Mystics are Murder (Bijoux Mystery Series Book 2)

by Teri Barnett

  “You consider being a psychic as keeping to the ‘straight and narrow?’” Morgan asked.

  Jack bristled. “I don’t call myself anything. I am what I am. Always have been.”

  “Then why kill your kindred spirits?” JJ asked.

  “Again, I didn’t kill them. I didn’t even know any of them. Well, except for Edna. Rocky I only knew peripherally through her.” He looked at the officers. “I knew something bad was going to happen that night, when I was a kid, and I ignored my gut. I promised myself I’d never do that again.”

  Morgan dangled the evidence bag with The Fool tarot card in front of her. “Can you explain to me, then, why your print is on this card?”

  He leaned forward and studied the card. “I’m going to take my personal tarot deck out of my pocket, okay?” Jack reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small black silk bag with a red tie around it. He opened the bag and fanned the deck out on Morgan’s desk, face up. “The Fool is missing. That card is from my deck.”

  Morgan picked up one of the cards and studied it, comparing it to the one in the evidence bag. Same blue tartan design on the back, same artistic style, similar wear around the edges. She put both cards down and folded her hands. “That only makes you look more guilty.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Pausing, he ran his fingers over his moustache. “I don’t usually do readings; I keep these cards for my own use. I was in the local bar — Perch Mouth? — yesterday and thought it would be fun for a change. You can ask the bartender. I read for her.”

  “How many other people did you read for?”

  “Maybe half a dozen or so. Look, I wasn’t keeping count. Someone obviously palmed this card to frame me.”

  “Why would someone want to do that?”

  He held out his hands. “I’ve solved a lot of crimes. Maybe your killer is worried I’ll do the same here and expose them.”

  “Morgan, what’s going on?” Zoe asked as she walked into the station.

  Morgan stood. “We’re working. Did you need something?”

  “Yes. I need my friend. Jack’s graciously offered to perform the wedding ceremony for us on Monday and I want to go over our vows.”

  “I’m sorry, Zoe. But we’re conducting an investigation here.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Zoe brushed past the front counter and stood next to Jack. “I’ve known this man for most of this lifetime, not to mention all the others. He’s not a murderer.”

  Jack threw up his hands. “That’s what I’ve been telling them. I’m positive I was heading for the airport when Edna was killed,” Jack offered. “As far as Rocky goes, I’m fairly certain I was speaking in front of the crowd at Cal’s when he was murdered.”

  Morgan had forgotten that point. He was right, he was giving the talk when Rocky was killed. She was there. Dammit. She sat back down.

  Griselda wandered over to Jack and threaded herself through his legs. He went still. “Edna. She’s here.” He looked Morgan straight in the eye. “You already know the killer. The clue is in the animal.”

  “Griselda?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “That’s all she said. She’s gone now.”

  Morgan rolled her neck. “Why is it, if you’re a psychic, you can’t just come straight out and say what you mean? Why all the subterfuge and obtuse clues?”

  “Morgan,” Zoe said. Morgan turned to her soon-to-be stepmom. “That’s just not how it works with a lot of us, especially the empaths. We get images and impressions and feelings and words. It’s up to the person we’re giving the information to, to figure out what it means for them.” She placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Now, may I take my friend with me?”

  Morgan glanced at JJ. He looked as disturbed as she felt at the moment. She waved a hand. “Fine. Fine. You can go, Jack. Just don’t leave Bijoux for the time being.”

  He set his mouth in a firm line. “You can rest assured, I’m not going anywhere until we solve this case.”

  She could only stare after him as they left. Why did everyone insist on getting involved? JJ handed her a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. “Thanks,” she said. “Back to square one.” She popped two aspirin and chased it down with the water. “I’m going to run over to Dave’s and grab some food. You want anything?”

  JJ looked at his watch. “Nah, thanks anyway. It’s almost four. I’m supposed to meet Hannah over at the Raven’s Nest for a couples reading in a few.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Really.” He shrugged. “The things we do for love, right?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Captain Morgan! How are you doing?” Jerome made his way around the counter at Dave’s Deli and looped his arm through hers as he led her to a booth.

  Morgan glanced down at the contact and then met Jerome’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sure you have enough on your mind and I just don’t want you disturbed while you eat.” He glanced up at the television mounted high on the wall, over the back of a booth.

  The sound was off, but the text ticker was running beneath the image of Connie Graham reporting on the latest murder. She caught the words “Detroit Killer” and “Is our Police Captain a cold-blooded and vicious murderer?” before Jerome spun her around, away from the set. “You sit here and ignore her vicious critique of you and your work. I’m sure you’re doing everything you can to solve this case and not killing anyone.” He pulled a pad and pencil out of his white server’s apron. “What will you have?”

  Morgan sighed. Jerome was right. She wasn’t going to let Connie ruin her meal. “Patty melt, fries, Diet Coke, please.” She smiled up at Jerome. “Thanks.”

  “Anything for you.” He winked and left to put in the order.

  She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Cal, dropping onto a stool at the counter. “Really?” she said.

  He spun on the stool to face Morgan. “Really.”

