Members of the circle dropped their heads and closed their eyes and chanted in whispers, “Blessed be.”
The boys helped Jaxon lift the wooden cover off of the coffin. They set it against the wall.
Felix shined a light on the shriveled, skeletal corpse with long reddish hair. Mercy’s once dark chestnut hair had faded and her skin receded, stretching taut over her bones and exposing her teeth. She wore a green dress. A faux flower wreath surrounded her head.
Felix joked, “Hey, Jaxon. I see the family resemblance.”
“Gross!” said Anton.
“Did you see that?” asked Tim. “A ghost. I’m getting out of here.”
“You saw a shadow in the flashlight beam,” said Jaxon. “Calm down.”
“I feel a cold breeze.” Tim wrapped his arms around his chest. “Everyone knows cold breezes mean ghosts.”
Jaxon rolled his eyes. “That’s called wind.” He heard a low growl. “Did you hear that? It sounded like an animal.”
“Nah, man. Wind,” said Felix.
“Not me,” said Anton.
“Nor me,” said Tim.
“The job is done. Welcome to the club, boys. Let’s get out of here.” Jaxon led the way. He exited the gate and peered upward. At the top of the stairs, two glowing eyes stared down at him. He froze and blinked. When he opened his eyes, whatever was there had disappeared. “Did you see that? Some kind of animal? Like a wolf.”
“A coyote maybe?” suggested Anton.
“I think it was a wolf,” said Jaxon.
“Impossible,” said Anton. “Hardly any wolves are left in California, and the ones we do have are up north. But we have coyotes.”
Ruby Moon convulsed. “Poor babies! For shame! Poor babies!”
Everyone felt her shake and heard her moan and chant, but they all kept their eyes closed and whispered, “Blessed be.”
A desperate, feral howl cut through the night.
The four boys freaked. They ran across the grass toward the circle.
With a crack, the obelisk broke free of its base and fell.
A shrill scream rang out.
Everyone in the circle leaped, dove, or ran out of the way but for Jared, who stumbled and fell forward.
The young boys raced to the break in the hedge, dodging the falling obelisk to reach safety.
Ruby Moon yelled, “Jared!”
Crystal and Val screamed as the obelisk fell. It smashed the altar, sending sand and water flying, and slammed into Jared’s back.
The high school boys ducked through the break in the hedge and disappeared.
Gunner raced to Jared’s side. He enlisted the others. “Help me! I can’t move it.” But the others did not move. All eight of them could not lift it.
Gunner felt for Jared’s pulse. He cried out, “He’s dead!” Gunner sprang to his feet. He held his hands over his ears, as if hearing the apocalypse itself chase after him. Screaming, he bolted across the lawn and through the hedge.
Detective Max King and Dr. Joy Burton arrived at the scene, along with Angelo, the M.E., and his team. The forensic technicians set up high-beamed portable lights to illuminate the grisly spectacle. The lights ignited the obelisk, the white rock circle, and the fair-haired, black-robed man, pinned down as if by the ruins of history.
The elements on the altar and their containers had scattered; the abalone shell lay in two pieces but still caught the light and shimmered.
Max, twenty-six and a new detective, had blonde hair and blue eyes. Joy, his newly discovered fraternal twin, had jet-black hair, parted in the middle and falling to her shoulders, jet-black brows, and wore red lipstick. They kept their sibling status a secret for fear the Chief of Police, Frank Goldsby would use it to rip them apart.
Max approached the witnesses. He knew this was no ordinary case the moment he eyed the strange group all clad in black hooded capes.
Joy asked the group, “Please remove your hoods.”
The group complied and pulled their hoods away from their faces.
“Names and contact information,” said Max, jotting down notes as everyone went around the circle.
After Max had obtained the basics, Joy asked, “What were you doing at the cemetery?”
Alizon responded, “We are pagans, proudly so. We came here to celebrate Mabon, the equinox.” Max gave her a quizzical look, prompting her to add, “Don’t worry, no animal sacrifices, detective.”
