Witches of Palmetto Point Series Boxset Books 1 - 3: Haunting Charlie, Wayward Spirits and Devil's Snare

by Wendy Wang

  He watched as she painted some sort of colored goop onto thin strands of the girl’s hair. She stepped back a moment and chewed on the sharp tip of the brush in her hand, surveying her work. She picked up one more bit of hair and painted a little more goop on it before abruptly disappearing behind a freestanding wall made of reclaimed wood. A moment later, she rolled out a tall contraption with long, bendable arms that had lamps attached. She plugged in the unit, pushed it close to her client and arranged the lamps so the pink bulbs inside shined on the woman’s head.

  Daphne pivoted toward him and smiled. “Your turn.”

  Jason rose from the waiting area and took a seat in the chair next to the woman being baked by the pink lights. “This place is pretty fancy for Palmetto Point.”

  Daphne grinned and wrapped a black protective cape around him, fastening it snuggly at his neck. “Not really. We have a ton of wealthy retirees in this area. They expect upscale and this way they don’t have to drive all the way to Charleston to get it.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize. I thought this was more of a tourist town.”

  “We have those too,” she said, combing through his shaggy mane with her fingers. “So what would you like me to do today? Keep the same but make it shorter and clean it up? Or are you looking for a new style?”

  An unexpected anxiety flooded his belly at the mention of a new style and he wrapped his fingers around the chrome arm of the chair and squeezed.

  “Short and clean is good.” He forced a smile. “I have a pretty conservative job so a new style would be kinda risky.”

  “Okey-dokey, shorter it is then.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “So, what you do you that makes a new hairstyle such a risky proposition?”

  “I’m a deputy sheriff.”

  “Oooh, my cousin Lisa’s boyfriend is a deputy too. Maybe you know him. Billy Manges?”

  “I know of him. I think he’s contracted directly by Palmetto Point through the sheriff’s department, so we don’t really cross paths.”

  “Huh. That makes sense. Let’s get your hair washed.” She touched his shoulder, prompting him to stand up. “You must see a lot of interesting things.”

  She led him behind the freestanding wall to a separate area with three dark gray sinks and white chairs that matched the ones up front. He took a seat and leaned back against the sink and she wet his hair. The feel of the warm water and the way she lathered up his hair and scrubbed his scalp relaxed him. There was more strength in her hands than he expected. When she was finished shampooing and conditioning his hair, she wrapped it in a towel, squeezing most of the wetness out.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure,” he said, wondering if she always sounded like a happy princess in a fairytale. She led him back to the stylist chair. She guided his head forward until his chin hit his chest. “So Daphne,” he said, watching as the first locks of his hair began to fall to the floor. “How long have you lived in Palmetto Point?”

  “Pretty much my whole life,” she said. The scissors felt cold against the skin of his neck. “What about you? Did you grow up here?”

  “No. I actually grew up in Charlotte. But I’ve got family here. I used to come visit my great uncle when I was a kid and really fell in love with the area so I moved here after college and joined the sheriff’s department.”

  “Nice.” She shifted his head to the right, but made him keep his gaze down. “My cousin Jen used to live in San Francisco but she came back after she got pregnant and my cousin Lisa lived in Columbia for a while but she hated being away from the water. So she came back too. I’ve never lived anywhere but here. Can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “My mom really speaks highly of you. Said you are great at what you do.”

  “I just love your mother. She is the sweetest lady. I’m so sorry that she’s having such problems with her new house.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Yeah,” he said. “She’s hired some psychic to come and take a look.”

  “Oh yeah!” Daphne said. “That’s my cousin Charlie.”

  “You sure have a lot of cousins,” he teased.

  Daphne snorted. “Yeah. We all grew up together. And Charlie’s great. I have no doubt she’ll be able to take care of it for your mom. She means the world to me as a customer and I just hate that she’s so scared.”

  “So you really believe in this stuff? Ghosts, I mean.”

  “Sure,” she said. “This is one of the most haunted areas in the whole United States. I actually grew up in a haunted house. It was my cousin Charlie that helped the ghost move on.”

  “How did she do that?”

  Daphne leaned in close and gently pulled his ear down to get at the surrounding hair. “She talked to it. It didn’t want to go at first, but with a little coaxing it finally left. I actually kind of missed it after it was gone.”

  “So that’s what she’s going to do for my mom?” He threw a glance over at the young woman sitting next to him. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her phone, texting someone. He lowered his voice, feeling weird about talking about this subject at all. “She’s gonna just talk to it?”

  “Well yeah, to start with. There’s some other stuff she can do too. Burn some sage. Make a salt circle around the house. I think they met with your mom yesterday but I haven’t heard how it went. Have you talked to your mom?”

  “Uh — yeah, she did mention something. She seemed to really like her.”

  “Excellent. My cousins are very likable — well Charlie is, anyway. Lisa can be a little brusque but once you get past that crabby exterior, she’s really lovable.” Daphne chuckled to herself and muttered, “Sometimes.”

  “So y’all don’t get along very well?”