  She rolled her eyes and patted the table. “I’m sure I’ll regret this but come on. Join me.”

  Cal waited a beat, then got up and slid into the seat across from her in the booth.

  “Still pouting?”

  “Men don’t pout. We brood.”

  “Still brooding?”

  He adjusted his glasses and leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. “That I am.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cal. I said I didn’t mean it. Let it go.” She met his eyes when he didn’t respond. They were cold and hard and she could imagine this exact glare silencing an entire lecture hall of chatty university students. She reached across the table and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I was insensitive to your situation,” she added and drew back. “Does that help?”

  Cal continued to look at her as Jerome dropped off Morgan’s Diet Coke, his standard iced tea, and took his order of a BLT and chips. “You really are not good at apologies, are you? I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get so yeah, okay, you’re forgiven.” He relaxed and propped his arms on the table. “So where are you on this case? What happened with Jack?”

  “Jack looks suspicious, but it also looks like he’s going to alibi out. We’re almost nowhere.” Morgan shook her head. “After Rocky’s declaration of how happy he was to be shed of Edna the other night at the Perch Mouth, I figured him for a suspect.”

  “And now that he’s dead, it probably wasn’t him.” He unfolded his napkin and placed it across his lap. “Unless you’re thinking he did it and someone else killed him? Are you considering the possibility of a serial killer? Because it’s certainly starting to feel like that.”

  She glanced around the deli. Too late for lunch and a little too early for dinner, so it wasn’t crowded. Still, she leaned forward and whispered, “Look, I’m not discounting the possibility, but it’s nothing I want to discuss publicly. It’s bad enough Connie is spouting her Detroit Killer theories all over TV again.”

&nb
sp; “Not to mention her ‘Captain Morgan as the killer’ story.”

  Morgan stabbed a straw into her pop. “I may turn murderer just to put her out of my misery.”

  Cal laughed. “That I understand.” He shook out a packet of organic sugar into his iced tea and took a drink. “And believe me, the psychics are riled up enough without adding a serial killer vibration into their already itchy mix.”

  “Vibration? Who are you?” Morgan shook her head and smiled.

  “Hey, what can I say? I’m good at picking up the lingo in groups of people. Who else are you considering? Besides Jack Steve, that is.”

  “Jack is on the low end of suspects at this point. Like I said, it looks like he’s got an airtight alibi for these two murders. He was at the airport, boarding a plane, when Edna was killed. And giving his talk when Rocky was strangled.” She took a drink of her pop. “Do you know anything about Starman’s son, Rob?”

  “Only what he said earlier. Never met him before, but he sure seems unhappy with his dad’s chosen line of work.”

  “That he does. What do you know about Davey Rocket and Daisy?”

  “Are you serious?” Cal laughed. “Yeah, no. Those two are about as harmless as anyone you’d ever hope to meet.”

  “What I hear you saying is you’ve known them for a while and can attest to their character?”

  He considered the question and shook his head. “No. I haven’t known them long. It’s just the impression I get from them. I suppose they could have done it as much as anyone at this point.”

  “What time is the closing dinner tomorrow night?” Morgan asked.

  “The fair closes at four and we gather at six. Dinner is at seven.”

  “Then we have Dad and Zoe’s wedding on Monday and the psychics will be dispersing after that. Not a lot of time.”

  “You mean if it’s one of them.” He considered that. “What are the odds?”

  “I don’t know. As good as any, at this point.”

  Jerome brought their food. “Anything else, folks?”

  Cal smiled. “We’re good for now, thanks.”

  Morgan poured some ketchup onto her plate and ate a couple of fries. She was getting nowhere fast. She pulled out her phone and texted JJ, asking him to look into Davey and Daisy. “I need a ride to clear my head. There has to be something I’m missing. Maybe I’ll head out to the Preserve, look over the area where Edna was camped again, check out Rocky’s vehicle.”

  “Did I ever tell you I used to ride? It’s how I got around in grad school. Had a nifty powder blue Vespa. Matching helmet, too. I was a hell raiser on that thing.”

  Morgan gaped at him.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?” he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Did I get it?”

  “I’m looking at you because a Vespa is a scooter. It is not the same as riding an actual motorcycle. Holy crap.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “There is absolutely no way to raise hell on a scooter. It goes against all the laws of two-wheeled motorized riding.”

  “I should’ve known.” Cal rolled his eyes. “You’re a bike snob.”

  “That I am.” She looked out the window. An early morning ride would be the thing, when no one was out and about and she could actually think without interruption. Not to mention she could use a little down time this evening to unwind and see where her mind went with the case. “I need to grab Gris from the station and get her home, so I’m thinking a morning ride.”

  “You said ‘home,’” Cal observed.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You said you needed to get Gris and take her home.” He grinned. “I see your soft spot showing. You’re going to keep her, aren’t you?”

  She had been trying hard to not think that far ahead on the outside chance a relative of Edna’s showed up and claimed her. But she and the cat were bonding…so, maybe…? “I suppose if no one claims her?”

  “No one is going to claim that mini black mountain lion.” Cal laughed. “Plus, she’s already adopted you. I don’t think you have a choice.”

