by Sharon Pape
Back in the storeroom, I had to decide where to go. Teleporting to my house or my aunt’s had become boring. Why not somewhere that could be helpful to the investigation? I asked myself. Preferably a place where I wouldn’t bump into anyone, cause hysteria, and possibly wind up in jail. Epps sprang to mind, or more specifically his office did. Wasn’t one of the perks of government work clocking out at five? I went back and forth over it. You can’t take the chance of being seen. But I’m tired of playing it safe. What if Epps is burning the five o’clock oil? You have to take risks if you want to succeed. Since I couldn’t stay there all night arguing with myself, I impulsively took the leap.
I landed in the small lobby of the courthouse. I remembered the smell of old wood mixed with the lavender scent the woman at the front desk doused herself with. The building was dark, except for a couple of security lights. My heart jumped into my throat when I realized belatedly that I hadn’t factored a security system into my derring-do. Although I hadn’t opened any doors or windows to get inside, there could be motion detectors I might trip. So now what—teleport right back to my shop? I wasn’t ready to give up that quickly.
The good news was that everyone was gone for the night or they wouldn’t have set the security system. The security lights indicated it was set. In the dim light, I couldn’t tell if there were cameras too. And I had no way of knowing if said cameras were programmed to transmit images real time to a security company. This being Watkins Glen, there was a good chance that level of security was considered unnecessary. If I was wrong, someone would have seen my image immediately. Yet the police were not breaking down the door to get at me. There were no sirens in the distance. My heart subsided into my chest and my breathing calmed. At least I had time to weigh my options. The possibility of motion detectors meant I didn’t have many. Since I couldn’t risk moving from my current position, I’d have to depend on a spell. The invisibility spell wouldn’t work with a motion detector. It didn’t have the psychological component that left people vulnerable to misdirection. To the best of my knowledge, no one in my family had ever written a spell to turn off a security system. I’d have to come up with one myself. Other impromptu spells I’d cast had performed well…. I could do this. As pep talks went, it wasn’t exactly rousing, but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances.
Fifteen minutes later I’d cobbled together a spell that seemed workable, if not inspired. I’d know soon enough if it was adequate:
Disarm alarms, detectors off,
Disable now the circuitry.
Cameras down, transmissions end,
Scrub memory and never send.
I repeated the words twice more, then it was time to road test the new spell. I was a little anxious about it. This slapdash spell could be the end of me—not literally of course. But if it failed to work, I could be sent to jail for breaking and entering. Well, entering anyway, I didn’t break anything to get in, except the law. I wondered how they would go about incarcerating someone who could teleport themselves out. I was willing to bet they’d never had to deal with the problem before. All of this was flashing through my mind while I was still standing in the same spot where I’d landed. Move, I ordered myself or go back and feed your fur family!
I took one shaky step forward and waited a moment before taking another. The silence was undisturbed. I headed for the CP’s office to do some snooping. If I’d had my druthers, as Bronwen was fond of saying, I would have had my aunt Tilly there with me. She was sort of a snooping savant. She couldn’t seem to control the impulse. If she visited someone’s bathroom, she left with a mental inventory of everything it contained. For better or worse, I hadn’t yet graduated from teleporting 101. Taking someone with me was a long way off.
The first thing I realized once I was in Epps’s office was that I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight. Nancy, please don’t give up on me. I couldn’t risk turning on the overhead light. Someone in the small town who knew it shouldn’t be on might notice and call 911. There was a soft splash of moonlight coming through the blinds. I tried angling them to let in more of the light. It helped a little. Or maybe my eyes were getting better adjusted to the dark. I opened the top folder on his desk and took out the first page, but I couldn’t make out what was written on it. I was about to give up on my sleuthing when I saw a Post-it note stuck to the frame of the computer monitor. Someone, most likely Epps, had written on it in black marker: Royce - 11/7 - 6:30 - Grotto. Everett Royce? How many Royces could there be in the county? And why would they be meeting the County Prosecutor for dinner?
I was pondering the ramifications of the note when I heard the building’s front door open. My heart leaped back into my throat, a place it was becoming all too familiar with. Would the security system show that it had been turned off or had my magick bypassed the usual pathways? I didn’t have long to agonize. I heard the tones of the code being entered on the keypad and then the final beep of the system being turned off the way it was intended to be. My spell hadn’t left any evidence of tampering, but I wasn’t out of danger. If I ran out of Epps’s office and through the anteroom where his secretary, Lena, held court, I’d be in the lobby with the intruder. Who was I calling an intruder? If they had a key and knew the alarm code, they must work here. I was the intruder.
I briefly considered using the invisibility spell, but I didn’t have time to reach the state of mind necessary for it to work. The footsteps were coming in my direction, a woman’s footsteps, judging by the sharp tattoo of heels on the old hardwood. I was running out of time. I could hide behind the open door and pray she didn’t close it and discover me or I could crawl into the cubbyhole under the desk. The desk won and not a moment too soon. I had to learn to make faster decisions.
