The Midsummer Murders

by Jill Nojack

  “And how about this man? Because the closer I get, the better, don’t you think?” His hand reached out to hers; she flicked it away with a smooth but firm gesture, and she made a beeline for the door, turning back just as she reached for the knob to let herself out. “And William...do you really think I’d be interested in canoodling on that couch? You must be dreaming.”

  ***

  It hadn’t been difficult to find Janie Caldwell’s address. No magic required. The girl had a business license for her card-reading scam and the state listed those on their website. Natalie saw no reason to wait until morning. The girl was young. She probably stayed up until all hours. Nine p.m. would not be too late to visit.

  The young woman’s low-rent apartment building in the cluster of them on the border of town guaranteed an easy drive to Salem where most of the residents worked. The grass in the courtyard was no less patchy and full of crabgrass than the last time she’d been there. She glanced at the scribbled apartment number in the scrap of paper she held in her right hand, then climbed the stairs to the second floor landing.

  When the door opened to her business-like knock, she knew she had the right place. The girl’s eyes were red and had a frantic look, but Natalie remembered seeing her around town through the years under better circumstances. She’d always been interested in what happened to the babies she helped deliver, especially when they were potential witches. This one had been a wash, though, and her older sister hadn’t been much better.

  “You know who I am, is that correct?”

  “Yes, you’re the high priestess of the Giles coven, Natalie Taylor—I mean, you’re one of the choir leaders.”

  “Yes. Both of those. Although, in general, I suggest you keep the first one to yourself. If you have children, you may find they have a talent for singing they may not want to proclaim right out loud.”

  “I’m sorry. I never talk about it. The choir. Honest.”

  “See that you don’t. However, no harm done this time. It’s only me.”

  The girl relaxed a little, but Natalie could tell she was still on edge, still anxious. Two doors down, a frowzy blonde opened her door and leaned out to look at them, then ducked back inside. “I recommend we take this conversation out of public view.”

  When Natalie was seated across from her host in the small livingroom with its cheap, box-store coffee table between them, she said “I’ve come to ask you a few questions about your sister’s death.” As she continued, she talked about the coven the way she would to any non-witch to subtly drive home the point that the girl should watch her own language in the future. “Your sister once considered becoming a member of the choir in Giles because of her special talents, and as choir director, combined with the unusual circumstances, I have an interest in her passing.”

  Janie gasped. “You think a member of your coven might have done that to her?”

  “No, I don’t think one of our vocalists is responsible. I don’t know what happened, but I need to determine if there was musical—” she winced at that stretch of the metaphor, “—intervention in this case. I’m sure your sister was important to you. And I’ve certainly not been squeaky clean in the past when it came to absconding with items that didn’t strictly belong to me. So please don’t hide anything on my account. I already know about her habits. It will do no one good to pretend she was a saint.”

  “I’ll do my best to help.”

  “I’m interested in one particular item but also want to know about any others your sister may have had in her possession that had rubies or rhinestones. It’s possible that an object like that impacted the manner of her death.”

  Janie’s hand went to her throat, and she looked pained. “I...I’ll help if I can,” she said, sounding strained.

  “In particular, was there an antique perfume bottle among her effects?”

  The girl’s mouth opened, but the only sound that came out after several attempts was a choking gasp.

  She tried again. No sound. Her eyes screamed what her mouth could not.

  Natalie’s inner nurse sprang to action. The moment she touched the girl’s arm, her hand burned white hot. She pulled it away, startled by the sudden blast of pain, to find a blister rising on one fingertip.

  Enchanted! And with a powerful protection spell to prevent anyone from nulling the magic that constricted the girl’s throat when she tried to speak. Neither Natalie’s inner nurse nor inner witch could assist the girl with this one. If she hoped to discover the girl’s secret, she had to help some other way.

  “Stop thinking about the questions I just asked you. Immediately. Think about something else. Your sister. A good memory. A memory that makes you smile. And when you can, tell me something about her.”

