by Blair Merrin
“Sarah… are you protecting someone? Do you know something?”
Her eyes widen. “Of course not! Forget I said anything. They’re both my friends; I don’t want to think of either of them doing something so awful.” She grabs the broom and continues sweeping while I think about her choice of words. Both of them were being pushed.
CHAPTER 12
I can’t help but feel helpless as the afternoon wears on with no new information. Sitting around the shop, my mind swimming with what I know, or what I think I know, isn’t helping. Sarah helps customers while I sit in the back office, rubbing my temples and working through the facts, over and over again.
Carl loved Sally, but claims it wasn’t romantic (and couldn’t have her anyway). Donovan loved Sally, and she might have been about to leave him. I wouldn’t think either of those would be terribly strong motives for murder, but there was once a Bandit Hills woman that killed her husband because he hated her little dog, so I can’t really discount anything.
And I really can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the two friends worked together on it.
After a while I decide I need some fresh air. I head out to the shop floor, collect the garbage, and tell Sarah that I’ll be back in a jiffy. The rear door to Miss Miscellanea opens on a narrow dead-end alley. The only thing back there is a dumpster, recycling bins, and Bonnie’s industrial-size smoker, a huge stainless-steel affair nearly the size of a refrigerator (which, thankfully, overpowers any garbage smell and fills the alley with the scent of sizzling meat).
I head out back and toss the two trash bags into the dumpster. At the same time, the rear metal door of Bonnie’s Bodacious BBQ opens and Bonnie herself comes out, looking tired but smiling and carrying a huge steel tray.
“Hey, Cassie!” she calls out to me. She opens the door to the smoker, revealing several glistening racks of pork, sausage, chicken, and ribs. “I’m just finishing up here. Want a taste test?”
My stomach grumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten anything yet today. “Absolutely. Maybe it’ll take my mind off all this ridiculousness.”
“You mean the thing with Dash?” she asks sadly.
I grimace. “Is the cat out of the bag on that one?”
“Not quite yet. I only know because I saw them take him away this morning. Don’t worry; I’m not about to start spreading anything.” She takes a long knife from an apron pocket, slices off a corner of a barbecue pork roast, and then spears it. “Here,” she says, holding it out to me. “For your troubles.”
I take it, burning my fingers a little in the process, but it’s so worth it.
The way Bonnie smokes her meat is magical. The outside gets charred and crispy, while the inside is tender, moist and pink. I chew slowly, savoring it. “Thanks, Bonnie.”
“Anytime. By the way, whose van is that?” She motions with the knife toward a black panel van half-blocking the mouth of the alley. There’s rust around the wheel wells and the paint job is faded nearly to a dull gray. “It’s been sitting there all day.”
I recognize it as Sarah’s van, and suddenly I remember that she’s currently living in it. Poor girl. “That’s my part-time employee’s van. Hired her on for the season. You want me to have her move it?”
“No, it’s fine,” Bonnie says. “Just wanted to make sure we didn’t have any weirdoes lurking around.”
Ha. Because we don’t already have some of those in Bandit Hills.
Bonnie loads a few of the roasts onto her tray and supports it with a hip. “Alright, see you around, Cassie.” She heads back inside, the metal door slamming behind her.
I glance back over at the black ramshackle van. My conscience nags at me that I should offer Sarah a better place to sleep, while the rational part of my brain reminds me that I shouldn’t invite strangers into my home. Tough choice.
I casually meander over to the van and peek in the windows. They’re tinted so dark I can barely see more than shapes inside. I can imagine, judging by the size of the vehicle, that a woman Sarah’s size could sleep comfortably in it, but I have to be sure so that I don’t feel like a terrible person later.
I try the passenger door. Locked. I try the driver’s side door. Unlocked! Sheesh. Bandit Hills is a pretty safe town (murders aside) but I still wouldn’t leave my car unlocked on the street like that.
I peer into the cab. It’s filthy. Empty coffee cups, random shirts and sweaters, and makeup accessories litter the floor and bucket seats. The center console is overflowing with detritus, from gum wrappers to tubes of fake blood.
I grimace, but I climb inside to take a look in the back. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the rear of the van; even in broad daylight, the windows are tinted so dark it looks like night inside. There are no seats in the back, but there’s a tiny cot pushed over to one side. Definitely big enough for her to sleep on.
The other side of the back of the van makes me blink a few times in surprise.
It looks like a miniature version of Marla June’s reading room, our local melodramatic psychic (who may or may not actually be in touch with the other side). It seems that Sarah is a fan of the occult, which I probably should have guessed. There’s an actual crystal ball, a skull that I really hope is a prop from the Scream Asylum, various colored candles, rune-encrusted daggers, a dried monkey’s paw, and other esoteric paraphernalia, all arranged on upside-down milk cartons that serve as makeshift tables.
If this were, say, five or six months earlier, I’d laugh about someone being an aspiring or practicing witch, but once upon a time I actually did have a run-in with a legit witch, who made a voodoo doll out of me and threatened to use it, so this kind of stuff gives me pause.
And because in a lot of ways I am still Curious Cassie, I do what any rational adult would do in the situation where they’re snooping in their employee’s van and find that they’re into the occult.
