by Sharon Pape
I’ve seen a lot of men cling to the world they think they know with a sort of desperation. If they can’t experience it with their five senses, it doesn’t exist. Talk about the metaphysical and they are gone. Travis was one of them, until I made him a believer. And although Paul didn’t appear concerned when he visited my shop in the past, it was probably because he’d convinced himself that it was all for fun. A psychic as talented and well-known as Tilly had the power to rattle his beliefs and provide hard evidence that as senses go, five doesn’t cut it.
Paul had declined staying for the tea option upfront, and Tilly had promised him a quick reading, but being Tilly, she’d baked some scones and apple tarts with cinnamon and sugar anyway, hoping their warm, seductive smell would convince him to stay. The longer he stayed, the more she might glean from his words as well as his mind.
I watched the clock after he went in. When the half hour mark came and went, I knew he’d capitulated. Carbs: one, best intentions: zero. I even heard Tilly and him laughing. When I saw him leave after a solid hour and ten minutes, he seemed lighter of foot and spirit.
As soon as he was out of sight, I ran into the tearoom. My aunt was still sitting at the table, enjoying what I assumed was her second or third scone. I sat in the chair across from her. “Well—what happened?” She pushed the plate with the last scone over to me and followed it with the ramekin that held the last of the clotted cream.
“The dairy outdid themselves this time,” she mumbled around a mouthful of the cream-topped scone.
“You know you say that with every batch they send, right?”
Tilly produced a blissful smile, too happy to take umbrage at my remark.
“What I really want to hear is what you found out from Curtis,” I reminded her.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “He didn’t even try to block me. Maybe he didn’t realize he could. For an officer of the law, he’s surprisingly straight forward and guileless. With Paul Curtis, what you see is what you get. That’s a lovely trait in a man—in case you weren’t aware of it.”
“Is that a comment about Travis? I thought you liked him.”
“I do. As do your mother and grandmother. I’ve never poked around in his head though. I suspect he’s a lot more complicated—not that there’s anything wrong with that. I, for one, always gravitated toward complex men. They’re more interesting, even if they are a lot more trouble.”
I already knew that Travis was multifaceted and complex and it hadn’t sent me packing. But who was I to talk? We Wildes were nothing, if not complicated. “Can we get back to Paul Curtis?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. Duggan did interview Austin Stubbs. Curtis was there with him. But they never checked out his alibi, because the ME’s report came out about that time and it was unequivocal—Axel overdosed on drugs that were self-administered. That was the end of the investigation.”
“And the alibi? What was it?”
“I’m getting to it,” she said. “I was just trying to build up a little dramatic tension first.”
“I’m not a client, Aunt Tilly. You can dispense with the drama.”
She chuckled. “What was I thinking? All that delicious, awful sugar must have addled me. Austin Stubbs claimed he was hanging out at the Longhorn Bar in Burdett, from seven o’clock that night until after midnight.”
“Thank you, you did great,” I said jumping up and kissing her on the cheek before I hurried back to my shop.
In order to scratch Austin Stubbs off our suspect list or elevate his standing on it, I had to see if his alibi held up. But first things first—I was going to Burdett to check out the motorcycle I’d seen in his yard. Tilly and I worked out the logistics of the trip to Burdett. I needed to have Merlin with me in case something went awry with the spell. That meant that Tilly had to come along to keep him in line. The more people involved, the greater the odds that someone would make a mess of things. My money was squarely on Merlin. For what it was worth, Tilly made him promise to behave. There was some discussion about remuneration for his good conduct and for keeping his mouth shut. I heard words like cake and pizza being bandied about as part of the negotiations. I kept my nose out of it.
There was one party who was sure to be in a dandy snit by the time we got home from our trip. Sashkatu had no patience for any deviation in his routine. Having to stay home and nap with the riffraff all day was not going to please his highness. He had me so brainwashed that I actually felt pangs of guilt for a minute. Then my common sense returned and pointed out that I was hardly abandoning him. He had a big warm house with lots of comfy furniture to sleep on—poor baby.