  Janie began to relax as she followed the instructions, moving from terror to relief, then she took a deep breath and said, “My pet parakeet died when I was six, and Josie knew exactly what to do to make me feel better.” She smiled sadly. “First we buried it in the backyard. We had a big funeral with all my dolls around. Then she convinced mom to let us make cookies together, all of them shaped like birds. I was young. Cookies could really distract me.”

  “She sounds like a good big sister.”

  “Sometimes she was. Family...you know how it is.” Her eyes rolled up, then she blinked a tear away on the way down. “She gave me this book on my next birthday.”

  Janie opened a large coffee-table book full of pictures of birds in the wild. “She said that’s what bird heaven is like, and Petey was having a great time. I still believe her.”

  “Yes, if there’s a Summerland for birds, I expect it would look much like that,” Natalie agreed, paging through the book absently as she thought about how she could get around the spell to get to the information she needed.

  As she turned a page in the water bird section, Janie gently grabbed her wrist to prevent her turning it to the next, then placed her pointer finger on the image of the long-legged bird pictured there. Her eyes took on a frantic look again, even though she didn’t speak.

  The girl was trying to tell her something.

  Natalie looked at the text inset with the picture. “Red-crowned crane,” Natalie read, then looked up at the girl and said, “Why is this important?”

  The girl’s hand went to her throat again, but she didn’t try to speak. The enchantment was stopping her, Natalie was sure, but she didn’t just give up. She snatched the book away and leafed through it quickly until she stopped and handed it back to Natalie.

  “A crow. Hmmmm....” If the crows are involved, then Twink...

  But the girl’s head shook violently as she gurgled and pointed to the book Natalie still held.

  Natalie read the text that accompanied the image. “Not a crow. A raven.”

  Janie grabbed the book back and slammed it down on the table, still gurgling and choking as she tried to speak, gasping for breath again. She pointed to the picture of the raven.

  “Raven. Yes. Not a crow.”

  Janie’s head bobbed up and down. Natalie hoped this indicated she was on the right track. The girl was dangerously red now, and Natalie was concerned that her breathing would choke off altogether. It was hard to concentrate when she was worried she’d harm the girl if she pushed too hard.

  Janie flipped the pages back to the image of the other bird.

  “Yes. That’s a red-crowned crane. But what is it I’m supposed to understand?”

  The girl flipped back and forth between the pages, her rasping attempts to breathe becoming alarming now. She was beyond red, turning pale from lack of oxygen.

  Raven, then crane. Raven, crane.

  “Hypocritical hooligan herons! How dense can I be?” Natalie slammed her palm against her forehead as she groaned. “Raven Crain. That’s what you’re trying to tell me!”

  Janie looked up, no longer able to gasp but shaking her head frantically up and down until the motion slowed, ceased, and then she slumped forward, unconscious. Natalie jumped up and cau
ght her awkwardly before she face-planted into the coffee table and gently eased her down to lay on her side on the couch.

  The girl was breathing easily again now that she could no longer try to communicate her secret.

  Natalie checked her vitals, determining that the girl would be fine if she didn’t try to talk about the prohibited topic again. She wouldn’t push her even though she hadn’t gotten enough information. Maybe she’d only brought up Raven Crain because she knew the woman’s death was like her sister’s. Maybe there was no link between Josie, Raven, and the bottle at all.

  Reluctantly, she turned to go so her presence couldn’t bring on another attack—the girl had been through enough—but a gaudy black and red brochure on the side table caught her attention. She recognized the large LD logo. Lilith.

  The girl had been to see Lilith. She scowled to her self; she should have known. Where else would one dispose of a questionably obtained magical item?

  Janie would come to in a few minutes. She was already starting to stir. Natalie locked the door from the inside on her way out, taking the brochure with her.

