Mystics are Murder (Bijoux Mystery Series Book 2)

by Teri Barnett

  “I have those searches running on Jack Steve and Starman McGee. I’ll stop by and add Rocky, Davey, and Daisy. Then I need to head home. Hannah is planning a two month anniversary dinner for us. And if I’m late, you’ll have another murder on your hands.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan sat at the counter at Dave’s Deli and ordered a burger, fries, and diet cola. Jerome clucked at her choices. She stared him down until he walked away without saying a word. He brought her pop and she picked up the glass, spinning on the stool to face away from the counter. Good vantage point to see everyone in the deli plus those walking around outside. Mr. Dominic shuffled by, an older woman Morgan didn’t recognize on his arm. He might be eighty something and annoying, but apparently he still had moves. Good for him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Morgan spun toward the voice. Cal had sat down next to her when she was facing the other way. Now they were almost nose to nose. She drew her head back. He smiled. “I can hear your cop brain ticking a mile away.” She made a curious face at him. “It’s what drew me here tonight. All that ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick.”

  Morgan laughed and lightly punched him on the arm.

  “I like that,” he said.

  “Being punched? I can arrange for it to happen regularly.” Morgan smiled and sipped her drink.

  Cal looked from his arm to her. “No. You, laughing. You have a nice laugh.”

  Their eyes met and her stomach caught. Nope. Nope. Nope, Morgan thought and spun back to face the counter.

  “But I imagine all the guys tell you that.” He picked up the iced tea Jerome had placed on the counter and dropped in a straw. “Like Doc Pete.”

  “Oh my god. You have to stop with the Doc Pete thing. I get that you’re a writer but, seriously, stop trying to create something out of nothing.”

  “So it’s nothing, then?” Cal said. “Huh.”

  “Not from what I hear,” Jerome said as he placed their food in front of them.

  “There is absolutely not one thing going on between me and Doc Pete. Aside from him taking care of Griselda.” Morgan looked over at Cal’s plate. Turkey BLT and fries. “Do you eat here so often that you don’t even have to order anymore?”

  Cal winked at Jerome. “We have a psychic connection.”

  “Please.” Morgan frowned. “I’m just about psychic-ed out right now.”

  Jerome laughed and held up his cell as he walked away. “If it makes you feel any better, we also have a magical phone connection.”

  Morgan held up a fry. “That, I can understand.”

  Cal picked up his sandwich and took a bite. “Where are we on the case?”

  She decided to ignore the ‘we.’ It would do zero good to, once again, lecture the man on staying out of police business. Morgan had to admit, though, he did have a different take on things than she and JJ did. Made him a pretty darn good sounding board sometimes. Damn. Okay. “What’s your impression of Rocky Banks?”

  “Aside from his unfortunate name?” Cal shrugged. “Eccentric, moody. I noticed several of the other psychics avoided his table area this morning during set up. Heard grumblings of bad vibes around him.” He dragged a fry through ketchup and popped it in his mouth. “You think he killed Edna?”

  “Well, given his rant at the Perch Mouth last night and the conversation I had with him earlier today, I can’t discount it.” She blew out a breath. “Honestly, I can’t discount anyone who looks suspicious right now. Everything I know so far points to one of the psychics as the murderer, but I also feel in my gut I’m missing a big piece of the puzzle.” Irritated with herself, she pushed her plate away. “Hey, Jerome? Would you please box this up for me?” Morgan looked at Cal. “I gotta go get Gris and head home. Sleep on this.”

  Cal nodded. “I get that. Come by the Raven’s Nest tomorrow. The psychic fair opens in the morning and Jack Steve is giving his talk at one. Maybe that’ll help something click here.” He lightly tapped the side of her head and grinned. “Make that brain start ticking again.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Good morning,” Morgan said as she walked into the small police station the next morning. She let Griselda out of her crate and the cat immediately jumped up on the counter. Morgan leaned against it and scratched her behind the ears. Within a minute, a purr that shook the counter could be heard around the room.

  “High test purr there,” JJ observed.

