by Sharon Pape
“Can we stop talking about me now?” I said. “It feels like months since I’ve seen you.” After solving her husband’s murder, we’d both been sucked back into our own demanding lives. Elise was busy learning how to be a father as well as a mother to her sons, and I was busy trying to keep my business going and keep a certain wizard out of trouble. Thus far, I’d been more successful at the former than the latter. Although Elise and I had talked on the phone and exchanged daily e-mails, nothing could replace a live face-to-face for my state of mind.
She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I’m out of time. Noah has a checkup date with his doctor, followed by a trip to buy new sneakers. He’s already outgrown the pair I bought him at the end of school. If he doesn’t have a growth spurt to even things out, he’s going to look like he has clown feet.”
“Judging by Zach, that growth spurt is right around the corner. .”
She pressed her cheek to mine and headed to the door. “I promise we’ll get lunch or dinner soon.”
“I’d love to see the boys. How about I bring pizza for all of us? Name the night.”
She paused in the doorway. “Thursday.”
“With mushrooms?”
“And sausage.”
Chapter 11
Thursday morning Mayor Tompkins breezed into my shop with Patrick Griffin, the owner of Remember When, in tow. My grandmother loved browsing through the antiques and memorabilia in his store. I knew Patrick too but not well. All I could say about him with any confidence was that he was married, had one son, and lived in the same general area I did.
“Hey, Kailyn,” Tompkins said, sounding strangely jaunty and sober at the same time. “Patrick and I are making the rounds. We’re letting folks know he’s agreed to take Amanda’s place on the board until we can have a proper election.” Patrick gave me a sheepish smile that said he’d rather be anywhere else. “I don’t know if you recall,” the mayor said, “but Pat here was on the board for five years; he knows the ropes. So when he walked into my office and offered to help out, I couldn’t have been more pleased.”
“I’m sure you were, Lester,” I said, trying to sort out my thoughts about his pronouncement. “But I can’t help wondering if everyone is going to be okay with an unelected board member voting on a heated issue like the zoning code—no offense, Patrick.”
He nodded.
“I took that into account,” Lester said, bulldozing on, “and that’s why Pat is the perfect man for the job. He’s always demonstrated a willingness to listen to both sides of any issue before arriving at a well thought out decision.”
“Then I guess he really is the perfect candidate,” I said dryly. There was nothing to be gained by arguing the point in front of Patrick, who seemed ready to bolt. I wanted to ask around and get a sense of how the community reacted to the news. I was about to thank them for stopping in when the Star Wars theme rang out from the mayor’s phone, startling all of us. He excused himself and stepped outside to take the call. Patrick and I were left standing there smiling awkwardly at each other.
“Patrick,” I said, “do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Not at all.”
“Did you go to the mayor and offer to step in, or did he come to you to talk you into ‘volunteering’?”
He laughed. “You don’t pull your punches. I’m afraid I’ll have to take the fifth, though.”
“Enough said. That’s what I thought.” I would have liked to ask him more, but Lester walked back in.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “A mayor’s job is never done. Good talking to you, Kailyn. We’re off to continue our rounds. Look forward to seeing you at the next town meeting. I’ll send an e-mail blast once we firm up the date.”
* * * *
“Pizza delivery,” I called out when Noah asked who was there. I heard him disengage the lock and pull the door open. He was standing in the open doorway beaming at me and the pizza.
“Ma,” he yelled over his shoulder, “Kailyn’s here.”
He plucked the boxes from my hands and was off with them to the kitchen. I could see Elise at the sink. I was on my way to her when Zach came charging down the stairs, making a last-second course correction to avoid crashing into me. I could swear he’d grown another foot since I’d last seen him. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and trotted into the kitchen.
“Welcome to the crazy Harkens house,” Elise said, hugging me. “There’s salad on the table, so please join my two hooligans, and I’ll be right there.” She opened the boxes and touched the crust. “It’s still warmish, but it’ll be better hot and crisp.” Zach and Noah groaned in unison. “You’ll survive for another five minutes,” she told them. “Patience is a virtue, though I’m not altogether sure why.” She pulled a large griddle out of a lower cupboard and set it over two of the stove’s gas burners. I scooched into the kitchen nook beside Zach, leaving Elise the side near Noah.
We ate salad with oil and vinegar, and I chatted with the boys about the upcoming school year. Zach was looking forward to basketball and track. Noah was baseball all the way, though he thought he might also try fencing during the winter. Both of them were eager to connect with friends again. The learning part of school came in a distant third. I was surprised because they’d always done so well academically. Thinking back to my own school days, I realized I’d felt the same way they did.
Elise served up the pizza, oozing cheese and smelling like heaven, on paper plates. “I put more slices on to heat, so yell when you want seconds.” She’d barely slid into her seat when Zach was ready for more. She laughed. “I should probably just put a whole pie in front of him from the get-go.”
When the kids couldn’t eat another bite, they left to play with the new game station Noah had received for his birthday. After I helped Elise clean up, we sat back down at the table with coffee.
“How are they doing?” I asked her.