I climb back there and have a better look around, of course.
I’ll admit, despite the interesting sort of stuff I tend to get in my shop, I don’t know a whole lot about witchcraft. My specialty leans toward haunting and ghosts. The items in the back of Sarah’s van seem innocuous enough, though. I’m not sure if she actually does anything with them, or is just a collector.
Then I spot the book, there in the center of all of the occult items, half-buried beneath a black candle and the skull. It’s an old leather-covered volume, not particularly large or thick, bound in patchwork stitching that makes it look even creepier. There’s a black ribbon hanging from the bottom, marking a page. Of course I open it.
There on the page is a familiar drawing of an upside-down star, and in the center of that is a crude eye. It’s a drawing of the amulet. Duh, Cassie! In the hubbub of Dash getting arrested and questioning Carl and Donovan, the amulet had completely slipped my mind! The drawing in the book clinches it; something is definitely supernatural about that thing.
Beneath the drawing is some scrawling writing in a strange language that I can’t read. But I know someone who might.
I close the book and take it with me, climbing carefully out of Sarah’s van so as not to disturb anything that might seem suspicious (though I’m not sure how it would, in all that clutter). I stash the book under the dumpster in the alley and call Mom.
“I need you to come back and watch the store for a little while,” I tell her.
“I just got out of the shower—”
“It could help Dash.”
“I’ll be right there.” Good old Mom. Always willing to help out.
Next I knock on the back door of Bonnie’s Bodacious BBQ. I tap my foot impatiently and bang on it again with a closed fist. A moment later, a very confused Bonnie opens up, wearing an apron spattered with barbecue sauce.
“Oh, Cassie! It’s you. You could have used the front door, you know.”
“Bonnie, I need a favor—”
“Sure, but first I want you to try these meatballs I just whipped up. Come in—”
“It really pains me to say it, but I don’t have time for meatballs. Do you know where Xander is right now?”
She wrinkles her nose, thinking. “No, but I can call him for you.”
“Great. Tell him to meet me at the ranch in ten minutes. Tell him it’s urgent.”
“Sure, but why?”
“No time, Bonnie! Please, just give him a call for me?”
She nods emphatically. “I’ll do it right now.”
Next I control my breathing, smooth my hair, and head back into Miss Miscellanea with a big fake smile on my face, just as Sarah finishes ringing up a customer.
“Thank you, have a great day!” To me she says, “Hey, boss, everything okay?”
“Yeah, totally. Listen, I have to run an errand real quick. Estate sale in the ‘burbs I want to check out before the wolves get there. Mom’s coming back to keep an eye on things.”
“Sure.”
“Great. See you soon!” I head out the front door, circle around to the alley, retrieve the book from beneath the dumpster and stow it in my purse. Then I get into my SUV and drive as fast as I can to Bonnie’s ranch.
CHAPTER 14
Bonnie’s place is on the outskirts of town, a sprawling several-acre ranch that boards horses, dogs, cats, livestock, the occasional snake, and anything else that people bring her. Her husband passed away a few years earlier, and ever since she opened the barbecue joint next-door to my shop, the ranch duties have fallen to her son Steven.
When I pull into the gravel lot beside the cabin, the only other car present is a white pickup truck that I recognize as Xander’s. We get out of our cars at the same time, and needless to say, Xander looks perplexed.
“Bonnie gave me your message,” he tells me. “What’s going on?”
“Thanks for coming, Xander.” I pull out the leather-bound book and open it up to the page with the black ribbon and the drawing of the amulet. “Can you read this?”
Xander is Bandit Hills’ resident animal-whisperer; there’s not a creature on four legs or more (or less, I suppose) that doesn’t love him. Recently Bonnie employed his help to translate the last several pages of her cookbook, which were all in different languages, and apparently all of which Xander could read. I’m beyond the point of asking questions—I just shrug and say, “That’s Bandit Hills for ya”—but right now, I’m glad for his uncanny ability.
He sets the book on the hood of his truck and scrutinizes the page for a full minute. “Hmm,” he says. “Yes, I recognize it. This is written in Gothic, an extinct Germanic language that died out in the seventeenth century. It’s written in a runic alphabet that later became Greek and Latin letters—”
“That’s great, Xander, but time is of the essence here.”
He furrows his brow and looks up at me. “Does this have to do with Dash?”
“You know about that?”
He nods. “The whole town knows.”
Triple-crap. “I was really hoping to solve this thing before that happened.” I sigh. Poor Dash. His name is being dragged through the mud as we speak, I’m sure of it. “Can you read this? It might help him.”
“Yes.” He immediately sets his finger to the page and slowly begins scrolling over the small handwritten text. I pace back and forth behind him while he reads.
“Hmm,” he says after a while. “It’s very technical.”
“Can you paraphrase?”
“Certainly. This drawing is of something called an Amulet of Excess, a relic linked to the hereafter—the spirit world.”
“I knew that.”
“The wearer of the amulet will find his or her passion increased tenfold, and will eventually drive them to madness.”
