Killer Spring Fling

by Mollie Bryan

  “Yes,” Viv said. An unemployed one.

  “Good. Our victim was involved with an online game where we think she met someone who might know something relevant to our investigation, and we wondered if you could help us. I’ve been tracking her on the game, but it stops in a strange place,. I think I’m missing something because the text indicates there’s more to it.”

  “Interesting,” Viv said. She wasn’t sure she could help anybody with this, but she liked a good puzzle. “Can I see it?”

  . “Absolutely.” He reached in a bag and took out a laptop. Within minutes, they were set up in the kitchen, playing “Bella’s Victorian Grimoire.”

  Viv blinked. “A Victorian-themed game? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

  It was a basic game, with classic software. The object was to collect magical trinkets to hold a ritual with, and if the ritual was successful, the player would get access to the game’s grimoire, which was a book of spells and potions, from what Viv gathered. But when Viv zoomed to highest level in the game, she spotted the treasures—crystals, red fan, wooden box, and Victorian silver hand mirror called a scry, the very things Eliza had around her in the graveyard. Viv shivered. “This is creepy.”

  “I agree, but get the treasures.”

  Viv did so. Within minutes she’d reached the end of the game.

  “Well, you’re right, the end of the game here is strange. You can’t get to the supposed ritual.” Viv read the words over and over until she figured it out. And it wasn’t pleasant news.

  “The game continues on the dark web.”

  The officer stiffened.

  “Oooo. Dark Web. That sounds intriguing,” Aunt Libby said as she poured coffee.

  Viv and the officer exchanged looks. The dark web was a network of untraceable online activity and websites on the internet. “If I were you, I’d access it with another laptop. You don’t want to infect this one. Viruses are rampant on the dark web—and they are the kind you can’t easily get rid of.”

  “I’d suspected this, but I just wanted to get confirmation. Someone donated a computer to the office. We’ve been using it just for the dark web. I better get going. Can I call you if I have questions?”

  She nodded. Thoughts rippled to the surface of her brain. “How popular is this game?”

  The officer leveled at look at her while he slipped the laptop into the bag.

  “We can’t be certain, but we think it’s very popular with the local kids.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” A bunch of high schoolers messing around on the dark web? Not a good thing, at all.

  Chapter 7

  When Viv was in school, accessing the dark web was a rite of passage. But it was so 2014. Now, it was just a bunch of criminals masquerading as cool people. You could take part in any illegal activity you wanted—buying drugs, hiring a prostitute, and so on. Viv wasn’t interested in any of it, so it wasn’t worth the risk.

  But she had read about inexperienced people getting snared into buying and selling drugs. As she mulled over the game Eliza apparently had been playing, she thought it was interesting because of the Victorian theme. How popular was it in the rest of the country? People everywhere were into Victorian things, which is why the town had done so well. But a game? How much of a market would a Victorian computer game hold? Or was the game specifically designed for the kids in Victoria Town? A chilling thought.

  Eliza’s body was surrounded by Victorian-themed objects from the game. It’s as if she was playing the game in actual life. Viv had heard about that phenomenon, but she herself had never played. A bit too Dungeons and Dragons for her—or parasols and bustles?

  After Officer Jacobs left, Viv stood in the conservatory, which ran the length of the back of the house, wondering how many times she’d dusted and vacuumed to prepare for the Spring Fling tomorrow, but another round seemed to make her aunt more confident in having people come into her home. The conservatory was the only one in Victoria Town, and it was a perfect space for the Spring Fling reception as it faced the back yard and its spring flowers.

  She and her aunt had lined up several tables, where the finger food and baked goods would sit on silver trays, lined with paper lace doilies. Viv spread the crocheted lace tablecloths over the white linen. Very fancy. Not her thing—but she followed directions. Her aunt was the expert.

  Aunt Libby came bounding into the room with her arms full of utensils. “I think we can place the silverware and napkins today. Let’s get it done today so that tomorrow we just need to worry about the food.”

