Anna Denning Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1–3

by Karin Kaufman

  The smile returned to Darlene’s face, and it grew into an expression of private joy as she held the mirror and slowly extended her hands toward Anna, wordlessly pleading with her to look into the mirror.

  Anna felt a revulsion, a pitching in her stomach. The smell of incense, dusty and sweet, was strong in the office, and it joined with the patchouli oil Darlene was wearing to form a foul, miserable perfume. It was the odor of decay, of a bedroom with lace curtains where someone lay dying.

  She forced herself to stand in place. If she could make it through the next few minutes she could dash across the street to the Buffalo and eat something to ease the sourness in her stomach. If she left now, Darlene would never back down. She’d destroy Anna’s business simply because she knew she could.

  Anna jammed her hands into her jacket pockets and spread her feet slightly to keep her balance. She wished she’d taken that chair. Or had the nerve to push open the small office window near the back door and let in the fresh air. “I did a little reading on those mirrors. You use them in a darkened room, with only a candle for light. You gaze into them until you think you see something.”

  “Yes.” Darlene still held the mirror outward, inviting Anna to take it in her hands.

  “You stare at anything long enough and you’ll see something.”

  “Is that so? Why won’t you take this?”

  Anna watched Darlene’s face, wondering why she was so eager to have her take the mirror. Was she hoping that Anna would be afraid of it? Was that the reason for the strange expression on her face?

  “Fine.” Anna took the mirror in her hands. Unless Darlene had coated it with some drug that could be absorbed through the skin, which wasn’t beyond question given the look on the woman’s face, she’d be fine. It wasn’t the object that was the danger—not for a Christian—it was what the object was used for, and how it lead the user away from Christ.

  The frame was pretty, possibly sterling silver, but it was the engraved symbols that caught Anna’s eye. It was the Theban alphabet she’d seen while looking up magical alphabets last night. She wouldn’t let Darlene know she recognized it. If Darlene thought her a fool, she’d play the fool. “What’s this?” she said, pointing at the lettering.

  “An ancient alphabet of the craft.”

  Anna suppressed a laugh. There was that word again. Ancient. She turned the mirror and examined the back. According to the price tag the small mirror cost a hundred dollars. The ancient art of the scam. “So you just take some black paint and coat the back of a regular mirror?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “It had better be with a price tag like that.” Anna knew it was an insult. She kept her eyes on the mirror, wondering where Darlene’s tipping point was. Darlene didn’t have much of a sense of humor, especially about her store and her so-called craft, and she liked to play power games. People like that weren’t good at being on the receiving end.

  “Every mirror sold here is crafted by Colorado artisans I’ve hand-picked, and out of specific materials,” Darlene said. She sounded pleased with herself. “That’s real silver.”

  “Why use silver?”

  “Silver is the color of the moon. Each of our mirrors is purified with oil and consecrated under a full moon before we sell it.”

  “That must slow production.”

  “They’re well worth the time.”

  Anna turned the mirror again and looked into the black surface. “When you were a kid did you ever stare at yourself in a mirror and watch your face change?”

  “Never.”

  Anna looked up. Darlene’s smile was gone. “So if you have ten mirrors ready to sell on, say, the first of the month, and the full moon isn’t until the twentieth, do you just wait? And do you have to consecrate them outside? What if it’s cloudy or it rains?”

  “Instead of mocking what you don’t understand, why don’t you take it home and try it?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You’re not interested in a new experience, a portal to another place?”

  “No, I’ve got a car.”

  Darlene stiffened. She took the mirror from Anna and put it back in the cabinet. “Typical. I’d hoped for something different, but I shouldn’t have. Narrow dogmatism and true spirituality can never reconcile.”

  “Spirituality? You’re so spiritual you’d lie about me stealing something from your store. For all I know you wanted my fingerprints on that mirror so you could say I took that too. Like you did with the athame. What you didn’t count on is me taking the athame to the police before I was even aware you’d filed a report. Detective Schaeffer knew I was telling the truth.”

