by Iris Kincaid
A crowd soon gathered around them, most of them laughing, and it was indeed a humorous sight—a slim young woman, who didn’t look terribly strong and who was exerting no effort, was foiling a robust young man, who was pulling and straining with all his strength. He soon became aware of both the laughter and the futility of the situation. When the purse’s owner came up to him, fuming mad, it was time for him to surrender and run, to the boos and cheers of the crowd. Gemma handed the purse back to its grateful owner.
Gemma continued her boardwalk stroll when she became aware that someone had just fallen in step with her. It was the creepy woman whom Delphine had correctly identified as witch, Zelda Beale.
“Aren’t you making the spectacle of yourself? Even Lilith had better sense than to flaunt her talents so openly.”
“So, you knew Lilith Hazelwood? Were you a friend of hers?”
Zelda twisted her face in disgust. “Lilith had no friends. She knew nothing of respect. I had the misfortune to become excessively attached to a young man, and I don’t know if Lilith felt a natural attraction for him or just the need to steal what was mine, but steal him, she did. And I vowed that she would pay for it.”
“You wanted to punish her,” Gemma said uneasily. “I hear she died under very unfortunate circumstances.”
“Yes, I have triumphed over Lilith Hazelwood, and she and that young man now both rest in their graves.”
Lilith was hanging on every word of this conversation. She was incensed at the thought that she could have been done away with by Zelda Beale, of all people. A witch of middling strength who couldn’t even hold onto her man. Was this idle bragging or was this her assassin?
“Are you saying that you killed Lilith?” Gemma asked.
Zelda grinned evilly, not ready to confirm or deny.
“What are you doing at Zander Knox’s memorial service?”
“Oh, I wanted to lay claim to his ashes, of course. The ashes of a dark heart are an essential component of some rather useful spells.”
“You took his ashes?”
“Yes, but I replaced them with an equal weight of rocks and dirt. It’s not as if anyone here had any use for them.”
“Friends and family sometimes like to scatter ashes in a sentimental place.”
“Now they will scatter dirt. And let’s just be honest. The man was dirt. No one needs to waste their sentiment on him. He did provide the town with some welcome entertainment on the six o’clock news. Who says you need to go out to the Nevada desert to see Burning Man? She laughed cruelly at her own tasteless joke.
Gemma recoiled. “Did you have anything to do with his death?”
“Interesting theory.”
They walked past a man who had used a carjack to hoist his car up and was lying on the ground underneath, making a repair under the engine. With a sideways glance at Gemma, Zelda stretched out her hands toward the man, and his carjack jumped away, letting the car fall down on the panicked man.
“Hey! Hey! Help! Somebody help me!”
Gemma rushed over to take hold of the car, and she lifted it up a foot while the rattled man scrambled out from underneath it. Gemma quickly let the car back down as the frazzled man stood up.
“That is entirely too much of Lilith Hazelwood left in the world for my taste,” she yelled out over her shoulder.
Apparently, not only had Gemma inherited Lilith Hazelwood’s jaw-dropping strength, but she may have inherited her enemies as well.
*****
After overhearing this conversation, Lilith was compelled to convene with Delphine to discuss the very real possibility that Zelda Beale was her nemesis and executioner.
“Could I have been killed over something as inconsequential as taking someone’s man?” Lilith fumed.
“You call it inconsequential. The commoners refer to it as “crimes of passion” and it’s a fairly common occurrence. If you had ever felt that intense love and then been betrayed, then you might find it a very likely and justifiable motive. Well, of course, I don’t mean justifiable. Just understandable. Lilith, you acted so frequently with no regard to the feelings and well-being of others. It wouldn’t surprise me—that is all.”
“Yes, I did as I pleased. I certainly would never have denied myself for the likes of Zelda Beale.”
Delphine paused thoughtfully for a moment. “What was your last encounter with her like?”
