Spirits in the Material World

by Lisa Shea

  Her fingers tapped. “We’ve already established where you were on the night in question, Marc. You were engaged in that rescue operation out in the woods. Four lost teens. You’d just located them, after five days of searching, and were starting the long trek of bringing them home again.”

  I looked at Mark in surprise. There was so much I didn’t know about him. Somehow he’d failed to mention this event even though it’d only been a few weeks ago.

  Moynahan rounded on me. “So that means I need an alibi from you for the date.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Now I’m a suspect?”

  “We start all over again,” Moynahan said evenly. “You’ve become involved in all of this, somehow, which means you get treated the same as the rest. So? Monday, April First?”

  I blushed. It didn’t really matter what day of the week Moynahan could have chosen. I did the same thing every day, every night.

  “I was at the bookstore until closing hours, and then I spend a half hour tallying the registers and catching up on email. Then I head up to my apartment.”

  “You didn’t go out and see anyone? Or have someone come up?”

  My cheeks flamed bright red. “No. Nothing like that.”

  She nodded. “So nobody to vouch for you? Except Felix, I suppose.”

  I chuckled at that. “Well, if Felix could talk, he’d have some choice words about how infrequently he is given treats and catnip. But other than that, no, I don’t ever have people up to the apartment.”

  Marc shifted in his seat.

  Now my cheeks grew even brighter. Not only had I had Marc visit my apartment – twice – but he’d even stayed over last night. I’d never had a man up there at all, never mind one who was still there in the morning.

  I was sure my cheeks were fully aflame now.

  Moynahan didn’t say a word, but her eyes were twinkling. I wondered if she had some sense of my inner torment. She drew the folder back toward herself. “I would like to caution you both that now that this is a murder investigation. We’d like you to stay in town for the duration.”

  For some crazy reason, my heart lifted. This was an excuse to keep Marc here for just a little while longer.

  Her gaze grew more serious. “On a more personal note, you two need to be alert. It now seems we have a killer involved in this situation, and I’d like to think it’s neither of you. That means it’s likely someone else in your mother’s circle. And, depending on who they are and why they did it, they might not be adverse to taking action against someone else who gets in their way.”

  Her eyes went to Marc. “I know you’re a cop, but you’re too close to this. Leave this to us. We know the town. We know the players. We’ll re-interview everyone and create fresh timelines. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  I could see that Marc meant it. He trusted in the police team.

  But I also could see that he wouldn’t back off. He would continue to do everything he could to determine the truth.

  I had a feeling that Moynahan saw it as well, but she didn’t warn him further. She simply asked, “Was there anything else you’d like to share with me?”

  Marc held her gaze and shook his head. “Thank you for discussing the results of the test with us. If we can help in any way with your investigation, please just let us know.”

  “I am sure we will,” agreed Moynahan.

  We headed out of her office, and in another moment we were standing on the front steps of the station.

  Sarah looked up to us. “So what’s next?”

  Marc looked off into the distance. “I think we should get home. Talk to Alex and Roger. Right now they don’t know what’s coming. The sooner we get to them, and ask them any questions we think of, the more time we’ll have before the police show up and reveal just what is now at stake. It’s our last chance to get them unawares.”

  His gaze grew serious. “Either one of them could be the killer. Also, either one of them could have caused harm to Anna. I’d like to ask both of you to wait in Amber’s apartment while I question them.”

  In unison, Sarah and I both crossed our arms before our chests.

  Mark sighed, shaking his head, but I could see the twinkle in his gaze. “All right, then. But stay by me. Agreed?”

  I nodded my head, lightness filling me. Sarah grinned. “Let’s get a move on, time’s a wasting!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marc’s home glowed with serenity in the warm afternoon sun. The lawn was neatly mowed. The front door held its Bryane-special Samantha silver door knocker, only $49.99. If I had walked past this house I would have assumed it was a quiet place of smiles and relaxation.

  I never would have guessed that a middle-aged woman would be cruelly injected with poison to launch a fatal heart attack. That another spirit would have been assaulted and perhaps driven away.

