Bell, Book & Candlemas

by Jennifer David Hesse

  “Anyway,” said Max, “the fact that Mila is just now producing the notes makes it look like she’s trying to deflect attention from herself. Plus, there wasn’t any note at the scene of the murder.”

  I pushed my bowl away and dabbed at my mouth with a napkin. “Speaking of the notes, there’s something that’s been bothering me.” I told Max what I had noticed about the book references that had preceded each incident. “Mila needs to be extra careful. Maybe she should even invest in a security guard.”

  “I agree.” Max bit her fingernail, then looked at me earnestly. “Keli, Mila told me you’re private about your religion. And I respect that. But we could really use your help.”

  “If Mila is accused of anything,” I began, “I’ll refer her to the best criminal defense lawyer I know.”

  “Not that kind of help,” Max said. “You have a keen mind and a knack for figuring things out. On top of that, you’re intimately familiar with witchcraft. We need you to help find out who is behind these crimes. I’m afraid the police aren’t working fast enough.”

  For a minute, I didn’t say anything. I had already been talking to people and trying to deduce who would want to drive Mila out of business. However there was more at stake now. It wasn’t just vandalism and harassment we were talking about. It was the loss of a human life.

  And that wasn’t the only thing weighing on me. From the start, it was clear that Mila’s unconventional religion was somehow at the center of it all.

  Mila’s religion was my religion, too.

  My gaze returned to the amethyst as a cloud parted in the sky outside. A ray of sunshine streamed through the window at the exact spot I had placed the crystal, causing it to glint in the bright light. I took it as a sign.

  “Okay,” I said to Max. “I’ll do it.”

  * * *

  After Max left, I made a couple of phone calls and then told Julie I was going over to the courthouse. I needed to file divorce papers for one client and conduct a title search for another one. Since I had other errands to run after that, I let her know I would likely be out for the rest of the afternoon.

  It felt good to get away from my desk. Part of me wanted to go straight home and crawl into bed, considering my lack of sleep the night before. Being outside in the fresh air perked me up, though. As I walked the short distance to the courthouse, I thought about Mila and wondered how she was doing. Looking over at Moonstone Treasures, I saw that the police tape was gone, but the store was closed.

  Once inside the venerable old courthouse, I filed my client’s divorce papers with the county clerk, and then made my way down the wide marble stairs to the courthouse basement, where property records were stored. As I walked along the hallway toward the Office of the Recorder of Deeds, I heard a loud clang up ahead. A heavy steel door opened and was held ajar by a uniformed police officer. Another officer led a handcuffed prisoner through the doorway. They were coming from the county jail, which was connected to the courthouse by an underground tunnel.

  I regarded the men as they walked down the hallway toward me. The prisoner, a scrawny kid with a buzz cut, stared at his laceless high-tops as they passed by. Dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, he looked embarrassed and contrite.

  As well he probably should, I thought.

  This made me think of the person terrorizing Mila. So far, my only suspects were upstanding citizens who were all apparently very nice people. But what the culprit was doing was not nice at all. If caught, would that person feel embarrassment or remorse, like the kid who was on his way upstairs to face a judge? Would he or she feel shame?

  I completed the title search for my client and left the courthouse with copies of the records stashed in my briefcase. I would take them into the office tomorrow. For now, I wanted to stop off at city hall and see if I could catch up with Tish Holiday.

  As I approached the Edindale city hall building, a three-story limestone structure on the next block over from the courthouse, I was surprised at who I saw exiting the building. It was Reverend Natty, dressed in a long gray coat and wearing a matching gray fedora. He didn’t seem to notice me as I passed him on the concrete steps.

  I consulted the directory just inside the entrance and learned Tish’s office was on the second floor. I took the stairs and paused at the top, not knowing which way to turn. Then I heard Tish’s voice.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” she said. “It’s almost February, for crying out loud! How can we have rain in the forecast? Rain is not charming. Snow is charming. Not rain.”

  Following the sound of her voice, I reached her office and peeked my head in. She was standing behind a large wooden desk speaking into a headset. When she saw me, she motioned me inside and pointed at a leather chair in front of the desk. I sat down and mentally rehearsed my excuse for being there as I waited for her to finish her call.

  “I know, I know,” she said into a tiny microphone. “We’re going for a Punxsutawney vibe here, not dreary London Town.... Listen, I gotta go. Ring me tomorrow, okay?”

  She took off the headset and shook her head. Then she looked at me and snapped her fingers. “Keli, right? We met at the mystery dinner the other night.”

  “That’s right,” I said, wishing she would sit down. She continued to stand, tapping her long red nails on the desk in front of her. Her short white-blond hair was styled in thick high spikes, which made her seem even taller than she already was.

