Wicked Wiccans (A Witchy Librarian Mystery Book 4)

by E. M. Moore

  “Why do I feel like that’s very much true, yet not as much as an accomplishment as you think it is?”

  My mouth dropped. “I challenge you to find a woman who can get ready quicker than me.”

  He stared at me in defiance.

  “I so mean it. I challenge you.”

  “You so mean it? Where did those librarian powers go again?”

  Insulted, even if teasingly so, I reached out and flicked him on the shoulder.

  He turned around. “Did you just flick me?”

  “I did.”

  He shook his head, then held the door open. “Do you have everything?”

  I was already halfway out the door, and I didn’t have anything. He’d completely gotten me off track. I strode right back into the apartment, grabbing my keys and wallet. I walked by him with my head held high though I was almost laughing at this point. “I’m ready.”

  Maxie whimpered behind me. I spun, smacking myself on the forehead. “Oh my God. You poor thing, come here!” I grabbed his leash off the closet door handle and hooked him up. Jackson was full on laughing now even though I didn’t know why. He was the one who was distracting me this morning. Poor Maxie’s bladder would’ve burst while we were gone if I hadn’t thought to take him out.

  We ran down the steps and I walked him alongside the back of the building. He did his business, then came back to me, his tail swooshing back and forth. Jackson bent down to pat his head. “I’ll come by soon and throw the frisbee for you. Wouldn’t that be fun, buddy?”

  Maxie licked his hand, and I gave him a small tug on his leash, so we could head back to the apartment. I ran Maxie back upstairs while Jackson held the door open and then went back down. “Sorry about that,” I said. Sometimes it felt as if I was going to lose my head with everything I had to do.

  “It’s okay.” He put a hand on the small of my back as I walked past him out the door. It didn’t stay there long, just long enough to send a flow of heat through me. Jackson hadn’t done that before. Or maybe he had. Was I just noticing him too much now?

  I shook the thought from my head and focused on the task ahead of us.

  When I got in the car, I stifled a yawn.

  Jackson looked over at me, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Late night?”

  I waved him away. “I was up talking with Mel all night.” My cheeks flamed, thinking about some of the discussions we’d had. Mainly the one dedicated to Jackson and how that one girl at the Wiccan meeting had said she’d heard he was handsome.

  I watched as he put the car in Drive and then pulled out onto the road. He was methodical, safe, but there was an edge to him too. One that let him never get that mad when his mother tried to look at crime scenes, or yell at me when I did something stupid like get myself involved in cases I had no business in. Well, maybe I did have business in them, but he just didn’t want to see me hurt. So, no, he wasn’t always procedure, procedure, procedure all the time. He had a gigantic heart, and he didn’t mind sharing it with others.

  “I’m glad you and Mel are getting along better now. I remember for a long time you guys didn’t speak very much.”

  “Yeah…” I said, letting the word trail off. It wasn’t really something I wanted to talk about. I pretty much pulled myself away from everyone after Derek passed. I didn’t want to deal with the real world, and that included anyone I was close to. “There was a lot to talk about after we got back from the Wiccan meeting last night.”

  He peeked at me. “Wiccan meeting?”

  Oh, crap. I’d forgotten to tell him Mel and I did that. A fierce blush rose up my cheeks.

  “Mads…” he said, noticing the look on my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I completely forgot to tell you. Mel and I went to the Wiccan circle Taylor used to go to with Reggie. We thought maybe we could find some things out.”

  He rubbed his jaw, the sinewy muscle in it ticking. “I wish you would’ve told me. I would’ve come with you to make sure it was safe.”

  I looked at him doubtfully. “We went in undercover. You cannot go undercover. You reek of authority.”

  “I reek of authority. And you don’t?”

  “They didn’t seem to think so. Mel and I fit in well with them. They didn’t even balk at our ages.” I smiled. “We told them we just transferred in.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Jackson said, matching the happiness in my voice, but managing to make it sound reckless and stupid.

