by Jill Nojack
Ella could hardly wait.
Plus, as far as she knew, the nursing home was now free from Satan’s influence with both of its witches out of the way. She could let her guard down just a little. And if she hadn’t already been sent home because of the video, she was sure she’d still have a job when the day was done even if she did have to put up with a scolding.
***
Marcus went back and forth about it inside his head while he helped Natalie set the table for dinner. First, he’d be sure that she needed to know about the crows, then he’d decide he was worrying about nothing and Twink would be mad at him if he talked about it. She already complained about how Natalie was way too up in her business.
But he knew the real decision would come down to one thing—who was he more afraid of? He owed Natalie a lot. For the first time in years he was able to relax and not worry about other foster kids stealing his stuff or foster parents kicking him back to the group home without any notice. She said the only place he was going from here was to college or to live with his mother. So even though he knew he was never going home to his mother and college still felt just out of his grasp, he believed she believed it. She was as solid in her support of him as Twink was.
But Twink? Well, he was in love with that girl. He knew it from the first minute he saw her refuse to back down from some cheerleader who’d intentionally knocked her books out of the crook of her arm as she passed in the hall. The cheerleader had been half a foot taller and surrounded by her squad, who all wore their game day red and white sweaters and short skirts.
When Twink called her out on it, adding a bad name to the mix, the girl had gone right up in her face and looked down on her, daring her to say it again, her fists balled.
Twink didn’t flinch. She looked right up at her as she said, “What I said was ‘what a skank.’ But what I meant was, ‘If I had time, I’d make that skank apologize. See, she might kill me in a fight, but I’d hurt her real bad before she did.’”
And then she stood there, looking up at the girl like David against Goliath. Total confidence.
The girl finally said, “Forget it, you’re not worth it,” and turned away. Twink continued down the hall, past the gaggle of cheerleaders, who glared but kept their thoughts to themselves.
He’d caught up to her and told her, “You were right to stand up like that.”
“Course I was,” she’d said.
“I woulda come in on your side, though,” he’d added.
She’d looked him up and down, having to put her head way back to do it, because even two years ago, he was over six foot tall.
“Skinny guy like you? We could have shared a hospital room, then.” She shrugged. “I was stupid. I should have picked up my books and walked away. Who cares about some dumb cheerleader who thinks she’s queen of the school? But sometimes I don’t think first.”
And then she smiled her brilliant smile and his heart wasn’t his anymore. And you couldn’t go against a girl who carries your heart with her, could you?
No, there was nothing good that would come of opening his mouth if the crows hanging around all the time were just a natural phenomenon. Natalie had seen them often enough and didn’t seem worried, so—
He didn’t realize he’d been staring at his gram while she worked until she said, “Why are you looking at me like that? Is my dress on inside out?”
“I, uh...” Saved by the bell. The doorbell. He’d have another day to think about it. “You gonna pretend you don’t know who that could be or do you want me to go let Bill in?” he asked.
“Let him in.” Her eyes narrowed, but her lips curled up slightly at the edges. “I’ll set another place.”
Bill bustled in, pecked Natalie on the cheek she’d pointed toward him when he headed for her mouth, then said, “There’s been another death just like the last one. I asked Robert, and the girl is from a witching family, although he’s unsure if she inherited a witch’s abilities.”
“What’s the family?”
“The Caldwells.”
Natalie nodded. “The mother had abilities and was involved with one of the Salem covens. One of the daughters—oh, what are their names? They both start with a j, impossible to keep them apart. I was there when each of them was delivered. Only the older one had any spark, although the younger one shills herself out as a fortune teller.”
“It was the older one. Josie,” Bill said, as he took a seat at his usual place at the table.
“Hmmm...another witch, then. Although both of the victims were very weak witches. Probably just coincidence. I suppose you’ll want me to waste my evening investigating even though I told you there was no magic involved with the first one?” She sounded annoyed, but Marcus knew her pretty well by now, and her eyes had a definite twinkle.
When Bill answered, it was easy to tell he didn’t buy the disinterested act either.
“Gosh, Nat, you know that’s not what you said. What you said is that there was an ‘absence of magic.’ One that you also said didn’t make any sense. So, if it’s happened again, doesn’t that mean there’s something having to do with magic going on? Sort of like—how did you describe it? Someone intentionally erasing the invisible ink after the crime?”
Natalie hadn’t raised her fork for a while, and now her hand went to her chin and the lines between her eyebrows deepened as she thought over what he’d said.
“You may be right,” she agreed. “Someone might simply be covering their tracks in a way I haven’t encountered before. I certainly don’t know everything on the subject. Fortunately, our high priest’s library often has answers for the small number of things I might have to look up.”
“So you’ll check it out.”
“I suppose I’ll have to, since you won’t stop harassing me until I do. But not until tomorrow. I had a quiet night at home planned, and I see no reason to change it for a death that will turn out to be no more magical than the last.”
Marcus bowed his head slightly as he covered his smile with a paper napkin and pretended to wipe his mouth with one hand as the other one slipped a piece of chicken under the table to Einstein. Because Bill knew Natalie was already all over it, and Natalie knew Bill knew.