“My last encounter? With Zelda? Well . . . I paid her so little attention. I doubt we ever had a single noteworthy conversation.”
“But, what was your last memory of her? Specifically, in close vicinity to the day of your death. What do you remember about that day, about the hours leading up to your death?”
Lilith pondered but could come up with nothing.
“That bolt of lightning found you in a large green field. You were on your way home, I believe. But from where? What had you done that day? Who had you seen? What were the events leading up to your murder?”
“I have always had perfect recall. Even now, in death, I can relive a memory in the most exquisite detail. The mundane moments, as well. But the day of my death—Delphine, what does this mean? It has been erased from my memory. It is like a total amnesia. That itself must be the work of the dark arts.”
“If you had ever triumphed over a fellow witch, would you want her to know who had defeated her?”
“Of course. That is part of the pleasure of victory.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I see no pleasure in murder. But I cannot see your murderer taking the pains to hide her crime from a deceased foe. It is the final turn of the screw, is it not? She would want you to remember and to feel your defeat. No, there must be something else to account for your memory loss. As if we needed another mystery to solve.”
*****
Roland hated to admit it to himself, but his gym visits had gone from three times a week to pretty much daily, primarily in the hopes of running into Gemma. Which was stupidly irrational, because he couldn’t possibly date her. Like many divorced parents, he didn’t like to expose his child to romantic interests who would just float in and out of their lives and create a sense of insecurity. Especially for a child who had been abandoned by his mother.
He’d had a few brief relationships over the last two years, but he made sure that they never met Dax, and thank goodness, because none of them lasted. Now, Dax and Gemma were not only acquainted, but they were becoming rather fond of one another. Which was fine, in theory, for Dax to have an adult friend. But if Roland were to date her, and things didn’t work out, which seemed the likeliest outcome, then Dax would suffer terribly.
Given his resolve on the matter, then what on earth was he doing coming to the gym so often and hoping to see her? Whether it was a wise idea or not, today, he managed to run into her yet again.
“Roland. I have something to give Dax. Let me run back to the locker room and show you,” Gemma said.
Gemma returned with a small handful of comic books, of the superhero variety. Roland shook his head in mock disapproval.
“You really are trying to undermine David Copperfield.”
“I’m trying to help his imagination soar. You want him to want to learn how to read. This will do the trick.”
“I suppose. Although . . . and I hope you appreciate the fact that this is a game . . . I’m going to teach him how to play chess this week.”
“Chess. Hmm. Yes, that absolutely counts as a game. Although you do have to make some adjustments for his temperament and age. Jazz it up—make it a little more fun and interesting.”
“How do you jazz up chess?”
“Turn it into a drinking game.” Gemma laughed at the expression on Roland’s face. “Get a bottle of his favorite fruit drink, and your favorite drink, and you each get to take a swig when you take one of each of the other’s pieces. He’ll have a lot more fun that way. Also, you have to let him win. Under the age of eight, children are not psychologically equipped to lose games. It’s ve
ry painful for them. So, until he’s eight, you have to let him win every game.”
“And where did you hear that?”
“I’ve watched a whole lot of TV.”
Roland had no idea if Gemma was on the right track. But it certainly was nice to have someone to talk to about Dax. They were interrupted by Otto, large biceps stretching the seams of his T-shirt.
“So, Gemma, are we good for tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, you still have my address, right?”
“I sure do. I’m really looking forward to this. I think you’ll really like this place. See you at seven.”
Otto slapped Roland on the back and then returned to the weight room. Roland tried to keep the expression out of his face and out of his voice.
“So . . . Otto. Going to step out for a pint?”
“Dinner, I think. I hope. I’ve got a big appetite, and yeah, he seems like a pretty nice guy.”
Was it just wishful thinking, or did Gemma detect a bit of jealousy from Roland? Probably the former. After all, if he had wanted to ask her out, he’d had plenty of opportunity.