* * * *
When we chose the day for our escapade, we made sure it wouldn’t conflict with the tour bus schedule. Neither of us could afford to lose the revenue from a busload of holiday spenders. The next consideration was the weather. I checked online and was relieved to see that the prediction was for cold clear skies.
We decided to have Merlin glamour me right before we arrived at the Stubbs farm so there would be less chance of the spell wearing off at a critical time. When we reached Burdett, I stopped at the little café, where Elise and I had bought the amazing Danish on our recent trip up there. Since Tilly was always hungry when she was nervous and Merlin seemed capable of eating whenever food was available, I thought it best to fortify ourselves before the mission. Tilly took a bite of the muffin she’d chosen and deemed it edible, a wild rave coming from her. Merlin didn’t comment, but he devoured his in record time, then half of Tilly’s when she made the mistake of going to the restroom. He was eyeing mine until I popped the last piece into my mouth.
“Say naught to your aunt,” he whispered to me, “but as muffins go, these surpass the banana walnut ones she bakes.”
“That might be because these are cranberry orange,” I whispered back with an edge to my words. We Wildes may be given to arguing among ourselves, but the moment one of us is maligned or disrespected, we’re one for all and all for one. Merlin, who can be less than astute at times, got the message in my tone and said no more on the subject.
We found a side road not far from the Stubbs’s farm. No one was out and about, one of the benefits of cold weather. We parked where the homeowners weren’t likely to see us if they peered out their windows, but it was hard to know for certain. We didn’t expect to be there long in any case. Merlin began the spell, but suddenly stopped short. After all our planning and making sure Tilly had the spell reversal in her purse, this could not be happening! The one thing we’d overlooked was the possibility that Merlin might forget how to glamour me! My first instinct was to ask him what was wrong, but I talked myself out of it. Give him a chance to remember on his own, I told myself.
Tilly, who’d been riding shotgun, opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head at her. The minutes ticked by with Merlin mumbling and muttering in the backseat. I was reaching the end of my patience when he finally spoke up. “My apologies for the interruption,” he said. “I believe I’m ready to start over.” Tilly and I shared a mutual sigh of relief.
I didn’t feel any different when he declared the spell finished, but Tilly’s face told a different story. She was agape. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. What I’d meant to say was, “how do I look?”
She swallowed hard and tried to affix a smile to her lips, but it wouldn’t take. Her face had gone a pasty white. I couldn’t wait another second. I flipped down the visor to see for myself. It was my turn to be speechless. Behind me Merlin was bouncing up and down in his seat. “Superb! Magnificent!”
Had I not been going for anonymity, I might have been as pleased with my appearance as he was. But what were the odds that Austin Stubbs wouldn’t recognize Elvis Presley?
Chapter 37
“Elvis?” was all I managed to sputter.
Merlin shrugged. “It would appear that the movies I watched last night were still fresh
in my mind,” he said without any discernible regret.
“It’s true,” Tilly piped up. “He watched Girl Trouble and Blue Hawaii. I would have changed the channel if I thought it would influence his glamouring today.”
I peered at my image again. “I guess I should be grateful he wasn’t watching Young Frankenstein.” I turned to Merlin. “I don’t suppose you could reverse this spell and reglamour me into an average guy?”
“It would be ill-advised. I might not be strong enough to reverse the second glamouring. Were I a younger man, it would not have posed a problem.”
“Look at the bright side,” Tilly said. “Stubbs may be so confounded by finding Elvis at his door that he might accidentally divulge something important.” Maybe she was right. Besides, there was nothing I could do to change the circumstances.
“Wait a minute,” I said, realizing I still sounded exactly like myself. “Won’t my voice give me away as a woman? Not to mention, Elvis’s voice was as famous as his appearance.”
Tilly and Merlin burst into laughter. “You’re the only one who will hear your voice,” the wizard explained.