  15

  Driving to Salem the next day, Natalie rolled what she’d learned around in her head. If she confirmed that the perfume bottle could have been in Raven Crain’s possession when she died, just as it had been in the possession of Tildy Bentwhistle and probably in the possession of Josie Caldwell as the link between them, then that bottle was at the core of what was happening to the local witches.

  She didn’t relish a face-to-face with Lilith, but there was no avoiding it. She’d try to keep a civil tongue in her head, but she wouldn’t lay a bet on how long that lasted. The woman had always been a thorn in her side, a rival. When Natalie was a young woman and Lilith an overreaching teenager, Lilith had wanted what Natalie had: William.

  Natalie had even once suspected that Lilith had something to do with his death—an insane jealous act, she thought, but she’d found no evidence of it. Now that William was alive again with the full knowledge of how he’d died, she knew that Lilith had had no hand in it, but she still was not disposed to think of her kindly.

  The shop bell on the door of Lilith’s Dungeon was an electronic claxon rather than a physical bell. An unpleasant sound to summon an unpleasant woman.

  She expected her nemesis but instead got a fresh-faced girl dressed in what young people referred to as “goth”. A bright pink streak flowed through her otherwise dyed-black hair. She probably thought it looked nice. It complemented the huge silver ring that hung from her septum like a bull’s.

  Why would any female wear something designed to create pain if she didn’t follow where she was pulled?

  “I’m here to see Lilith.”

  “She’s busy.”

  “Watching soap operas in the back?”

  The girl wasn’t well-versed in subterfuge—her face betrayed her surprise that Natalie knew what the shopkeeper was doing.

  “No,” the girl said, as she pulled her face back into a bored expression, “She’s working. She can’t be disturbed.”

  “I think she can. Tell her that Natalie Taylor has some questions about the death of a witch. And that I’ve got a witness who says she was involved.”

  “Ummm...” The girl looked torn, trying to decide if she was willing to face what would surely be Lilith’s wrath. “You’re Natalie Taylor? The Giles—”

  “Choir leader. Yes.”

  “Ummm...”

  “Go on. Any angry threats she wants to hurl will be aimed at me, I’m sure. You’ll be fine.”

  The girl sighed, then turned and pushed through the beaded curtain that covered the entry to the back of the shop.

  Natalie tapped her foot as she waited. She was sure Lilith would come to the summons—a Salem coven member wouldn’t want her own high priestess finding out that she’d refused to answer questions about a witch’s death when visited by the high priestess of Giles. While the two leaders involved didn’t have a close relationship—they had too many differences in opinion about witchery for that—they respected each other and knew each of them had the best interests of witches at heart.

  Loud cursing and, “Get her out of my shop. She knows she’s banned,” drifted through the still-open backroom door.

  “But she’s the—”

  “Choirmaster,” Natalie shouted toward the back before the girl could finish her sentence.

  “And she says there was a murder. And a witness told her you were involved.”

  Lilith’s response was immediate. “Fine. Get out there, lock the shop door, turn the sign to closed, and go home. I’ll let you know tomorrow if you still work here.”

  The girl exploded out of the doorway, ran past Natalie, and performed her tasks as she’d been told. When Natalie turned back to the doorway, Lilith was pushing her way through the clattering beads. Her eyes narrowed as she took Natalie in from head to toe.

  “Still built like a snake, I see. I’ll never understand what William saw in such an underfed, mean-spirited woman.”

  “And still sees in me...or didn’t you hear? William is back from the dead, although he’s had to assume a different identity—I know you’ll keep the secret, dear. And his offer of marriage from so long ago still stands. In fact, he reminds me of that every single day over dinner, or while we snuggle watching a movie, or when we are simply enjoying our time with mutual friends.” Natalie smiled disarmingly, knowing it would infuriate Lilith further. “Although with all the time we’ve been spending together, your name hasn’t come up once.” Natalie raised her eyebrows and her hands opened outward to punctuate her next remark. “How surprising.”