  “Don’t worry,” I told him, turning toward him in the seat. “They have no clue what they were doing. If Taylor was involved in that group, she wouldn’t have gotten much accomplished. It may have just been a fascination with her unless she tried some things on her own. They had a decent grimoire too, but their hearts aren’t in it. It’s just playing for them.”

  “So, you don’t think Taylor’s death had anything to do with her being a practicing Wiccan?”

  “Not directly…not magically, anyway.” I stared out the windshield watching the city I’d known my entire life flit before my eyes. “I thought at first when I saw how they’d found her that maybe she’d gotten mixed up into something bad. Something like what Mel had almost gotten herself into, but I don’t see how. They’re just young kids trying on something new. But it’s just a game for them.”

  He nodded, taking in what I said. “That’s helpful. Thank you.”

  My eyes widened at that. “Thank you? Does that mean you’re not mad at me?”

  “I wasn’t mad,” he said, squirming in his seat. “I just wish you would’ve told me where you were going and what you were doing, so I could’ve been there if I needed to be.”

  I shrugged. “It was really no big deal, and not to sound like Mel, but it was kind of exciting to go undercover. They had no idea who I was. They’ve obviously never been in Salem Public before. That’s for sure.”

  Jackson didn’t immediately answer. I looked over to find him smirking, which in turn made me smile even wider. Looking out the front window again, I wondered what we’d find out at SSU. I’d always liked theater but was never very good at acting myself. Actually, I was terrible at it. Good thing I had a thing for organization, and a deep desire to help others. Oh, and books. Never forget books.

  Chapter Seven

  The theater area had a hint of BO underlying everything. I wasn’t sure if it was all the costumes coming on and off, or the fact they looked like true ancient garb. Who knew how many armpits these costumes had touched? I dribbled my fingertips over a black wool overcoat, wondering if this was what they’d found Taylor in. At least she’d been covered if they had.

  “No!” A male voice boomed. I stopped in my tracks, but Jackson kept going. Seeing Jackson, the guy who stood in the middle of the stage, stepped forward. “Take five minutes,” he told everyone else. He seemed like he was the person in charge because everyone else walked away without another word.

  I hurried up next to Jackson who flashed his badge. “Detective Jackson Ward with the Salem Police Department. I’m here to discuss Taylor Hawkins. I understand she was an actress in this performance.”

  The man looked grave. He nodded, his gaze sliding to the floor. “Yes, Taylor was our Abigail Williams.”

  I cringed. Obviously, I was familiar with the book and knew that Abigail Williams was the main character. “That’s a big spot to fill,” I said.

  He peeked up. “It is. Not only because she’s got the most lines and directions, but because Taylor was so very good at it.”

  “Are you the director?” I asked.

  “I run the Theater Department here at Salem State.” He held his hand out. “Edward Lyle.”

  I shook it. “Madison Styles. Nice to meet you.”

  “Are you a detective too?”

  “I—”

  “She’s my assistant on this case,” Jackson broke in. I supposed it wouldn’t have been a good idea to introduce myself as the librarian on the case. That wouldn’t have meant a whole heck of a lot. I nodded at Mr. Lyle to
tell him I agreed with what Jackson said. I was his assistant. Jackson made a show of looking around the area. “Might we have a minute or two of your time?”

  Mr. Lyle looked around. Everyone else had disappeared completely. His shoulders sagged a little. “You can have a few minutes. Apparently, no one else is willing to work as hard as I am to make sure this production goes off without a hitch.” He gestured to the side and then led us to an area in the back. He pulled together three chairs, and we all sat. “I’d take you to my office, but it’s in a whole other building. What can I do for you, detectives?”

  I smirked at that, and Jackson eyed me. I gave him a slight shrug, and he continued his assessment of Mr. Lyle. “What can you tell me about Taylor?”

  He blew out a breath. “She was a lovely girl. Talented, smart, a hard worker. She was a shoo-in for the part even though there were definitely some rankled feathers when she got it.”

  “Rankled feathers?” I asked. “Whom?”

