The Midsummer Murders

by Jill Nojack

  “Yes,” Ling said as she recorded the details of items from a brown cardboard box with the consignors name, item, date, and suggested selling price in a spiral notebook. “But he wished to keep that quiet. It is why he took my name when we married. And why we moved from Salem. He did not like the reputation that came with the name for so many of Salem’s residents. His aunt Ruby was disliked by many.”

  “Yes. For excellent reasons. I assume you know why?”

  “Because she was eccentric, like many in Salem who claim to be witches. There are those who said she was dangerous or crazy. She was not.” Ling paused as she inspected a paisley mini-skirt closely, laying it flat on the counter before writing down a price on a tag and carefully pinning the tag’s string to the inside of the waistband. “But she was always kind to me. When she came here as a young wife, she was a stranger from a different culture, as I am. There was a bond there that others would not understand.”

  “A bond in the craft?”

  “What craft? I do not make things. I sell things.”

  “Witchcraft, of course. Are you being intentionally inscrutable?”

  “Ms. Taylor, has this conversation become one in which you feel that racial stereotypes are necessary? Because that is rude, and I ask you to leave if that is how you will continue to behave.”

  “I apologize. I didn’t mean to be insulting. But the question about witchcraft needs to be answered.”

  “Witchcraft? You make me laugh. Its practitioners use folk medicine at best. And at its worst, it is simply harmless babble. I am surprised such babble is a concern to an educated woman such as yourself—unless you, too, believe the babble is more than a story for tourists?”

  “What I believe is not the topic here,” Natalie said. “However, it seems strange that you had such a deep bond with a woman who believed so strongly in what you call babble.”

  “I do not fault people for their religions. I am from China, and so I was raised without one, but each of them I have encountered seem to make people feel more in control of their world. I would not take that away from them. Would you?”

  “No. We can agree on that.” Natalie paused, but the gears in her head kept turning. Perhaps, like Cassie’s grandmother had done to Cassie, Ruby had drawn her nephew’s wife into the use of magic without her knowledge. “Did you ever join your aunt in her rituals?”

  “Of course not. I do not take part in religious ritual. It would be disrespectful of the other’s beliefs to do so when I do not believe as they do.”

  Natalie mulled the statement over, then said, “I agree again. And, obviously, it’s not the believing that does harm when harm is done. It’s the intent of the believer, which often runs contrary to the tenets of the faith.”

  “Yes. You see? One day, you and I will be friends. We have much in common.” Ling gave Natalie a restrained smile.

  “Not if I find out you’re hiding something from me.”

  “Everything I have told you is true. I never saw the ruby items that came to the shop in my aunt’s home. Also, if she had bequeathed them to me, I would not sell them. They would have sentimental value. But why would a niece-in-law inherit such valuable things? Ruby’s granddaughter inherited everything, and she and I are not on good terms. I did not approve of the way she treated her grandmother.”

  “Yes, I know of her...” Natalie pulled the granddaughter’s face up in her mind’s eye. A sharp-faced, middle-aged woman with high cheekbones, but big-boned, sturdy where Ruby had been delicate. “She’s another one who plays down the Averill name, isn’t she? Married young to rid herself of it. Although I doubt she’d turn up her nose at the old woman’s estate. It’s rumored to be worth a fortune.”

  “Yes. She is a wealthy woman now. Perhaps it will cause her to speak more kindly of her grandmother.”

  “I doubt it. Death seldom heals the wounds in a family. Often, it widens them.”

  “That is so.” The shop phone rang, and Ling headed toward it. “I must get this. Do you have all of the information you need?”

  “For now,” Natalie said. “But if I find that you’ve withheld anything....”

  “Should I be frightened? If so, you will find I do not frighten easily.” Ling said, her face a mask, then answered the phone, turning away. “Ling’s Things. Ling Li speaking.”

  Natalie headed for the door. She had other ways to verify the information. That spiral-bound consignment book, for instance, might hold some clues. But first she had to definitively tie magic to the murders. Investigating the shopkeeper’s involvement would wait. For a while.

