by Sharon Pape
The newcomer was a big guy with a thick neck and wide shoulders like a football player. He had one hand in his jacket pocket. After my two recent brushes with death, I had to assume he was holding a weapon. I was on the verge of using magick to preempt an attack, when Sam Crawford appeared behind him. I stood down, relieved and a bit weak in the knees. The stranger had to be the bodyguard he’d told me about. They were dressed like twin wannabes—jeans, sweaters, Timberlands, and Canada Goose jackets, but Crawford had a good decade on the bodyguard. To the casual observer, they might have been friends who’d spent the day skiing and were just browsing around the quaint town. But knowing what I did, it was easy to see the differences between the protector and the protected. The bodyguard was alert and loose-limbed, clearly ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. His eyes didn’t rest anywhere as he checked out the front of the shop. In that moment, I had the silly thought that I would never make it as a bodyguard. I’d be distracted by the first shiny, interesting thing I saw.
Crawford stayed near the door for a fast exit should that be necessary, while the bodyguard moved on to peer into each aisle, before disappearing down the hall to the storeroom. I prepared myself for a shriek of surprise or anger from my aunt if he barged into her shop and interrupted a reading. Everything remained quiet. The bodyguard returned and nodded to Crawford. My shop and I had apparently passed inspection.
“Sorry about all that,” Crawford said, leaving the door and walking over to me. “My friend here goes by Mason.” I decided not to ask if that was his first name or his last. Maybe Mason was a one-name wonder like Elvis, Cher, and Madonna. Mason acknowledged the introduction with a head-bob and took up a position at the front door.
“What brings you to my little town?” I asked the attorney now that I was breathing normally again.
“A yen for a burger at the Caboose. I’ve eaten burgers in the swankiest restaurants, made from the finest Kobe beef. None of them beats a Caboose burger. And as long as I was in town, I decided to stop in and see how you were doing after your ordeal at the hands of that creep.”
“I assume you mean Ski Mask Guy. I’m a little shaken, but I’ll be fine. Thanks for the warning.”
“I guess after he struck out with me, he went looking for an easier target. I was hoping maybe you got a glimpse of his face.”
“No, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
“Still not interested in having a bodyguard take the worry out of your life?”
“I’m okay,” I said, “I’ll give you a call if I change my mind.”
“Fair enough, I just hope you’re not depending on your attack cat over on the window ledge to keep you safe. He hasn’t even bothered to open his eyes since we walked in.”
“He’s playing possum,” I said. “He’s very cunning.”
Crawford grinned. “I like your style. Any chance you have a thing for older men?”
Chapter 45
I took one step outside the next morning, before unceremoniously landing on my butt. Everything was covered in a thin layer of ice, including my porch. That explained why Sashkatu refused to walk out with me. Until the sun could break through the heavy gray clouds and warm the air, moving about was going to be treacherous. Getting up from the ice wasn’t easy with nothing to hold on to. My feet kept slipping out from under me. On my third try, I finally succeeded. I looked up and down the street to see if anyone had witnessed my debacle, but thankfully no one was out.
Since I’d fallen before I had a chance to close and lock the front door behind me, Sashkatu was able to watch my whole performance seated comfortably behind the glass storm door. The haughty expression on his furry face said it all—fools rush out, while wise souls first examine the situation. “Your highness might have given me a head’s up if you were aware of the conditions outside,” I grumbled. He must have seen the mailman or some other early bird meet with a similar fate and decided to let me test the proverbial waters before he ventured out. Sashki had always been a serious-minded cat who thought things through. When he saw that I was finally on my feet, he moved out of the way to watch my stumbling re-entry from a safer location.
Once I was inside, he cocked his head to one side as if to inquire, “What do you propose we do?” It was a good question. After considering my options, it seemed the most efficient solution would be an old spell of Bronwen’s. It didn’t require any props and we’d all used it often enough over the years that I knew it well. I just needed to be certain no one was around to witness the results. I poked my head outside again and looked up and down the block—no one in sight. I focused my eyes on the parameters of the melt I was seeking, in this case across my porch, down the steps that led to the flagstone path and from there across the road to the back of Abracadabra.
Be gone the snow,
Be gone the ice.
I ask you once,
I’ll ask you twice.
Be gone before
I ask you thrice.
Before I completed the third repetition, steam was rising from deep in the earth. In seconds the ice was gone. Sashkatu must have recognized the spell, because he came to stand at my side, clearly amenable to leaving now. He trotted out ahead of me, hoisting his tail with a flourish.
Once we were inside my shop, he took the steps to his window ledge where he gave his paws a proper cleaning before falling asleep.
I peered out the front door, wishing I dared to melt the ice in front of my shop too. But there was a good chance the other shopkeepers were also looking outside, wondering if they would have any customers or if they should have stayed in bed. I found the bag of ice melt in the storeroom and spread it on the sidewalk. With tourism being our biggest industry, the town was always good about clearing snow and de-icing the walks, but I liked to add a bit of our magick-enhanced melt for extra protection. Next up was dusting. In a shop with dozens upon dozens of glass jars, dusting was a chore that never ended. By the time I finished the last shelf, the first shelf was dusty again. Years ago, my mother had come up with a spell to make the task easier, and it had worked like—well—like magick. But the last time she’d tried it, we’d already been having trouble with our magick and instead of cleaning off the glass jars, it dumped great clouds of dust all over the shop. We found out afterward that the incantation had drawn dust away from all the other shops in town in order to deposit it in ours. I had no intentions of ever trying that again.
