Samhain Secrets

by Jennifer David Hesse

  But I wasn’t here for a ritual today. Today’s purpose was much more somber. As I walked through the cool, still forest, dried leaves crunching underfoot, my eyes searched the underbrush on either side of the trail.

  Where was Josephine found? There were so many possibilities. Was it there, behind that fallen tree? Or there, in that tangle of wildflowers and ivy? Or down that ravine in the creek bed below?

  I shuddered. I doubted if I’d ever feel peaceful in these woods again.

  After crisscrossing the area for half an hour, I realized my quest was hopeless. If there had been any police tape out here, it must have been removed already. And apparently, I wasn’t going to pick up any cosmic vibrations. I should have made a divining rod, I thought, half-seriously. I imagined myself holding a forked stick out in front of me like a wild-haired mountain woman and laughed out loud at the image.

  “What’s funny?”

  I jumped and whipped around to see who had snuck up on me. I recognized him immediately. It was the solo guy from the haunted barn.

  “What are you doing here?” I pressed my hand to my thudding chest.

  He walked up to me, sporting a rueful grin. “Sorry if I startled you. I thought you saw me when you turned around before. I’ve been behind you for the past ten minutes or so.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He’d been following me? I must have been so preoccupied peering into the trees that I’d failed to notice him. That wasn’t good.

  He stuck out his hand. “I’m Levi Markham. I’m staying at Briar Creek Cabins.”

  I hesitated for a beat, then shook his hand. “I’m Keli.”

  “You’re the witch from the haunted house, aren’t you? I thought you looked familiar.”

  I nodded. Though it was a little disconcerting to be alone in the woods with a strange man, I had to admit he didn’t seem the least bit threatening. He wore nice blue jeans and a clean flannel shirt, and his sandy hair stuck up on one side as if he’d left the cabin without looking in a mirror. It was kind of funny, actually.

  Then his earlier words sank in.

  “You’re staying at the cabins? Did you hear about what happened here yesterday?”

  He nodded soberly. “You could say that. I’m the one who found the body.”

  “You are? Could you show me where?” It would seem my luck had turned.

  “Well,” he began.

  “I’m not trying to be morbid,” I hastened to say. “I’d just like to know what happened. The woman you found—she was my aunt.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” He looked down the trail behind me. “I should be able to find the spot again. It’s probably half a mile from here, I think.”

  We headed down the trail together, side by side. He had several inches on me and probably twice the weight, which seemed to be all muscle, from what I could tell. Once again, I became conscious of how vulnerable I was. I’d come to the woods by myself many times in the past, but things were different now. It was as if Josephine’s death had opened up a terrible possibility that hadn’t existed before.

  I cast a sidelong glance at Levi and caught him looking at me. He opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away. It seemed he wanted to make conversation but didn’t know what to say. Or maybe he was just shy.

  “So,” I said, “are the other cabins occupied?”

  “Not anymore. There were a couple families and a pair of honeymooners here over the weekend. They were supposed to check out today, but they all left yesterday as soon as the police had finished questioning them.”

  “I can’t say I blame them.” Considering the circumstances, I was surprised Levi hadn’t left, too. “How long will you be staying?” I asked.

  “As long as it takes,” he answered.

  I glanced at him again. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I’m, uh, working on a book. I’m a writer. I find I can be more productive when I’m away from my usual routine and all its distractions.”

  “That makes sense.” I knew all about distractions. “What kind of book are you writing?”

  “Um. A thriller,” he said vaguely. He slowed his steps, then stopped and pointed to the left of the path. “There. See that grouping of stones, about ten to fifteen feet from here? I thought it might be an old Native American cairn. I was checking it out when I saw . . . well, you know.”

  I left the trail and picked my way through the brambles to the pile of rocks. I supposed it might have been an ancient marker of some kind. I searched the ground around the stone, while Levi hung back, giving me space.

  There was nothing to see, really. I didn’t know what I expected. It wasn’t like there could have been a chalk outline or anything. I couldn’t even detect any broken twigs or flattened grass.

  I paused. On second thought, there was a clump of weeds that seemed to have been cut back. I wondered if there had been blood spatters in that spot.

  I straightened and turned slowly in place, looking all around. Why had Josephine left the trail? Or had she even been on the trail to begin with?

  Levi sneezed, startling me out of my reverie. “Allergies,” he muttered, as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

  I rejoined him on the trail, but I continued to stare at the spot he’d pointed out. “What time did you find her?”

  “It was about six thirty or so. I was taking an early morning walk. I like to wake up with the birds, watch the sun rise. I sure didn’t expect to find . . .” He trailed off and shook his head. “Poor lady. I’d just seen her a couple days before, too.”

  “You had?” I turned to him in surprise. “Where did you see her? Did you speak with her?”

  “Yeah. Out here. We crossed paths a few times, earlier in the week. The last time was Thursday afternoon. She was real friendly. Said she was a bird-watcher. She was trying to spot some rare bird, I can’t remember what it was called. She wanted to get a picture of it.”

  I glanced back at the rock pile. Was that why Josephine was out here? She was trying to capture a rare bird? Detective Rhinehardt didn’t say anything about a camera. “So,” I asked, “she was carrying a camera when you saw her?”