“I hear Elvis loud and clear,” Tilly concurred. This whole experience was getting weirder by the second. I looked down at my clothes and found to my relief that I appeared to be wearing black chinos, a green wool sweater, and a leather jacket, circa 1960. Fortunately Merlin wasn’t thinking of a beach scene when he glamoured me. A bathing suit in freezing temperatures would have been impossible to explain.
I circled back to the Stubbs farm and parked off to the side of the house where I could see the tarp-covered motorcycle. I debated whether to just sneak a peek and drive away or ring the doorbell and say I might be interested in buying the bike if he were of a mind to sell it. Ringing the bell won, but only because I stood to learn more about Stubbs that way. Plus I’d already created a whole cover story about a friend of mine in the area who thought Stubbs might have the kind of bike I’d been looking for.
When I suggested to Merlin that he and my aunt should wait in the car, he said he had to be right beside me in case there were issues with the spell. And once Merlin was going, Tilly would not be denied. “I can’t very well keep tabs on him from the car,” she said. “Isn’t that why you brought me along?” Point taken. She might need to give him a swift kick to the shins or an elbow to the ribs.
We all piled out of the SUV and trooped over to the front door —Tilly in her down jacket over a flowered muumuu and sneakers, Merlin in an Arctic anorak and burlap pants, and Elvis. We must have been quite a sight to see.
I rang the bell and prepared to be gawked at. I was not disappointed. Stubbs opened the door and froze the moment he saw me. I don’t think he even realized there were two other people standing there. “Mr. Stubbs, sir,” I said, doing my best to use words Elvis might have used, “beggin’ your pardon, but I wonder if I could get a look at your Harley?”
“You ever been told you bear an uncanny resemblance to Elvis Presley?” Stubbs said, his words dribbling slowly from his mouth as if he’d suffered a stroke. My question didn’t seem to have registered at all.
“Yes sir, a time or two. Mind if I go have a look at your Harley?”
“And you sound just like him. Can you sing?” The gears in his brain must have started working again, because he was clearly hatching a scheme. Was he imagining himself a twenty-first century Colonel Parker to my reincarnated Elvis?
“I imagine most folks can,” I said, trying to make light of the question. “Now about the Harley—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll show you the bike if you agree to sing for me.” I panicked for a moment, wondering if I’d be able to sing like the King or if I’d sound as off-key as I usually did. Then again, after I saw the Harley, it didn’t matter what he thought of me.
“You got yourself a deal,” I said.
Stubbs grabbed his coat off a hook near the door and led the way to the bike. He kept turning to look at me as if he was afraid I would disappear if he wasn’t vigilant. It occurred to me, belatedly, that I should have done a little research on motorcycles, Harleys in particular. I probably could have Googled what to look for when buying a used one. As things stood, I’d have to adlib. When we reached the bike, Stubbs pulled off the tarp without ceremony. “There she is,” he said. “By the way, are these folks with you?” He indicated Tilly and Merlin with a thrust of his chin.
“Yes sir, they most certainly are. This here’s my aunt Tilly and the white-haired gentleman is my granddaddy, Mervin.” Stubbs shook their hands, chatting them up like he was trying to ingratiate himself with my nearest and dearest.
The instant I saw the bike, I knew it was the one Lolly had seen the Biker Dude riding.
There was an intricate black and white pattern painted on the gas tank. She’d said it made her think of an abstract tangle of snakes, with their forked tongues extended. I could see what she meant. What now? I had the information I’d come for, but I couldn’t just say thanks and goodbye. If he wasn’t the killer, it would be rude, and if he was in some way involved in the murders, I didn’t want him or any of his cohorts getting the idea we were on to them. So I took a slow turn around the bike, squinting at this and frowning at that and nodding to myself. When I came back to where Stubbs was waiting, I tried to sound like a shrewd buyer—a shrewd buyer who had no idea what the bike was worth. I was pretty sure if Nancy Drew could see what was going on, she’d be thinking, You even have the internet, girl!
