by Sharon Pape
“Why is that?” the loud one asked, joining us at the counter with her basket.
“A lot of today’s so-called witches are just playing around the edges of magick, which can be dangerous if they don’t know what they’re doing. My family comes from a long, long line of sorcerers who trace their roots back to a time before England was the country it is today.”
The petite one was hanging on my every word with obvious delight, a little frisson making her shoulders twitch. The loud one sighed. “It’s a pity we live so far from here. This place is so enchanting,” she said and chuckled at her pun.
The mother hen of the three set two baskets on the counter with a thud. “What?” she said in response to the astonishment on her friends’ faces. “You know my daughter. If I don’t buy two of everything, she’ll steal mine, and I’ll be left empty-handed.”
“I’m glad I only have sons,” the loud one said.
The petite one turned back to me. “Do you also sell spells?”
“I do. Is there something specific you have in mind?”
“I’d love to have a wellness spell, if there is such a thing.”
Her two companions echoed her sentiment.
“There certainly is, and because you’re all buying so much today, the spell is my treat.” It was a good business decision since I didn’t have a soundproof chamber and they would have shared the spell in any case. This way I seemed generous.
“It’s like getting a bonus,” the petite one declared. “I love bonuses.”
I handed them each a paper and pencil and apologized for not having enough chairs. They worked it out quickly, the mother hen saying that the loud one should sit due to her bad back. She and the petite one would lean on the counter to write.
“You’ll need a glass of pure apple juice, preferably organic; a cinnamon stick; and a white candle,” I said, allowing time for them to write it all down. “Stir the apple juice four times clockwise with the cinnamon stick. Light the candle, drink a few sips of juice, and say these words:
“Bless my body
“Bless my soul,
“Health and wellness
“Is my goal.
“Then finish the juice and snuff out the candle. You should use the spell whenever you feel an illness coming on or every morning to remain healthy.”
“That’s almost the same as the old saying ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away,’” the loud one said skeptically.
“Where do you think that saying originated?” I asked her.
She thought about it for a second and chuckled. “Touché.”
It wasn’t the first time one of our spells had been challenged. But as Bronwen used to say, the truth always rings true.
I was totaling up the mother hen’s order when an older woman walked in. She looked somewhat familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place her. She didn’t start browsing like most customers would have but stood off to the side as if she was waiting to speak to me. I thanked the three women, and they promised to be back in a few months or as soon as lake-effect snow allowed.
After they left, I came from behind the counter as the newcomer approached. “Hi,” I said. “May I help you?”
“Hi, Kailyn. It’s been a long time, and you probably don’t remember me—Estelle Gingold.” She put out her hand.
The name and face instantly connected in my brain. My hand flew to my mouth. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, Mrs. Gingold.” I took her hand that was gnarled from the ravages of arthritis and held it gently in mine. Her hair had gone snow white and looked like a halo around her face. When she smiled, it was the same smile I remembered. It still twinkled in her eyes.
“No apologies necessary,” she said. “You’ve been busy growing up, and I’ve been just as busy growing old.”
“Third grade,” I murmured, the memories flooding back into my mind as fresh and detailed as if it were only yesterday that I sat in her classroom.
“First seat on the right, second row.”
“How on earth do you remember where I sat? You must have taught hundreds of kids since then.”
“You remember the good ones,” she said, adding wryly, “and the awful ones.”
“You were the one teacher who made me love school. I always meant to tell you that.”
“Thank you, dear. It sounds just as sweet hearing it now.”
I offered her the chair, which she accepted. “Are you still teaching?” I asked.
“No, I retired almost seven years ago. But I keep up with everyone at the school. Not a week goes by that I don’t meet one or two of my friends for lunch or dinner, especially Amanda. We were very...”
She trailed off, and I could see her jaw tensing to staunch a flood of emotion.
“I’m told you’re looking into Amanda’s death,” she went on. “I guess you found a second calling in those mysteries you were always reading,” she said with a weak smile. “It’s the reason I came to see you today.”
“You have information related to her death?” I asked.
“Yes, but it’s possible I’m an old fool tilting at windmills. I’ll let you be the judge.” She took a deep, shaky breath before beginning. “Amanda Boswell was one of my closest friends at the school in spite of our age difference. Maybe I was a mother figure to her, and she was the daughter I never had. Anyway, she confided in me over the years, and now that she’s been murdered, I need to betray her trust in this one instance.”
“Under these circumstances, I’m sure she would understand.”
“Maybe so.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to speak to the detective on the case?” I asked, hoping she didn’t.
Estelle shook her head. “Telling you doesn’t feel like as much of a betrayal somehow...unless it would put you in a bad position with the police?”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” I said dryly.
“Has my perfect student gone over to the dark side?”
“Maybe just the dark side of Detective Duggan.”
“If you’re sure then?”
“Full speed ahead.”