“Better. Definitely better. Getting back to school and all their activities should help too. But I’m dreading the holiday season.”
“Maybe it would be good to shake things up this year. Instead of staying home, you could spend some time with your sister’s family. The kids love being with their cousins.”
“I might. My sister has been harping on it. But we’re not done with summer yet. I can’t plan that far ahead right now.”
I didn’t want to push her about it, so I switched topics and told her about the unexpected visit from the mayor and Patrick.
“You cannot be serious,” she said, putting down her coffee cup with a clatter. “It sounds like Lester is trying to rig the zoning vote.”
“Can he do that? Appoint whoever he wants just like that?”
“Not really, but he can sure try. If anyone protests and cites the town’s charter, he’ll have to back down. He’s made it clear from the beginning he wants that hotel to be built. I wonder how big a kickback he’s been promised.”
“Wait,” I said, reminded of Nancy Clemens remark, “am I the only one who isn’t aware he’s been on the take?”
“No, I doubt many people are aware of it. I know because Jim was his attorney. Of course Jim shouldn’t have told me, confidential information and all, but he was never great at keeping his pants zipped or his mouth shut.”
“That buys Lester a pass off my suspect list,” I said with a sigh. “Since Amanda was in favor of the hotel, Lester didn’t have that motive for murdering her. Too bad, I could have wrapped up the case in no time and swept another sleaze out of office in the process.”
Elise chuckled. “Don’t lose hope; he might have killed her for a different reason.”
“Your optimism is one of the things I love most about you,” I said.
“I imagine he picked Patrick to fill the seat because he’s also pro-hotel,” she mused. “Otherwise, why take the chance of alienating his electorate?”
“That’s my guess too. I intend to pay Patrick a return visit, just to be neighborly, and see what I can find out.” I paused to drink my coffee. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the other two members on the board. How well do you know Corinne DeFalco and Eddie Hermann?”
“We’re acquaintances. They both have kids who’ve been in classes with Zach and Noah. If I remember correctly, Eddie works for a cable company in Watkins Glen, and Corinne works part-time in a doctor’s office.”
“Do you know which way they lean on the hotel issue?”
“We’ve never gotten much further than ‘Hello, how are you?’ or the occasional comment about school-related stuff. Why? Do you think either of them could have killed Amanda?”
“No, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t check them out.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up for you,” Elise said. “I could use a little intrigue to spice up my life.”
* * * *
The tour bus scheduled to arrive the next morning pulled into town on time. Within five minutes my shop was humming with activity. Advertised as a Last Fling of Summer tour out of Brooklyn, it had attracted a diverse group of people. There were seniors, young families, a couple of self-proclaimed witches and a group of singles who thought they’d signed on for a tasting tour of the Upstate wineries. They kept me on my toes explaining products, answering questions and ringing up sales. Tilly was fully booked for the day too, so I couldn’t ask her for help, and we’d decided it would be best to leave Merlin home to watch the Cowboy Network.
Toward the end of the morning, the crowd thinned out until the two pseudowitches were the only people remaining in the shop. I’d noticed them earlier, smug and smirking as they went through the aisles and listened to my conversations with other customers. I’d heard snippets of what they were saying to each other: “What a crock.... Do you believe her...? This place is pathetic....”
I didn’t say a word, but when they passed the counter giggling, I sent some of our brochures flying over to them. They batted them away, their giggles replaced by nervous mutterings. They stepped up their pace and headed for the door. I used a quick spell to make the door swell in its frame. The spell wasn’t exactly for that purpose, but I saw no harm in trying it.
First one, then the other, tried turning the knob. When it didn’t budge, they tugged at it to no avail. Their growing anxiety was evident on their faces. When they finally looked over at me, I smiled graciously and made a big show of reducing the size of the door and swinging it wide open for them. “Come back soon,” I called out cheerfully as they bolted for the street.
Once I was through congratulating myself, I had a stroke of conscience. I was no better than Merlin. I couldn’t even call what I did gray magick, because there was no benefit to balance out my use of power. Scaring them was an act of vengeance. I did it because I could, and that was unacceptable.
“Fifty lashes with a limp noodle,” my mother said, startling me. Her little energy cloud was behind me, bobbing up and down like a skiff at anchor. “Good morning, Kailyn.”
“If you’re here to lecture me, get on with it.”
“Oh that—no, no, you’re only human, and they were asking for it. Had it been me, they would have fared a whole lot worse.”
“That’s hardly the way to instruct your daughter,” Bronwen said, her cloud appearing out of the ether.
“Can you swear that you never once used your powers inappropriately, Mother?” Morgana asked her.
Bronwen didn’t immediately answer. I could tell she was arguing with herself because her cloud had turned a bilious shade of green.
“Fine,” she said. “I suppose there was a time or two when I was younger that I might have disobeyed the rules to indulge in some questionable acts. Nonetheless, that doesn’t make it right.”
“Ladies, I understand. I’ll try not to let it happen again.” I turned to my mother. “Are you here for a visit, or is there something else on your agenda?”
“I want to know how your teleportation efforts are going.”
