him, and I have to know what happened.”

  “It’ll eventually make the news,” I assured Penny-Love.

  “What if it doesn’t?” she argued, with a fierceness that surprised me. “What if his killer goes free?”

  “Stuff happens.” Thorn shrugged.

  “Not to people I care about,” Penny-Love insisted. “I can’t wait around without doing anything. I keep remembering Jacques—how he laughed, or the cute way he scrunched his face in concentration when he painted, and how his arms felt so warm and his hands knew exactly—”

  “Stop right there!” Purple fingernails flashed as Thorn’s hand flew up in protest. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”

  “Not sex … romance.” A sad smile flickered across Penny-Love’s face. “And he was the best … even if all he could talk about was partying and getting high. He was a little dangerous, but a real good guy. That’s why I asked you both here—because I’m going to find out who killed him and I need you both to help.”

  I shook my head. “I just can’t … there’s too much going on for me. Josh is missing and maybe Jade, too. And Thorn saw that folder with Josh’s picture in Jacques’ apartment—what’s up with that? Then there’s Dominic … well, he needs me too. My worry quota is so maxed out I can’t handle more problems. Leave the murder to the cops.”

  “But you’re my best friend, Sabine,” Penny-Love whined. “You can’t desert me now that I’m in my most desperate situation ever.”

  When she put it like that, it was hard to refuse. I wavered.

  “Lose the martyr act,” Thorn snapped at Penny-Love.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Penny-Love retorted.

  “If you’re any kind of friend to Sabine, you’d notice that she’s going through some rough stuff, too. But all you can think about is yourself, as usual.”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  “But you were about to ask for my help, which means Finding. That’s something you promised never to mention again.”

  “I didn’t mention it,” Penny-Love said, glaring. “You did.”

  “You were going to.”

  “So what if I was? But obviously you won’t help me.”

  “Once again you’re wrong, Cheerleader.” Thorn was shorter than Penny-Love, but somehow she seemed taller with her gold, green, and amber-red aura shimmering bright. “I’ll help you, not that you deserve it, but because I don’t want you hassling Sabine.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Don’t deny it. You were playing on her soft heart, expecting her to follow you like a minion. She didn’t find the body, we did. If you’re serious about wanting to find Jacque’s killer, we leave her out of this. I can help more than Sabine. Are you in or not?”

  “Well …” Penny-Love glanced at me, frowning. Then she blew out a deep breath and turned back to Thorn. “I’m in.”

  *

  Thorn’s support surprised me and got me thinking about friendships as I walked slowly to my next class. Was Penny-Love really my best friend? Sometimes she acted like it, but mostly she was focused on her own drama. She was fun and popular, and her gift of gab was good camouflage for my freaky gifts. Hanging out with her made it easy to slip into the background of the semi-popular crowd without being noticed. Was that the description of a best friend?

  The funny thing, I realized later, as I caught a glimpse of Thorn with one of her Goth friends, was that Thorn was acting more like my best friend. She’d come to my defense and criticized Pen for bossing me around. It was easy to be with her, too, because she accepted me without judgment. Yet Thorn never introduced me to her Goth friends and we didn’t hang out like real friends. Sometimes the only way I knew what she was doing was when I’d asked Manny—which is what I did when I saw him during lunch in the computer room.

  “Does Thorn have a best friend?”

  “Thorn doesn’t have a best anything.” The beads in Manny’s dreads rattled as he turned away from the computer. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just thinking …”

  “Dangerous thing to do,” he teased. “Could land you in all kinds of trouble.”

  “I’m in plenty already.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  I sighed. It was tempting to confide in him since he’d helped me out many times. But telling the editor of the school newspap
er that a classmate was murdered and I knew where the murder weapon was hidden would not be a smart move. Of course, not reporting the murder wasn’t smart either. But everything had happened so fast and we’d panicked.

  “Come on, Beany,” he said, using his ridiculous nickname for me. “Is this about Josh? Is he still missing?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  He smiled mysteriously. “Mystic Manny sees and knows all.”

  “I see and know all about Manny being a big fake.”

  “There is a supreme talent to the art of faking, which I excel at,” he bragged. “My prediction column is hugely popular.”

  “Did you forget who supplies you with all the predictions?”

  “I can never forget you, Beany.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Are you stressing over Josh?” Manny patted my hand sympathetically. “Because he’s gone and no one knows where he is?”

  “I am worried,” I admitted, deciding it was safe to tell him about that problem. So I filled him in on the trip to Josh’s house: Horse not eating, the note Josh left behind, the weird vision I’d gotten by touching the wand, and Thorn’s vague Finding results for Josh.

  “Hmmm,” he said when I finished, stroking the faint dark stubble on his chin. “Well, my wise girl, you have come to the right place. I’m positive I can find Josh.”

  “How?”

  “Intensive analysis and research,” he said, gesturing toward a computer. “Focus on the facts. Josh was being secretive about his magician activities. He had recently broken up with his girlfriend—you.”

  My cheeks reddened. “Our breakup had nothing to do with his disappearance.”

  “I didn’t say it did; just compiling the facts. What was his reaction to your split?”

  “He avoided me and wouldn’t return my messages.”

  “A traumatic breakup can result in extreme behavior—like running away.”

  “He didn’t run away!” I snapped. “I’m afraid Grey did something to him. I told you about Grey—how he vandalized Trick and Treats but then conned Josh into thinking he was innocent.”

  “How do you know Josh is with Grey?”

  “His note said he left with Arturo, but a witness saw him get into a car with Grey.”