  “Molly Lamb,” Mr. Lyle said. “Another perfectly wonderful college actress, but I just felt as if Taylor had the darkness that Abigail had. I thought she would sing in this part, and she did. I’m almost gutted knowing no one will have ever gotten to see her perform. It was almost as if the part was made for her. That’s how good she was in it.”

  “And this Molly,” Jackson said. “She thought she should’ve gotten the part?”

  “Don’t they all?” Mr. Lyle asked. “If Molly had gotten it, Taylor would’ve felt the same way, but there was a bit of difference,” he said, tapping his jaw. “Molly was so put off by it she almost quit the show all together. It was a sketchy few days there where I wasn’t sure if I was going to be down another actress. I’m glad she decided to stick around though. I told her she could be the understudy which seemed to placate her.”

  “So, now Molly is playing Abigail Williams now that Taylor isn’t?” I asked, making sure I got everything right. It seemed like a petty thing to kill someone over, but Jackson was always saying that people killed over the stupidest things. If Molly truly wanted to be the best actress, she might’ve killed Taylor for the part.

  Mr. Lyle nodded. “She’s doing a pretty good job.” He turned inside of himself, nodding at something we weren’t privy to. “I just wished I had more time with her. That’s all.”

  “When’s opening day?”

  “A week,” Mr. Lyle answered, rubbing his hands together. He looked longingly toward the front of the stage where students were starting to mill around again.

  Jackson wasn’t going to let him get off that easily though. “Anything else you can think of to tell us? Anyone you think would hurt Miss Hawkins?”

  “No,” Mr. Lyle said, shaking his head. He paled a little. “It’s just such a terrible thing.” His eyes rounded as he looked up at us. “You don’t think something theater related hurt her, do you?”

  He held a hand over his chest. Jackson was quick to quell anything there. “We’re not really sure, Mr. Lyle. We’re just trying to lay the groundwork for anyone who could’ve had a motive to hurt Taylor. That means we start with the people who spent the most time with her first, and judging that you’ve all been rehearsing to get ready for the big day, we wanted to stop in.”

  Mr. Lyle calmed a little. “Understood.”

  Jackson stood, and I scrambled up after him. “Can you point us in the direction of Molly?”

  “I don’t think she…”

  Jackson held his hand up. “Like I said, just discussing things.”

  A short, agitated groan came from just behind the curtains. “Mr. Lyle!”

  He turned, looping a hand around the back of the chair. “Yes…”

  Hands parted the purple velvet curtains and stepped through. The young woman started. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were still talking.”

  “It’s fine, Molly,” Mr. Lyle said, turning toward us as he did so. He’d just effectively answered our question. “What is it?”

  “I can’t find my costume.”

  Mr. Lyle sighed, checking his watch. “We’re due for a run through in ten.”

  “I know. I had it back here, but it’s gone. It just vanished.”

  I peeked at Jackson, and though he stood stoically, I was sure he had to have thought the same thing I had. Molly was missing her costume, and they’d found one on a very dead body.

  For whatever reason, he didn’t tell them he knew where it was. Instead, he turned to Mr. Lyle. “Thank you for your time. Now, if Miss Lamb wouldn’t mind sitting down with us.”

  Molly arched an eyebrow. “And you are?”

  Mr. Lyle stood. “These are detectives from Salem Police Department. They’re here to ask questions about what happened to Taylor. Do you mind talking to them?”

  “It won’t take but a minute,” Jackson said. He pulled out his notebook and started jotting things down. Everything he did, I felt as if he did it for a reason. He was straight faced even though I knew his mind must have been working double time as he tried to put all the puzzle pieces together. For this in particular, it seemed as if he meant to look away from Molly as she made this decision on her own. Did he feel as if he would be too intimidating staring at her until she gave us an answer? Did he just want to write something down before he forgot? This detective business was interesting.

  “Sure,” Molly said, sliding down into the chair Mr. Lyle had just vacated. She looked up at him over her shoulder as he disappeared. She placed trembling hands on her lap. “I don’t mind,” she said, and her voice shook too.