  ***

  “Both of you with your feet up this morning?” Natalie asked as she followed the spicy smell of brewing tea into the kitchenette. “I’ve already been to Ling’s Things to check out her story—thank you for alerting me to her relationship to the Averill’s last night, Cassie.”

  “I was sure you’d want to know. So she really is a relative?”

  “Yes. Her husband is a great-nephew, apparently. She says he took her surname because he didn’t like the reputation that came along with his.”

  “Probably wise for a businessman,” said Gillian. She watched Natalie’s expression as she asked, “I’ve never gotten a sense that there was a witch in the Li family. Did you?”

  “I’ll withhold judgment. You know that some are good at concealing the spark until they want you to know it’s there.”

  “I thought you guys had really good witchdar,” Cassie said. “You mean it’s not one hundred percent reliable?”

  “Witchdar? Natalie humphed. “Can we refrain from turning everything into one of those memes you young people are so found of?”

  Cassie giggled. “Sure, Nat. No memes. Not that that was one. So this magical ability to tell if someone is a witch—it’s not foolproof? You and Gillian aren’t always sure who’s a witch and who’s not?”

  “No, dear, Natalie’s right.” The tea kettle was whistling now, so Gillian pushed back her chair, moved to the stove and took the kettle off the burner, then took three porcelain cups from the cupboard. “A witch may not want other witches to know she’s one of them. A powerful enough witch can hide the spark. I can, but I choose not to. I want my sisters to know me as soon as we meet.”

  “Humph.” Natalie’s face registered disapproval. “You’re too friendly for your own good. I simply don’t do it because of the amount of energy it takes to sustain. I’d rather spend my energies elsewhere. There is also the problem of your magic not being immediately available when you drop the cloak. I want mine at the ready in an instant.”

  “So, if Ling has magic and is hiding it, she couldn’t just whip it out any old time?” Cassie asked.

  “She couldn’t,” Natalie replied. “She’d have to release the spell, which dissipates slowly, five to ten minutes at the least. That’s how long it took when I’ve experimented with something similar. I didn’t like the feeling of being helpless that came with it.”

  “What witch would? Only one who has something to hide,” Gillian agreed.

  “So what are you going to do?” Cassie asked Natalie as Gillian set a cup of tea in front of her and shoved the sugar bowl over into easy reach. “About Ling?”

  “I have an idea I’ll be putting into action soon. I’ll let you know afterward if it worked or not.”

  “Talk about having something to hide,” Gillian said, setting a steaming cup in front of Natalie.

  “In this case, the less you know about it, the better.” She took a sip of her tea. “And shouldn’t we be readying the shop for the day?”

  “Actually, as long as we’re talking about hiding things...” Cassie said as she spooned sugar into her cup, “...did you figure out if the spell attached to Twink’s comb is a simple binding spell or something deeper?”

  “I did. Fortunately, it’s just a binding spell. Nothing more serious than that. And in any case, a bird is a bird. It doesn’t matter who it once belonged to. It can’t communicate her secrets, even if it did o
nce belong to Ruby.”

  “Are you absolutely sure? Because Twink’s upset that she either has to take on an evil familiar or be the reason the crow has to die. If somebody knew something that would take that decision away, it...”

  “Was your Tom or the cat he was first joined with tainted by being the familiar of an evil old witch?”

  “No. Of course Tom isn’t tainted! And a cat sure can’t communicate anything it knows to the outside world, even when it’s driven by human smarts in the background. I know. I’ve tried to get Sheba to communicate with humans, and I couldn’t do it. It’s frustrating to even try.”

  “Then you have your answer.”

  “So she’s getting the comb back either way? You’re going to force the decision?”

  Natalie smiled. She realized she had already found the perfect birthday present. “On her sixteenth birthday. I think that’s a perfect day for her to make an adult decision as the consequence of her actions, don’t you? If not, I’m sure there’s a witch among the coveners who would take her treasure gladly, familiar and all.”