After I’d dusted myself into a sneezing fit, I went into the storeroom to whip up a batch of my bestselling tummy tamer. I was well into measuring and mixing the peppermint, chamomile, and ginger when the door chimes jingled. I pulled off the latex gloves with a snap and hurried up front to see who’d been brave enough to ignore the elements.
“Travis?” I said.
“Uh oh, it’s been so long you’re beginning to forget who I am.” He drew me close for a hug that escalated into a kiss.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I asked.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he said with a wink. “You know, in case the ice made me turn back. The roads in and around the Glen are in decent shape, but they got a whole lot worse the closer I came to New Camel. I almost turned back a few times, but then I thought about the prize at the end of my journey and it gave me the strength to struggle on.”
I laughed. “Don’t ever give up your day job to go into acting.”
“Funny, that’s exactly what my high school drama teacher told me.”
I skewered him with my eyes. “As much as I want to believe you made the trip for the sole purpose of seeing me, what’s your ulterior motive?”
“I cannot tell a lie, especially when you look at me like that. After I heard about the plot you and Elise hatched, I realized I wanted to be involved—it being about my brother and all. Besides, an extra pair of ears couldn’t hurt.”
We spent the day waiti
ng for customers who didn’t come, and talking. We still had so much to learn about each other that there was an endless supply of subjects. We braved the icy sidewalks to have lunch at The Jerk, picking our way there, arms intertwined like two old biddies hanging on to each other. If one of us fell, the other was doomed to follow, but we managed to reach the restaurant without mishap. We had Manhattan clam chowder with a hot cocoa chaser and a side of French fries, because they were Travis’s weakness.
The afternoon was as bereft of customers as the morning had been. I closed early. Travis tried to talk me into riding back to my house in his car. I explained that it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to get Sashkatu into the car when it was such a short distance to walk. In the end, Sashki and I went home by way of the path I’d de-iced earlier, while Travis drove his car around the block to meet us there.
We arrived at Elise’s house promptly at six o’clock, bearing the promised pizzas. Before we left the car, I quickly de-iced the walkway to her front door to ensure that dinner didn’t wind up on the ground. Zach and Noah opened the door before I had a chance to ring the bell. They were all over their famous new guest. I didn’t even get a hello, until their mother reminded them of their manners. Even then it was an “Oh, sorry—hi, Aunt K.” I relieved Travis of the pizza boxes, so he could talk to his groupies unencumbered.
I joked with Elise that I was insulted. I’d brought the boys hundreds of pizzas and other goodies over the years, but I’d never elicited that kind of excitement from them—not once.
She was putting slices of the pizza on a hot griddle to reheat. “You should feel honored. They treat you the way they treat me. We’re always around; they know they can count on us. In a nutshell, you’re family. Travis is a novelty, because they see him on TV. They can brag to their friends that they know somebody famous.”
“Famous? Travis would find that very funny,” I said.
“It’s all in the eye of the beholder.” She handed me a big bowl of salad from the refrigerator and asked me to put it on the table, then went into the family room to collect the three guys for dinner.
Half an hour later, we were all stuffed, except for Zach who was scarfing down a huge dish of ice cream. “Guys, remember what we talked about?” Elise said to them. “I need you both to go upstairs and be very quiet. It won’t be for long.” They nodded solemnly and then made a mad dash for the stairs, elbowing each other out of the way, Noah calling rights to the TV in the master bedroom. Elise looked at us and sighed. But a minute later, the house settled into silence.
We sat in the living room. To be anonymous, Elise blocked her number before she dialed Stubbs, and then hit the speaker button. After two rings, a gruff voice answered and she introduced herself as Gwen Jones.
“Yeah, so what do you want?” Stubbs demanded.
“Your alibi for the night your son died was a lie. I have proof that the bar wasn’t open that night.” There was only silence from the other end. The three of us were literally on the edge of our seats waiting for his reaction.
“You trying to blackmail me?” he snapped so abruptly that we all flinched, “cause you’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. I have a mind to call the police on you!”
“You won’t,” Elise said evenly. “The police have reopened the case into your son’s death and without an alibi, you want to stay as far away from them as you can. All I want is the answer to a question. Give me that and I won’t bother you again.”
“I’m gonna want to hear that question before I agree to anything.”
“Are you aware that when your niece, Lena, borrows your Harley, she lends it to someone else?”
“Come again?” Elise repeated her words. “Hell no,” he spat out. “Can’t even trust your own kin these days. Who’s she been lending it to?”
“A man who uses it in the commission of crimes.”
“I want his name.”
“I don’t know that yet,” Elise said. “But your niece does.” She clicked off the call. I felt as if I’d been holding my breath for the duration of their dialogue. “What do you think?” she asked us.