*****
The reading of Zander Knox’s will took place in a very small conference room. His old friends Neil and Hugo were there, as well as Neil’s ex-wife, Zander’s girlfriend, Erica, her son, Edison, and their family friend, Ty. They all looked apprehensive and hopeful. Except for Hugo Shipley, who, as before, looked preoccupied and wishing to be somewhere else.
“This will not take long,” the lawyer said. “There’s only one beneficiary here, and that is Mr. Hugo Shipley. Mr. Shipley will be able to take immediate possession of Zander Knox’s cash reserves, which after debts and taxes, amounts to approximately two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars. I’m sorry. I realize that there were some other expectations, but that is the whole of the bequest.”
Erica burst into tears. “He promised to take care of us. He promised to help my Edison pay for college. Why, he was practically like a father to Edison.”
Her son, Edison, made a face. So did their family friend, Ty.
“He didn’t leave me anything?” His old friend Neil said incredulously. “Nothing? That’s hard to believe. Especially when he knew that I had fallen on hard times and could really use a helping hand.”
“Might I remind you all that Zander Knox was a healthy thirty-five-year-old man, and he did not write out this will in the knowledge that his life was going to be cut short. I’m sure he had every intention of assisting his loved ones directly, while he was alive. If he’d known what was going to happen, he might have written his will very differently. You mustn’t assume that it’s a reflection of his regard for you. Simply a failure to anticipate the worst,” the lawyer tried to soothe them.
Joy Radcliffe, Neil’s ex-wife, grabbed her purse angrily and stomped out of the room.
“She was hoping I could up the alimony payments,” Neil said grumpily. He turned his attention to Hugo, who seemed stunned by the bequest. “Hey, buddy, I think this lawyer fellow is right. I think that if Zander knew he was going to make an early exit, he would’ve distributed his wealth amongst all of his loved ones. Especially his business partner. I know you’re a fair guy. I know you probably want to make things right. I could sure use a little help right now. I wouldn’t expect half. Maybe fifty grand. That would set me up real nice. What do you think?”
Erica listened closely. If there was a way of wheedling some money out of Hugo, she was certainly willing to give it a try. But Hugo shook his head. “Sorry, Neil. I have to believe that Zander left me this money for a reason, and I’m going to honor his wishes.”
Hugo got up, exchanged a few quiet words with the lawyer, and made his exit. Neil banged his fist on the table.
“I’ve known that guy since we were ten years old. Do you believe that? Not a crumb for his old buddy. We were the Three Amigos. And now . . . nothin’.”
Neil stormed out. A weepy Erica was escorted out with Edison and Ty on either side of her. Finn pulled the paper out of this pocket and handed it to Gemma.
“Beneficiaries are always worth keeping an eye on. This is Hugo Shipley’s home address, his work address, and his work hours. Stay very low. See what you can find out.”
Wow. This was like a stakeout! Very cloak and dagger.
“Do you think that he might be the killer?”
“I think that guy’s gotta lot of information bottled up. And we just have to crack him open.”
*****
Hugo Shipley was a bit of a loner. He lived alone. He ate meals out alone. Through the window of his UPS office, Gemma could see that he had a friendly, chatty relationship with his coworkers. But he didn’t seem to socialize with them outside of work.
On her first day of surveillance, she only saw him interact with one other person. She had to stealthily get close and hide behind a nearby pole to hear them without being seen. It was a woman in her sixties with an energetic, positive personality.
“Mr. Shipley. So good to run into you. We’re going to have another fundraiser next month, and I hope you can make it. There are so many people in the organization who would like to shake your hand and thank you personally for so many years of support.”
“Well, Ms. Bowden, that’s very sweet of you. You know, I don’t like to have a big fuss made of this. You all do great work. Fantastic work. And it’s been my pleasure to do what I can. As I’ve mentioned a few times, I won’t necessarily be able to contribute indefinitely, but I’ll always do what I can.”
