Next, I called Detective Rhinehardt and told him I thought I knew who Ricki might be. I kept my promise and didn’t mention Gil as the source of my information. Luckily, the detective didn’t question me about it.
“Great work,” he said. “There are dozens of Rickis in the local directory—hundreds if you count all the Richards, Fredericas, Ericas, and other spellings of Ricki. If your tip pans out, you’ve saved us a lot of time.”
“Detective, I also wanted to ask you about the guy who found Josephine. Levi Markham? I met him and he said he’s a writer, but when I looked him up online, I couldn’t find anything.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. We questioned him, and he checked out.”
“Oh. Okay.” I debated whether I should tell Rhinehardt about the folder I saw in Markham’s cabin. I knew he wouldn’t approve of my snooping. I also imagined he’d come to the same conclusion Farrah had—that Markham was collecting story ideas. Before I could make up my mind, Rhinehardt spoke again.
“Listen, Ms. Milanni, I’m glad you called. I was going to give you a ring anyway. The medical examiner’s report is going to be another couple of days yet. The bullet fragments retrieved during the autopsy were sent to the lab, but the lab is short-staffed. This is the way it goes sometimes. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep your aunt’s body until the report is finalized.”
“So, there’s no info on the gun yet?”
“I’m afraid not. However, I can tell you another bit of news. Some hunters who own a house in Shawnee reported that a rifle is missing from their gun cabinet. The house is usually vacant in the off-season, but one of the owners stopped by to check on things and discovered the cabinet lock had been broken. We’ll know if we have a match when the lab report comes in.”
“A stolen gun? What do you make of that?”
“It’s hard to say at this point. But rest assured we’re exploring all possible angles.”
“Well, was anything else stolen? Was the house in disarray?”
As Rhinehardt answered “no,” there was a sharp knock on my office door.
“I’ve got to run, Detective. Thanks for keeping me in the loop.” As soon as I hung up, I called out, “Come in!”
The door opened and Crenshaw strode in. He stopped short when he saw me, his mouth puckering as if he’d bitten into a lemon.
“Hey, Crenshaw. I, uh, went for a long walk in the forest this morning. I was going to go home and change, but . . .” I trailed off, unable to finish my excuse in the face of his critical stare.
“A shower might have helped, too,” he said drily. “Never mind. Beverly and I are having cocktails with the new bank president this evening, and she asked me to invite you. I’ll pass along your regrets.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No,” he said, cutting me off. His expression softened. “Don’t apologize. It is I who should apologize. Please accept my condolences for your loss. Perhaps you shouldn’t have come in today.”
“Thanks. I admit I’m a little distracted. I’m the only family my aunt had around here.”
“I see.” He raised an eyebrow as he continued to peer at me. “Word of advice? Leave the investigating to the police this time. I know you’ve been instrumental in solving a number of crimes around town, but that is not your job. You should focus on taking care of yourself.”
I mustered up a smile and nodded. He meant well. That didn’t mean I had to agree with him.
As soon as Crenshaw left, I turned to my computer and looked up the number for the Edindale County Department of Environment. A minute later, I placed the call and asked for Ricki Day. She wasn’t available, but I learned she’d be in the office the following morning. I made a note on my calendar and said I’d stop by.
At last, I turned to my real job. For the next few hours, I returned client calls, wrote some letters and memos, and redlined a proposed settlement agreement. When I finally raised my head, I was surprised to see it was after 7:00 p.m. I put away the file I had been working on and rubbed my temples. Maybe I should cast that time-expanding spell after all. Of course, first I’d have to find the time to do even that.
My cell phone rang, and when I checked the display, I saw it was my mom. I picked up right away.
“Am I interrupting your dinner?” she asked. “I tried to wait. I know you eat late.”
“You’re not interrupting. But if you’re calling for an update, I’m afraid I don’t have much to report. I spoke to the detective today, and he told me they’re still waiting for the medical examiner’s report.”
“It’s just as well. This gives me more time to work on Grandma O.”
“What do you mean? Did she take it very hard? Is she okay?”
“She’s holding up. The problem is she wants Josie’s body brought back here. But I don’t think that’s what Josie would have wanted. She left Bentlee and never looked back. I don’t know if she considered Edindale her home, but it’s the only place we know she lived. And it is where she died.” Her voice hitched.
“She did seem to have strong ties here,” I agreed, my heart twisting in my chest.
“Anyway, I told Grandma that funeral arrangements are on hold because of the investigation. But I really think it would be best to have her laid to rest there.”
“That makes sense. I’m happy to make the arrangements, Mom.”
“Grandma has some money she wants to use for this. Just save all the receipts, and you’ll be reimbursed.”
“I’m not worried about that. Can Grandma handle the trip?”
“Yes, I think so. Megan said she’ll come, too. I don’t know if Erin or Alec will be able to get away, but that’s okay. Dad and I will bring Megan and Grandma, and it will be just fine. I don’t suppose you know . . . well, never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I know you don’t know. I was just wondering if she had a house someplace. Any possessions. Or anyone else who might consider her family.”
“Those are good questions. I’ve been asking around. She did have friends, but none of them seem to have known her very well.”