  Levi smiled. “She had this huge, old film camera around her neck. It had a really wide, brown strap.” He held his hands out to show how wide. “I don’t know where she was gonna get the film developed, unless she had her own darkroom. I haven’t seen a camera like that in ages.”

  “Did you see the camera when you found her body?”

  “No. It wasn’t there. I guess she didn’t have it with her.”

  “Hmm. What was she wearing?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A tan jacket, I think, and jeans. Hiking boots.”

  “I don’t suppose you heard the gunshot, did you?”

  Levi shook his head. “It might have happened when I went into town Friday evening. I needed a break from my writing, which is why I decided to check out the haunted house.”

  “Ah,” I said. At least that was one mystery solved.

  “Or,” he went on, “it might have happened overnight. I was talking with Carl, the owner of the cabins. He said suppressors aren’t legal in Illinois, but if it was a poacher, he was already breaking the law anyway.”

  “Wait. What’s a suppressor?”

  “A silencer. It muffles the sound of the rifle to protect the hunter’s ears.”

  “You think Josephine was shot by a hunter?”

  “It’s possible. He might have been lost and didn’t realize he was on private property, or maybe he was trespassing. Either way, he could have mistaken your aunt for a deer.”

  I squinted, as I gazed into the forest once again. Something didn’t quite add up.

  * * *

  As soon as I got home, I gathered together everything I had on Aunt Josephine: all the cards, letters, and notes; her photograph; and even her old book about Johnny Appleseed, which my grandmother had given me when I was a little kid. I plopped down on my bed and spread everything out around me.

  First
, I picked up the postcards she had sent to me on my birthdays. Well, three birthdays to be exact: my tenth, twentieth, and thirtieth. Josephine was born in July, too, a few days and exactly thirty years before me. She had already left the commune and was apparently gallivanting around the country when I was born in Nebraska. Still, she seemed to get a kick out of our shared birthday month. In her brief messages to me, she called us “kindred spirits” and “two of a kind.” I had always wondered why she wrote to me only once per decade. Was it because of some superstition?

  Next, I picked up a piece of paper so old and fragile that I’d placed it in a plastic sleeve for safekeeping. It was the original letter Josie had sent to her parents right before she left the commune. My mom had given it to me when she found it in my grandmother’s things a couple years ago. She was hoping I might be able to find a clue as to where Josie went.

  I tried, Mom, I really did. But I wasn’t successful. Maybe I should have hired a private eye. Now it was too late.

  I brushed away a tear and read the letter, for the thousandth time.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  First off, I am doing well, so you can stop worrying about me. I hope you’re all doing well, too. I miss you, but I have to live my own life.

  Secondly, I won’t be writing again for a while. We’ve been forced off our land, so I’ll be hitting the road soon. I can’t tell you exactly where I’m going, because I’ve been entrusted with a secret undertaking. But once my mission is complete, and once it seems safe again, I’ll be returning to Edindale. This is where my heart belongs.

  I’ll keep in touch as I can.

  Love,

  Josie

  P.S. Roger moved to Canada to avoid the draft.

  You may have been right about him after all.

  Just then, there was a tap on the bedroom door, which I’d left ajar. I looked up to see Wes standing in the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”

  I moved the papers over to make a place for him to sit.

  “Did you get some good pictures this morning?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Not bad. I still need to look through them and see how much I can use. But I think I’m getting close.” He was working on creating a portfolio to shop around at all the area’s art galleries.

  “That’s great.” I reached over and turned down the right-side collar of his brown leather jacket to match the other side. He caught my hand and kissed my fingers.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, searching my eyes.

  “I’m okay. I just—” I broke off and dropped my eyes. “I feel like I let my mom down, you know, by not finding Josephine all this time—especially when she was right here, in my own town.”

  “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m sure your mom doesn’t blame you. She knows how flighty her sister was.”

  I shrugged helplessly. “Still, there are a lot of unanswered questions.”

  Wes looked at the papers on the bed. “So, that Haitian woman, Fredeline? Was she able to shed any light on what your aunt was up to? Or why she was in Edindale?”

  “It had to do with her business, Sister Seeds. When I asked Fredeline about it, she couldn’t tell me much. Apparently, the business address was a P.O. box in Arizona. But, get this. When I asked Fredeline if she knew anyone else involved in the business, she mentioned that the donation checks weren’t signed by Josephine. They were signed by someone else that Josephine said was the business’s secretary, a woman named “Jesse O’Mara.”

  Wes cocked his head. “Jesse O’Mara? That sure sounds a lot like Josie O’Malley. Coincidence?”

  “I don’t think so. When I pressed Fredeline, she conceded that the signature on the checks might have been similar to Josephine’s signature on her letters. She said she didn’t think anything of it, though.”

  Wes narrowed his dark eyebrows. “Your aunt’s behavior has always been a little sketchy, hasn’t it? The way she always took off without leaving a forwarding address. It’s like she was on the run or something.”

  I nodded slowly. The same thought had crossed my mind: Josephine didn’t want to be found.