The woman came into the office, but didn’t turn on the lights either. That could mean she worked there, but wasn’t supposed to be there after-hours. At least she’d thought to bring along a flashlight. From my hidey hole, I tried to sneak a look at her, but the bright beam of the LED shrouded her in deep shadows. I heard her rustling through the folders on the desk. She must have found what she was after, because she walked back into the anteroom and after a few seconds I heard the copier running. She came back into the office and it sounded like she was placing papers back in a folder. No one would be the wiser—except me. I was desperate to get a good look at her, but not desperate enough to come out of my hiding place and confront her. I was on pretty shaky legal ground by just being there. She was walking out of the office again, probably ready to leave the building. Last chance. I thumped softly on the underside of the desk, just enough to make her look over her shoulder. In that moment, before she swung the flashlight back into the office, I saw her face. I’d only met the woman once, but the moonlight was all I needed to recognize the CP’s secretary, Lena.
Chapter 33
On my return to the shop, I nearly gave poor Sashkatu a heart attack by popping out of thin air inches from his nose. He froze in place, his green eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. He was so stunned that he didn’t even fuss when I scooped him into my arms and carried him home. We found the other cats gathered in the kitchen, hungry and clearly miffed. No snuggles and purrs for me. They were standoffish in their greeting and strident in their complaint. I had the uncomfortable sense that I’d interrupted a discussion about making me walk the plank. I felt lucky we were on dry land and that they didn’t have opposable thumbs with which to build said plank.
I was so exhausted from my teleporting round trip that after filling everyone’s tummies, I ate a banana and crawled into bed. I fell asleep while the cats played a spirited game of tag over and around me. I didn’t open my eyes for a good ten hours and when I did, my brain was still foggy. I went downstairs to feed my housemates, who’d let me sleep without a yowl of disapproval. Maybe they’d decided irregular mealtimes were better than no mealtimes. Or maybe Sashkatu had told them to cut me some slack. I put up coffee a
nd called Travis while it brewed, hoping to catch him before he got mired in his day.
“After Lena left the courthouse, I tried to figure out which papers she copied, but there were too many folders with way too many papers and I’d already overstayed my visit.” I’d just finished telling Travis about my adventure that had come close to being an utter disaster. He was concerned about the chance I’d taken, but he made his way past that quickly enough, once he heard about Lena’s little escapade.
“Unfortunately, without that information, it’s hard to know what she was up to,” he said.
“I know it’s just conjecture at this point, but maybe she was stealing information to help the killer in some way. Then there’s also the possibility that she’s working with the police to build a case against Epps if they suspect he’s the killer.”
“You mean she might be a mole? An interesting possibility.”
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “For that matter, I suppose she could be the killer.”
“Or maybe whatever she came back for has nothing to do with murder,” Travis said, playing devil’s advocate.
I sighed again, more loudly than I’d intended. “Then I guess we’re back where we started.”
“Not entirely. Now we know that Lena has some less than admirable qualities, ranging from sneaking back into the office all the way to possibly conspiring in six murders.”
Speaking of breaking the law underscored my own recent forays into crime. Between the fake fire in Ryan’s apartment and trespassing last night, I was playing fast and loose with gray magick. I couldn’t afford to take a misstep over the next line. That thought scared me more than when the snowplow edged us off the road.
“I have some interesting news, myself,” Travis said, pulling me away from my gloomy thoughts. “I had a call from none other than Mr. Samuel Crawford, Esquire. He said he’s heard about the story we’re doing on him.”
“I wonder who whispered in his ear,” I said.
“I doubt he waits for the grapevine to provide him with news. He probably has ears and eyes on his payroll in every corner of this town.”
“Was he angry?”
“Not at all. He wanted to know when we’d get around to actually interviewing him.”
“Then he’s willing?” For some reason that surprised me. I pictured him as an imposing figure, too busy to waste time on a B-level reporter and his sidekick.
“Yeah, he wanted to nail down a date right then,” Travis said. “I told him I’d get back to him after we figure out what works for both of us.”
“I know it’s a great opportunity, but have you thought this through? What’s going to happen when this story about Crawford doesn’t air?”
“I don’t know,” Travis admitted. “I’ll run it by my boss to see if he’d be interested in a piece about a local attorney with an impressive record of acquittals. Or I can get down on my knees and beg him to run it. Worst case scenario, I’ll try to find an e-zine that’s willing to take a free story. If Crawford is disappointed, he can blame us. To be on the safe side, you might not want to commit any crimes,” Travis added wryly. “That way we won’t need his services.”
“Got it. I’ll be sure to clamp down on my criminal tendencies. Seriously though, I’m interested to hear what he thinks of Epps.”
“I got the feeling from five minutes on the phone with Crawford that he enjoys the sound of his own voice. If we can steer him with our questions, we may get an earful on a lot of subjects. We can’t make the mistake of underestimating him though, or trying to play him for a fool. When I’ve asked people what they think of him, the one thing they all agree on is that he’s sharp as can be and rabid in his devotion to his clients. He’ll do anything the law allows to win them acquittals or minimum sentences.”
I glanced at the clock above the kitchen table. “We’ll have to finish this conversation later. If I don’t hop in the shower in the next two minutes, I’ll be late opening again.”