“If only there were more people in this town like you. You have a rare heart, Mr. Shipley, you really do. Please think about coming.”
“I’ll do that. I will. I’ll give it some thought,” Hugo said.
They parted ways, and when she could move unseen, Gemma ran after the older woman.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but I just saw you talking to Hugo Shipley. I was wondering in what capacity you knew him. I know that’s a very nosy question, but you see . . . he’s asked me out. And it’s very important for me to know something about his character. I was hoping you could shed some light on that.”
“Oh, I would be happy to. And I’m so happy to see that wonderful man is finally coming out of himself and getting more socially active. He really has so much to offer. I know him because I run a big area charity, Helping Hands, and we do all kinds of things—we help the homeless, run a food pantry, and we help people who are about to be evicted, who just lost their jobs, and runaway teens. Anyone in our community who needs any kind of social assistance. We’re there for them. And Mr. Shipley is an angel. He’s been contributing to our organization for over ten years now. Very generous, sizable contributions. Five thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand. Oh, but please don’t mention that to him. He’s very shy about his generosity. But, he’s a winner. That I guarantee you.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. . . .?"
“Bowden.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. Bowden. That was very helpful.”
“Good luck to you.”
When Gemma was alone again, she quickly called Finn and filled him in on this new development. “It’s strange. I think that everyone assumed that he was a little bit greedy and selfish when he wouldn’t share money with his old friend, Neil, especially since Neil seemed kind of broke. But it turns out that he’s super generous. Why wouldn’t he give money to his old buddy?” Gemma wondered.
“I’ll bet ya that Neil knows why. Time to pay him a visit.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Finn and Gemma were on Neil Donovan’s back deck, having some cold lemonades, having turned down his first offer of beer. On his own home turf, Neil wasn’t nearly as whiny as when they last saw him in the lawyer’s office. But he was struggling with his natural impulses to brag about his house and his life and his success while simultaneously proclaiming his poverty.
“What kind of business did you and Mr. Knox go into together?” Finn asked.
“It was a beautiful setup. We worked
online. Never had to set foot in a factory—wave of the future. Mostly imports, you know. Drop shipping. Took a lot of time to set it up, but after a while, it just ran itself. Practically. We were pulling in some serious money.”
“And that changed?” Gemma asked.
“Yeah, well, things did recently take a turn for the worse. That’s the way it goes. Up and down. Up and down. I just wish I had set aside a little more money for the down. And now, for Zander to leave all that dough to Hugo! Hugo lives like a monk. He’s got a UPS job, which I certainly wouldn’t want, but he’s okay with it, and it gives him a salary. He doesn’t buy anything. He doesn’t really enjoy life, you know. He didn’t need that money. Wouldn’t possibly know what to do with it.”
“Whereas, you know how to enjoy some of the finer things in life,” Finn suggested.
“That . . . and I got some seriously overdue bills to pay.”
“So, why did Zander leave the money to Hugo Shipley instead of you?” Gemma asked.
Neil scowled. “No idea. Neither me nor Zander had talked to Hugo in a long, long time. We just grew apart. So, it doesn’t make any sense. Just one of life’s irritating little mysteries, I guess”
“And your ex-wife, Joy Radcliffe? I was wondering why she seemed so upset at the reading of the will. She didn’t expect Zander Knox to leave her anything, did she?” Gemma asked.
“Joy? No, she and Zander never got along. Which was hard for me, because Zander and I were like brothers, since grade school, and it’s only natural that we’d want to hang out. And he was my business partner on top of that. But they rubbed each other the wrong way. And eventually, I wised up. She’s selfish, irrational, vindictive . . . we’ve all made some mistakes in life, and I’ve made my share, and boy, was she ever one of them.”
Finn and Gemma exchanged looks. Time to go. As they were climbing into Finn’s car, he noted, “If she hates him as much as he hates her, then we’re going to get some good intel.”