“Join the club,” my mom murmured. Then, more brightly, she said, “Well, keep me posted. If anyone can uncover Josephine’s secrets, I know you can.”
“I’ll do my best.”
When I hung up the phone, I dropped my head into my hands and stared at my desktop. My family was coming to Edindale. My parents, my grandmother, at least one of my sisters—they’d all be looking to me for answers. It’s what I was known for. Back home, I was Keli the problem solver: the last kid left at the puzzle table; the referee to my siblings; the legal eagle who resolved family law disputes.
Then, I had an even less pleasant thought. They’d all be expecting a nice Catholic funeral, complete with a religious visitation, a full mass, and a graveside benediction. My mom didn’t have to spell it out. That was just how things were done in our family. Of course, none of them knew I was Wiccan.
A sharp knock startled me out of my worried daydreams. The door opened and Randall stuck his head in.
“Look alive, Milanni. There’s someone here to see you.”
“What? No! I can’t see anyone!”
Randall stepped aside and Wes appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I breathed. I was still slightly self-conscious about my appearance, even in front of Wes, but he didn’t seem to care. He walked over, leaned down, and planted a soft kiss right on my lips.
“I’d apologize for interrupting you at work, except I’m not sorry at all. I just had to see your pretty face and reassure myself you’re still part of my life.”
“Aw, man. I’m sorry.”
“Besides,” he said, holding up a Wonder Woman lunch sack. “I figured you might be hungry.”
I gasped like I’d won a sweepstakes. “Sweet! Where did you get this?”
He laughed at my enthusiasm. “I saw it when I was picking up a few groceries. It made me think of you.”
I opened
the bag to find a veggie sandwich and a Honeycrisp apple. “Oh, you are the best,” I said, tearing into the sandwich. “Have I told you that lately?”
“Uh-uh. Maybe you should say it again.”
“You’re the best!” I said, around a mouthful of food.
While I ate, Wes chatted about his job at the newspaper. His editor realized he’d be wise to make full use of Wes’s talents while he could, so the paper was doing more photo spreads. The latest was a new feature called “The People in Our Neighborhood,” in which various Edindale citizens were profiled each week.
“You should profile Beverly,” I suggested. “She’s an interesting person with strong ties to the community. Her grandfather started this firm in the fifties. Plus, she loves any kind of spotlight on her or the firm.”
“Are you trying to win brownie points? I thought you were beyond all that since making partner.”
“Not necessarily.” I told him about my excursion with Farrah, beginning with our jaunt down the river and ending with Crenshaw’s reaction upon seeing how I looked.
Wes suppressed a smile. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Right.” I took a bite of apple, then offered it to him. As he bit into the fruit, I was about to suggest we go home when my cell phone rang. It was Mrs. Hammerlin again.
“Darn it. I better take this.”
“Oh, Keli,” she said, when I answered. “I’m so frazzled; I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Hammerlin?”
“It’s happening again. Everything was calm and normal after you and your friend left. I slept like a baby last night and had a perfectly nice, quiet day. But then the bumping started up again. I was cleaning out the built-in hutch in the dining room, peeling out the shelf liners, when I felt an icy chill, out of nowhere. Then I heard it, this awful, loud thudding. I think the spirits are back!”
I closed my eyes, praying for patience. “Did you fix the basement window, like I said?”
“Not yet. I have a handyman coming over tomorrow. But I really think I’m going to have to call in those professional ghostbusters, after all. Don’t get me wrong. Mila is perfectly lovely and wonderful, but, after all, ghosts aren’t really her specialty.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “How about if I stop by and see if I can get to the bottom of this?” I glanced up at Wes, who was watching me with curious eyes. “I’ll bring my boyfriend.”
When I hung up, Wes cocked his head. “Are we going on a ghost hunt?”
“Nope. A cat hunt. But first we need to get some bait.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I knew Mila grew catnip in her abundant herb garden, so I gave her a call before Wes and I left my office. As usual, she welcomed us to come right over. She also let me know she was in the midst of hosting a full-moon gathering of her coven, the Magic Circle. For an instant, I felt a stab of envy mixed with embarrassment. I hadn’t even realized that tonight was the full moon.
“We’ve already performed our ritual,” she said, when we arrived. “Now we’re sharing libations around the fire pit and making our plans for Samhain. We’d love for you to join us.”
I hesitated for only half a second. “Mrs. Hammerlin is expecting us, so we can’t stay.”
“Right. Be back in a jiff.”
We waited for Mila in her large chef’s kitchen. As soon as she stepped out her back door, a petite woman with unruly red hair came inside. “Oh, hello, Keli,” she said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Hi, Max. Nice to see you.” To Wes, I said, “This is Professor Maxine Eisenberry. She helped me out when I was searching for your grandmother’s stolen copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio.”
“Ah,” he said, with a playful grin. “The mystery that brought us together.”
“Aren’t you two cute,” said Max, as she filled a pitcher with water.
Two middle-aged women, in matching white ritual robes, came inside next, saying something about finding their jackets. “Now that my adrenaline has calmed down, I can really feel the chill in the air,” said the older of the two. She rubbed her arms, then stopped when she noticed us.