“How about lunch at The Jerk?” he asked.
“Wait a minute—I thought you were in Albany. It’s getting to be like Where’s Waldo?”
He sighed. “Tell me about it. I’m needed back in the Glen for the evening news.” All the traveling back and forth was clearly getting to him. “How’s one o’clock?”
“You’ve got it. I think today’s special is your favorite, turkey chili.”
* * * *
After lunch Travis came back to the shop with me. He said he wanted to see me work. I told him he’d just be bored and he was welcome to wait at the house where he could take a nap or watch TV. “It sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me,” he said.
“I am, but for your benefit.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll walk around and acquaint myself with your product line. Pretend I’m not here,” he said as he disappeared down the first aisle. Less than a minute later, my mother’s cloud appeared, white, tinged with red—something had her hackles up. And she clearly hadn’t taken the time to make sure I was alone before barging in.
“Your grandmother informed me about your recent teleportation,” she began. “I know we told you to practice the skill, but we certainly didn’t suggest you break the law in the process.”
Travis poked his head out of the aisle, perhaps thinking the new voice belonged to a customer. He and my mother saw each other at the same time. He jumped; her cloud bounced sharply, like a jet hitting an air pocket. I couldn’t tell who was more startled. Although Travis had been treated to a similar experience with my mother and grandmother back in September, it had mercifully lasted only seconds, with no words exchanged. This time promised to be different, unless one of them skedaddled. But they both stayed where they were, each a shade paler than normal. What now? Acting the referee was pointless. Sooner or later they would have to reach an accommodation with each other if they wanted to be around me. I knew my mother and grandmother approved of Travis and he had given me every indication he wanted to accept me for who I was. I decided to sit back and see how things played out.
“Please excuse my barging in like this, Travis,” my mother said, sounding properly contrite. “I’m sorry if you found it unsettling.” Yay, mom. My mother rarely apologized, because, as she is quick to tell you, she is rarely wrong. The ball was in Travis’s court.
“I appreciate that,” he said. He seemed at a loss for something else to say, so I stepped in. I had plenty to say. I asked my mother if she understood the havoc she could have caused, and the difficult position she could have put me in, had someone other than Travis been in the shop. “I’ll… I’ll just finish browsing,” Travis said, “while you two finish your conversation.”
“So mom, what was it you wanted to say about my teleporting?” I asked sweetly.
“Don’t gloat, dear, it’s unbecoming. Besides, there was no chance I would be hauled off to jail for my error in judgment, whereas you might well have been.” She did have a point.
“Okay, I will weigh the consequences of my actions more carefully, if you will agree not to barge in on me without first checking to see if I’m alone. The same goes for Grandma.”
“I can hardly agree on her behalf. Have you forgotten to whom you’re referring?”
“Well, at least agree to tell her about our pact and that I hope she’ll abide by it too.”
“It’s a deal,” Morgana said. “Please say goodbye to Travis for me. I suspect he’s had enough discourse with me for one day.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We told you he was a keeper.”
Chapter 34
Three days later, on Wednesday the seventh, Travis and I went to dinner at the Grotto in Watkins Glen. It was touted as the best upscale restaurant in the county. The lighting was soft, Italian standards played in the background, and the waiters were dressed in black with gray ties and aprons. There were linen tablecloths and napkins and crystal wine g
oblets. The tables were set far enough apart that intimate conversation was possible if one spoke discreetly. But we weren’t there for a romantic dinner.
When we arrived, Bradley Epps was seated at a two-top with a man I could only presume was Everett Royce, since I’d never met him. They both had untouched steins of beer parked in front of them and were deep in conversation. Unfortunately, the tables in their immediate vicinity were already taken. Maybe it was for the best that we were shown to a table some distance away. If the men were discussing business—the business of murder—seeing us there might cause them to change subjects. But we’d have to be creative if we hoped to learn anything.
The tuxedoed maître d’ showed us to our table and presented us with menus that weren’t laminated or sticky like the ones at The Soda Jerk. He was followed closely by our waiter, who introduced himself as Stephan, and asked if we’d like a drink. Some wine perhaps? I’d discovered back in college that alcohol can do serious damage to my magickal DNA. Abstinence was a small price to pay. I asked for water with a slice of lemon. Travis ordered a Coke. Stephan looked underwhelmed. After he left us to deliberate the menu choices, Travis recommended the lobster ravioli that he’d had on a previous visit as well as the pappardelle with duck ragout. All I could think about was how to find out what Epps and Royce were discussing. I’d been counting on sitting close enough to them that I could use a simple spell to amp up my hearing.
“Don’t you have something stronger for this situation?” Travis asked when I explained the problem.
“I’m not Amazon, you know. I have certain abilities, not every ability under the sun. Give me another minute to think about this.” I could try a spell to make our hearing acute enough to hear them, but we’d hear everyone in the restaurant—a muddle of overlapping voices that sounded like gibberish. If I cast a spell to make them speak loudly enough for us to hear, they’d be asked to lower their voices. But they wouldn’t be able to comply. In the end, they might be asked to leave—the exact opposite of what we were trying to accomplish.