  I glanced down at Sarah. “You stay close to us. No arguments.”

  She didn’t seem to be in the mood to counter us. She huddled closer to Marc, practically on his heels. Her eyes seemed to be looking nervously in all directions at once.

  We went up the front porch stairs. Marc gave it a quick knock before pushing it open.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this was not it.

  We had spent the past twenty-four hours immersed in reading about caustic poisons and deadly reactions. We’d pored through photos and autopsy reports describing Marc’s mother’s death. We’d had a grim discussion about exactly how the murder was done to avoid detection.

  And it seemed as if Alex was planning for a party.

  The wireless speakers scattered throughout the house were dancing along with some sort of a rockabilly version of a traditional English tune. I recognized it as Volume 4 in the Bryane Browninge ‘Reimaginings of Wiccan classics’ album set. Only $99.99 complete.

  Every surface sparkled. A bottle of Champagne was resting in Bryane silver ice bucket on the middle of the coffee table. The ice bucket was engraved with Celtic knots in the shapes of ravens and horses. That was a rare one – it’d gone out of stock a few years ago. I wondered if Alex had scored it on eBay. The price could have been astronomical.

  Alex waltzed in, a bowl of grapes in her hand. She was wearing one of the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen. It was midnight blue, full length to the floor, and delicately embroidered with silver Celtic moons throughout its fabric. The neckline was a sparkling array of stars. Her silver necklace and earrings must have cost five hundred dollars each.

  Her smile was full force. “Oh, there you are! Marc said you two wanted to talk for a minute. I could spare maybe …” She glanced at the Sabrina clock on the wall. “Ten. Ten minutes. Then I’ll have to ask you to leave. Special guest coming. Private guest.”

  Marc nodded. “Ten minutes is fine. Let’s sit down.”

  We went to the sofa and sat side by side. Alex gave the neck of the Champagne bottle a quick twist to help it settle into its ice bath more fully, then sat on the chair kitty-corner to us. She perched on its edge, as if ready at any moment to leap up and show us out again.

  Sarah sat on the edge of the sofa immediately next to me. Her fingers rested on top of mine, and I felt the slightest sense of pressure there.

  Marc said, “I imagine you heard about the exhumation of our Mother.”

  Alex fluttered a hand. “The police called me this morning. Something about equipment or something. They were all worried I’d make a fuss. But, you know, people make mistakes! It’s not like they killed her or anything.”

  She snorted. “Mom would have made a huge fuss. She always wanted everything just right. Always wanted me to be perfect. So, you know, it serves her right. It’s like the final last laugh. Makes me happy, in a way. They’re probably putting her back in the ground right now. And that’s that.”

  She had barely taken a breath during the entire speech, and her gaze flickered to the door. Clearly whoever her special guest was was far more importan
t than temporary removals and returns of her mother to the Earth To Which She Was Consigned.

  Marc pressed forward. “And about Mom’s things in her study –”

  Alex barked a laugh. “That junk? Did you see those books? They stink of … I don’t know, whatever that smell is that old books have. I have all my books on my phone. In the cloud, or wherever they are. I can read them at any time! No smell! And those herbs? Who knows how old they are. Filled with dust, I bet.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Are you saying you actually want any of that junk? I was gonna toss it all into boxes and put it out on the street. I’d held that room off for last because it was the worst of the worst in here. It took me long enough to get these other rooms cleared out and fixed up proper. And then, when the study got locked, I figured I’d deal with it after you left. But if you actually want any of that garbage –”

  She laughed. “Have at it. Fill a whole U-Haul and take it home with you to Wyoming. Set up an entire shrine to her.” Her laugh grew. “I can just imagine what those cowboys and farmers would think of that.”

  There were steps on the front door, and she looked up in nervous panic. “No, he’s early, he shouldn’t –”

  The door pressed open, and Roger strode in. He was also dressed to impress. His white lace shirt had long, flowery sleeves and was open to mid-chest. It was neatly pressed. The pants were black and impeccably tailored. His leather boots shone.

