Murder Casts Its Spell

by Margaret C. Morse

  "I need to talk to you." He spoke rapidly. "I've made an important decision. I just set up a meeting with Felicia's lover. I wasn't truthful with you. I did know his name. I wanted to talk to him before I told anybody who he was. He promised to meet me and show me proof he couldn't have killed Felicia. I've been waiting forty-five minutes and he hasn't shown up."

  "Why not go home?"

  "I want to tell somebody about him. I want to get it off my chest tonight."

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm at the Coffee Mill in downtown Tempe."

  Friday night, downtown Tempe was a magnet for singles looking to hook up. How totally did Mark not fit in with the usual crowd: students from nearby Arizona State, cruisers from all over the city, panhandlers, and cops on everything from Segways to horses.

  I would have to talk Jake into taking me to Tempe. "If I can get there, it'll be thirty, forty minutes. If I can't, I'll try to send my investigator Rusty Brock out to Tempe. Okay?"

  "I'll wait. I have to tell someone tonight."

  Rusty answered her phone and agreed to meet with Mark. I revved myself up to persuade Jake to take me to Tempe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  FRIDAY EVENING

  After some fast-talking from me, Jake allowed the trip to Tempe if he drove and if I obeyed him completely. Feeling dispossessed, I sat in the passenger seat of my car.

  When Jake turned the key, a rock and roll tune blasted out of the stereo. I stabbed the button to silence it. The music came right back, transformed into a screech that dissolved into loud static. Jake traced three circles on the knob before the noise crackled off. He stretched across me and fastened my seat belt. Taking my hands, he put them in my lap.

  As we passed by fast food restaurants and rows of one-story stucco homes, I wondered how I'd feel if Lauren took over my cases and nobody wanted me back. I tried deep breathing to relax but did it so vigorously my heart sped up, and I felt light-headed.

  "I seem to be causing more magic reactions. What does that mean?"

  "Your power is growing, not fading." Jake flicked a glance at me. "Tell me about the interview with Mark since I'll be sitting in while you talk to him tonight."

  Talking about Mark distracted me until Jake parked a block from Mill and Fifth, the center of downtown Tempe action. After he got out of the car, he hoisted the backpack over one shoulder and looked at the red-bricked backs of the old buildings that housed shops and restaurants. "I haven't been here since the last time I got drunk in graduate school."

  "My partner, Bear, and I come here every May Day to celebrate finishing law school."

  We headed toward Mill Avenue. Three young men swerved around us, spilling beer from plastic cups as they jostled each other. Four girls, all with long hair hanging over their eyes, approached us and giggled. Two of them brushed their hair back, smiles directed at Jake.

  Hurried footsteps sounded as Rusty caught up. "You guys just get here? You okay?"

  When Rusty didn't look at me like I was a freak, I relaxed a bit. I had given her an abridged version of my displays of magic at the Disclaimer Ranch and of my situation with Jake. When he gave her a quick hug—he knew her from teaching at the Phoenix Institute of Magic—I felt safe, surrounded by supportive people.

  Rusty opened the door to the Coffee Mill, which had been around for years. It featured a cozy interior with mismatched couches and tables, plus a patio that allowed for people watching.

  "Petra," Rusty said, "Looking back, I think something did happen between Ira and you. There was a magic chemistry going. You could've accidentally released magic and messed up his shape-shift."

  Four customers were lined up in front of the counter, all looking up at a chalkboard list of coffee, tea, soda, and water. Posters celebrated coffee mills and coffee makers, from French presses to stove top percolators. Shelves held books, magazines, and newspapers. Across the room, Mark sat with his back to the wall on a bench behind a round table. He looked up as I gripped the top of an empty chair. He had one hand on a book, Ask and You Shall Receive, and one hand on an empty mug.

  "Hello, Mr. Turner, this is another associate of mine, Jake Herz."

  Mark sat very straight, as if braced for an onslaught. He shook hands with Jake but kept his eyes on me.

  "Rusty, why don't you get Mark a refill and something for me and Jake." I sat opposite Mark. "Regular coffee, Mark?"

  He fingered the cup. "The special, Freshly Minted."