  “Sounds good,” Viv said.

  She placed a wooden box on the table. “Ms. Jenkins has asked for more towels. I’ll be right back.”

  “Didn’t she ask for extra towels yesterday?”

  Aunt Libby turned and nodded. “She loves fresh towels.”

  “Apparently.” Viv opened the box. The silver forks, spoons, and butter knives were lined up in their little slits, against the blue velvet. She held a spoon and examined the pattern, swirls, and flowers. Shiny.

  Images of the shiny crystals on the dewy graveyard grass played in her mind. She shuddered and wondered if the police had gotten any further along with their investigation. A part of her wanted to stop the Spring Fling. “What is wrong with you people? A young woman was murdered, and they left her body on the ground with objects around it. And you want to don your finery and continue to live as if it never happened?”

  The world continued to spin. There was no stopping Victoria Town from having one of its celebrations. Tourists traveled from across the country for it. It was the first boost in the tourist season after the long peaceful winter break—necessary after the super busy Christmas season. She was relieved to learn no song had been penned for the Spring Fling. If Viv had to hear “Have a Very Victorian Christmas” one more time, she might scream.

  But even Viv admitted the spirit of the town touched her from time to time. She loved the sense of community. You just didn’t have that everywhere. She hadn’t lived many places, but she’d lived in enough to know that the sense of community here was amazing. All focused on the love of Victoriana—and profiting from it.

  The doorbell interrupted her thoughts, and she went to the front door to answer. Officer Willoughby stood smiling at her.

  “Hi, Viv. I’ve got a sketch I want you to view.”

  “Sketch? Do you want to come in?”

  “No, that’s fine.” He pulled out a piece of paper with a sketch of a man on it. “Is this who you saw at the cemetery?”

  It confused Viv. “Do you mean the guy who helped me?”

  “Yes, we’ve been trying to reach him and the number is wrong.”

  Officer Willoughby held it up. “What do you think?”

  Just a quick glance and she saw that it was not him. “No.”

  His head tilted in interest. “Are you certain?”

  She looked at it again. “Yes, not him. Sorry.”

  “You’re not even on the fence...”

  “No, that’s not him.’’ What was going on here? Was he trying to influence her to say this was the guy in the cemetery with her?

  “What’s wrong with this?” He held it up.

  “It doesn’t resemble him at all.”

  “Do you mind coming to the station and working with the artist? “ He asked.

  “Not at all,” she replied.

  “I’ll be in touch. Back to the drawing board, so to speak. Thank you.” He slipped the paper back into his briefcase.

  “It’s strange that you lost track of him.”

  “Not if he doesn’t want finding.”

  Viv’s eyes met his. It was true. The guy was a suspect. She tried to remember anything off about him. But she’d just spotted a dead woman, and her mind had been reeling. She was lucky she remembered her own name.

  She closed her eyes, as if that would help her remember details. “As I’ve said before, he came up behind me. He seemed concerned about me.”
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  “You said all that before.”

  Viv looked at him square in the eye. “What is it exactly you want from me?”

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to cause you trouble. I just want you to remember anything that could help us find this guy.”

  “Do you think he killed Eliza?”

  He stiffened. “Let’s just say he’s a person of interest. It looks like he’d been there longer than what you thought.”

  “How do you know that?” They were still standing in the doorway.

  “Other people saw him earlier.”

  “Earlier? Earlier than 6:30 in the morning?”

  “Folks go to see the sunrise. Plus he had his dog with him. Maybe the dog wanted out earlier.”

  Viv crossed her arms. “Okay. I’ll try to remember something. If I do, I’ll call you.” He was annoying, like a mosquito buzzing around your head. She wished he’d leave.

  He nodded, as if he read her mind. “I better be going. Thank you for your time, Miss Barton.

  “Sure.” She watched him walk away.

  An odd sense washed over her. Fear? Confusion? His demeanor gave her pause. Thoughts rolled around in her mind: was she a suspect? Of course...sometimes the person who discovers a body is the first suspect. She shuddered. Well, they could dig all they wanted. Viv Barton was a lot of things, but she was no killer.