***
Denton opened the cruiser’s trunk and stowed the carefully re-rolled crime scene tape into a plastic bag. The city didn’t use it often, but economy was important on a small police force, so he reused things when he could. He wasn’t as stingy as his first chief had been—Chief Ingalls would have dug spent bullets out of a man’s arm if he’d thought it would save the city money. He hoped Nurse Barnes was as sensible about economy and didn’t just think he was a miser.
He turned to his left where she stood at his side, waiting to look at the item he’d asked her out to the car to show her. She was standing closer than she’d been when he’d turned to put the tape away. A pleasant flush traveled his body from head to toe.
He wondered if he might be coming down with something, hoping that there really was nothing to the rapidly spreading rumor precipitated by Mama Barton’s video. People were beginning to panic, saying the recent deaths had been caused by a virulent strain of super flu. He buried his head in the trunk where she couldn’t see the hot blood traveling up his cheeks as he reached in toward the box at the back.
“Here they are. The medals. Sorry I didn’t remember to bring them inside. There doesn’t appear to be any damage.”
“Where did you find them?” she asked as she took the box from him.
“The sister pointed us to where she thought they might be. That’s all we found in the deceased’s cache, though. There may be other items in the apartment, but there was nothing matching other theft reports.”
She held on to the box with one hand as she opened it with the other to assess its contents. “These definitely belong to Cap. He’ll be thrilled to have them back. Or, at least, he will if he’s having a good day and can remember they were gone. Thank you.”
“Just doing my
duty.”
“Even so, handling this so quickly—”
“It’s really not a problem.”
“I know that every t must be crossed and every i dotted, and that takes time. I’d guess that you’re someone who shares my opinion; accurate and efficient completion of paperwork is an important part of keeping the gears oiled and turning, don’t you think?”
“I do,” he said, suddenly conscious that his voice sounded like it was amplified by a bullhorn in the quiet parking lot.
Then he felt as awkward as a teenager when her lips turned up in an amused smile and she replied, “It’s a little early in our relationship for that pledge, don’t you think?”
Was she flirting with him? Laughing at him? He cleared his throat to cover that he was floundering, then said, “I, of course, uh, meant that I do appreciate the timely completion of the clerical aspects of the job. Of course.”
He pulled his eyes from hers as he felt his face going pink. It had been a bad idea to stop here in person. What was he thinking, making the trip himself instead of sending Bailey?
She stepped close to him, peering into the trunk and placing her hand near his where it rested on the edge. “I see you have an antique quilt in there. Is that regulation issue in Giles?”
“My grandmother made it. It’s so worn now that it doesn’t look right in the house, but I keep it in here in case the cruiser breaks down and I’m ever stranded in the cold.”
“Or if you have to stop for an emergency picnic?” Her fingertips skimmed across the back of his hand as she turned to take her leave with a smile. He felt a flush again, hotter this time.
He’d swing by the hospital and have the doc take a look. After all, he’d been in contact with evidence that might potentially be contaminated and he was clearly coming down with something. He closed the trunk and started for his safe place in the driver’s seat.
“Oh, and about Mrs. Barton—” she called as he reached for the door handle. He didn’t turn in the event he really had come down with something that could endanger her if he coughed or breathed too heavily in her direction. He didn’t want her moving closer again. “...She’ll be receiving a written warning advising that any further social media that interferes with a police investigation or the successful operation of this nursing home will result in her dismissal. While I don’t agree with her views, she’s been a reliable and hard-working member of this staff for many years. I think she deserves a second chance.”
He nodded, not really processing anything she’d said, as he fumbled the car door open to escape into the dusk.
9
“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness!”
Dash rushed into Cat’s Magic Shoppe like an anxious locomotive navigating a gloomy tunnel. A white surgical mask obscured his lower face; Cassie almost didn’t recognize him without his mustache visible.
“What’s wrong? And why are you wearing that silly mask?” she asked as he barreled toward the counter, wringing his hands as he advanced.
Her boss was one of her favorite people in the universe, but he could get himself worked up into some crazy-level worry over pretty much nothing. His partner, John, said it was because of Dash’s artistic temperament. That might be true, but it was too early in the morning for a heaping dose of Dash-panic.
When he got to the counter, he stopped wringing his hands and set them on the edge, then immediately pulled them away, turning them palms up and staring at them, fear rushing off of him in waves.
“I have to wash my hands. Now! Right now!”
“Oooo-kay. Kitchenette’s down there.” She pointed to the hallway behind the counter. “And the soap’s in the pump next to the sink.”
He’d scampered into the hall before she finished what she was saying. She was dying to know what was up with him and looked longingly toward the hallway, but she couldn’t leave the shop floor unattended. There’d been a rash of shoplifting in town that she was mostly sure hadn’t been Natalie’s doing, although it was a bad idea to ever be one-hundred-percent certain she knew what Giles’s high priestess was up to.
She was thrilled when she turned to the sound of the shop bell and it was Gillian. “Watch the shop!” she said, “I’ve got a Dash emergency.”