  I handed Rusty a twenty. "Plain coffee with a shot of espresso for me. Jake?"

  "Chai." Jake settled in his chair. "I'll be a silent partner here."

  I concentrated on Mark. "You must be tired. You worked all day, and you've been waiting over an hour."

  "Meeting the man Felicia loved is important to me."

  I rolled my shoulders and forced my arms and hands to relax. I wanted to gut him for information but not look aggressive. "When we interviewed you Tuesday night, you said you didn't know the Mystery Man's name, but you really did know his name, didn't you?"

  Mark's eyes slid around the crowded room. His lips turned down. "I made Felicia a solemn vow to God I would never reveal his name."

  Now that I knew he was a good liar, he was more interesting. "And you said you were afraid of him, but now you're making appointments with him."

  "He swore to me he would never harm Felicia. He said he'd bring proof, emails from work that would show he was in the office all Monday morning, so he couldn't have killed her."

  "Did Felicia tell you his name?"

  "No, I figured it out from—" He pursed his lips, realizing he needed to keep some secrets in. "That doesn't matter. Once I found out, I felt guilty because I'd gone behind her back."

  I guessed he couldn't keep the secret. "So you confessed to her?"

  "I thought she'd like to have someone share her love story."

  "How did Felicia react?"

  "I almost lost her. She said I'd betrayed her." His face scrunched with the pinch of a bad memory. "I swore to God I'd never tell his name. Now I'm going to betray her again. I'm having second thoughts about telling his name." He half rose. "I could use some sweetener."

  Rusty jumped up and returned with four pink packets.

  "Murder changes everything." I sipped my rich brew. "It doesn't make sense to keep quiet about someone who may have killed her." When Mark opened his mouth, I pushed my hand at him. "I know the cops have made an arrest, but what if they made a mistake? It's early in the case. Don't you have some suspicions about this Mystery Man? He was obviously a very controlling person. He wouldn't let Felicia lead a full life. And now he's messing with you."

  Mark didn't look up from the darkness of his coffee. "He did monopolize her, but she loved him. Tonight, I just wanted to give him a chance to share his sorrow with me. He sounded so sincere on the phone." He pushed his mug aside. "He actually called me. He said Felicia talked about how I was her best friend, the only person who knew her new lover's name."

  I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him because his sentimental notions about Felicia irritated me. "Think about it. It should scare you that he wants to meet. He's been very protective of his identity. He wants to know if you can connect him to her murder. He stood you up tonight. He's playing with you. You don't owe him anything. Think of what you owe Felicia. Tell me his name."

  A buzzing sounded. Mark dug out his phone and studied the screen. His "Hello" quavered out. He listened, his eyes hidden in a squint. "Okay," he muttered five times then covered the phone with his hand. "My mother gets nervous when she's alone. Excuse me a minute. Too much coffee. Be right back."

  I lost sight of him as he went around the counter. I remembered the restrooms were down a dingy corridor. Rusty held up a cigarette in one hand, nodded at me, and left.

  I turned on my phone, but was reluctant to dive into the maelstrom of messages. Out on the patio, laughter erupted from a group that had pushed two tables together. A guitarist tuned up, sending out discordant twa
ngs. Back-to-back cars crawled down Mill Avenue. Two guys in cowboy hats waved at the Coffee Mill customers as they drove by. Everyone laughed when the cowboys' jacked-up truck backfired.

  I snatched up my phone when it buzzed, and I saw Mark's name. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm sorry. That wasn't my mother. It was Felicia's lover. He had a flat tire. He was very apologetic. He's going to pick me up out back. Sorry for your trouble."

  I dialed Rusty when he disconnected. Busy. I didn't stop to leave a message but pushed away from the table and grabbed Jake's hand. I tugged him through a corridor that turned left, right, went up two steps, down one. I caught my foot in a tear of the carpet just past the restrooms and almost fell. Jake pulled me against the wall to let a kid all in black dart by.

  I tightened my grip on Jake's hand. "Mark tricked us. He's meeting the Mystery Man." With a yank, I drew Jake along as I stepped into the cobblestone alley.