  He glanced at Marc and me in surprise. He said to Alex, “I thought –”

  “They’re leaving,” she insisted. “Soon. Marc just had to talk with me about something about Mom. You know, that stupid situation with the cops –”

  He waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah.” He hefted a plastic bag which he carried in one hand. “I’ll put the stuff in the fridge.”

  He walked past us into the kitchen.

  Marc said, “I was sort of hoping we could go into the kitchen again. You say there’s been no sign of Anna? No sounds? No nothing?”

  She shook her head and bounded to her feet. “Sure. Come take a look for yourself. But then you really need to go. I’ll text you when it’s all right to come back. I’m guessing around seven.” Her eyes sparkled. “But he might stay later, if we’re really lucky.”

  We all stood and headed toward the kitchen.

  Roger was busy arranging items in the fridge. He’d gotten an assortment of high-end cheese, some pre-made pastry puff hors d’oeuvres, and a selection of other items.

  Sarah hung back, and I slowed to stay with her. I murmured, “I’m right here.”

  Marc spread his arms wide, drawing the attention of Alex and Roger to him. “Anna? Anna, are you here? Anna, if you’re here, please come out. I need to talk with you.”

  Sarah’s thin fingers laced into mine, and her eyes were wide. She took small, careful steps alongside me, her gaze going to the space before the fridge. The space Anna had stood.

  She whispered, “Anna was here. I can feel it. It’s that sense of her. The wonderful, beautiful sensation I would get when I held her. When I walked her around our gardens to show her the roses and butterflies and daisies.”

  Her eyes teared. “But something’s happened to her, Amber. I don’t know what, but she fought it. It’s not like she just calmly decided to go somewhere on a walk. Something bad happened.”

  I murmured, “Is she here? Somewhere in the house?”

  She closed her eyes.

  It was as if I could feel her essence expanding, spreading, exploring. Tasting and testing. Seeking out any tendril, any hint of her sister.

  At last she shook her head. “No. She’s not here. I don’t know where she is.”

  “That’s all right. We’ll figure it out.”

  I nodded to Marc.

  He brought down his arms and shook his head. “It seems that you’re right. Anna is no longer here.”

  Roger shrugged. “Maybe she’s like her sister. Decided to go out for a walk and explore Salem. We could put out flyers for her, like we did with Sarah. Figure out where she went.”

  Marc’s eyes remained calm. “An interesting idea.”

  Alex bustled over. “If that’s everything, I really am quite busy. It was great to see you both. Come, let me help you on your way. I’m sure you’ve got lots of things to do. Go to wherever you have Sarah stashed and let her know her sister’s probably quite fine. They call them wandering spirits for a reason, you know.” She gave a burst of laughter. “That’s one of Bryane’s songs. Third CD. I should lend it to you. But not today, of course.”

  We were at the door and she gave us her fullest smile. “We’ll talk soon, I’m sure. Enjoy your afternoon.”

  She pulled it open.

  Bryane Browninge was standing there, decked out in a midnight-black silk shirt with exquisite black embroidery of Celtic vines. His pants were matching black. His white gold jewelry featured obsidian ovals twined with diamonds.

  Behind him stood Wilma, his oval-faced blonde assistant. She was wearing a Samantha-style rose knee-length dress. Her hair neatly curled at her shoulders.

  She was carrying a shoebox-sized inlaid wooden box.

  Alex’s mouth fell open in star-struck awe.

  Bryane walked past her and drew me into his arms, pulling me close against his musk-and-pine-scented chest. He murmured, his voice hoarse, “It’s all right, Amber. Everything’s all right now. I’m here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I was in shock.

  This was the sort of thing that happened in strange dreams. Not in an actual reality where every person in the room was staring at me. At us.

  I carefully extricated myself from Bryane’s embrace and stepped back. “Bryane, I didn’t expect to see you here?”