  Anna pushed her hands into her pockets again. Her nerves, and coffee on a one-egg stomach, were beginning to make her hands tremble, and she couldn’t let Darlene see that. “I’ll be sure to talk to Schaeffer about the mirror I just touched. It’ll save him trouble if you decide to report it stolen.”

  Darlene was silent, mulling over her next move. She was always searching for a strategy, a way to deal with someone and come out on top, Anna thought. Maybe that’s what happened when you were disowned by your parents at sixteen and divorced at twenty-two. Everything became self-preservation and your heart turned to iron. Maybe Darlene felt she had no choice.

  “All I wanted to do was show you the mirror,” Darlene said as she returned to her seat behind the desk. “Nothing more. As for the athame, I do what I need to.”

  “You needed to lie about me? How do you figure?”

  Someone rapped at the back door and Anna turned to peer out the window. It was Jason and Monica Fisk carrying cardboard boxes. Darlene rose and opened the door. Jason and Monica hesitated just inside the door, looking at Anna then back to Darlene.

  “Jason has herbal wreaths and I’ve got the smudge sticks you wanted,” Monica said, raising her box in her hands. She took one step forward into the office.

  “Good. Take those out front,” Darlene said. “Rowan will know where they go. Jazmin, too. She’s finally decided to get her skinny ass in here and work after the world’s longest coffee break.”

  Monica started for the store then made a half-turn in Darlene’s direction. “I saw her at the Buffalo Café. She said she was getting coffee for everyone. There was a big crowd in there, so she probably had to wait a long time.”

  Anna knew there was never a big crowd in the Buffalo this time of year. Monica was covering for Jazmin, keeping her from Darlene’s wrath. Anna had never heard Darlene talk about Jazmin in such an unkind way. This was the same woman who had been so grotesquely protective of the girl in the hall outside the town council room, sheltering her from the horror of Anna’s simple questions.

  Did Darlene have spies on Summit who had seen Jazmin get into the Jimmy? What about the woman in the church parking lot? Why had she been so intent on looking through the windshield? Get hold of yourself, Anna thought. It was nonsense to think like this.

  Monica looked in Anna’s direction, a slight twitch tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I saw you at the council meeting, didn’t I? I’m Monica Fisk.”

  “Yes, I remember. Nice to meet you.” Anna understood. It was best for Monica to pretend she didn’t know Anna’s name and was struggling to recall her face. Monica was so uneasy around Darlene that the office bristled with tension.

  Jason gave a quick nod to Anna as he and Monica headed into the store. Anna wished she could prop the door open with the cinder block she’d seen Darlene use. The air from the store reeked of incense and oils, but it was less polluted than the leaden air in the office.

  Darlene sat down and grabbed her mug again, this time examining the contents before she took a gulp. “As I was saying, Anna, I do what I need to do, and I’ll continue to do so. You should keep that in mind. And you should probably pass that along to your friend Liz, in case she wants to ask about me at the town office again.”

  Anna fought to keep her expression blank, to hide her surprise. How di
d Darlene know about that? Did the woman have eyes and ears all over town?

  “I’m a survivor, Anna,” Darlene continued.

  “That’s very noble.”

  Darlene leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, chin in the air. “You don’t think survival is noble?”

  Anna shrugged. “It depends on what you survive and how you do it.”

  Darlene leaned back in her chair and laboriously crossed her long legs, pushing the chair back to make room between her and the desk. “You know a little about survival, I think, being single the past two years, running your own small business, barely able to pay the bills, living alone, no children. You of all people should be able to see the position I’m in.”

  Anna laughed. “Nicely played. Though you forgot to add that both my parents are dead, my sister lives in Wyoming, my car’s on its last legs, and this crazy woman is going around town telling the police I’ve stolen things I wouldn’t go out of my way to spit on.”

  Darlene’s nostrils flared and her hand tightened on her mug’s handle. “When I first met you I felt a kinship with you. That was foolish of me.”

