by Sharon Pape
“Six thirty,” she said miserably.
A perfect window for killing Amanda. “What was his excuse for being late?”
“He said it was none of my business.”
“Did he act strangely when he got there? Preoccupied or antsy?”
“I don’t know. Like I told you, he’d been acting squirrelly for a while. Look, I gotta go,” she said, turning abruptly and heading for the door as fast as her stilettos would allow.
“You did the right thing,” Lolly called after her.
“Does she always come by to pour her heart out to you?” I asked after the door closed behind her.
“From time to time,” Lolly said. “She comes for her chocolate fix, and if there’s no one else in the shop, we get to talking. She’s upset because ever since Alan inherited the money and the house, he doesn’t call or come around much anymore. He flaunts his wealth and women flock to him, fawn over him. Tammy is yesterday’s news. I can’t help feeling sorry for her.” Lolly hauled herself out of the chair, her joints popping and grinding with the music of advancing age.
“I guess when Tammy provided Alan with that alibi, things between them were still okay. She lied to protect the man she loved.”
“Exactly,” Lolly said. “She’s not stupid. She realized that even if Alan didn’t kill Amanda, circumstantial evidence might convict him anyway. He had a great motive, and he was unaccounted for during the critical period.”
“I bet she’s having second thoughts about lying for him now,” I said. “The trouble is she’s painted herself into a bad corner. If she goes back to Duggan and confesses, he can arrest her on charges of obstructing justice, aiding and abetting, and anything else he can think of.
“That’s why parents teach their children not to lie,” Lolly said. “It always comes back to bite you. It’s a pity Tammy has to learn that the hard way. Now I’m going home to take a nice warm bath.”
Chapter 29
The cats were in a tizzy. Merlin hadn’t been in my house for several days. They knew from the moment Tilly’s car pulled into the driveway that he was nearby. They came running from wherever they were to gather at the front door in two rows facing each other like a mini honor guard. Only Sashkatu took his regal time in joining them. He could afford to be blasé. Most days he saw Merlin at my aunt’s shop.
I stayed on the sofa, watching the news. Tilly preferred to let herself in with her key. She claimed a family member shouldn’t need to ring the bell or wait for someone to let her in like a common visitor. In the beginning, her unexpected appearances caused the rest of us some heart-hammering moments. Fortunately, we adjusted to them without a single emergency room visit. As the family matriarch, Bronwen could have put an end to the practice, but she never did. The family allowed Tilly some latitude in her behavior because, well, because she was dear, sweet Tilly. I saw no reason to change things now that my mother and grandmother were gone.
That evening, Tilly was fiddling with the key for a lot longer than usual. I could hear Merlin haranguing her, but I stayed where I was until one of them finally rang the bell. When I opened the door, Tilly walked in with a sheepish expression.
“I took the wrong key with me,” she mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Morgana and Bronwen. They’ll never let me forget it.”
I squelched the grin forming on my lips and gave her a hug instead. “It’ll be our secret.”
“How did my inflexible sister ever have a child like you?” she marveled, hugging me back.
“Make way, make way,” Merlin said gruffly, trying to walk around us without stepping on one of his feline groupies.
“What happened to Tex?” I whispered to Tilly.
“I think he’s so excited about finding what you need that he forgot about Tex for now.”
Merlin had planted himself in the middle of the sofa, and the cats were stuck to him like barnacles on a ship. As usual, Sashki opted for the high ground on top of the sofa. Tilly and I took the two armchairs facing it. I waited for Merlin to tell me why he’d come, but he just sat there with a Mona Lisa smile on his face as if waiting for me to pry the news out of him.
“I understand you have a surprise for me,” I said finally.
“That I do.”
“I’ll be ever so grateful if you tell me what it is.”
His eyes twinkled. “Yes, I imagine you will be.”
I had no idea how much longer he intended to tease me, but I can play games as well as anyone. “After you tell me, we can celebrate with ice cream,” I said. Merlin’s eyes widened, and he licked his chops like the golden retriever who lived next door. I’d clearly scored.
“What flavors?” he asked.
“Peach and vanilla.”
“You win,” he said, getting to his feet and shedding cats as he did. “I found you a spell to keep your crockery from smashing into my head again.”
I put up my hand. “Wait a minute. Will this spell also insure a soft landing for anything or anyone being teleported?”
“Quite so,” he replied, already on his way to the kitchen.
By the time Tilly and I trailed after him, he was ensconced in a chair awaiting service. I looked at him with my arms crossed over my chest. “The deal was for you to give me the spell and then we celebrate.”
“Oh bother.” He reached into the pocket of his gunny-sack pants and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
I took it from him and unfolded it. Reading his handwriting was almost as difficult as deciphering the Old English in the scrolls. I turned to my aunt. “Did you see this?”