Max could not stop himself from countering, “No, just a human.” He kept a close eye on the faces and mannerisms of each witness. “Walk us through the evening.”
This time, Drew answered, “I set the circle. Jared, the high priest, and my consort, Lady Alizon, and High Priestess Ruby Moon—our daughter and Jared’s consort—set the altar. We called the corners, chanted, and danced. Ruby called…she stood before Jared and entered into a spiritual trance. We circled them, standing on either side. We placed our hands on them to channel our energy to Ruby.”
Gregor jumped in. “Then crack and crash—the obelisk fell. We ran for our lives, but Jared stumbled forward.”
Joy asked, “Did anyone see anything out of the ordinary before that?”
Max could not help but grin at her question, because the entire scene could not be more ‘out of the ordinary.’ Max chastised himself. David King would say, ‘Cast a wide net. Get to know your suspects.’ But his mind struggled to make sense of pagan worship. He learned a new twist about the people of Vinoville with each case.
Ruby shook her head. “We all had our eyes closed. We heard a crack, like the limb of a tree breaking. Someone screamed.”
“I screamed,” said Alizon.
“Me too,” said Crystal and Val.
Ruby continued, “We ran away or dove for the ground.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Jared is dead. I can’t believe it.”
Drew put an arm around her. “I can’t believe it either.”
Valerie Valdez, in her late twenties with short dark hair, tawny skin, and hazel eyes, shivered with shock. She had prominent cheek bones and full lips. “Ruby, I’m so sorry.”
“And who are you?” asked Max.
“Val…Valerie Valdez. I’m new to the circle. Tonight was my first event with all of them. What they said—that’s all I saw.”
“Gregor Vulpe. I own an herbal remedy shop across from the mall. Same here. That’s all I saw.” Gregor scratched at his stubbled chin.
“I’m Chris Murphy—I go by ‘Crystal,’ though. I work in Gregor’s shop. I didn’t see anything else.” Crystal’s pale face, full cheeks, and black shadow gave her a raccoon-like appearance.
“Is that it?” asked Joy.
Gregor let out a heavy sigh. “No. One more. Gunner Cruz. He’s had it rough. PTSD. He witnessed the death of his best friend in Afghanistan. The man blew up before his eyes. He rushed to Jared’s side. Checked for a pulse. He begged us to help him move the obelisk. But we froze. It was impossible. He said Jared was dead. He jumped to his feet and raced the hell out of here like bombs were dropping all around him.”
“We’ll need to talk to him,” said Max.
Alizon pleaded, “Be gentle with him. He has…spells. Time lapses.”
Joy asked, “He can’t remember periods?”
Gregor added, “He’d gotten so much better—until tonight.”
Drew added, “There were others here too—not in our group. Four boys, high schoolers, I think. They came running from the direction of the crypt. Maybe there were others too. Maybe they pushed the obelisk, thinking it would be funny.”
Alizon gasped. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s possible. Oh, dear.”
Max handed out cards. “You can go, but we’ll need to speak with you again. Here’s our contact info.” Joy handed out a few as well.
Ruby shouted, “I’m not leaving Jared! Not until that thing is off of his body.”
Drew pulled Ruby in tighter. “Then we’ll wait with you.”
Every
one agreed to stay to support Ruby.
Joy reminded them, “Fine. But stay back. You can’t touch anything. You can’t interfere with our investigation.”
Gregor nodded. “Of course, detective. We understand.”
Within the hour, the crane operator arrived. He drove over the grass and aligned the spreader beam attached to the lift arm so that it hung parallel to the obelisk.
Max and Joy approached Angelo, a handsome Italian man with a close-shaved beard and silver-gray hair.
Joy pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “While he sets up, care to check out a crypt? Evidently, some high school boys came running from that direction.”
Angelo perked up. “Sure, it will be a while before they’re ready here.”
The three of them, plus a technician toting a portable light and a field case, walked across the grass, stepping around headstones.