  “Come off it, Darlene. You decided to use me before you ever met me, and the day you met me all you wanted to do was show me what an important woman you are.”

  Darlene pushed her chair back another few inches and rose. The woman knew how to use her height to her advantage.

  “Listen, Denning. I know things you can’t conceive of. We all do here. And we know what your end will be if you don’t back off.” She filled the last two words with as much venom as possible.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Stay away from my employees, keep your website friend out of my life, and drop the genealogy. It’s paid for and it’s over.”

  Anna stood straight as an iron rod and met Darlene’s eyes. “You are out of your mind. You’re telling me to back off? You sucked me into this. You slandered me and sent your flying monkeys to my house. You want me to back off?”

  “It’s your choice.” On saying those words Darlene’s face relaxed. Her lips became unpinched, her eyebrows lost their wrinkles, and a barely perceptible smile formed on her lips. She didn’t seem to be calming down so much as taking a new tack. And she was enjoying this. Anna could tell. Darlene loved the sparring, the ongoing battle between them, and she had no intention of ending it. She was a witch and a survivor, after all. How could she lose? “May I show you one more thing?” she asked Anna.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you afraid? Your whole race is so afraid.”

  “My race?”

  “Christians. Everything scares you.”

  “You’re confusing revulsion with fear.”

  Darlene grunted. “Then stay. Let me show you something.” She moved toward the cabinet. “Have you ever heard of Julian Brandon?”

  “The occultist head case, yes.”

  Darlene looked back at Anna, a look of almost pleasant astonishment on her face. “You’ve heard of him?” She took a key from her pants pocket, turned it in the lock, and opened the cabinet. “But head case? That’s very judgmental of you.”

  “Yes, it is,” Anna said evenly.

  Darlene removed a box from the cabinet’s top shelf. “Brandon was all about the soul’s own true will.” She turned toward Anna, cradling the box in her hands.

  “Dabbling in the occult, Darlene?”

  Darlene propped a tranquil expression on her face, trying to appear not only calm but wise, unruffled by the foolish world around her. “I never dabble, I dive. I immerse myself. I live the craft in all its permutations. I do what I will, and I cause change in conformity with my will.”

  “You’re quite the busy woman.” What bunk, Anna thought. Was this the sort of baloney she preached to Jazmin and Rowan? Did they believe her merely because of the words she used? This woman was lost and she was dragging the young and gullible down with her.

  Darlene opened the box and removed a thin hardcover book. She gently placed it on her desk and motioned for Anna to come closer. “It’s the Book of Strategies, 1951, first printing.” She opened the book and pointed at a signature, running a reverent finger over the page. “Brandon signed it. He almost never signed copies, but he did for my grandmother.”

  A purple ribbon, one end notched in an inverted V, the tongue of a snake, lay across the open page. Darlene moved it to the side, treating it with the gentleness due a brittle artifact. “Look,” she said.

  The B in Brandon had a long backward tail, and above his name Brandon had written “For my angel, my Hathor.”

  “Hathor?” Anna said. “An Egyptian goddess, if I remember right.”

  “Very good. My grandmother was in England at the time, during the holy season surrounding the spring equinox.”

  “Spring equinox? You mean Easter, the Resurrection? Sounds like Brandon stole a page from Christianity.”

  “He never stole. He created and transcribed.” Darlene flipped gently through the pages until she came to a notation in black ink. “These are his personal notes, meant just for my grandmother. She was revered in the craft.”

  “That’s quite a keepsake. Though I’m not sure I’d store it next to the family Bible.” It was time to let loose, to throw Darlene off her guard. “So are you a witch or are you into the occult? Because the two philosophies are at odds on a few points.”

  “I’m a witch and I do what I will.”

  “What ye will?”

  “The Book of Strategies says, ‘Do what thou will.’” Darlene produced a sickly grin. “It’s often mistaken for the wiccan rede.”

