The Midsummer Murders

by Jill Nojack

  Denton wrapped up the call with, “I’ll have Bailey call your investigator to compare notes, and I’d be happy to have him send a copy of the paperwork along...and Todd? We’d be glad of reciprocity on that, as your investigation goes along...yes, glad we’re on the same page.” He seemed ready to end, starting to move the phone away as his mouth opened for his closing words, when he moved it back and said, “Oh, and have your coroner get in contact with Doc Don over here in Giles. He’s already done extensive research on the other bodies...Yes, that’s it. I hope you have better luck than we’ve had.”

  Denton set down the phone and then sat down himself, laying his hands flat on the desk and leaning in slightly toward Wiliam. “I’ll let Don know to expect a call on this. Your contact will be Justin Franklin. He’s the detective over there who’s working the case.”

  “Another death like Tildy Bentwhistle and Josie Caldwell?”

  “A woman named Mary Crain, although like a number of Salem’s so-called witches she went by a stage name, Raven Crain, instead of the sensible name she was born with. Same symptoms. Cleaning woman found her around eight in the morning. Todd says her body crumbled away before they could get her to the morgue. She’s just dust and bones now. At least Don had his bodies semi-intact.” He sighed and shook his head. “You know, Bill, I’ve seen some strange things in my time, but nothing as strange as this.”

  “I’m with you, Chief. But I know we’ll find an answer. It has to be medical—maybe a poison that Doc couldn’t find because of the state of the bodies.”

  “You better be right, Bailey. Because I don’t think this town can bear another murder. We’ve had a real bad run this past year.”

  “Gosh, we sure have, Chief.” William stood. “I’ll scoot off to my office and get the papers together to fax over to Salem.”

  And then I’ll figure out a reason I can’t leave Giles if it comes up, William thought. He needed a cover right away that would explain to Denton why Officer Bill Bailey can’t leave Giles, and having another attack like the last one would just assure that he looked like he couldn’t handle the stress of the job. Maybe he should talk to Robert about it. They could kick around some ideas. It would be good to have an opinion from the perspective of the man who’d installed him in the job in the first place, because if he didn’t come up with something quick, he’d end up unemployed and much less able to fulfill his role as town protector. Not that I’ve been doing such an expert job of it.

  He sighed as he exited the Chief’s office, trying not to blame himself. He was immortal, not all-knowing. And whenever he forgot that, Natalie was more than happy to remind him.

  ***

  Natalie’s head turned away from the heavy book she was paging through toward the pop where the air in the shop’s hallway behind her parted. She knew the sound of William’s entrance well.

  He’d been much better about jumping in unannounced since she’d laid down the law the other night. It had to be something important.

  She interrupted Gillian’s story about something adorable Robert had said to her the night before—pity to have to interrupt right at that point—with, “And that sound is William arriving. I’ll see what he wants.”

  He was waiting for her patiently. Probably expected her to head for him the minute he appeared.

  Was she becoming predictable?

  Humph. If she was, something needed to be done about it.

  “Look, Nat, I’m sorry about showing up like this—I know the shop’s about to open and you don’t like it when I appear unannounced, but I have urgent news. There’s been another death, this time in Salem. A witch named Mary Crain. The sheriff said she had some stage name? A bird thing—had black birds all over the house. Raven! That’s it. Raven. Was she a witch?”

  “Raven Crain? She was. I know her.” She corrected herself. “Knew her. Power hungry but never able to gain the trust of her coven; she was known for working dark when it suited her.” She motioned him into the kitchenette, then followed him in. “You’d better take a seat. And there’s tea in the pot. Hibiscus. Gillian’s worried about her blood pressure and is on a kick. Same presentation of the corpse as before?”

  William poured tea into two china cups as he answered, “Sure is. Golly, Nat, I don’t like this. Three witches dead in just one week? I know you said there’s no magic involved, but there has to be.”