They descended the marble staircase, slipped through the open gate, careful not to touch it, and entered the crypt.
Max noted, “The lock wasn’t broken.”
Joy added, “Either picked or someone had a key.”
The technician set up a high-beamed light in the corner. With the flick of a switch, the room lit up in light and shadows, solemn, elegant, and macabre.
Max, Joy, and Angelo peered into the pine box.
Max and Joy cast flashlight beams at Mercy Summerfield, letting the light wash over her from her green velvet slippers trimmed with gold braid, across her green velvet dress, to the wreath of faux flowers, still blooming with color, encircling her desiccated head. Her hands, gently folded over one another, rested over her heart.
Max let out a heavy sigh. “So young to die.”
Joy added, “No antibiotics then.”
Angelo’s voice carried a tone of concern. “Hey, guys, shine your lights on her hands.”
Max and Joy directed their flashlight beams at Mercy’s hands. “See something.”
Joy answered, “Mees’ lines?”
Angelo nodded. “Yep.” He explained to Max. “These white horizontal lines on her nails may occur for a few reasons, but one of them is heavy metal poisoning.”
Joy added, “Like arsenic. It was a common household item to keep the rats away. In fact, I’d wager her dress is Paris green, a dye made brighter and longer lasting with arsenic.”
“Did the dress kill her?” asked Max.
“Doubtful,” said Angelo. “The makers of the artificial flowers, like the ones in her hair, died at an alarming rate, causing one doctor to investigate. He found the workers handling the arsenic with their hands. They brushed it on the fabric. Mercy would have inhaled a fraction of what the workers had. Green wallpaper made some people sick too, but this could be murder. I need to run some tests.”
Angelo directed his technician. “Canvass this place then take her to the shop.” Only Angelo used this “shop” term, which was an affectionate name for his forensics’ lab. Angelo came by it honestly, as his father had started a repair garage for foreign cars where Angelo worked before medical school and residency.
“We’re ready for you,” said another technician who had descended the stairs and popped her head into the crypt.
Max, Joy, and Angelo strolled back across the grass, stepping around grave markers and headstones to reach the obelisk. From a distance, the scene looked like a construction project, not the scene of an accident or a murder.
The crane operator had wound a pad around the obelisk to prevent further damage, secured chains around the padding, and secured the chains to each end of the spreader beam. He was ready to lift.
Angelo gave the go-ahead. “Let’s do it!”
The black-robed figures huddled together, their eyes all fixed on the helpless figure of their friend pinned to the grass.
The crane operator pushed the controls. The engine roared. The heavy-duty arm lifted the obelisk off of Jared’s body. The operator raised it slowly, checking to be sure it pulled free and remained balanced. Inch-by-inch the black granite spire rose into the air until sufficiently free of the body. The operator backed up his vehicle, carting the obelisk away.
Angelo called out and waved an arm when the obelisk reached a distance clear of the forensic grid. “That’s good. Set her down!”
Forensic technicians swooped in. Some set down numbered markers and snapped pictures. Others combed every inch of grass to collect evidence.
Time passed as they worked methodically, like robots following a specific programming protocol. When they had what they needed, they signaled Angelo.
With Max and Joy standing over his shoulder, Angelo and an assistant rolled Jared onto his back.
The black hilt of the athame blade protruded from the dead man’s chest.
Ruby Moon’s scream shattered the night.
3
Max’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Max, it’s Kevin.” Kevin was a fellow officer. “We just picked up a crazy guy wandering the street near the cemetery. We had to taser him to get him to cooperate.”
“Gunner Cruz?”
“That’s the guy,” said Kevin. “We just dropped him off at the emergency room of the hospital. They’re checking him for drugs.”
“He’s got severe PTSD. Probably worse since you tasered him.”
“I hate tasering anyone, Max. But we couldn’t get him in the car otherwise, and he clearly needed medical attention.”
“I know, Keven. Have his doctor call me.”
“Will do.”
As the forensic team packed up, Max’s phone rang. The ID read “Wine Valley Hospital.” “Detective Max King.”