  Bryane glanced in confusion to Alex. “I thought you’d said –”

  She bubbled into life. “Oh, yes, sorry, it’s all been a bit of confusion. You see, I’d assumed before that she might be around, with how she’d been spending all this time with Marc. They’re practically a couple, now, you know, and I thought, well, but then, something happened with Sarah, and they were out and busy, so then I thought, well, it could be you and me, and Roger, of course, since he wanted to meet you too, well, I mean, who wouldn’t want to meet you, or had you two met? I think he’d mentioned, but it could be –”

  Marc stepped forward with a hand out. “Bryane, it’s good to see you again.”

  Alex’s eyes popped wide. “Wait, you’ve met Bryane? In person?”

  Bryane took Marc’s hand, and I swear, it was like some sort of a mysterious arm-wrestling match taking place between the two men, seeing whose grip could be stronger.

  Alex bubbled back into life, having gotten another gulp of air into her lungs. “But I think Amber and Marc were just leaving, after all, poor Sarah is out there all alone, and they have to keep an eye out for her, right? She’s just a little girl, and you can hardly leave a little girl spirit on her own, who knows what might happen.”

  Bryane’s gaze went down to Sarah.

  I took a step to the side, blocking Sarah with my body. My eyes went to hold Bryane’s. “Sarah will be fine. I’m sure we could stay for a few minutes.”

  Bryane held my eyes for a long minute, and I could see the wheels turning. He had always been a person of layers upon layers, even when we were young. He had an innate skill of untangling motivations and understanding the underlying truth.

  At last he nodded, a light smile coming to his lips. “Sarah will be quite safe, wherever she is. I have a sense about these things. Come, Amber, let us all sit down and relax for a while.”

  He put his hand out to me.

  The eyes of the group were like a tangible weight on me now, but I shouldered that burden. I put my hand into his, allowing him to lead me into the living room. Alex shut the front door a bit more sharply than necessary, but in short order we were all situated around the living room again. I was at the center of the couch, with Bryane on one side and Marc on the other. Alex was on the c
hair closest to Bryane, leaning toward him. Roger was alongside her in his own chair, and Wilma had the remaining chair. Sarah was on the sofa’s arm by Marc, her thin body practically pressed into his, her eyes darting nervously between the strangers.

  Roger looked down at the Champagne. “I guess we’ll need a few more flute glasses.”

  Alex fluttered her fingers in his direction, her gaze not leaving Bryane. “Please fetch those. I need to keep our guest entertained.”

  Roger held his smile as he stood and went over to the cabinet. In short order there were six flute glasses arranged in a neat circle around the silver ice bucket. Roger popped off the cork and then poured out the bubbly.

  Bryane took his up and held it up to me. “To rekindling relationships.”

  Alex piped up, “And forming new ones!”

  Bryane chuckled. His gaze was on me. “And forming new ones, of course.” His eyes flickered to Sarah, who was cowering behind Marc.

  Bryane touched his glass to mine. Then he moved to clink his against Marc’s. Bryane’s gaze shifted to hold a challenge in them. Marc’s eyes seemed to match tone for tone. Then the room eased into a medley of clinks as the various other combinations of glass touched to send chimes into the air.

  We drank.

  Alex might be many things, but she did not skimp on a special event. The Champagne was delicious.

  Alex put her glass down and glanced at Roger. “Roger. The hors d’oeuvres.”

  A small sigh escaped from his lips, but he stood and headed into the kitchen.

  Wilma shot Alex a look of rich disapproval. She stood. “I’ll go lend Roger some help. I imagine it’s a task that takes two pairs of hands.”

  Alex clearly couldn’t care less how many hands it took, as long as they weren’t hers or Bryane’s. She didn’t even look around as Wilma went to assist. Her eyes were large and luminous. “So, Bryane, it’s so wonderful to at last have you in my humble home. I hope it meets with your approval.”

  The corners of his lips turned up, and I could see the flash of mirth in his eyes. But his voice was serious as he spoke to Alex. “Oh, yes, yes. I can see that you have great taste and discernment.” He held up his flute. It was one of his Engraved Symbols of Witchcraft series, each showing a different symbol. His was the upward-pointing triangle, the symbol for fire.