“I did,” she said, opening her tote, which she’d carried with her from the living room. She fished out a sheet of paper and handed it to me with a flourish. “I knew you’d need this.”
“You were able to figure out what he wrote?”
“Of course not. I made him dictate it while I typed.”
* * * *
Half a gallon of ice cream later, Tilly and Merlin were headed home. I sat back at the table with the spell Merlin had found. I’d read it quickly while they were there, but I wanted to read it again without distractions:
From here and now to there and then,
Attract not change, nor harm allow.
Safe passage guarantee all souls.
As well as lesser, mindless things.
It was succinct and covered my concerns. I liked it. If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have given it a trial run. But I knew it would be better to wait until I was rested and my powers of concentration were optimal.
The phone rang as I was drifting off to sleep. I grudgingly reached for it. “Hello,” I said, slurring the word, my tongue sluggish from my fatigue. If it was a solicitor, he was going to get an earful, if my tongue ever woke up.
“Hi,” Travis responded, entirely too awake and upbeat. “Sorry if I woke you,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Guess what’s scheduled for eight o’clock tomorrow morning?”
“Breakfast?” It was all I could think of, with half my brain still stuck in dreamland.
“The ME is issuing his report on John Doe.”
It took another few seconds, but his words finally succeeded in penetrating my brain. I understood his elation. He finally had real news to report instead of just rehashing other cases in the area’s history. “I assume you’ll be there for it,” I said.
“Front and center. Just wanted you to know. Go back to sleep; we’ll talk tomorrow.”
The next morning, I was up before my alarm rang. I saw to the cats, had coffee, showered, and dressed well before the morning news broke away for the ME’s report. Travis appeared on the screen. He was explaining where he was and why. “They’re about to get started,” he said as his cameraman swung away to focus on Mayor Tompkins, Police Chief Gimble, Detective Duggan and ME Charlie Cuthburton filing onto the podi
um. They took their seats behind a table that was set up with a microphone for each of them.
“Good morning,” Cuthburton said. “I’m here to present my findings on the deceased John Doe found in the marsh.” The silence in the room deepened as if everyone there was literally holding their breath. “Based on the condition of the body, I estimate that the victim was in the marsh somewhere between two and three months. Decomposition was delayed to some degree because he was in the mud at the bottom of the marsh. Cause of death was a bullet fired from a forty-five-caliber handgun. From the bullet’s trajectory after entering the body, we know that it entered the victim’s back and tore through his lungs and heart, killing him instantly.
“Fortunately, for the purposes of the police investigation, the bullet became lodged in his sternum. I was able to retrieve it intact. I found no other evidence of trauma to the body.” The moment he paused, every reporter in the room had his hand in the air. Some were already throwing out questions. “I only have time to answer a few of you,” the ME said, pointing to a woman in the middle of the pack.
“Is there anything about the deceased or the way he died to suggest that he and Amanda Boswell might have been murdered by the same person?”
“Detective,” the ME said, “do you want to take this one?”
Duggan cleared his throat. “From what we know at this point that doesn’t seem likely. Given time to plan, most killers will stick with the same type of weapon, especially if it proved successful in the past. That was clearly not the case here. Amanda Boswell was killed with a knife and John Doe with a gun. In addition, the body of John Doe was disposed of in the marsh, presumably to avoid detection, while hers was left in plain sight, perhaps to send a message.”
The ME scanned the audience and selected a man near the back. “Did the computer-generated picture of John Doe get any hits?”
“We ran it through NAMUS, the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, but there was no match. Nor did it match anyone in the country with a criminal record. We even checked with the Doe Network, an international missing-persons database. Again nothing.” He nodded at Travis, who’d worked his way up to the front.
“Were there enough remnants of his clothing that might help police track down where he bought them or where he came from?”
“A few, which we handed over to the police. I can’t speak to whether or not they’ve been of any help. Detective?”
“I won’t be discussing any specifics of the investigation while it’s ongoing,” Duggan said.
“Follow-up?” Travis said before Cuthburton could move on to someone else. The ME gave him a nod. “I’m sure the clothing was not in good shape after so many months in the water, but did you get any sense they were in rough shape before the victim was dumped there?”
“That’s an interesting question,” Cuthburton said. “It occurred to me as well. I’ve seen clothing on other bodies that spent significant time in water, but they didn’t appear quite as ragged as the clothing on our John Doe. I want to make it clear that this is purely subjective and should not be confused with scientific data.”
A low buzz of comments spread through the crowd.
“That’s all we have for you today, folks,” Gimble said, rising and leading the others off the stage. The press continued throwing questions at them until they were out of sight.
* * * *
“Why did you want to know about the clothing?” I asked Travis. We were eating a late dinner at the Caboose. Our burgers were parked in front of us, mine with cheddar and his with cheddar and bacon, each accompanied with a heap of crispy fries.