  “I’ll want to wait until the investigation is over before officially taking her in.” She smiled. “But yeah. She’s mine now, isn’t she?”

  Cal smiled. “That she is.”

  “So, want to ride out with me to the Preserve in the morning? I’ll show you what it’s like to be on an actual motorcycle.” She winked. “You will, of course, be riding on the back.”

  The next morning, Morgan was up at six a.m. and texted Cal to make sure he was up and getting ready to go. She poured herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and sat with Gris beside her on the front porch, enjoying the peacefulness of the morning. After grabbing a shower, she dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt. It was always cold riding in the morning. She grabbed her extra helmet and strapped it to the back of the Bonnie’s flat seat with bungee cords, then shrugged on her heavy black leather riding jacket. After snapping her helmet on and pulling on a pair of gloves, she mounted the bike and fired up the engine. Honestly, there was nothing like the sound of an old airhead. She smiled and rode away from her cottage, heading toward Main Street.

  She pulled up in front of the Raven’s Nest bookstore twenty minutes later and waited for Cal. There he was, in the back, closing the gate. Morgan hit the kill switch, kicked the side stand down and dismounted. “Here, this should fit you pretty good,” she said to Cal as she handed him the helmet. He pulled it on, fastened the buckle, and gave her a thumbs up.

  Morgan’s chest clenched. The helmet had been Ian’s. He and Cal were about the same build, so she wasn’t surprised it fit him, but she was surprised how she felt seeing it on someone again. She shook off the nostalgia, smiled, and got back on her bike. “Whatever you do, keep your feet up on the passenger pegs. Leave them there until we get to where we’re going, parked, and the bike turned off.” She turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.

  “Please,” Cal shouted over the rumble as he climbed on the back of the bike. “I told you, I used to ride. I know the rules.”

  With that, Morgan pulled away from the curb. The bike jerked slightly when she hit the throttle and Cal teetered before grabbing her around the waist. She tamped down all the feels threatening to overload her—the helmet, the way he held on, their easy friendship—and focused on heading out of Bijoux, toward Lac Voo Nature Preserve.

  It was still early enough that the two-lane highway was clear of the usual beach traffic, especially with it being the end of tourist season Up North. Morgan turned onto the asphalt drive leading into the preserve, only to find the parking lot filled with cars and bicycles. Curious, she turned the engine off, engaged the side stand, and dismounted. She nodded at Cal and he did the same. Helmets and gear off and hanging on the bike, they stood side by side and took in the sight before them.

  It looked like most of the psychics were here and hanging around the edge of the campground, about thirty feet from the water. Miranda, the climate-activist teen, and her crew were standing on the beach, looking out over the horizon. She’d heard they were on watch for another Messie appearance.

  Where the psychics stood, votive candles were lit and placed inside a large white circle drawn on top of the sand. Rennie was off to the side, blowing and fanning some smoke coming out of a large shell with a feather. “What do you suppose they’re doing?” Morgan asked.

  “From the looks of it, they’ve cast a circle for a ceremony and Rennie’s burning sage to clear any negativity from the area.”

  Morgan shook her head. “You really are a font of random information.”

  He shrugged. “You asked.”

  Zoe waved and motioned for the pair to join her at the outer edge of the circle. She hugged them both and stopped Morgan when she started to cross the white outline. “The circle is cast. None may enter who are not already there.” She pointed to where Janine the All Knowing, Sven the Seer, and Starman the Whatever were standing in the center, back to back, eyes closed. Holding tapered candles, th
e psychics gathered around the perimeter and started chanting ‘Ommmmmmmm.”

  Morgan took a step back. This was all crazy. She’d go talk to the teens on the beach. At least their brand of crazy she understood. Well, mostly.

  “Wait,” Cal said. “Maybe something will come up.”

  “I’m not here for predictions.”

  Cal blew out a breath. “You know better than most that clues can come from unexpected places. Why not see what happens?”

  “Fine, fine.” Morgan squeezed back into the outer circle between Zoe and Cal. She scanned the area. From the looks of it, all thirty-three of the attendees were here. “What’s this about?” she whispered to Zoe.

  “We’re having a vigil for Edna and Rocky. Their spirits have been hanging around and our fear is their souls will get trapped on the earth plane. We want to help send them on their way.”

  “Edna!” Starman shouted from the center, his eyes still closed. “I feel your presence. What messages do you have for us before you pierce the eternal veil once and for all? Or, at least, until the journey into your next lifetime?”

  “Rocky!” Sven shouted. “I feel you as well. What words do you carry from the other realms?”

  Janine dropped to her knees, sobbing. “So much pain. So much fear. So much left to do.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Morgan asked Zoe.

  “Yes, she’s channeling a message. Give her a minute,” Zoe whispered.

  “The animal. It’s the blue animal,” Janine cried. “So strong, so damaged. Unloved.” She hugged her arms around her and wiped away the tears. When she opened her eyes, she met Morgan’s and pointed at the police captain. “You! Do something before the animal strikes again. Their life mission is incomplete, they threaten all of us. You must act!”