  “What can I do for you? Please don’t tell me you want to complain about all the town’s new wineries or the beer tent we have planned at the Groundhog Festival. I’ve already had one of those today.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  “Oh, I take it you had a visit from Reverend Natty,” I said. “I saw him leaving the building.”

  “You know him? The little bugger. He’s been a thorn in my side ever since I took this position. But you gotta be nice to all the people, right?”

  I managed a polite chuckle and nodded. “Yeah. So, I actually stopped by to talk about the courthouse luncheon this coming Saturday. My law office is sponsoring a float in the parade, and we were considering the luncheon as well. I was wondering if it’s too late to participate. I think there was a deadline?”

  “No, it’s not too late,” said Tish, grabbing a manila folder from her desk. “What’s the name of your law firm?”

  “Olsen, Sykes, and Rafferty,” I said. “I’m just gathering information today. The partners have to vote on any final decisions.”

  “I have a price sheet here,” Tish said, handing me a piece of paper. “The tables aren’t cheap. Gotta keep out the riffraff.”

  I glanced up at her to see if she was serious.

  She laughed. “Just kidding.”

  Somehow I doubted it. Tish didn’t strike me as the most truthful person. Apparently, she had lied to Mila about missing a deadline to join the luncheon.

  “Ahem,” I said, folding the price sheet. “I guess you probably heard about the man found dead at Moonstone Treasures.”

  “I didn’t see the news this morning, but I heard some people talking about it,” Tish said. “How perfectly dreadful. I think the man was some kind of street person or something, wasn’t he?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I said. “It seems odd that he ended up in that shop.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure,” Tish said. “That shop’s days are numbered. That fruity psychic lady should take a hint.”

  “It’s a shame,” I replied, in a measured tone. “It really is a lovely gift shop. It draws local customers as well as tourists.”

  “We can do better,” Tish said dryly. “I have a vision for this town, and that shop doesn’t fit it. I mean, save the fortune-telling for the carnival. I don’t want it on my Main Street, you know?”

  Yeah. I knew. Tish was loud and clear about her feelings for Moonstone Treasures. Now I also knew she would resort to dishonesty to dismiss the business. The question was, how much lower would she stoop?

 
Chapter 14

  The B&B is connected to this somehow.

  Those were my first thoughts upon waking Tuesday morning. After a fast shower, I dressed in a trim black pantsuit and twisted my hair into a low bun on the back of my neck. Then I threw some green veggies and an apple into my juicer and blended them into an energizing, vitamin-rich tonic. I carried the glass with me to the bathroom and sipped the juice as I applied makeup and put on my earrings. All the while, I pondered how curious it was that Tish, Yvette, and Reverend Natty had all visited the B&B. Was that just a coincidence? I needed to go back there and ask some questions, I decided.

  It was a few minutes past 8:00 A.M. when I pulled up in front of Cadwelle Mansion. I figured I had time to do a little information gathering before going into work. Leaving my briefcase in the car, I walked up the long sidewalk and contemplated what fib I should tell this time. I rang the bell and Danielle answered, wearing a pretty apron over a navy blue sweater dress.

  “Well, good morning!” she said cheerily.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I think I may have lost an earring here on Friday evening. Did you happen to come across a small gold hoop?”

  “Oh, I’m afraid not. We had a cleaning service come in the next day, and I’m sure they would have given me something like that. But I’ll ask around. I’ll check with the actors, too.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Um, would you mind if I took a look where I was sitting the other night?”

  “Not at all!” said Danielle, opening the door wider. “In fact, why don’t you stay for breakfast? We only have a couple of guests right now, and we have plenty of food. I have a quiche cooling on the stovetop as we speak.”

  “It smells lovely,” I said, following Danielle into the foyer. “But, actually, I can’t eat eggs.” I didn’t want to get into a discussion about my vegan diet, but I also didn’t want to miss this opportunity to speak with the owner of the B&B.

  “You have an allergy?” asked Danielle. “Not to worry. I also have freshly baked bread—made without eggs—and marmalade, as well as fresh fruit, bacon, and coffee.”

  “That sounds very nice. Thank you,” I said. No need to correct her assumption that I was allergic to eggs. Plus, I could easily pass on the bacon without comment.

  “Join us in the kitchen after you look in here,” she said, opening the French doors to the dining room.

  I strolled into the quiet room and gazed around. It was neat and empty, with nothing out of the ordinary. I took a cursory look around the table I had occupied the other night, fulfilling my pretense of searching for a lost earring. Then I made my way to the large country-style kitchen, where I heard the sound of clinking silverware and friendly conversation.

  “Have a seat right here,” said Danielle when she spotted me in the doorway. She patted the back of the nearest wooden chair along the rectangular oak table. Marco sat at the head of the table. Seated at his right were a gray-haired couple wearing khakis and matching college sweatshirts. On Marco’s left, much to my surprise, was Yvette Prime, looking very much the part of a real estate agent, in nice slacks and a blazer. Her black hair was brushed smooth and tied neatly in a short ponytail.