“He didn’t know about it,” I said. “I’m as sure of that as I can be.”
Travis nodded. “Me too.”
“Okay,” Elise said, “that makes it unanimous.”
Travis smiled. “I imagine Lena is on the receiving end of a nasty tirade right about now.”
Chapter 46
“Between the cold and how early it gets dark, all I want to do at the end of the day is go home, eat dinner, and put my feet up,” Lolly said with a sigh. “I make only two exceptions—anything to do with my grandchildren and anything that affects my friends or this town.” We were walking down to the New Camel police station. It had occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one who could describe Biker Dude to the sketch artist. Lolly had seen him too.
I laughed. “I know what you mean. I think I’m becoming part bear. Find me a cozy cave and I’ll see you in the spring. I don’t remember feeling that way when I was a kid. I guess it means I’m getting older, huh?” I asked, half-jokingly.
“Talk to me in fifty years,” she said.
Hobart was waiting for us with the sketch artist, a woman by the name of Libby. She was just shy of middle age and a few pounds beyond plump, with an upbeat personality that drew you right in and made you feel as if you’d known her for ages.
The large desk chair had been rolled around to the front of the desk to be near the two smaller ones. Libby already occupied the larger chair when we arrived. Lolly and I took the remaining ones. Hobart perched on the edge of the desk just beyond our circle like a kibitzer at a high-stakes poker game. Libby had a sketch pad turned to a clean page. “I’m hopelessly old-fashioned,” she said. “I like holding real books when I read and I like sketching with pencil on paper. It’s stood me in good stead for more years than I’ll say and I don’t see any reason to change now.” She said all this in a good-natured tone, and I had the sense she’d used the disclaimer so often it had become part of her usual patter.
She led us through the process with succinct questions. Was his face round or long? High cheek bones? Weak chin or strong jaw? Ears close to the head or jutting out? And so forth. Lolly and I didn’t agree on every aspect. At one point, I remarked that we seemed to be describing two different men. “It’s not unusual for people to see things differently,” Libby assured us, “I make allowances for it.” When she showed us the finished sketch, we were both satisfied that she’d captured the biker. Whether we’d be told if it led to identifying the man was another matter. Duggan had nothing to gain and everything to lose by letting us know. Travis and I had solved two other cases before he could. Why would he help us outshine him for a third time?
Travis called the next day. I expected him to say that the police had arrested Biker Dude. “No, nothing yet,” he said. “It could mean they still haven’t been able to identify him, or they have his name, but can’t find him. If that’s the case, I’d expect them to go public with the sketch in the hope that someone will recognize the guy and come forward. So we’re not out of the game yet. As long as there’s any chance for me to catch Ryan’s killer, I’m going for it.”
I wasn’t surprised. From the moment he’d found Ryan’s body, he’d vowed to take down his killer. It was deeply personal. “There’s one lead we haven’t followed up on yet,” I reminded him. We said Lena’s name in unison. She’d been on my mind ever since I found out she was Stubbs’s niece.
“If anyone can ID Biker Dude, she can,” Travis said.
“I doubt she’ll offer to tell us.”
“I want to catch her at the end of the workday tomorrow. I’ll tell her I know she’s been lending Biker Dude her uncle’s Harley without his permission. If she gives us his name, I won’t tell the police she can ID the guy.”
“That could work,” I said. “What time do you want me at your
place tomorrow?”
“I’ve got this one,” he said. “No need for you to close early again.”
“We’re partners. Lena may seem like easy prey, but cornered she could be dangerous.” He didn’t have a comeback. “If she’s armed, magick can even out the odds.” A little reminder that it had saved his butt in the past.
“You drive a hard bargain, lady,” he said. I could picture the wry smile on his face. “Tomorrow at four thirty.” I agreed. State employees work until five. No point in taking the chance of missing her.
* * * *
It was nearly dark when I pulled up in front of Travis’s apartment building. He’d been waiting in the lobby and came out as soon as he saw my car. He jumped in for the short drive to the courthouse. I parked at the curb and left the engine running to keep us warm. “We have to be careful,” Travis said. “There’s a fine line between citing a fact and accusing someone of a crime.”
“I know. It can depend on a person’s perception of an event. You say you were just giving her a friendly head’s up. She says there was nothing friendly about it—you threatened her. For women, tone and body language have a lot to do with how we see things,” I said.
“Translation please?”
“Keep your tone pleasant, conversational. Don’t get in her face, it’s an invasion of her personal space. Don’t get between her and her car.”
“Hey, where is all this coming from?” Travis asked. “You sound like you took a quick course in psychology overnight.”
“Elise gave me pointers. She majored in psychology and social work, before she switched to teaching.”
“Did she give you any advice on what to do now that I’m afraid to open my mouth?” he said dryly.
“Actually, she suggested I approach Lena first. Women are generally less wary of other women than they are of men.”
It was after five by the time Lena left the building. We were beginning to think that she’d called in sick. When she did walk out, she was with Epps. They stopped close to my car to finish their conversation; then he went left and she headed for the small parking lot on the right. We had almost no time to approach her before she reached her car. I was worried that Epps might still be in screaming distance if she panicked.