Gillian, who was seldom flustered by anything, smiled as she slipped behind the counter. “A Dash emergency. Imagine. Such a rare event.”
Cassie hurried down the hall and found Dash scrubbing at his fingernails with the bottle brush. His hands looked red from the attention. She walked to his side and gently took the brush away.
“Tell me what you’re so upset about, please? I want to help.”
“I will. I’ll tell you. I just need to get my thoughts in order; they’ve gone Marilyn on me—flitting about like a skirt over a vent and me without enough hands to keep them under control.” One hand moved to his upper chest as he worked to calm his breathing. “It’s terrible. You and Tom must, simply must, leave town immediately for the safety of the bunlet in your oven. Who knows how virulent it is? How fast it will move through the population. It could be a modern plague!”
“Yep. Still don’t know what we’re talking about.”
He shoved his phone toward her. The video of Clotilda Bentwhistle’s corpse was playing again. “This. Remember this?”
“Sure I do, you showed it to me like two days ago. So?”
His hand fluttered where it still lay against his chest. “It happened again. They found another body in the exact same state. And the girl was one of Tildy’s caregivers! I’ve just heard it from Ling Li.”
“Oh.” With all the stuff she’d seen since she’d learned she was a witch, one mummified body in town didn’t freak her out that much. But two? That banged a few gongs. “Come back out into the shop. I want Gillian to hear this.”
After Dash had repeated what he’d told Cassie, complete with intricate hand-waving and repeated breath-catching, Gillian’s face looked grave. She reached out to pat Dash’s shoulder, but he stepped back to avoid her well-meaning gesture.
“No touching! No touching! That may be how it spreads.”
“I’m not convinced that ‘it’ is a thing at all.” Gillian replied. “I’ve never heard of a disease with these symptoms, have you? In fact, the coroner told Robert that the original death wasn’t caused by disease. There’s no reason to get yourself into such a state.”
Dash didn’t look reassured. “It’s not just me...I’ve come from the bookstore. Oswald is insisting that his customers put on a mask before they go in. That’s where I got mine. And he’s put out antiseptic wipes to use before you handle the books. In fact, I think it’s an excellent idea for the gallery. I’ll run to the medical supply store in Salem before I open up. The customers will just have to wait since you’re in the shop today.”
Cassie tried again to reassure him. “You don’t need to. Really. Just, you know, chill out. I’m sure it’s nothing. If there was any genuine danger, don’t you think Robert would have made Gillian stay home today?”
Dash’s lips pursed as he looked at Gillian, her face still wearing it’s usual calm. For a moment, he looked like he might relax. But then he said, “No. It’s not worth the risk of possibly taking the plague home to John. Maybe Robert doesn’t worry about his partner, but I would do anything in my power to protect mine. Even wear an unfashionable paper mask. The gallery will open late today.”
He buzzed out without another word, hanky in hand, to assure he didn’t touch the door handle on his way out.
“I hope he doesn’t stir the pot too much,” Gillian said as she walked behind the counter to stow her enormous macrame bag in an under-counter cubby. “The last thing we need just before the Midsummer Festival, which is such an important event for all of the downtown shops, is for the town to be in a panic. No one will show up on festival day. That could devastate trade for the rest of the summer.”
“I know, right? I love Dash to pieces, but he can defo get his panties in a bundle about things he s
houldn’t worry about. I’ll call John later. I’m sure he can calm him down.” Cassie set a hand on the counter, then took it off again, looking at her palm thoughtfully before wiping it on her skirt. “You don’t think he has a point, do you?”
“Robert says no. Plus, Natalie inspected Tildy’s body up close at the morgue, and she’s fine. At least as of this morning when she called Robert to say she may need access to his paranormal library today.”
“What’s she researching?”
“You know how she said that there was no magic involved with the first death?”
“I remember.”
“She expects there won’t be magic involved with the second one, either. She was going to be visiting the scene today to find out when she texted me last night.”
Cassie’s brow furrowed as she tried to sort out how two deaths without magic would lead to the need to research magic and couldn’t put the two together. “Ummm...nope. I don’t get it.”
“No. Nor me. But I’m sure all will be revealed in the fullness of time.” Gillian’s thick white braid swung forward as she bent over to pull a basket of teas out from beneath the counter, and she flung it over her shoulder as she straightened with the basket in her other hand. “Until then, I say we push the general health mix.”
“Yep. Never hurts to go heavy on echinacea. But Nat had better come up with the 4-1-1 on this soon.” Cassie lay a hand across her stomach, which was still perfectly flat at the end of the second month of her pregnancy. “It’s not just me I have to worry about anymore.”
***
“Have you seen what’s going on out there?” Natalie asked as she entered the shop. The bell over the door tinkled merrily in contrast to her annoyed tone. “You’d think Death himself was walking the sidewalk scything away at citizens.”
Cassie went to the front and looked out onto the street through the bottles of multi-color potions that sat in the big display window. “Omigoddess! Everyone on the street is wearing a mask now. Just great. The festival’s ruined. And Tom and I were really counting on a little extra cash from the shop for the last touches on the nursery, since I’m beginning to think the rest of my inheritance will be held up forever.”