  “And yet there still isn’t. Unless there was something else remarkable about this one? A warlock with a wand and cloak standing over the body, perhaps? A large pentagram on the floor drawn in blood?”

  “Aw, come on, Nat, that’s not fair!” William transferred the tea cups to the table and looked down at her where she perched on one of the kitchenette’s vintage, vinyl-upholstered dinette chairs. “You know how this looks. Three witches. Deaths like no one has ever seen. Ever. Anywhere. It has to be magic. It has to.”

  “I know. And that it appears to only affect witches alarms me more than if a non-witch had also died—not that their lives are worth more than a non-witch, only that with three dead, it appears they are uniquely vulnerable.” She held her tea cup in front of her, but she set it down again without taking a sip. “We’ve all been hitting the research hard when we can, but there’s nothing there. Cassie even tracked down every mention of skinwalkers she could find in the old books, then went for more. Skinwalkers of all things! A rare being known to have gone extinct almost a hundred years ago. We haven’t found anything magic related that can help us understand this.”

  “The problem is that there’s no magic around the bodies, right?”

  “Yes. That’s the logical flaw. Magic is like energy, I suppose. It can’t be destroyed, only converted into another form. And even then, whatever it was converted to should leave a trace of its own.”

  “Couldn’t something clean up after itself if it converted the magic to something else?”

  “You mean like a magic vacuum cleaner of some sort?” She projected a pleasant, thoughtful face, giving him a smile at the end.

  He looked at her expectantly. “Do you think that’s possible?”

  Her smile revealed its sarcastic origin as she said, “Blithering buttered beetles! Of course not. A magic vacuum cleane—who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing?”

  His smile faded, and he looked crushed as he absorbed her withering remark.

  “Just go on, William. I’m tired of this puzzle. Let Doc Don sort it out. I’m done with it.”

  He sighed. “I’ll drop it. Fine. But don’t come back to me all kisses and cotton candy when you want the details of the investigation later on. Because if there’s no magic in it, there’s no reason you should get them.” He gulped down his tea, went to the counter, washed his cup quickly, then placed it in the rack.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone apologetic and her hand reaching out to lay gently on his arm. She knew she’d been harsh and that he didn’t deserve it. Just one more reason that his silly notion about creating a permanent bond between them was such a poor deal for him. “It’s just that I’ve rolled all the possibilities around in my head a hundred times. I’ve got no answers. It’s making me cranky.”

  He raised an eyebrow and his mouth quirked up at one corner.

  “Fine. Crankier,” she said, emphasizing the i-er. “Gillian’s going to be talking to our friends in France, but other than that, I feel like I’m out of leads. You know I wouldn’t really drop this when the witches in this town are in danger, don’t you?”

  He turned and took her hand with his still damp one. “I know. Don’t give up. Maybe it’s moving away from Giles, whatever it is.”

  “I most sincerely hope so,” she said, sighing. “I worry excessively about the young people of the town as it is,” she said, thinking of Cassie’s imminent child, Twink, and especially Marcus. “I’m not concerned so much for myself. But they have years to go and plenty of joy ahead of them. I want them to get every bit of it.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You’ve got plenty of
joy ahead of you too, if you’d agree to marry me like we once planned.” His gaze intensified. “You’re still thinking about what I suggested, aren’t you? You know, about the...”

  She pulled her hand away, but not urgently. “How could I not think about it if it could give me a longer life with you? But what you suggested must be considered blood magic. Nothing could be darker. Even if it could extend my life as you hope it would instead of killing me, I won’t take the chance.”

  His expression crumpled to sorrow, and he lowered his head, “I understand...I...”

  “I only said no to taking your blood, William. I haven’t said no to marriage. Still, I’ve lived a long and solitary life. It’s suited me. Why, I’ve—”

  He interrupted her. “I don’t think it suits you at all.”

  Her eyes narrowed. That was a bold move on his part.