  To my left, a dark sedan blocked the one-lane passage. Its motor chugged like a panting animal. I couldn't see a driver. Probably picking up a latte. I moved closer so I could see the license plate, just in case it was the Mystery Man. On the sidewalk, a man stood facing the street. A passing car illuminated him, and I recognized Mark.

  I didn't see any point in a confrontation with him since he'd obviously decided to meet the Mystery Man, who might not approach if Mark had companions. At least I could try to identify the Mystery Man. I doubted Mark could see me where I was in the dark, my feet crunching on splinters of glass from the broken spotlight above me. I crept to within ten feet. Across the alley from the patio of Barney's Pub, a singer yelled above his electric guitar, "No, no, baby, no, no." People sat on the half wall and chugged beer.

  I dialed Rusty's number.

  "You need me?"

  "It's Mark. He was talking to the Mystery Man, not his mother. The Mystery Man's going to pick him up close to Fifth and the alley behind the Coffee Mill. Mark's standing near the sidewalk. Can you watch on Fifth and get the license plate of whoever picks him up? I'm in the alley with Jake."

  "I'll lurk in an alcove where he can't see me. You and Jake see if you can sneak over to Barney's and observe from that direction."

  Three kids jumped off the half wall of Barney's facing the alley. Jake and I hitched ourselves up. We had a clear view of Mark, who looked away from us toward the street.

  Jake moved closer to me. "He's going to great lengths to validate his need to have a positive image of Felicia and her lover."

  "He wants to believe in love. Who doesn't?"

  I found a pen and notebook in my purse and wrote down the license plate number of the car with the running motor. I stared at the back of Mark's head, as if I could send a thought to him—Go away! This guy is dangerous. Mark shifted his feet and looked around but didn't leave. I couldn't stand it. I had to warn Mark not to be reckless. I jumped off the wall and dashed to him. When I was within touching distance, the parked car's engine roared louder.

  The dark sedan charged down the alley. Mark and I whirled to face it. He lurched sideways and bumped into me. I staggered and threw up my hands, as if that would stop the car. A dark shadow loomed in the driver's seat. With a thump, the car slammed into Mark's crotch. Screams—mine, Mark's, witnesses'—ricocheted off the brick walls. Mark slid over the hood, his head smashing into the windshield. When the car rounded the corner on squealing brakes, he sailed off onto the pavement. Mark careened faceup onto the street, limbs splayed out.

  Jake put his arm around me and yelled into his phone. People demanded if I was okay. I clutched at Jake, heard him say, "It turned right onto Fifth. I didn't see where it went. I was in the alley." I handed him the information I'd written down about the car but couldn't hear his response because so many people shouted into their phones. Some took pictures instead of calling for help.

  I tugged at Jake and pulled him toward Mark. We threaded our way through the crowd already ringed around the sprawled body. Rusty kneeled at Mark's side. At the sight of the bloody mess on the ground, I whimpered. Sirens wailed.

  Jake pulled a cloth from his backpack. "Use this on the cut on his neck."

  Rusty pressed the white cloth over the blood that streamed from a deep gash at the base of Mark's throat and stained his shirt. One of his ears hung half off. His right eye had been gouged out, leaving behind a red and white mass. A fist-sized lump swelled over his left brow. His nose had ballooned to twice its size. Legs twisted out from smashed hips. He had to be alive since his frantic heart still pumped out blood. I winced as a girl held up a cell phone, and light flashed into my eyes.

  An ambulance shrieked twice. The crowd stepped back as paramedics rushed out.

  "Okay, folks, we'll take over."

  Jake helped Rusty up, and we walked her over to a stone bench.

  Cops arrived in cars, on horseback, and on Segways. They ordered people off the street and blocked traffic. Flashing emergency lights created a jagged intensity. People held up cell phones to the cops and shouted, "I have pictures."

  Next to me, Jake felt around in the zipper pouch of his backpack and pulled out a moistened towel for Rusty to wipe off her hands. The metallic smell of blood filled my nostrils. I shivered, and my stomach clenched. Rusty shook all over. Sweat dripped down Jake's face.

  I wanted to say "He's alive" but couldn't get my mouth to work.