  “No, we get along fine. You just have to understand, we’re more like sisters than cousins. Lisa’s the oldest and I’m the baby so—”

  “I see. So, there’s contention. What about Charlie? Where does Charlie fit in?”

  “Charlie is totally a middle child. You know the one that never gets any attention and just wants everybody to get along.”

  “Hmm, so does she do this kind of thing for a living?”

  “Charlie? No, not at all. I had to practically beg her. She’s a rep for a local call center. Although she does do psychic readings sometimes. I even made her a website and a Facebook page but she doesn’t do anything with them, really. I keep telling her if she would just advertise, she could totally quit her job.”

  “She’s that good, huh?” He started to nod but Daphne held tight to his head.

  “Careful, wouldn’t want to accidentally snip your ear off.” She smiled at him in the mirror.

  “No, we definitely don’t want that. Sorry.” His lips tugged into a half smile. “So Charlie’s that good, huh?”

  Daphne continued to cut his hair. “Yeah, Charlie’s the best I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’ve seen a lot of psychics?” Jason said. He cringed internally at his derisive tone. It wasn’t the way to get someone to talk, and he knew it.

  Daphne grew quiet for a moment bringing his head up straight she combed through his dark, damp hair, checking her work. “You have really healthy hair. I can already tell you work out. You must eat right too.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I try. So you know a lot of psychics?”

  “You sure are inquisitive.” Daphne laughed, but it sounded hollow and nervous. She stepped back and met his gaze in the mirror.

  “I don’t mean to pry.”

  Daphne’s brow furrowed and her ever-present smile faded. “You know, I think you do actually.”

  “Uh. Pardon me?”

  “Why are you really here?”

  “I needed a haircut. My mom recommended you. She even said you’d give me ten percent off for mentioning her.” He held her gaze in the mirror, letting his lips stretch into a wider, reassuring grin.

  Daphne narrowed her eyes. “So that’s your story, huh?”


  “There’s no story.” The muscles in his cheeks cramped from holding the grin.

  Daphne glanced toward her other client. The young woman was too engrossed in her phone to notice them though. Daphne stepped closer and ran her hand through his drying hair, finger styling it. “You don’t know this about me, but I’m a sensitive too. Just like Charlie. I’m not quite as attuned to the other side as she is, but we both have one thing in common. The ability to know when someone’s lying.”

  “Well that’s a handy skill to have.” Jason’s smile faded. “What other skills do you have?”

  “Me? Well I’m really good at making people feel good about themselves and seeing what someone wants even when they may not know what they want?”

  “Hmmm,” he said. “Well that just means you can easily take advantage of somebody.”

  “Sure. If I were an evil witch, but my mother raised me better than that. What about yours?”

  “My mother? She did a great job.”

  “Good, glad to hear it.” She held his gaze a moment longer. “We should get you dry and on your way.”

  Daphne pulled the hairdryer from the chrome cart holding her tools and with the flip of a switch, she ended the conversation.

  Chapter 9

  Jason Tate dropped back two car lengths to ensure that Charlie didn't notice him following her. On the seat next to him, lay a file folder with all the information he'd managed to gather: driving record (no speeding tickets in the last three years), financial records (credit card bills paid off monthly — who does that?), divorce decree and custody agreement. On paper, she was the perfect citizen. With one exception, her divorce from Scott Carver. Somehow in the great state of South Carolina, Ms. Charlotte Grace Payne had lost custody of her ten-year-old son to her ex. A rarity in his experience working with the courts. Sure, Carver was a doctor, from a well-to-do family, but what had she done not to at least have joint custody? He had an appointment with her ex-husband later and he couldn't wait to bring it up. Maybe their parting was not so amicable. Maybe, just maybe, the good doctor would give him the dirt he needed. He could hope anyway.

  The blinker of her silver Honda Civic came on, signaling her lane change and one of her brake lights flickered and burned out.

  He fought the urge to flip on his lights and pull her over but he thought better of it. It was too soon to let her know he was following her.

  He shadowed her on Highway 17 heading toward downtown Charleston. She zipped across the Ashley River Bridge to the Lockwood exit and it became harder not to be noticed once she turned from Lockwood on to Calhoun Street. He kept one car length between them for as long as he could. Where was she going? Finally, she turned into a parking garage off George Street and he followed her in, not wanting to lose sight of her.

  He parked and waited for her to pass his car before he got out and began to follow her three blocks to Charleston College's library.

  The early afternoon sun glinted off her pale, blonde hair and she walked with a little bounce in her step. No mom jeans for her — she wore skinny jeans and a form-fitting, red t-shirt. It was hard to admit, and he’d deny it if someone asked, but he did find her attractive, which made him even more determined to find something on her. Surely something dark lurked behind that angelic face.

  She crossed the street, and he followed her into the library. She approached the circulation desk and spoke to one of the librarians for several minutes. He ducked into the coffee shop off the main lobby. A small table hidden behind one of the large pillars, gave him a good view of her but allowed him to remain out of her line of sight.