  And then he continued, “I know how much you’ve enjoyed having Marcus in your life. And me? Don’t pretend you haven’t enjoyed having us there as your family. So let’s make it official. Let’s be a family.”

  “You know why I can’t.”

  “Because you’ll die and I won’t.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll die whether or not we marry.”

  “Of course I will. But you’ll never have to take on the burden of being tied to a cantankerous, sick old woman who can’t take care of herself. You won’t have to dress me and feed me and wipe my nether parts. How many good years do I really have left? Ten? Fifteen? What if I decline like my grandmother did before her demise? No, I won’t sentence you to years of dealing with an insane old woman who can’t even tie her own shoes.”

  He grabbed her hands and refused to let go as she tried to pull them away. “Let go of me!” she demanded.

  “No. Never. I’ll tie the shoes of every insane old woman in the county if that’s what it takes. I came back from the dead to be with you! And it doesn’t matter how it happened, whether it was the Goddess or just plain cussedness on my part. It happened.”

  He fixed his eyes to hers, determined, blue sparks obscuring the deep brown of his pupils as a djinn’s magic and passion flashed within them. “I came back from the dead for you.”

  She turned away from the naked intensity of his love, still unable to extricate herself from his grasp, unable to block out his words as he said, “You have to stop acting like you don’t want the same things I do. I’m as bewitched, bothered, and bewildered by you as the first day we met. You and I were made for each other.”

  She didn’t turn back to him, so he leaned in to her ear and his breath warmed her cheek as he said, “I love you. You love me. Forget what I suggested about the blood. That love is all we need for however long it lasts.”

  Her hands were free again as the air flowed into the space he’d ceased to inhabit. They moved to press against her eyes as she squeezed them tight against a gathering flood.

  “Nat?” Gillian called from the shop. “Everything all right?”

  She didn’t know how to answer.

  14

  Twink was tired of Natalie’s eyes boring into the back of her head every time she turned away. Even though Ms. Mean had pretended to accept the answers about her dream after an hour-long interrogation—like Twink could possibly be some kind of life-sucking, mummy-making creature from the dark side—she knew Natalie hadn’t taken her eyes off of her for the past two hours.

  She finished wrapping up the machine-crocheted spider-web shawl that a guy with black kohl around his eyes and a bouffant hairdo had just purchased. She couldn’t decide if it was for a girlfriend or for him. He’d looked cute wrapped up in it when he’d thrown it around his shoulders to check it out. “Don’t forget to tell your friends about Cat’s Magical Shoppe. Get all your magical needs filled in Giles!”

  He gave her a smile as he picked up his bag and strolled away. Definitely for him, she decided, watching the playful roll in his hips.

  “Natalie, I need to run back to my place and get my hair comb. All this hair is just getting in my way.” She pushed a marauding curl back as she talked.

  “You can’t wait until break time?”

  She sighed heavily. “If I have to...”

  “Fine, go on. You did a good job stocking today, I have to admit. Everything is in its place.” Natalie ran a finger along a shelf. “And dust-free. Yes, exemplary work. Go get what you need.”

  She didn’t want to bother Daria to unlock the now re-locked hallway door, so she walked around the side of the building to the back to get to the outside one that was the main entrance to the apartment.

  Once she was in her room, she grabbed the comb out of her jewelry box and wrapped her hair into a loose bun as she walked back to the shop, affixing it on top of her head with the comb just before she entered.

  A caw behind her made her turn around. “You again? You stupid crows! It’s bad enough I dream about you!”

  She entered the store to find Natalie staring at her, eyes narrowed. And then the old witch reached out and grabbed for the comb, pulling her hair as she yanked it away.

  “What’s wrong with you, you old bat?”

  “Old bat, am I? We’ll see about that. Where did you get this and how long have you had it?”

  “I bought it the day I asked you for an advance. Like, a week ago? You’ve seen me wear it before.”