  “Oh dear.” Gillian sighed deeply. “I can’t see her making the choice to let it go. She’s such a material girl. I also can’t see her taking the cruel way out, despite the seemingly tough shell she often wears. We may need to get used to having a crow around the place.”

  “I agree. But let’s keep that just among ourselves for now. We don’t want her to think we think she’s predictable. Plus, I want it to be a surprise. A girl’s first familiar is special.”

  “I don’t know, Nat,” Cassie said. “When I talked to her, she was conflicted. It could go either way. I don’t think you should spring it on her and spoil her birthday with the choice.”

  “Boiling barrels of bat’s breath! Do I have to suggest what to do at every turn? Obviously, you can find out which path she’s decided on and express your doubt that I’ll go along with it. Encourage her not to approach me until after the festival, when I’ll have less on my plate. That way the surprise remains a surprise without it turning unpleasant.”

  “I’ve already told her you’d be reasonable.”

  “Then untell her, dear. I’m sure you’ll have no problem making it sound like I can be hard-nosed and capricious.” Natalie wondered if it hurt when Cassie bit her lip like that. She continued, ”By the way, have either of you found anything more suitable than the joining ritual for our exploration tonight? William obviously couldn’t go to Salem himself, but he asked for and got pictures of the scene. In addition to not seeing a bottle on the bedside table like Twink saw in her dream, he says there’s only one fern and he didn’t see any live birds. Plenty of stuffed ones, but those won’t do us any good. We can’t depend on the senses of nature for this one.”

  Cassie looked relieved by the change of subject. “Truthfully, I’m glad we can’t use that spell. I know it doesn’t matter to you, Nat, but I didn’t have much fun with it the last time.”

  “You were fine. A little fright never hurt anyone. Keeps a gal on her toes,” Natalie said. “I don’t know why you continue to whine about it.”

  Cassie bit her lip again before she said, “Whatever, Nat. You wake up looking at a giant pig ready to eat your face some time and let me know how you like it!” She tossed her head and smoothed her hair back on one side, not that a single strand had strayed from its perfect cascade down her back. “And I don’t have any ideas. I depend on you guys for the big stuff.”

  Natalie’s attention moved the other way.

  “Gillian?”

  “I’ve no more idea than Cassie has. Except...” Gillian appeared hesitant.

  “Out with it.” Natalie cut a look at her watch. “We only have five more minutes before we need to unlock the doors and open for the day.”

  “And I have to get to the gallery,” Cassie said, standing up abruptly, slipping her arms into the jacket of a powder blue summer-weight suit and sliding the long strap of a wallet-sized white bag over her shoulder. “Hurry up! I’ve gone nearly a month without being late. I don’t want to break my streak.”

  “I thought...well, you should talk to the dead. Can’t we help you open a portal to the Summerlands to talk directly to Raven? We’ve done it before.”

  Natalie’s lips compressed to a tight, white line. Talking to the dead about their own deaths was often a lost cause. It was like pulling teeth to piece together what happened from their cryptic, emotional statements, if they could say anything about it at all. And opening a portal to call back someone who’d already passed always had its risks.

  “Yes. If we have no other choice. But don’t get your hopes up for an answer if a seance is the only option we have. I don’t know if it’s selective amnesia or part of the rules, but the dead are seldom forthcoming on the reasons for their trip to the other side. Plus, it’s never a good idea to open the veil and call something out. It’s much safer when you’re trying to push something in.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. I’ll keep thinking about alternate approaches today while we work,” Gillian said.

  “I‘m gone,” Cassie said as she turned and bolted toward the door, glancing at her watch and grimacing. “I’m late again. Dash will give me the trembly lip, so-disappointed-in-you speech.” The shop bell rang her out only seconds later.

  Gillian took the empty tea cups and placed them on the counter, then led Natalie into the hall. “Well then,” she said. “let’s go greet the punters.”