“Kind of hard to say. I did manage to teleport myself but not to the place where I intended and not in the best of shape.” I spent a minute elaborating. “Hopefully I’ll improve with practice.”
“I knew you had it in you!” Bronwen exclaimed. “I have absolute faith that in due time you’ll master the skill.”
My mother was far less enthusiastic. “Excuse me,” she said to her mother, “I’m not sure we should be encouraging her to continue. The potential risk may well be too great.”
“Courage was never your forte,” Bronwen said dryly.
“There’s an important distinction between courage and folly, Mother,” Morgana snapped. “I’ll never forget the time you were sure that with the right spell you’d be able to fly.”
“What happened?” I asked, though I knew better than to insinuate myself into their dramas. But since I’d never heard a whisper about this, I couldn’t let it go by.
“I was only five years old, but I remember the incident vividly. Tilly and I watched our mother climb to the top of Dinkman’s Hill, jump off and nearly fall to her death.”
“You’re making it sound much worse than it was,” Bronwen said indignantly.
“Why don’t we let Kailyn judge that for herself? All I need to add is that Tilly and I had to be placed in foster care for three months while you recuperated and went through rehab. What do you say to that, Kailyn?”
“It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to attempt, especially with two little kids looking on, but I have to acknowledge my grandmother’s courage in trying.” I had to offer a split decision or risk making a worse mess of our family dynamics.
“Is it any wonder that Tilly and I grew up to be more cautious?”
Morgana was clearly not going to let the issue go. I had to do something. “Excuse me,” I said, “but I have to see a man about a hotel.”
They weren’t even listening to me. Their clouds had turned red and were sparking from their anger. I stuck the I’ll Be Back clock sign in the window, grabbed my purse from behind the counter, and left them to their argument. With any luck, they’d be gone when I returned.
* * * *
Patrick Griffin was eating a hero on the front porch of his antique shop. “Hi, how are you doing?” he asked when I stopped near the steps.
“I’m good. I didn’t mean to intrude on your lunch hour. I can come back later.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Not at all. Come sit down. Eating alone is boring. That’s why I sit out here and watch the world go by. Please join me.” He pulled another foil-wrapped sandwich out of the insulated bag near his feet. “Meatball hero made from scratch by my wife.” When I hesitated, he said, “I never eat the second one, but she insists on sending two just in case. Like I might starve here in the middle of town. With The Soda Jerk across the street.”
The sandwich did smell delicious. “You talked me into it,” I said, hopping up the steps to the porch. I thanked him and took the sandwich, installing myself in the wicker chair beside his. The hero was even better than it smelled. One bite made me realize I was hungrier than I thought. “This is amazing. Please thank your wife for me. She ought to open a restaurant in town.”
“I’ve suggested that a dozen times over the years. She’s not interested.”
“Nice tour group today,” I said to keep the conversation going.”
“Best kind. They had money and weren’t afraid to part with it. I sold more this morning than I did all of last week.”
“By the way,” I said after swallowing another mouthful, “how did the rest of your campaign stops with Lester go?”
“Let’s just say I didn’t expect everyone to be thrilled with the idea, and I wasn’t disappointed.” He laughed. “Luckily I have a day job to fall back on if the town wants to wait for another election. Of course, the
delay could make the Waverly people decide to bail altogether. Between you and me, I’m not sure how I got roped into this anyway.”
Sharing a meal seemed to be loosening Pat’s tongue. Or maybe it had elevated my status from acquaintance to friend. “Everyone figures you’re in favor of the hotel or Lester wouldn’t have asked you to come aboard,” I said and took another hearty bite as though I was more interested in the sandwich than in his answer.
“I am for it,” he said. “I know a lot of people feel strongly against it. Where do you come down on the subject?”
I shrugged. “Still undecided.” I wasn’t, but I figured he would be freer with his words if he didn’t see me as an opponent. “May I ask why you want the hotel to be built here?”
Pat finished his last bite of sandwich before answering. “Antiques are not everyone’s thing. So the more people who visit our town, the higher the number of prospective buyers. It’s a flat-out business decision. I care about maintaining the charm of our town as much as the next person, but I also want to earn enough to put my son through college.”
I bobbed my head. I couldn’t deny it made sense. “Does it look like Lester can get you seated on the board without starting a town-wide civil war?” I absently licked the sauce off my fingers.
Pat passed me a napkin. “Good to the last drop,” he said with a wink. “We’ll find out soon enough. He’s going to call for another town meeting. He claims if we don’t change the zoning law soon, they may walk away from the project.”
“I’m still wondering if Amanda was killed to keep the zoning law from being passed.”
“Why else?” he said. “The fact that she was murdered at the meeting can’t be just a coincidence. There are a dozen other places where she could have been killed more easily and with a lot less risk to the killer.”
That was the consensus from everyone I’d asked, including Travis. It seemed logical enough, but I couldn’t dismiss the nagging little voice in my head playing the what-if game. What if the killer had chosen the time and place precisely to make everyone think Amanda was killed because of the zoning issue and not something else?