  “I wish I knew what she was hiding.” I picked up a postcard from California and turned it over in my hands. “Fern said Josie took risks.... I can’t imagine she had much money to live on when she left the commune. Maybe she turned to a life of crime. Could she have committed shoplifting or robbery? Or some kind of fraud or embezzlement?”

  Wes shook his head. “I don’t know, babe.”

  I sighed. “As mysterious as she was, I never thought of her as a criminal.” The problem was, I knew so little about Aunt Josephine. When it came right down to it, all I knew for sure was that she was free-spirited and passionate about the environment—especially planting seeds. I picked up the Johnny Appleseed book and flipped through the pages. “I wonder . . .” I said, half to myself.

  “What is it?”

  “Could Josephine have been involved in something illegal related to protecting the environment?”

  “Like what?”

  I set the book down and reached for my cell phone. “I don’t know. But I do know someone who might.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zeke Marshal was a cocky young millennial, who, nonetheless, wasn’t completely devoid of charms. I’d met him back when we were both trying to dig up dirt on a businessman-turned-mayoral-candidate-turned-murder victim. Zeke had proved useful in the end—in spite of his propensity to flirt like James Bond and play games like the Riddler. He was a bit of a rogue character, who somehow seemed privy to all manner of information, both above- and belowground. When I asked him to meet me for coffee on the square, he said he could be there in five minutes.

  “Let’s make it thirty,” I said.

  When I hung up, Wes didn’t exactly look thrilled. “Should I be jealous?” he asked.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just gonna go gather a little intel. Hopefully.” I looked down at what I was wearing—the same jeans and light sweater I’d worn on my hike in the woods—and decided it was good enough. I ran a brush through my hair, slipped on my brown boots, and promised Wes I wouldn’t be gone long.

  A short time later, I entered the Cozy Café and spotted Zeke at a table by the windows.

  “Keli Milanni! It’s about time you called me.” He stood up and approached me with open arms.

  “Hello, Zeke.” I let him kiss my cheek as we briefly clasped hands, then took opposite seats in the red, vinyl booth. I had to smile as I assessed his outfit—black skinny jeans and a designer hoodie over a T-shirt featuring a garish skull face. His gelled hair stuck up in trendy spikes.

  “Thanks for meeting me here.” I turned over my coffee cup and waited while the waitress filled it. Zeke had already ordered a soda and a plate of fries before I arrived. “Where are you working these days?” I asked. “Still in IT?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I work for the city now, at the Edindale library across the street. I take care of all their computer needs.”

  “I bet you do.” The little hacker. He probably knew more about each one of Edindale’s citizens than the tax authorities and advertisers combined. “So, have you seen Fern Lopez lately?”

  He shrugged. “Now and then. How about you? How have you been? Are you enjoying your new gig as a big-shot law partner?”

  “I’m not exactly a big shot, but I’m fine.” I took a sip of coffee and decided to cut to the chase. “Hey, I have a question for you. Hypothetically speaking, if someone were to be ‘on the lam,’ for, let’s say, committing an unlawful act in defense of the environment, what would come to your mind? Is there any—”

  “Sorghum.”

  “Sorghum?”

  “Yeah. The Sorghum bombing of seventy-eight. There was a series of bombings in the 1970s, culminating in the destruction of the headquarters of Sorghum, Inc., in Texas. You know, the chemical company? Years ago, they manufactured Agent Orange, and now they make GMOs. Real nice company.”

  “I’ve heard of them. I don’t think I’ve heard
of the bombing, though. Was anyone hurt?”

  He nodded. “Two security guards were killed. The responsible parties were never caught. GEO was blamed at the time, but it wasn’t them. They’re not that obvious.”

  “What’s GEO?”

  Zeke stared at me without answering, until I remembered. “Oh, right.” The Green Elf Organization was an underground network of eco-activists. Zeke had never come right out and told me, but I had gathered that the group was still alive and well in the Edindale area, and that he and Fern Lopez were key players. “So, GEO didn’t take credit for the bombings?”

  “No. They don’t want trouble with the law. It might have been an offshoot, though. I don’t know. Rumor was the feds had a line on some possible suspects at the time. I guess the trail grew cold, or they didn’t have enough evidence, or whatever.” He played with his soda straw, stirring the ice in his glass. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” I said it automatically and immediately felt silly, especially when Zeke looked up with a smirk. If I expected him to keep feeding me information, I’d have to show a little trust. Besides, if anyone could keep a secret, I was sure Zeke could. At least, I was pretty sure.

  I looked around the half-empty restaurant to make sure no one was within earshot, then kept my voice low. “Did you hear about the woman who was found in Shawnee yesterday, shot in the back?”

  “Yeah. Shot by a hunter, right?”

  I frowned. “Did someone come forward?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then why does everyone keep assuming she was shot by a hunter?” I recalled Levi saying the same thing.

  Zeke shrugged. “I heard there was no evidence she’d been assaulted or robbed.”

  “How did you hear that?”

  He ignored the question and said, “Why else would anyone shoot an old lady in the forest, except by accident?”

  I crossed my arms and looked out the window. Zeke propped his chin on his hand and leaned in. “Who was she?”