  ***

  It would have been easier breaking in if they could have ridden along on William’s magical coat tails. As it was, Natalie narrowly missed being upended into a planter at the side of the house as she and her fellow burglars got a feel for the best route. She was grateful for the cloudy night that dimmed the approaching full moon, but the deep shadows hid more than three stealthy witches.

  She and Cassie parted the wards at the back door—surprisingly easily—as Gillian undid the lock with a spark. Cassie moved quickly from one window to another, closing any open curtains, then Natalie cautiously lit a candle.

  They were in what could only be Raven Crain’s parlor. The surfaces and shelves of the late nineteenth century furnishings were crammed to the edges with antique ceramics and glassware. Stuffed ravens—lifelike, each of them preserved in a different action pose—guarded the treasures from dozens of nooks. Their eyes glittered with reflected light as Cassie lit a set of candles in ornate silver candle holders.

  There was no lingering spirit, and Natalie had not expected one. As she walked through the rooms, she felt the presence of magic—more than she’d encountered at the other sites. But a quick investigation revealed that all of it was attached to specific objects. Each time she felt it, she found an enspelled item as the explanation. There was nothing diffuse like she should find in a recently deceased witch’s home.

  There was no choice about what had to be done now. She’d have to bring the dead woman back across the veil or their efforts would be wasted.

  Natalie undid the latch of her red vinyl handbag and began removing supplies. She fumbled a round metal platter from the mouth of the purse that should have been too small to contain it, and it dropped to the floor with a thump. The others turned at the sound.

  “Let’s get this over with as quickly as we can, please,” she said, not bothering to pick the platter up. She toed it to the side where it would be out of the way until she needed it. “And don’t blame me if the results are disappointing. The dead are seldom useful in the living world.”

  “I’m sorry you have to call her spirit back.” Gillian swung her own bag onto a mahogany end table and removed a black robe. “I remember how much it took out of you last time.”

  “It has nothing to do with what it takes out of me. I’ll be fine. But wiser women would have the sense to avoid any ritual that could potentially blast them into the next county for their trouble. Yet here we all are.”

  “Yes, here we all are. We’re old hands now,” Gillian agreed pleasantly. “Let’s k
eep a bright face on it. The last time went off without a hitch. And it helped you capture a killer.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can let our guards down. Every time you pull a spirit from beyond the veil, there’s danger of causing a reaction between the living world and the world beyond. Similar to—what do they call it on those space shows William likes? Antimatter.”

  “Yeah, we know. Risks. Danger. Caution,” Cassie said. “And the first time you ask me to do something stupid that isn’t because you’re thinking about the good of others, I’ll give you a big fat no.” She reached down to the pet carrier at her feet and eased Cat into the room, keeping a firm grip on him. His tail twitched as his eyes fixed on a raven in the corner with its dead wings outstretched. “Although I’m not sure Cat will give this thing his full attention.”

  “Pah. He’s a necessary evil whether or not he’s attending to the ritual. Cats, like death witches, can see the dead in the right circumstances. His ability will amplify mine. Not that it makes me fonder of him, mind you. Keep him calm until we’re ready for him. We have a ritual to lay out, and we need to make sure that all of the elements balance before we begin.” Natalie rummaged in her bag, frowning. “Because she’s only recently crossed, Raven’s spirit will have more strength in this world than the long-dead spirit we brought back last time. We can’t make any mistakes. If we do, we could strand her here. The pull of the Summerlands may not be as strong as the pull of this world.”

  “Wait a minute, you mean she could like, get stuck here?”

  “She could. And my skills might not be enough to send her back once I’ve called her. I prefer to help them pass, not stick them in place. Ah, here it is.” She pulled out the high priestess’s ritual athame and slipped it behind her belt where the jewels in the handle reflected the candlelight.

  Cassie scratched Cat’s ears absently, and he rewarded her with a purr. “Then I guess we better get focused. What should we do?”

  “Move these chairs and the table aside to make as large a circle as possible. Leave room to place the birds around the inside. They were important to her and should help us draw her and keep her attention while I talk to her.”