  The paramedics already had Mark on a gurney. Bandages concealed his terrible face.

  The scene settled into a pattern as the cops tried to make sense of it. They measured distances and skid marks. They closed off the alley. They took pictures. Every flash brought to mind Mark's crushed body and the ghouls photographing him with their cell phones. I felt guilty and horrible, sure I could've somehow prevented this tragedy.

  Rusty moved off to smoke and talk on the phone with her partner, Julie. Usually, Rusty did the nurturing. Time for Julie to be the strong one. When I finally collected my thoughts, I tried to leave a message for Chris, but I couldn't make a connection with his phone. I watched Rusty exhale a long puff of smoke as she paced and talked.

  I felt so bad I didn't even want a cigarette. "It keeps playing in my head, that loud crunching noise when the car hit him. I should have made him come away with me. I knew it was stupid for Mark to meet the Mystery Man. I let him go ahead because I wanted to have a chance to identify Felicia's lover."

  Jake poked around in his backpack. "Why did you run over to him?"

  "I wanted to warn him in person he was in danger. I was too late."

  Rusty darted past us and shook hands with a man who wore a dress shirt and pants and had a square jaw that said cop. As he shrugged into a suit jacket, he listened while Rusty talked.

  She strode back. "That's Gonzales, the lead homicide detective. Things will start to roll now. He's going to interview us after he gets the street cops organized in witness interviews."

  Jake and I were sitting close together. I slumped down and pressed on my forehead with my fists.

  He cleared his throat. "It looked to me like the driver meant to hit both you and Mark. You were close to him."

  I jerked up. "I just happened to be standing next to Mark. There's no reason for anyone to kill me. You aren't going to tell the cops that theory, are you?"

  "No, I will tell them that you were too far away to have activated the car."

  The thought that my erratic magic may have influenced the car hadn't occurred to me. I realized the police would be suspicious of the uncontrolled power of any student of Jake's. "What are you going to tell the cops about me?" My voice sounded accusatory.

  Jake handed me a peppermint. "You were too far away to have moved the car. I think they'll accept my opinion. I've been a witness for the state as often as for the defense."

  When Gonzales headed toward us, Rusty leaped up and intercepted him. They talked in the back seat of the cop car, doors left open, dome light turned on. While he spoke to her, a uniformed cop beckoned him. The two officers stood on the sidewalk with hands
on their hips. The detective shook his head. The certainty that Mark had died flashed through me. His crushed body, no longer pumping blood, would start to cool, screened off from the tumult of the emergency room.

  I hoped Jake didn't see that tears streamed down my face. I wasn't supposed to cry. "He's dead. I feel it. Somehow I know it."

  Jake squeezed my hand. "I believe that when people die, their essence seeks out those who knew them."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SATURDAY MORNING

  During the first night in my cell at the Disclaimer Ranch, the image of Mark's bloody body kept me twitchy. The stone ledge bed discouraged tossing and turning. I couldn't sleep until I crossed my arms over my chest. When my eyes popped open at 5:00 a.m., I checked the online Phoenix Gazette for coverage of Mark's death. A one-line statement described the hit and run, not naming the victim, pending notification of next of kin. His mother—I imagined Mark and her as being dependent on each other.

  As soon as I put my feet on the painted cement floor, a bulb inset in the ceiling flashed on.

  "Good morning, student." A high-pitched voice came from the light. "Breakfast at seven sharp."

  With only four hours sleep, I was too tired to get off the bench. During the interview with Detective Gonzales the night before, I'd tried to interest him in the idea that whoever had killed Mark had also killed Felicia. Since Phoenix had already made an arrest in Felicia's case, he wasn't struck by my theory but said he would "coordinate with appropriate law enforcement."

  The cold of the bench seeped through my nightshirt. I checked messages—responses from Maxy and Bear about my sudden incapacity.

  Bear wrote Well, we did want to build up the wizard talent in the firm. You sounded pretty calm in your email. Is that a front for a chaotic interior? As far as your cases are concerned, Maxy and I agree with you on the general plan—a notice to your clients and Lauren on board Monday for coverage. She has your notes on the cases for next week. Petra, if you need me, call.