  My heart immediately went out to her. “You’re not in trouble,” I told her. “We just want to ask a few questions.”

  Jackson looked at me as if he would be the one talking, and I should be the one just observing, but then why did he bring me here then if not to help?

  “Molly, we understand there was some hard feelings between you and Taylor?”

  Molly’s mouth dropped. She snapped it shut right away, but then she just sat there staring at us.

  Jackson inched forward, a smile lighting his face. “Trust me, we’re aware that you could get into an argument with someone and not want to kill that person. I just want to know what it was about.”

  Molly’s face had lightened a few shades. “I was upset she got the part of Abigail Williams.”

  “Instead of you?” I asked.

  Molly nodded. “That’s all. We argued one day. I told her I thought I should’ve gotten it, and she clearly disagreed with me.” She peeked up. “Mr. Lyle didn’t tell you all this?”

  “He just said you were upset that she got the part, and you didn’t.”

  “He didn’t tell you why?”

  “Why you got upset?” Jackson asked. “We figured that much out on our own.”

  “No, why she got the part over me?”

  Jackson and I looked at one another, then turned back to her. “No, he didn’t tell us. Did he tell you?”

  Molly clamped her mouth shut. “No. I-I was just curious.” She forced a smile to her face. “I’m an insecure actress, that’s all. Truth is, Taylor was a very good Abigail, and I didn’t give her enough credit. I wish I had. We didn’t leave it on good terms, and now that she’s gone…” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I just can’t take that back, you know?”

  “We know.” Jackson nodded at Molly. “Thanks for your time.”

  As he asked her for her phone number in case he needed to get in touch with her again, I looked around. I did a double-take when I saw none other than Troy Levine talking with Mr. Lyle at the front of the stage. My stomach dropped. That was another thing my sister and I had discussed late into the night. Why did everyone want to exploit our ancestry in this way?

  Mr. Lyle took a step forward. “Are you done with Molly? I’d like to introduce her to Mr. Levine.” Molly stood and walked over to them. I heard Mr. Lyle call Molly his Abigail Williams, and then I turned away before I could hear any more of the exchange between them. I turned around and headed out the way we came.
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  “Hey,” Jackson said from behind me, but I kept going. “Hey…” he said finally, catching up with me. “What’s wrong?”

  I glared back at the entrance to the backstage. “Troy Levine.”

  Jackson gave me a puzzled look. “Levine? Why?”

  A shiver rolled through me. “He’s so…ugh…”

  Mirth danced in his eyes. “I’m going to need a better explanation than that.”

  “Haven’t you seen what he’s trying to do? He wants to hold a witch festival and then burn effigies at the stake like it’s any other day. I, for one, don’t think that’s very funny.”

  “Oh,” Jackson said, finally catching my drift.

  “Yeah. He’s so about making money that he doesn’t stop to think about what it means for other people in this town. It’s not right.”

  “He’s definitely a business person through and through.”

  “He wants a show, that’s for sure. He loves this stuff.” I thought back on all his television appearances discussing the effigy and now here we’d had our very own dead body on a pyre found. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d arranged Taylor to be killed just for a little media interest. What better way to entice more visitors than to pretend like the Witch Trials are still going on?”

  “Hey,” Jackson said. His arm slid around my shoulders and he pulled me to him awkwardly since my hands were crossed over my chest in defiance. I didn’t need him to console me or anything, I was a big girl.

  But, his embrace was warm and gentle. It immediately relaxed me. “Sorry,” I said, blowing out a breath. “I didn’t mean all that, I guess. It’s just he really upsets me, and I still don’t think that he has this town’s best interests at heart.”

  Jackson stepped away. “I’ll agree with you there.” He gave me a wary look but allowed me to turn and walk away. His arm fell off me, and I missed the warmth. It had been a long time since I let someone hug me.

  I turned around abruptly, chastising myself. “Sorry, again. Did you want to go back in there and ask anyone else questions?”