  Lilith leaned on the counter, the veins on the backs of her age-spotted hands popping alarmingly, and the previously submersed, ropey muscles beneath her triple chin emerging in her anger.

  “I had nothing to do with the Crain woman’s death. Now get out.”

  “How do you know I’m asking about Raven?”

  “There have been two witch deaths in the past month in Salem. Ruby Averill died of old age. The woman was in her 90s. And who would have been brave enough to go up against her anyway? Not even you would be that stupid.”

  “And yet, I wonder if the deaths might not be linked. So Lilith—or should I use your birth name?” The other woman glowered even more darkly as Natalie continued, “So, Gladys, has a charmed object come to you lately? One with rubies on it, perhaps?”

  “I wouldn’t touch it if it did,” Lilith/Gladys spat. “It’s as likely to be poison as perfume.”

  The corners of Natalie’s mouth turned up in a cream-eating-the-cat grin. “I don’t recall mentioning perfume.”

  “It was only a metaphor,” Lilith said, sounding annoyed, but looking cornered.

  “It was not. And I’ll go to your priestess with my concerns if you withhold information. Witches are dying. Even you must have friends and family you want to see protected.”

  She held the other woman’s eyes for a long time with her steeliest gaze, and finally, Lilith nodded.

  “Good. What do you know about the perfume bottle?”

  “Only that Josie Caldwell’s sister came here trying to sell it, saying that it was her sister’s and that her sister was recently deceased. I told her no.” Natalie checked off a list item in her head. The link to Josie was confirmed. “Like I said, I’m no fool. I assume she and Josie were working for the family when they couldn’t find a good price for it elsewhere. They offered me a number of items right after Ruby died. I recommended they destroy them instead; ask the granddaughter if you don’t believe me about that. So I passed on the bottle despite the price I might have gotten from less cautious practitioners who might try to co-opt Ruby’s power through them.”

  “I believe you,” Natalie said. And she did; Lilith was many things, but she was a not a stupid woman, and she wouldn’t be inclined to take the risks associated with unfamiliar objects that might be steeped in darkness. No sensible witch would.

  “Was th
e perfume bottle among the effects they initially offered you? If so, do you know what happened to it? How it ended up in Giles?”

  “I don’t remember it being among them. The first I saw of it was when the Caldwell girl showed up. I want nothing to do with Ruby’s old things. Of course, there are wannabees in this town who copy every powerful witch, hoping to find the secrets to their power. You know that. So it might have belonged to one of them. But even on the chance that it was Ruby’s, like I told you.... Well, I put a bee in her ear.” She clarified when Natalie’s face darkened. “A metaphorical one. Then I sent her packing.”

  “The girl isn’t a witch, and I doubt she’d know what she had. She was born without the spark. It was her sister who would have sensed power within it, if either of them could. It’s likely the other one stole the bottle before she died.”

  “So Josie really is dead? I thought the sister might just be trying to put one over on me with the dead relative story. Work my sympathies like the sister tried to do the first time she showed up here.” Lilith hastily added, “Not that I knew that the things Josie brought might have been illegally obtained. This is not that kind of shop. ”

  Natalie’s brows lifted in amusement. “Oh, certainly not. Obviously. But let’s stay focused, shall we?” She continued when Lilith didn’t respond. “Did you touch the bottle, and would you recognize Ruby’s magic if you did?

  “I didn’t touch it. I’d never knowingly touch anything that Ruby Averill might have enchanted. Who knows what the trigger for one of her spells might be? I’m cautious. I might recognize her signature from objects that passed through the shop from other sellers through the years, but I wouldn’t be able to associate it with her. I didn’t buy from her, and she didn’t buy from me.”

  “Now that you’re feeling more cooperative, let me ask you again—do you know what happened to the bottle after you refused it?”

  “The girl left the shop. That’s it.”

  “You didn’t point her toward a potential buyer, she didn’t peruse the “wanted to buy” ads on the bulletin board on the way out?”