“Well, hi there, newcomers!” she said. “Come outside and have a drink. We have sangria!” Her eyes seemed to linger on Wes’s handsome profile. I wasn’t sure if I should be irritated, flattered, or amused.
Before we could respond, Mila came back inside, with Catrina at her heels. I noticed they both wore hammered silver jewelry from the shop—Mila in bangles and a round disk hanging on a long, chain necklace, and Catrina in a cuff bracelet and multiple earrings up the side of one ear. I knew silver had a strong association with both the Goddess and the moon.
Mila set a big bunch of catnip on her butcher-block island. “Catrina, grab me that ball of twine, would you?” With twine in hand, she tied the catnip in a bundle. “Drishti just loves this stuff,” she said.
“Almost as much as Judy loves her sangria,” said the younger woman in white. She nudged her companion, presumably Judy, who tore her gaze from Wes to giggle in agreement.
“Where is Drishti?” I asked. Mila’s striking gray cat usually greeted me when I visited.
“She’s around here someplace, probably hiding. Large gatherings make her shy.” Mila handed me the catnip. “I hope this works. I have to say, I really didn’t feel the presence of any otherworldly spirits in Mrs. Hammerlin’s house. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Spirits come and go, like people.”
“Someone’s got a ghost?” Max asked. “This is the perfect time of year to make contact.”
“Yeah,” said Catrina. “The veil between worlds is thinnest around Samhain.”
Wes smiled at Catrina. “Why is that? Do the ghosts have a calendar over there on the other side? Does it flip over to October 31, signaling that it’s time to go a-haunting?”
Max shot me an amused look, as if to say, “Really?”
“Very funny,” I said to Wes. “Actually, I think we can access the spirit realm anytime if we’re in the right frame of mind. Some circumstances are just more conducive. Like now—as leaves die and the air cools, we find ourselves entering the dark, introspective half of the year. And with all the cultural holidays celebrating the cycles of life and death—Samhain, Halloween, the Mexican Day of the Dead—thoughts of death are all around us.”
“Precisely,” agreed Mila. “The veil is a symbol. It represents the thin, somewhat fluid, separation between the physical and the spiritual. As Keli said, we can always call spirits to us, but there are ways to make it easier. For instance, you might be more effective during a liminal time, such as sunrise, sunset, or midnight, when we’re in between day and night, light and dark. And, at this time of the year, we’re transitioning between seasons.”
Catrina perched on a bar stool and propped her thin elbows on the countertop. The skull tattoo on her inner wrist seemed especially apropos to the conversation. “So many people are calling forth spirits at this time of the year,” she said, “you might encounter one even if you aren’t the one calling it forth.”
“When you say ‘calling forth,’” said Wes, with a mischievous glint in his eye, “is that similar to vampires who can’t enter your house until you invite them over the threshold?”
A chorus of groans and protests arose from the group.
“Actually,” said Mila, cutting through the din, “Wes is not totally off base. While vampire mythology is not typically part of Wicca, there are parallels to be drawn. As for the invitation concept, a wise Witch is careful about what sorts of entities she opens herself up to.”
“That’s true,” conceded Catrina. “I know some kids who messed around with a Ouija board without knowing what they were doing. They ended up bringing in a malevolent spirit. It totally freaked them out.”
Wes opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it and remained silent.
The back door opened and another two women popped in. “Is the party in here now?” one of them as
ked.
Wes stood up from where he leaned against a counter. “I’m starting to feel outnumbered.”
“We don’t discriminate,” said Mila, with a smile. “Men are always welcome to join us.”
“Especially men as interesting as you,” said Judy, with a shameless wink.
On that note, I waved to Max and Catrina and gave Mila a quick hug. “I’ll be in touch,” I said.
* * *
On our way to Mrs. Hammerlin’s house, with Wes at the wheel since I’d left my car at the office, we passed through a neighborhood that had caught the Halloween spirit and then some. Skeletons dangled from porches, cloth ghosts fluttered from trees, and Styrofoam gravestones dotted front yards amid inflatable ghouls and goblins. One yard even displayed a full-size black wooden coffin.
“I see what you mean about death being in the air,” Wes remarked. “It’s like the whole town put out the welcome mat for the dead.”
“Around here, I’d say it’s mainly for the spooky fun of it. In other cultures, it’s more about honoring your departed loved ones.” I thought about Fredeline and wondered if she’d make it back to Haiti in time to celebrate with her family.
Without warning, a white form floated in the street in front of us. I gasped and jumped in my seat. Wes tapped on the brakes. Peering through the windshield, I saw what it was: a piece of white, tattered muslin. It must have detached itself from one of the ghostly trees we’d passed.
“Jumpy?” asked Wes, with a laugh.
“It’s all that talk about spirits roaming the earth. It must be getting to me.”
When we arrived at Mrs. Hammerlin’s place, she met us at the door as usual. I introduced her to Wes, and she informed us that she had known and admired his grandmother. Her welcoming smile soon faded, though, as she took us into the dining room. Tonight, there was no invitation for tea or cookies.
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