“Increased passion? Madness?” I rerun the memories of Dash wearing the amulet in my mind. He was acting crazy about Bonnie’s food… which makes sense, because he loves her food. His passion for it increased tenfold. And the way he refused to take it off once he realized how good it would look with his costume…
“Thank you Xander!” I grab the book from him and drop it back into my purse. “Sorry, but I gotta run.”
He smiles. “I understand. Always nice to be able to help out a friend. I hope that when all this is over, you’ll tell me what happened.”
“Definitely!” I climb back into my car and kick up an impressive amount of gravel as I screech out of the small lot.
* * *
Increases their passion tenfold. As I drive, I consider the options. If Donovan was wearing the amulet, his love for Sally would have been amplified; or, maybe, his disdain over her threatening to leave him. If Carl was wearing the amulet, then it might have been his love for Sally magnified—or perhaps his anger over her rejecting him time and time again.
If Sarah had been wearing it, then her dislike for Sally would have been turned up to a malicious rage, I imagine.
The biggest problem, I realize, is that if the amulet has the same effect on everyone, then whoever actually murdered Sally might not remember it; Dash never could recall his episodes with it on. Which means that the killer might not be aware that they are the killer, and worse, wouldn’t be able to confess to something they don’t remember doing.
It’s a good thing my car has good suspension, because I rocket over the bumpy back road that leads to the sanitarium at about forty miles an hour. I decide to start with the least likely suspect; Donovan was struck in the back of the head with the amulet, which would have been no easy feat while wearing it. And besides, someone dragged him upstairs afterward.
I knock hard on the door to the trailer behind the asylum for about a full minute, calling out his name, but no one answers. His truck is here; he must be around. I decide to peek into the sanitarium.
All of the props from the Scream Asylum are still here, and they’re all the more eerie when the place is empty. Ghosts I can deal with; blood and gore, not my cup of tea. Still I trek around the entire Scream Asylum setup until I find Donovan, naturally, in the last place I look.
He sits cross-legged on the floor of the room with the black altar, upon which Sally’s body was found. He must have heard my footsteps, but he doesn’t turn or acknowledge me until I speak.
“Donovan?” I say gently. Seeing him sitting in here, staring at the altar, is a bit unsettling.
“Go away,” he says flatly. “I want to be alone.”
“I have new information, and I need to ask you a question.”
He sighs. “What?”
Since he won’t turn to look at me, I edge around the perimeter of the room until I can see at least part of his face, so I’m not just talking to the back of his bandaged head. “Donovan, do you remember that amulet? The star with the eye?”
“Yeah. The cops say I was hit with it,” he replies. “What about it?”
“Did you ever put it on? Did you wear it around your neck?”
He furrows his brow. “Why does that matter?”
“I just need to know.”
He stares at the ceiling. “No. I did not put it on. I had it when we left your store. I put it in my car, in a box with some other stuff. I didn’t see it again after that.”
“You’re certain you didn’t put it on?”
“Yes, I’m certain! Are you some kind of lunatic?”
Well, that’s one suspect down, two to go. I trust that he has no reason to lie, since he presumably doesn’t know about the amulet’s effects. “I’ll leave you alone now.” I start to retreat from the room, but then another thought occurs to me. “Uh, Donovan? Sorry, but… one more question. Why were there no actors in this room?”
Now he turns to look at me. “What?”
“When we… found Sally, in here, there were no actors. Were there supposed to be?”
He nods. “Originally, yes. There was supposed to be someone on the altar. But one of our actresses got sick with food poisoning the day before, so we had to think quick. My solution was to shut this door and just strike it temporarily from the tour, but…”
“Okay, one more.”
He groans.
“Who was it supposed to be on the altar?”
Of course I already know the answer.
“It was supposed to be Sarah.”
CHAPTER 15
I drive back to the shop like a madwoman, thoughts churning in my head. Put it together, Cassie.
Sarah knew what the amulet was capable of. She hated Sally, but knew that she couldn’t commit murder on her own, so she decided to use it to augment her passion. But Dash got hold of it, which explains why Sarah was so adamant about returning it to Donovan herself. Then Dash ran off, and it took me about ten minutes to find him. But Sarah got to him first, nabbed the amulet, knocked Donovan in the head with it, dragged him upstairs, came back down, murdered Sally in the black altar room, and got into her position in the Scream Asylum…
All inside ten minutes.
If Dash were here, he’d tell me, “That’s thin, Cassie.”
And I’d remind him that I’ve been right on wilder goose chases than this one before.
Either way, I know that Sarah was aware of the amulet’s power, and I know that she must have had something to do with it. I call Phil on my cell phone as I drive.
“I need you to come down to the shop ASAP, and bring that stone amulet with you,” I tell him. “And for god’s sake, don’t put it on!” I hang up as I pull in front of the shop.
Inside, Mom immediately starts in on me. “What’s going on? Did you find the killer?”
“Yeah, and I’ve got them in my trunk.”
Mom stares at me for a moment. “…Really?”
“No, of course not! Where’s Sarah?”
“Oh, you mean the worst employee ever? She disappeared again! She went outside, and then came back in all upset and said that something was stolen from her van and that she had to find it right away. And she just up and left!”