  “Maybe I have. But I’m seeing it in a different light now. Where did you get it?”

  “At the consignment shop. Ling’s Things.”

  Natalie advanced on her, coming way too close for Twink’s comfort. She backed up, but there was no place to go but out, and she didn’t think that would be a good idea right at the moment with the crows crowding into the doorway.

  Natalie moved forward and took up the space between them again. “You knew there was magic in this, didn’t you? And don’t lie to me, young lady. It’s too important.”

  “I...” Twink stood there, mouth open, afraid to continue. She had the feeling she was going to be in trouble no matter what she said. Defeated, she admitted, “Yeah. I knew.”

  The anger in Natalie’s voice cooled from a rolling boiling to a simmer. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty. But you obviously do not understand the danger you placed yourself in by gallivanting around with a source of magic you know nothing about. This object could be dangerous for an experienced witch. For a novice, it’s potentially fatal.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, way, young lady. Gillian and I didn’t make the rules because we want to control you. We did it to protect you. I’m furious you don’t seem to care! You’re one of us now. And we’re here to keep you safe until you’re old enough and wise enough to do it yourself.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know how Marcus would survive...I...I should have been paying more attention.”

  “Drama queen much?” Twink rolled her eyes. “It’s just a hair comb with some magic I can’t even figure out.”

  “If I don’t miss my guess, it’s a hair comb that belonged to Ruby Averill. A powerful and infamous witch whose familiar was a crow.”

  “Oh,” Twink said, as she heard the now-familiar sound of a beak striking glass. No way was she turning around to look.

  “I should have put it together before this. But crows are common enough. We’ve had gangs of them around town before.” She walked to the counter and lifted her red purse from its cubby, then dropped the ruby-covered comb inside it, closing it with a loud snap.

  “Wait a minute!” Twink said. “You can’t just take it. It’s mine. I paid for it.”

  “I’ll let you know if you can have it back after I’ve had time to analyze it. If there’s no harm in it and all it does is bind that crow, then you can have it back. With Ruby gone, he’s bound to the object until he’s fully transferred to another witch. The foul thing might be a quite suitable familiar. It would serve you right.”

  “I can’t just keep the comb and make the crow go away?�
�

  “Breaking the spell that ties it to the binding object kills the familiar. But if that’s what you want—”

  “It would kill it?”

  “Yes. Some of your less savory witches see their familiars as servants, not as helpful friends. They like to have a quick way to dispose of them if they disappoint.”

  Twink didn’t necessarily like the crow hanging around all the time, but she didn’t want it to die, either.

  She asked, “If I kept the comb, would having an evil familiar make me evil, too?”

  “Of course not. It’s only a crow. No better and no worse than the pigeons that used to hang around before the crows arrived. A familiar is neither good nor evil on its own. All it can do is bend to its mistress’s or master’s intent. The will is where the potential evil lies. Although I’d count on that crow having both seen and done evil in its time, any evil it does once you bound it would be down to you.”

  She thought of the crow and its buddies dive-bombing Mindy Li, but it didn’t make her smile now. It didn’t seem near as funny if she’d made it happen.

  “Anyway, it’s a moot point for the time being,” Natalie snapped. “Consider yourself on probation. If there’s anything else you’ve been hiding from me, this is your last chance to come clean. I won’t hesitate to bind your powers if that’s the only way to protect you from your own foolishness until you’re older.”

  Twink shook her head. “No, there’s nothing. Just the comb. There was that perfume bottle I wanted, but somebody wouldn’t give me an advance, so I couldn’t get it.”

  “The one in your dream?” Natalie’s eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. She said, “I’m going out. Keep an eye on the shop. Gillian should be back from her lunch hour any minute. I’m sure you’ll be fine until then.”

  Of course she’d be fine. She began dusting an innocent wooden ouija board within an inch of its life as the shop door swung shut behind her mentor.

  ***

  “Ms. Taylor, how nice to see you!”