  Chapter 8

  Viv had never been suspected of murder before, though she’d had a couple of run-ins with the law.

  “Viv, are you finished in the conservatory?” Aunt Libby came up behind her.

  “Yes, I just answered the door. Willoughby. He wanted me to look at a sketch.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t recognize the guy,” she said.

  “That’s too bad, But, it’s good to know the police are taking this seriously. Did he ask you anything else?”

  “Nah. What else do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing until tomorrow morning.”

  Viv had an itch to get out of the house, so that was good news. “Okay, I’m going for a walk. See you soon.”

  “Careful out there,” Aunt Libby said as Viv was walking through the door. Viv turned and looked at her. “There’s a killer among us.”

  Viv shivered. She lifted her chin. “He’s probably long gone.” At least that’s what she’d tell herself.

  She walked along the flagstone sidewalk and opened the gate. The wind rustled branches holding the just-popped dogwood flowers. Golden Forsythia danced in the breeze.

  Viv walked along the cobblestone streets, thanking the universe that the streets had been closed off to traffic years ago to preserve them. She liked the feel of the cobblestones beneath her feet, as well as walking right down the middle of it, surveying Victoria Town, in all its glory.

  Viv strolled by Fans & Feathers, Sadie Hartwell’s establishment. It was dark. Viv wondered if they would open it for the Fling. She doubted it. Her stomach waved. Just what had Eliza been involved with? Poor girl. Viv stood and took in the shop, with its intricate pink, white, and lilac lacey fans in the window. They should have a black lace fan, Viv mused. She imagined it in her mind’s eye. A black lace fan. How perfect. Would they might have one inside? Viv kept moving. She made a mental note to check back with the shop when it reopened.

  She turned the corner and smashed into a woman, knocking her over. “Oh, I’m sorry,’’ Viv said, helping her to her feet.

  She stood, dusting herself. “Oh, never mind! I’m such a klutz!’’ She then examined Viv’s face. “I know you. Are you Viv Barton?”

  Viv’s heart skipped a beat. How did this stunning feline-like woman know her? She nodded.

  “I’m Irene, Stu’s wife.”

  Heat crept on Viv’s face. Was she blushing? She had worked for Stu for one day, but didn’t even know he was married. He’d never mentioned a wife.

  “I’m so sorry about Stu,” she said, even though Irene seemed to be well over his death. But looks could be deceiving.

  Irene leaned on one hip. “Oh well. I’m over it. The cheating bastard.”

  Viv’s ears pricked up like a cat or a dog. Exactly like that. This might be a woman worth befriending. What to say to someone whose husband was murdered by his girlfriend?

  “I’m glad I ran into you,” Irene said. “Though not so literally.”

  Viv laughed.

  “I’ll need help with the shop when it opens back up. I’m covered for the Fling, but I’ll need someone after. Are you interested?”

  Viv’s heart raced. She only worked one day. But Mourning Arts was her kind of place. And she could use the money. “Sure, but I only worked one day and was only in training.”

  Her chin lifted. “No problem. I’ll train you.”

  Viv took her in. Her hair was cut in a no-nonsense bob, Flaming red. Her heart-shaped face tilted as she looked at Viv. Her green eyes held a spark.

  Viv extended her hand. “It’s a deal.”

  They shook hands.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Irene said, as she continued walking in the opposite direction from Viv.

  Viv sauntered on, spirits lifted. She’d wondered about her old job. Viv loved Mourning Arts, with its Victorian mourning regalia—most especially the mourning jewelry. She wondered if Eliza’s family would observe the full Victorian mourning thing, as so many townspeople did.

  Southerners loved their funeral food and Victorians loved their mourning wear and in Victoria Town, the two of them came together in the most delightful, albeit macabre way. Viv loved it. The only “Victorian” thing she could get into.