  The tall, balding man behind the desk kept flicking his eyes from her face to her chest, which made Jason uncomfortable. Finally, he nodded and wrote something down for her. A wide smile crossed her face, and she headed toward the right corner of the building, disappearing into a stairwell. Jason scowled. There was no way she wouldn’t notice him now, but maybe he could make that work in his favor.

  Finding old newspaper articles from the Post and Courier without an exact date turned out to be more difficult than Charlie thought. Most of it had been put onto microfiche. But there were dates missing because of the merger of the Charleston Daily News and The Evening Post. There were copies of Charleston Daily News going all the way back to 1863 but only selected dates. Charlie scanned through every article she could find, making notes into a small wire-bound notebook she’d brought. There were no articles about missing girls on Talmadge Island but there was a short article on Aldus Talmadge’s death. The paper stated that after Talmadge had been formally charged with the rape and murder of one Amelia Hannagan, a local farmer’s daughter, Talmadge had somehow escaped captivity only to be found hanging by his neck in the foyer of his parents’ home. Charlie put the heels of her hands over her eyes and rubbed them and the scene played out in her mind — Talmadge escaping, going home to his mother, only to be handed over to an angry mob by her.

  “Mother? Mother! Help me!” Talmadge screamed. One of the men slipped a noose around Talmadge’s neck while another one held him down.

  “No one can help you now Aldus. Lord knows I’ve tried, but you have brought such shame upon us. May God forgive you because I cannot.” The old woman turned into the parlor, closing the ornate double-doors behind her.

  Talmadge’s screams echoed through her head across time. No justice had been served by hanging him this way, especially not for the girls he’d killed, whose names weren’t known. Charlie shook her head trying to rid herself of the image of them all, standing at the edge of those woods, looking to her for some sort of atonement that she wasn’t sure even existed.

  “Ms. Payne? It’s Ms. Payne, right?” A voice said from behind.

  Charlie turned and found Jason Tate standing behind her in full uniform. Her gaze flitted to the gun holster on his hip then back to his face. His lips curved into a smile, but it looked as if it pained him to wear it. His dislike for her came off him in waves, and she wondered if he was even aware of it.

  “Doing a little research?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Any luck finding something that will help you completely defraud my mother?”

  Charlie gritted her teeth to keep from saying something she might regret. He was just not going to let it go, was he?

  “What brings you here?” she finally said raising her voice. The person two stalls over glared at her.

  “I’m doing a little research myself,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought you were some sort of hotshot deputy sheriff or something. Shouldn't you be out deputy-sheriffing? Surely there are present-day crimes that need solving.”

  “Don't worry about me, honey. I just wanted to remind you that I'm watching you.”

  “Yeah, you made it clear before, deputy.” Charlie emphasized the last word. “And I made it clear that you’re not going to find anything. So why keep threatening me?”

  “It’s not a threat. You scam my mother, I will arrest you all. Do you understand me?”

  “No one is trying to scam your mother. All I want to do is help. I would have thought that you of all people would want that.”

  “My mother has an over-active imagination. She doesn’t need a psychic. What she needs is a—” He bit back the rest of his sentence.

  The word popped into her head.

  “She needs a shrink? That’s what you were going to say, right?”

  Jason’s face flushed and his brows drew together into a heavy line above his eyes. His jaw clenched and nostrils flared. “Obviously you’re really good at mind games.”

  Charlie sighed. “This isn’t a game and the fact that you don’t realize that, makes me even more terrified for your mother. I don’t care if you believe in me or not but you need to believe in her. Her fear is real.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t,” he started, defensive.

  “Yes you did. The minute you thought it could be solved with a trip t
o a psychiatrist. You want to help her? Stop projecting your ideas of how things should be — how she should be — and start supporting her how she is now, including her fears. All she wants is for you to believe in her. That’s all anybody wants, really. Someone to believe in them.” Charlie glanced at her phone and flipped off the microfiche machine. She removed the sheet of fiche and stood up. “Now if you'll excuse me I have to get to work.”

  Charlie slung her purse strap over her shoulder and walked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking back at him.

  “What do you mean Jason Tate was there? What was he doing there?” Lisa said, sounding irritated. Charlie balanced her cell phone on one leg as she drove.

  “I don’t know what he was doing there exactly other than trying to be menacing to me. He told me he would arrest me if I was trying to scam his mother.”

  “Did he?” Lisa fumed. “I’d like to see him try.”

  “It's probably better if we play nice. I don't need any sort of trouble. I’m just not sure where to go next. I thought for sure there would be something more in the papers.”

  “You know I’ve been thinking about that. As much as I hate to admit this out loud — I can’t imagine any paper around here reporting on missing African-American girls. Not before the forties or fifties, anyway.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately I had that thought too,” Charlie said.

  “Maybe we should check with some of the museums. I mean who's gonna know the history better than a historian at a museum? Maybe they can tap resources that we can't.”

  “You know, there’s an agricultural museum in Palmetto Point. I mean I know it's not on the same island but—” Charlie said.

  “Yeah but it's agriculture, which is pretty central to the area. There's also a maritime museum. They may know more about Talmadge’s shipping company. That’s originally how they made their money.”