  “No kidding. It’s like a small earthquake.” She nuzzled Gris’s head then straightened. “So, have your searches turned up anything yet?”

  “Actually, yes.” JJ walked back to his desk and grabbed his notebook. “I contacted the Traverse City police and talked to the detective on their psychic murder case.” He looked up. “They haven’t released the info to the public, but the word ‘fraud’ was scrawled across their victim’s hand in black marker. And I emailed Liz. She was able to confirm they found the same on the Detroit victim, this time it was written on the side of a quartz crystal and left in the victim’s lap.”

  “What the hell?” Morgan went to her desk and sat down. “Zoe said something about a crystal the last time she dropped into a trance. That makes three. Same circumstances. Same word. This is not good.”

  “Someone who has a huge beef with psychics,” JJ offered.

  “And at the very least, thought these three people were fakes.” Morgan grabbed Blossom, the red-headed Powerpuff Girl figure she kept on her desk, and started tossing it up and down. It helped her think. “Why go to a psychic, spend the money, if you don’t believe in them? It doesn’t make sense.” She turned to JJ. “There must be something else, something we’re missing.”

  JJ’s computer pinged. He spun his chair around. “I’ve had a social media search running.” He whistled. “Our Mystical Madame Edna Marisol was not very well liked by a lot of her peers and clients.”

  Morgan walked over to JJ and read over his shoulder. “Edna’s divinations are the thing of bad fiction; entirely made up with no storyline.”

  “Edna needs to fade away to that place where old psychics go. Hell. Hell is where she needs to go. Because that’s what she makes my life,” JJ read out loud. “Wow.” He clicked on the post. “Username Man in a Turban.”

  “And who do we know who wears a turban?” Morgan asked. Okay, granted, there was a lot of turban action going on in town right now. “Who specifically has a tie to Edna?” she added. Morgan checked her watch. “I’m meeting Zoe and Rennie over at Hannah’s to talk wedding details. Then I’ll go on over to the Raven’s Nest and talk to Rocky. The fair starts today and it may prove interesting to see the psychics in their natural habitat.”

  “Nothing much so far on social media regarding Jack and Starman, beyond them trying to irritate each other. I’ll text you if anything usable or damning pops in,” JJ said.

  The station door chimed. Beau “The Butcher” Cornet, Doc Pete Holz the Veterinarian, and Old Mr. Dominic all came into the station at the same time. Morgan glanced up, certain there was some sort of joke here, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  “Oh, Morgan,” Beau said as he waved. “It’s so nice to see you. You haven’t been to the market lately.” He eyed her. “You haven’t gone vegetarian, have you?” Beau shivered. Meat was his life.

  Morgan shivered, too, with the old memory of Beau as her high school boyfriend. He’d played football back then and was in great shape. Now he chopped up meat for a living, had lost a good portion of his hair, and looked like the footballs were now firmly planted around his waist.

  “Uh, no, not a veggie. Just haven’t had time to do any shopping lately. Murder investigation and all.” She eyed Old Man Dominic, who was fast approaching Griselda. Well, fast was relative. “She doesn’t like strangers to mess with her,” Morgan warned.

  “Bull crap,” Dominic said as he reached a spotted, bony hand toward the feline.

  Griselda puffed her fur and hissed a warning.

  The cat and the man stared each o
ther down.

  “Well, bull crap to you, too,” he said to the cat. He leaned against the counter and Gris jumped up and sauntered to the opposite end.

  “Why are all of you here? Did you need something?” Morgan asked. Before they could respond, she added, “And don’t even try to tell me you’re all psychics now, coming in with predictions about the case.”

  “Oh, not that I know of,” Doc Pete said. “Although, to be honest, I do think I can hear what the animals are thinking sometimes.” He frowned. “Mother always said I had an overactive imagination, too many hours spent watching Doctor Dolittle.”

  Morgan made a mental note to not go out with Pete should the topic ever come up again.

  “Anyway, JJ called. Said you needed our help. We’re the volunteer deputies.” He stepped forward and ran a hand along Griselda’s spine. Mr. Dominic glared at him. Pete just smiled. Griselda purred.