“Detective King, this is Dr. Patel. I admitted Gunner Cruz for observation. How can I help you? Please make it fast. The E.R. is swarming tonight.”
“When can we talk to Gunner Cruz?”
“He’s heavily sedated. Not before tomorrow sometime. I put a call in to his regular physician, a psychiatrist.”
“Thanks, doctor.” The line went dead.
Max and Joy approached the robed group.
Joy began, “Where did the knife come from?”
Alizon answered, “It’s an athame blade, a ritual knife that is charged. It channels energy. It can take in energy and cast it out. The athame is set on the altar, but anyone can pick it up and use it.”
Ruby interjected. Her voice wavered. “Jared put it back on the altar after calling a corner. But several of us used it for incantations after that.”
Joy said, “Explain.”
Gregor responded, “We passed the athame around when we called the corners. Tonight, Crystal passed it to Ruby. She passed it to me, and I passed it to Jared. He set it back on the altar.”
Ruby added, “Then we chanted and danced. I picked it up. I passed it to Jared.”
Alizon added, “Jared passed it to me and I set it back down. It’s normal that we point it at our chest to direct its energy.”
“No, you passed it to me,” corrected Val. “I set it down, and Gunner picked it up.”
Alizon nodded. “Of course. That’s right.”
Valerie suggested, “Maybe Jared had it pointed at his chest, and it accidentally impaled him when he fell.”
Ruby Moon let out a muffled moan.
Joy said, “Mr. Vulpe, you said Jared stumbled forward. Is it possible he’d already been impaled?”
The group unanimously objected.
“You can’t be suggesting that someone in the circle killed Jared!” shouted Drew.
Crystal raised her voice. “Gregor is right. Besides, we had our eyes closed until the granite dick fell. Let’s face it—that’s what it represents. Masculine power. We scattered. It could have been any one of us under that thing!”
“Max! Joy!” shouted Angelo.
Max and Joy walked over to Angelo, who crouched down beside the body.
Joy said, “They say it’s routine for them to point the blade at their own chests. Did he accidentally stumble and impale himself?”
Angelo pointed, form
ing an angle with his gloved finger. “It’s possible. Since he did fall on the blade, it will be hard to tell. The blade shifted at impact. But I can tell you it dove right up under his ribs, and I suspect, into his heart.”
“One more thing you should know,” said Max. “Practically everyone picked up the blade, so expect multiple prints.”
“Of course. It couldn’t be easy.” Angelo stood up. “Get him to the shop, guys.”
A man with an imposing build stepped between the break in the hedges. The moonlight cast a glow that gave the figure a mysterious stature.
Max and Joy cut across the lawn to intercept him
As Max drew closer, he noted the man’s pronounced cheekbones and brown skin, which reminded him of Belle’s Native American features. His skin had harsh wrinkles from working in the sun. His long, thick hair, black but for some gray, hung down in two braids, tied at the ends.
Max asked, “Can we help you?”
“I’m Bear, the groundskeeper. It’s not every day I get a call in the ‘dead of night’ to check out a death at my cemetery. Are you in charge?”
“We are.” Joy asked, “Did you know people were using the cemetery?”
Bear grimaced. “Am I here ‘round the clock to keep people away? No. My job is to keep the landscape crew on point and to keep the place respectably neat.” Bear peered over Max’s shoulder and shook his head. “I knew that headstone wasn’t safe. This part of the cemetery has signs all around it to stay clear until repairs could be made. After the Summerfields put in the crypt and the obelisk, the rules changed. Only smaller headstones are allowed. That thing is a danger.”
Max asked, “What repairs were being done?”
Bear ran a hand over his head as if to smooth his troubled thoughts. “The base of that spire has been sinking for years. A degree here, a degree there. I put in a repair request over a month ago. The tilt had reached nine degrees. Last I heard, the city had contacted the Summerfield family to work out a solution. But the request must be sitting on someone’s desk.”
Grenache and Graves Page 2