He popped a fry into his mouth before replying. “If he was a vagrant, it would help explain why nobody reported him missing. It’s possible he didn’t have any family or friends to care if he dropped out of sight.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. I’m sure the police considered the possibility from the get-go. But if you tell the public he was a hobo, they stop paying attention. They figure it can’t be anyone they would know.”
I was about to take a bite of my burger, but I put it back down. “That’s so sad. To be all alone in the world without anyone to care if...” Tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to blink them back, but I wasn’t entirely successful. “Sorry,” I said, wiping away the couple that escaped.
“No need to be. Strong women with soft hearts have always been my weakness.”
“Oh really?” I said, grateful for the banter. “And just how many of us have you known?”
He frowned in concentration as he counted silently on his fingers.
“Okay, okay,” I said and laughed when he reached ten. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need to know.”
We attacked our burgers as though we hadn’t eaten in a week. It was late for me to be eating, and I was famished.
“It’s been months since I was last here,” Travis said, coming up for air. “I always forget how great their food is.”
“I never eat burgers anywhere else.” I nibbled on my fries. “Now that the police know the bullet came from a forty-five, can’t they just look at registration records and interview anyone who has that type of gun?”
“Sure they can. Everyone who buys a handgun in this state is legally obligated to register the weapon with the police. But people with criminal intent never do.”
“So unless an average, law-abiding citizen turns to a life of crime and is stupid enough to use his registered handgun, knowing the caliber of the bullet isn’t going to be a big help.”
Travis nodded, too busy chewing to speak.
“Then I guess there’s no point having your buddy check the records,” I said.
He swallowed and took a swig of his beer. “I’ll still ask him, but I’m not expecting to find a smoking gun. Pun intended.”
I laughed. “I’m going to chalk that up to fatigue.”
Chapter 30
I decided to open my shop an hour late the next morning. I wanted to try my ancestor’s protection spell at home, where I was assured of peace and quiet—or as assured as I could be, factoring Tilly and Merlin into the equation. I rose at my usual time, but Sashkatu slept in, making me wonder if he’d read my brainwaves and knew he had time for some extra shut-eye.
Although I was tempted to try the spell on myself, the memory of that first disastrous attempt was enough to make me proceed with caution. I went downstairs and fed the other cats, who’d never shown any signs of psychic awareness with my mother or me. Then again, she’d died before she could work with them on that bond. And I simply hadn’t had the time to do it now that I was the only one left to do the work previously done by three.
I thought about making coffee but decided against it since I didn’t know what effect the caffeine might have on the spell. This first test of it should be as pure as I could make it. I sat down at the kitchen table, where I’d already placed a small glass bowl. I’d chosen the upstairs bathroom for its landing site. The room with the hardest surfaces should give me a definitive answer about the spell’s protective qualities and my ability to use it. I began with meditation to focus my mind and establish its control over the magickal energy in my body. Once I felt fully engaged, I began:
“From here and now to there and then,
“Attract not change, nor harm allow.
“Safe passage guarantee all souls
“As well as lesser, mindless things.”
I envisioned the words coupling with my energy and flowing from me toward the bowl, covering it with a fine fabric of light. I repeated the spell twice more. The bowl shimmered for an instant and then vanished. There was no reason to celebrate yet. This part of the teleportation I’d done a number of times. It was the landing of the bowl in the proper place and without damage that I was hoping for. I listened for the sound of breaking glass but heard only a thump. A promising sound.
When I went down the hall to my bedroom to check on him, he was stretching his legs, a process that took longer with each advancing year. I sat down beside him on the bed to stroke his back. He twitched as if to be rid of my hand and padded to the end of the bed where he could climb down his stairs. It was a classic snub for waking him with my victory shout. At least I hadn’t put him in cardiac arrest.
I followed him down to the kitchen like an obedient servant and fixed his breakfast. He dined in the privacy of the powder room to prevent any of his brethren from joining him for second helpings. The few times that had happened, a major brawl ensued with all six of them joining in the fray like a bench-clearing fight in baseball. After Sashki was settled for his first nap of the day, I practiced using the spell twice more with the same encouraging results.
I was pulling on jeans when Bronwen’s cloud appeared before me. “Well done, my dear,” she said with thunder applause.
I tugged up the zipper. “Thanks. How are you?”
“I can’t complain,” she said, though I suspected she could. “I popped in to give you a bit of advice.”
“I’m always happy to see you,” I said, determined not to let her get under my skin and ruin my morning’s victory. I walked around her to open the armoire and take out my red cotton sweater that was a good weight for the fickle days of autumn. When I turned around, I almost smacked right into her. I jumped back. I’d had a preview of what can happen if flesh and bone came into contact with an energy cloud, courtesy of Merlin. I wasn’t eager to try it for myself. With fuller contact, electrocution seemed like a distinct possibility.