  Morgan dropped into her desk chair and spun to face her deputy. “These are the deputies? Talk to me.”

  JJ shrugged. “What Pete said.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Okay then. You’re in charge.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be at Hannah’s if you need me.”

  “What can I get you?” Hannah asked from behind the counter.

  “Surprise me. Well, surprise me as long as it has something to do with chocolate.” Morgan was sitting at the small corner café table next to Zoe and Rennie inside Hannah’s Heavenly Creations.

  Hannah chuckled and went off to fill Morgan’s order. Rennie and Zoe had both ordered before Morgan arrived and were sipping their coffees. A minute later Hannah placed a pink china plate with a cupcake in front of Morgan, along with a latte.

  “Well, this ought to keep me energized for the rest of the day,” Morgan said, eyeing the chocolatey creation in front of her.

  Hannah patted Morgan on the shoulder. “I was thinking of you when I came up with this flavor. Double fudge, caramel filling, sprinkle of sea salt for extra flavor.” She wiped her hands on her lime green apron. “I call it Death by Caramel. And the latte has a splash of caramel flavor steamed in with the milk.”

  Morgan picked up the fork on the side of the plate and took a bite. It was all she could do to keep herself from moaning. Then she gave up and moaned anyway. “Oh my god, Hannah. I call this Death by Amazing,” and she took another bite. She looked over at both Zoe and Rennie, who were simply staring at her. “What?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself with yet, dear,” Zoe said.

  “Yet? I don’t like the sound of that.” Morgan took a sip of the latte and put the fork down. She leaned back in her chair. “Zoe, you said something about a crystal holding the key to Edna’s murder. What was that about?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know. As I’ve told you before, whatever comes out of a vision is for the person listening to interpret.” She took a sip of her herbal tea. “Besides, I rarely remember anything I’ve said when I’m in that state.”

  “That seems awfully convenient,” Morgan said. “Absolves you of any responsibility.”

  “Are you here for an interrogation or to help us with the wedding plans?” Rennie asked. “If it’s the former, we’ll cut you loose. If it’s for the wedding, then we have decisions to make.”

  Morgan sighed. “Fine. Okay.” She took another bite of the cupcake and washed it down with a careful drink from the still steaming latte. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at the older women. “What’s going on with the wedding and how I can help?”

  Rennie and Zoe looked at each other and Morgan swore she could see the thought waves traveling between them. “I have this gorgeous off-white lace dressed picked out at Ava’s Dresses, down the street,” Zoe said.

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Morgan asked.

  “I think she should be truer to her roots. Off white is not the color witches in our family wear when they get married,” Rennie said. “Come to think of it, we never wear that color. It’s just, so, basic. Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you think so, too, Morgan?” She took Morgan’s hands in hers and peered into her eyes.

  Morgan’s hands tingled. What the hell?

  Zoe smacked her sister on the arm, breaking the connection. “Knock it off, Ren. You’re not going to hypnotize Morgan to get her to agree with you.”

  Rennie sniffed and leaned back in her chair. “I would never.”

  “You would always.” Zoe looked at Morgan. “Apologies for my sister’s behavior.”

  Eyes narrowed, Morgan took another bite of her cupcake. “How am I supposed to help?”

  “Break the tie,” Zoe said. “I’ll go along with whatever you think.”

  “Oh, no. That’s too much pressure over here. This is your wedding. You do you, not what everyone else tells you to do.”

  Zoe rested her arms on the table and sighed. “I am going for simplicity, and the dress I like is a bit fussy. Ava also has an amazing purple silk charmeuse shift that picks up the color of my eyes.”

  Rennie slapped her hands on her thighs. “Well, there you have it.” She flashed a grin at Morgan. “Plus, purple is a good witch color, if you didn’t know that.”

  “I know way more about witches and psychics than I ever wanted to, trust me.”

  “So, what say you, Morgan?” Zoe asked. “What’s your vote?”