“So—what would you take for her?” I said in a casual I-could-take-it-or-leave-it way.
Stubbs put his hand up to his chin and rubbed it back and forth over the stubble like he was doing some hard thinking. “Before you showed up, I wasn’t of a mind to sell her. I have quite an attachment to her, you see.” He gave me a sideways glance, no doubt assessing my reaction.
“You still ride her?” I asked.
“Not so much anymore, but my niece likes to borrow her, take her for a spin now and then.”
“Give me a figure,” I said.
“How about I get back to you? I want to give Lena a call and see how she feels about me selling it. Family—you know how it is.”
“Yes, sir, I sure do. Might your niece be the Lena Halloway I met down in Watkins Glen the other day?” I had to make sure he wasn’t talking about a different Lena.
“One and the same,” he said. “Fine lookin’ young woman, wouldn’t you say?” Was he thinking of a little match making now? Hooking his family up to an Elvis reboot? Never mind that she was already engaged.
“Yes sir,” I agreed. “I’ll give you my number.” As if on cue, Tilly pulled a torn envelope out of her purse and handed it to me along with a pen. I jotted down random numbers and gave it to Stubbs.
He accepted it with a sly grin, no doubt thinking he had the phone number of the next Elvis Presley. “Now,” he said, “how about that song you promised me?”
“I never said I was Elvis,” I pointed out, in case he took exception to my singing and hauled off and decked me.
“Yeah, yeah…get on with it.”
“Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled.” I could tell by the way the three of them were cringing that the illusion didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t carry a tune.
“You’re right. You ain’t no Elvis,” Stubbs said with disgust. “Go on, get outta here.” He strode away in the direction of the house, muttering and cursing under his breath.
We climbed back in the SUV, laughing. The laughter would start to wind down, but then one of us would mention a different aspect of the encounter, sparking another round of hysteria. I even forgot to stop somewhere to have Merlin reverse the spell. None of us realized the lapse, until I pulled into a gas station outside Watkins Glen. The young man who pumped the gas didn’t seem to notice that he was talking to Elvis, but the elderly woman walking bac
k to her car from the station’s mini-mart took one look at me and her eyes bugged out of her head. She toddled up to us as fast as her legs could carry her. “Elvis?” she said, her voice shaking, “that can’t really be you?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “Ya’ll have a good day.”
Chapter 38
By the time we were back in the New Camel city limits, Merlin had reversed the spell and I was mostly back to myself. My voice was still a little low and nasal, but he assured me that would soon fade. I dropped the members of my motley crew off at Tilly’s house and went home. Five cats greeted me at the door. Maybe greeted was too strong a word. They locked eyes with me as if they were trying to send me a message. Although telepathy was not one of my talents, I had a pretty good idea what was on their minds. “I’m not late,” I told them. They were not swayed. It occurred to me that they might be taking orders from Sashkatu who hadn’t yet made an entrance. The wily old boy must have gotten to them, made them his puppets. It wasn’t the first time. He probably convinced them they’d been neglected, forgotten, forsaken.
“Sashki, come out; come out wherever you are.” When he didn’t make an appearance, I went searching for him. I looked everywhere I could think of, before deciding that he must have found a new place to hide and nurse his snit. The other cats were waiting for me in the kitchen, so I fixed their dinner, even though it was half an hour early. I was hoping the smell of food would draw Sashki out, but he seemed determined to ignore me and his stomach. Worry feeds on worry, Bronwen used to say. I had no doubt that bit of wisdom was true, yet it never helped my mother or me to stop worrying. What’s more, I couldn’t recall it ever helping my grandmother either. “Wisdom is meant to be passed down to future generations,” she’d told me when I brought up this failing. “Mark my words; someday down the line it will be needed. Maybe by your children.” I should have known better than to question my grandmother. She was invincible, a fortress hard to storm.