  The door to the office opened and Monica entered carrying two empty cardboard boxes, one in each hand. Anna saw her chance. “Darlene, did you kill a bird, nail it to a tree branch, and leave it on my doorstep last night?” she asked.

  Monica stopped moving, her eyes shifting from Anna to Darlene.

  Darlene touched a hand to her waist and took a deep breath, gathering her composure. “I would never harm a bird,” she said. “If you knew anything about the craft, you’d know that.”

  “The craft handed down to you by your grandmother?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What about your mother? Was she a witch?”

  At the mention of her mother, Darlene stiffened. “Sometimes one’s family is as narrow-minded as the world outside. Ask Rowan and Jazmin. We’ve all experienced it. Which is why we’re family here.”

  There it was again. Don’t mess with my family.

  “Would you tell Jason I’m waiting in the car?” Monica said to Darlene. She exited quickly, without so much as looking in Anna’s direction. Anna couldn’t believe that Monica, this kind, intelligent woman, had allowed herself to be trapped under Darlene’s heel. Jason’s financial ambitions aside, why didn’t Monica stand up to Darlene?

  Monica’s exit was Anna’s cue to leave. She’d said what she’d come to say. As Darlene watched Monica leave through the back door, Anna headed into the store and made her way to the front door. Jazmin kept her head down, busying herself with arranging smudge sticks under the glass counters, and Rowan scowled again, his eyes dogging Anna’s every step.

  On the sidewalk outside the store, Anna looked across Summit Avenue to Buckhorn’s Trading Post, searching the shop’s windows for signs of her poster. There was nothing but a few small flyers, the usual credit card stickers, and a “Closed” sign hanging inside the door.

  It was too soon. Why was she so impatient? Gene had enough on his plate just dealing with his father’s heart attack. The last thing on his mind was her poster. He had probably closed the store early so he could spend the day at the hospital. Walking to the parking lot at the back of the store, Anna made a mental note to ask her pastor to pray for Roger Westfall during Christmas Eve services.

  She had just shut the door to her Jimmy when her cell phone rang. Tom Muncy was at the Bear Paw. Could she meet him there in fifteen minutes? When Anna asked him how he knew her cell numbe
r, he mumbled something about town records and said, “I need to see you. I’ll explain.”

  The restaurant was as good a place as any to confront Tom again about his lies, Anna thought. She wasn’t convinced he intended to leave her and her business alone, and she wasn’t likely to meet him on the street again with Christmas coming and the town council in recess until the new year.

  Anna called Liz to cancel their lunch at the Buffalo. After she met Tom she’d have to buy office supplies, then run home to let Jackson outside, she explained.

  “I found out something,” Anna said, turning the key in the ignition. “Susan Muncy was a witch. She was trying to get into Darlene’s coven.”

  “I found some info too,” Liz said. “I want to show you. How about I stop at your place before I head home. Around five-thirty?”

  “Sounds good. Anything interesting?

  “Muncy’s salary on the town council. Twenty thousand a year, and as far as I can tell, councilman is his only job. Didn’t you say the Muncys owned a huge house with a couple decks?”

  14

  Alpine Avenue was snow-packed, but the bitter cold gave the snow a sticky grip that helped keep the Jimmy from sliding into the ditch on either side of the road. Anna drove southwest until she reached the Bear Paw, a lodge-style restaurant half a mile from the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. She eased into the restaurant’s parking lot, found an empty space near the front door, and headed inside.

  In the upstairs dining room Anna spotted Tom Muncy in a booth near the window, frowning and holding the end of his tie out in front of him, letting his eyes run back and forth over the fabric. He saw her as she approached and dropped his tie.

  “Mr. Muncy.” Anna sat down and slid toward the window.

  He put his hands on his chair’s arms and pushed himself an inch or two above the seat. “It’s Tom. Thanks for coming. I guess you were surprised to hear from me.” He glanced at her, then looked away, first out the window and then toward the center of the restaurant, where he spotted a waitress and raised his chin in a gesture that called her to the table.