  “Honestly, I like the idea of purple because I think it would suit you so much better. As long as you love the dress, though. Don’t wear anything on your special day you don’t love.” Morgan’s phone pinged and she checked the message. It was from Cal: You might want to come over. Big argument going on over here.

  “Break in the case?” Zoe asked.

  “You know we can help you with that, right?” Rennie added.

  Zoe looked over at Rennie. “Morgan doesn’t believe in what we do.”

  “Yes, I caught that vibration, but it never hurts to ask.” Rennie shifted in her chair. “Never mind, then.”

  Morgan sighed and shook her head. “Look, Zoe has gone into a trance in front of me and given information she couldn’t have known. I’m trying to be open minded, but you have to understand I worked the fraud squad in the old days. Before moving over to homicide, I saw a lot of what we used to call bunco.”

  “And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?” Rennie said. “I wish you could be more open—”

  Suddenly, Rennie stopped talking. Her face froze and her eyes glazed over. She stared ahead as though she were looking into the distance.

  “What....?” Morgan whispered glancing at Zoe who gave her one of those “we’re psychic deal with it” looks. “Where did she go?”

  “Hush,” Zoe said patting Morgan’s hand. “Just listen.”

  “Fraud. The killer believes but doesn’t want to…” Rennie said, her voice a deeper octave than normal. “The killer is conflicted and seeks to honor a promise made. Death ends nothing. Love is always near.”

  Morgan glanced at Zoe again. “Is this some genetic trait?”

  Zoe shrugged. “Well, it does run in the family.”

  “Okay then.” Her phone pinged again. She scanned another message from Cal: You coming? Or should I call JJ?

  On my way, she texted in response. Morgan leaned back in her chair and blew out a breath.

  “Is everything all right?” Zoe said.

  “I gotta go. Let me know what else I can help with, though.” She gave Rennie a raised eyebrow and squeezed Zoe’s hand. “I’m here for you. But, right now, there’s a fight at the bookstore. If you want to do something, keep your fingers crossed that we solve this case before we have another murder on our hands.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What is going on here?” Morgan asked as she stepped between Rocky and a psychic she didn’t know who were going toe-to-toe. The middle-aged woman angled an arm around Morgan and tried to slap Rocky on the head. Morgan blocked her arm before it connected.

  “Rocky didn’t do anything wrong,” Jimmy the Groupie yelled. He was sitting at R
ocky’s table. “That old woman over there started it.”

  The woman turned on Jimmy. “Old? How dare you?” she shouted.

  “Stop it now! All of you!” Morgan pointed to a wrought iron bench under the giant oak behind the Raven’s Nest. “Have a seat. You,” she pointed at the woman and took in her stats. Fifty-ish, tall, thin, silver blonde hair, and a jumble of multi-colored stones hanging around her neck on a silver chain. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Janine the All Seeing,” she sniffed.

  “More like Janine the Pain in the Ass,” Rocky grumbled.

  Janine made another swing for him. Morgan was tempted to let her follow through, but stopped her at the last minute. She was still a cop, after all. “Janine, why do you want to hit Rocky?” Morgan glanced at the younger man. He was in full-on psychic regalia today, wearing a long, velvet skirt over his denim jumpsuit, a sparkling shawl over his shoulders, and the bedazzled turban he’d pilfered from Edna’s van the day before. “Besides the obvious.”

  “He took everything from her.”

  “Everything from who?” Morgan asked.

  “Edna, of course! He’s wearing her turban and shawl.” She pointed to a table across the yard. “That was the spot where Edna was going to set up her table. She turned back to Rocky whose hands were gripping tightly onto a sequined purple satchel. And inside that purse is Edna’s prized tarot pack. It’s obvious he killed her so he could take over her clients. Edna was my friend and I will not stand for it!”

  Rocky rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Janine.” He pulled the shawl tighter around his shoulders and adjusted the turban. “Edna promised all of this stuff to me.” He crossed his legs and leaned back. “So, you know, your word against mine.”

  Morgan blew out a breath. “Accusing someone of murder is not something I take lightly. Do you have any proof, other than Rocky here annoys you?”