  She turned the corner. A group of men and women were stringing lights across the narrow street. Another group was hanging a sign in front of Elizabeth’s Custom Corsets. “Buy one corset, get one for half price.” Hmmm. Viv loved a nice corset. A young blond woman skirted across her path, and for a moment she thought it was Eliza. How ridiculous. She didn’t even know Eliza. Her angelic face played in Viv’s mind. Would she ever be able to forget it? How did people moved forward from a loss like this?

  Weariness came over her. All she desired was home and a nap. That was all.

  She turned and headed for the B & B, spotting its spires from where she was. It was a large pink gingerbread house, looking as if it was straight out of a Victorian magazine. And it was visible from most places in town, albeit a tiny town.

  She headed toward home, willing herself to focus on the delightful news of her job offer, and not the angelic face of Eliza Hartwell.

  Chapter 9

  Up ahead, Viv noticed two teenagers who appeared to be searching for something.

  “Can I help? What are you looking for?” Viv said as she came closer.

  They looked up at her, startled. “Oh,” said the lanky girl. “We’re just playing a game.”

  Viv’s pulse throbbed in her neck. “Game?”

  “Yeah, it’s like a treasure hunt.”

  “Oh, so it’s not a computer game?” Viv asked, trying to be nonchalant.

  The girls both stopped moving and took her in. But didn’t answer her.

  “Does it look like a computer game?” Lanky girl said and laughed. “Come on, let’s go,” she told her short friend. “We’ll do this later.”

  The friend frowned and glanced at Viv. “It was nice of you to offer to help.”

  “Sure thing,” she said. As they walked away, dread came over Viv and a prickling sensation ran up her spine. Was the hair on her neck standing at attention? “Wait!”

  The girls turned and looked at her.

  “I need to tell you something. To warn you.” If these girls were playing the same game as Eliza, they could be heading for trouble. Viv needed to stop them. “Are you playing Bella’s Victorian Grimoire game?”

  The girls side-eyed one another. “The what?” one said. “Never heard of it.”

  Of course, that’s what Viv herself would say, too, if she met a strange lady in the street asking odd questions.

  “Okay, good
,” Viv said. “Because you know that young woman, Eliza, who was found murdered a couple of days ago? She was playing the game. And when they found her...she had several objects from the game with her.”

  The lanky girl grimaced. The shorter one folded her arms across her body in a protective gesture.

  “But if you’re not playing it, no worries.” Viv turned to leave, playing it cool so as not to freak out the girls.

  “Wait!” the short girl said. Viv stopped and turned.

  “We were playing the game.”

  “It’s none of your business what we’re doing,” the lanky girl said. “Come on.” She tugged at her friend. “This lady is creeping me out.”

  Viv tried not to smile, hearing herself described as a lady. But the creepy part? That was so not true.

  “I’m sorry,” Viv said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that Eliza has been on my mind. She was murdered, and I don’t want to see that happen to anybody else.”

  “Nobody does,” the tall one said. “But we’re just playing a game. Believe me, her murder has nothing to do with the grimoire. That’s stupid.”

  They were still standing on the sidewalk, and passersby glimpsed at them.

  Viv shrugged. “Maybe, but don’t you think it’s odd that she had objects from the game with her when they found her?”

  No reaction.

  “I don’t mean to scare you, but please be careful. It’s good that you’re doing the game together. There’s safety in numbers. I live at the B & B. My name is Viv. If you ever want to talk, stop by.” She tried to smile. But it wasn’t in her. Not now.

  “Okay,” said the shorter girl. “Thanks, Viv.”

  As she walked away, she felt better, having warned them, but she also felt silly. Was she making too much of a game?

  No. Her gut told her she wasn’t. The cops had brought it to her attention. They must strongly suspect the game had a part in Eliza’s death. She didn’t care how cool or creepy she appeared to the girls. She’d never be able to live with herself if she hadn’t warned them and then something awful happened to them.

  No. She wasn’t caring what two teenagers thought of her. Those days were gone.