“Thank you. Ever since Amanda moved here and started teaching, she’s had a not-so-secret admirer.”
“You mean like a stalker?” I asked.
“Not to my knowledge. It never reached that level. In fact, for the first few years Amanda thought the attention was sweet. But when word got around that she and Alan were separating, things changed. Her admirer started asking her out. She turned him down in the kindest of terms, saying that she and Alan were separated but working on their marriage. That explanation worked for a while, but as time passed, the admirer became more insistent, and she realized she had to do something about it. She told him that as wonderful as he was, she thought of him as a good friend and that would never change. She hoped he would understand. Well, he didn’t. He screamed at her, said he’d been so patient all these years, how could she just cast him aside, et cetera. I’m sure you get the gist.”
“Wow,” I said. “Now I see why you felt you had to tell someone. Who is he?”
She sighed heavily, clearly reluctant to say the name. “Rusty Higgins. I’ve known the man since the day he started working at the school. He’s always been a grumbler, but I never saw anything aggressive or murderous in his character. He was always kind to the kids, no matter how much they teased him. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go into police work or profiling.”
“Wow,” I repeated. It seemed to be the only word left in my vocabulary.
“I know. Now would be a great time for you to tell me you’ve figured out who killed her and it wasn’t Rusty.”
“I wish I could. Would it help if I told you I’m looking at a few suspects who also seem to have good motives?”
“I’ll take what I can get,” she said. “Will you let me know if you
turn up anything else about Rusty or, even better, if you’re able to cross him off as a suspect?”
“I will. In spite of the reason for your visit, I’m glad you came. How does someone win a place on that list of friends you lunch with?” I asked.
“I always keep a slot open for the right kind of person,” she said. “Give me a ring when you’re in the mood for Mexican. The rest of my buddies are wimps when it comes to anything spicy.”
We hugged good-bye, and she went on her way, leaving me with topsy-turvy emotions. I was glad to have her back in my life and for the chance to get to know her as more than a teacher. But I was also in a state of shock over what she’d told me about Rusty. Was it possible for so many educated, supposedly intelligent people to have so badly misjudged him? Although I hadn’t wanted to point it out to Estelle, Rusty had both motive and opportunity. In fact, if he was innocent, he might have a hard time proving it.
Chapter 14
My family has always kept tools and related equipment in the detached garage behind the house. It originally served as a carriage house, but these days it easily accommodates two cars. However, its location made it less than ideal for that purpose. It was easier to park halfway up the driveway where the flagstone path led right to the front door. I could remember the first and last time my mother decided to put the car in the garage before an impending blizzard.
“This way we won’t have to dig the car out of the snow,” she’d said, delighted with her epiphany. What she hadn’t taken into account was that instead of digging out the car, we would have to clear the entire length of the driveway to even reach the car. I’d thought for sure it would take us until the summer. In the end, Bronwen broke her own rule and went outside in the dead of night to use a spell to melt the snow. Luckily no one was witness to the magickally vanishing snow, although a few people with raised eyebrows did remark about the exceptional job we women had done in clearing the driveway.
After getting home from my shop and feeding my household, I changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. It was too light out to chance using telekinesis to carry the aluminum stepladder out of the garage and around to the front of the house. I’d been practicing the skill in every spare moment, and I’d become stronger at it. The ladder would not have posed any problem. However, given the circumstances, I had no choice but to actually carry it.
Once it was in place, I spent a ridiculous amount of time looking for a screwdriver. For projects inside the house, my family rarely resorted to using tools if a quick spell would do the trick. As a result, years went by without needing the tools, so none of us could recall where we last stowed them. I finally found the screwdriver in the basement with the dubious help of the cats, who were climbing all over me. They were understandably curious. I rarely invaded their sanctum sanctorum because I had a deep and abiding aversion to spiders. I searched for the screwdriver, prepared to flee if I felt anything smaller than a cat brush my skin. I finally found the tool on a pegboard near the furnace and scooted back upstairs.
By the time I was ready to start the installation, daylight was waning, the sun playing hide and seek with me through the trees as it drifted toward the horizon. I had maybe an hour of decent light left. I refused to put it off for another day in case my tormentor was planning to strike again.
Fortunately, when I purchased the camera, I had the foresight to buy a mounting kit too. I decided to attach the camera to the fascia of the porch roof, a term I discovered by doing some online research. With the screwdriver in the pocket of my jeans and the mounting kit in one hand, I started up the ladder. While I was on the second rung, it occurred to me that I had little to no experience with ladders and that I’d never been particularly comfortable with heights. Well, I told myself, this was as good a time as any to remedy the situation. I wasn’t going to get experience by staying rooted to the ground.
I made it onto the last rung, feeling pretty good about myself until I realized I couldn’t quite reach the fascia. “Seriously?” I demanded of the universe. So much for installing the camera then and there. I’d have to wait until I bought or borrowed a taller ladder.
“Someone call for a handyman?”
Travis’s voice startled me. My heart tripped like a racehorse stumbling out of the gate. I pressed myself against the ladder, grasping the poles with both hands to anchor myself there. The mounting kit fell out of my hand and onto the grass.
“Don’t you know better than to sneak up behind someone on a ladder?” I sputtered once my heart subsided from my throat.
“Sorry,” he said, coming to where I could see him. “Here, I’ll hold it steady for you.”
I took my time climbing down, trying to catch my breath in the process. “I’d be happy to give you a hand with whatever you’re trying to do up there,” Travis offered once I was back on the ground.
“I could have done it myself if I’d had the right size ladder,” I said, not sure why I felt the need to justify my failure to him.
“I have no doubt about it, but under the circumstances, maybe I can help?”
Part of me wanted to say no thanks. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t get the camera installed. “Sure,” I said instead. “I’d appreciate it.” I picked up the mounting kit that had landed a few feet away and told him where I wanted the camera placed.
He skimmed the instructions in the kit. “No problem. I worked for my uncle’s construction company over a couple of summers. This should be child’s play.”
“Assuming said child isn’t afraid of heights,” I murmured.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” I said, pulling the screwdriver out of my pocket and handing it to him.
He winced. “It’s not a great idea to carry a tool like that in your pocket when you’re up on a ladder, you know, in case you slip and fall.”
I felt my face redden. “I guess it’s pretty obvious I don’t have an uncle in construction.”
“How come you didn’t just wiggle your nose or something to install the camera?” he asked with a grin.
“Not funny,” I said. “I don’t like being mocked.”
He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He sounded genuinely contrite.
I knew I should let the remark go and accept it as simple teasing, the way he’d surely meant it. If I wanted to nurture our relationship, I had to develop a thicker skin. But I was tired of having to be super careful not to spook him again. He could do his share by trying to be more sensitive about my feelings too. “Are you surprised I don’t like being compared to a ridiculous TV sitcom?” I asked.
“It was only a joke,” he said lamely. “I didn’t realize you’d take it that way.”
He seemed so lost; I felt sorry for him. “Try to think of my magick the way you would musical or artistic ability. Magick has been in my family’s genes forever, like hair or eye color.”
“Okay, I’ll do my best,” he said. “I’d better get your camera mounted before it’s pitch black out here.”
I couldn’t tell if he’d given up trying to understand me or actually realized how little sunlight remained.
By the time he was done screwing in the bracket and setting the camera at the proper angle, all that was left of the sun was a golden afterglow. I showed him where to store the ladder in the garage.
“Do you want me to program the video feed to play on your computer?” he asked.
I’d forgotten all about that part, and I had no idea how to go about it. “That would be super,” I said, “but only if you’ll stay for a potluck dinner.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”
“Don’t get too excited. In this case, it’s grilled cheese sandwiches or omelets.”
“Grilled cheese is one of my favorites.”
While he tinkered with the computer, I got dinner started. He came down to the kitchen as I was ta
king the sandwiches off the stovetop. I set our plates down across from each other. I’d already put glasses, lemonade, and iced tea out.
“You’re all hooked up and ready to go,” he said taking a seat. He poured himself iced tea and took a big bite of the sandwich.
“Were you just passing by or did you have a premonition I needed help?” I asked.
“I can safely say I have no psychic ability whatsoever,” he said after swallowing. “This is great grilled cheese by the way. And the answer to your question is none of the above. I came to tell you the good news, but when I saw you up on that ladder it knocked everything else out of my head.”
“Good news? I could use some of that.”
“I’m going to interview the elusive Hugh Fletcher.”
I set my glass down so hard I almost broke it. “How did you wangle that?”
“I played on his ego, said I wanted to write an article that would do him and his achievements justice. I didn’t mention what kind of justice I have in mind. I was as floored as you are when he said okay.”
“What an opportunity. He is definitely not your average suspect. I have to admit I’m more than a little envious.”
“No need to be. We’re partners in this investigation. Besides,” he added with a grin, “Fletcher agreed to let me bring along the intern I’ve been mentoring.”
“Me? You’re kidding! You seem to have your own brand of magick. When is the auspicious occasion?”
“Nine a.m., Thursday morning. We’ll drive down on Wednesday, do the interview the next morning, and drive back here afterward.”
Wednesday was all I heard. Wednesday, as in the day after tomorrow. My brain went into overdrive, spinning with the logistics of leaving the shop and my cats.
Travis was regarding me over his glass. “Why so quiet? A second ago you were thrilled.”
“It’s such short notice. I have to see if my aunt can cover for me,” I said, thinking aloud. “I know there aren’t any bus tours due in until Saturday, so I suppose it won’t be the end of the world if I needed to close for a couple of days.”