  I sat down next to Yvette and smiled at the group. Everyone said good morning and began passing food my way. Danielle stood over me with a coffeepot, so I turned over the ceramic cup at my place setting.

  “It was so kind of you to invite me for breakfast,” I said, spreading orange marmalade on a thick slice of bread.

  “The more the merrier,” said Marco. “We were just talking about one of my favorite subjects: antiques. The Carlyles here were asking about the antique bureau in their room.”

  “You should see it,” Mrs. Carlyle said to me. “It’s a beautifully restored French provincial dresser, with intricately painted trim work.”

  “Like I said, Mrs. Carlyle,” said Marco, “I’ll give you a good price if you’re interested.”

  “Marco’s an antique dealer,” Danielle explained, taking the seat adjacent to me.

  Marco touched his chin and regarded Yvette, who was munching on a piece of bacon. “You too, Ms. Prime. You see anything here that fits in with your remodel, you let me know. Check out my online catalog, too.”

  “Oh, I will, Marco. Don’t worry.” Yvette turned to me and said, “I’m having my house painted this week. That’s why I’m staying here.”

  I nodded and took a sip of coffee. Interesting. I wonder how long she’s been staying here. I recalled Yvette’s real estate colleague saying Yvette had become friends with the owners of the B&B.

  “So,” I said, addressing Marco, “I imagine you give lots of tours of the mansion, not only to showcase the B&B, but also to exhibit the furniture that’s for sale.”

  “You bet,” he said. “The other night was our first official tour, but I’ll take folks through the house any chance I get.”

  “I’m sure there’s quite a bit of interest,” I said. “I remember you mentioning Reverend Natty stopped by the other day. Did he get a tour, too?”

  “Ugh. That Reverend Natty,” said Danielle, before Marco could answer.

  Yvette smiled sympathetically at Danielle. “I’m afraid lots of locals feel that way about Reverend Natty. He’s very outspoken and not very popular.”

  “Yeah,” said Marco. “He wasn’t too interested in the antiques. But, he eagerly followed me through the house, talking about the evils of alcohol the whole time. He didn’t think it was very funny when I offered him a shot of whiskey in the speakeasy downstairs.”

  Everyone laughed along with Marco, and I checked the time. I needed to get to the office. I still hadn’t figured out a way to ask Yvette about her client who wanted to purchase Mila’s shop. Apparently, I was going to have to pretend to be in the market for some real estate after all.

  * * *

  In spite of a full morning of client meetings and phone calls, I managed to take a break at 1:00 P.M. I left the office, telling Julie I was going to grab some lunch, and walked straight over to Moonstone Treasures. It was still closed, but there was a light on inside. I knocked on the door and peered through the window.

  Mila opened the door and mustered up a smile. Her usually shiny dark hair hung limply around her face, and her skin appeared wan and tired. She beckoned me inside and locked the door behind me.

  “Can I get you some water or tea?” she asked, fingering the pendant around her neck.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. How are you holding up, Mila? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  For a moment, Mila didn’t answer. “I’m doing fine,” she finally said, avoiding my eyes. “But, there is one thing you can do for me.”

  “You name it,” I said. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “It’s the back room,” she said, gesturing toward the purple curtain. “I’ve been trying to cleanse the energy in there, but it’s still so dark and dense. Would you mind giving me a hand?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I followed Mila through the curtain and was immediately assaulted by smoky, thick incense. In the center of the storage area, Mila had created an altar using a long, narrow console table. Various objects adorned the table, including a chalice of water, a bowl of salt, and a bronze bell with a hand-carved wood handle. All around the room, candles burned in glass jars, which made me slightly worried about the risk for another fire.

  Mila stood next to the altar, wringing her hands. “I think if you lend your voice to mine, and if we circle the room together, we’ll have a bigger impact than when I did it alone.”

  “That sounds good,” I said, trying not to inhale too deeply. “Can I make a suggestion first?”

  “Of course,” said Mila. She peered at me beneath her long bangs.

  “Anytime I’ve wanted to banish negative energy and perform a cleansing, I’ve found that a physical cleansing amplifies the spell.” I walked over to the back door and put my hand on the knob. “So I think we should air out the ro
om first and give it a thorough cleaning, top to bottom. What do you think?”

  Mila blinked, then nodded. “You’re right. I did sweep the room with my ritual broom, but a more methodical cleaning is an excellent idea. We can chant a banishing spell as we go.”

  “Good,” I said, turning the doorknob. Then I paused. “Is Drishti here?”

  “She’s hiding in the front room.” Mila chuckled. “She doesn’t like all this smelly incense either. It’s good we’re clearing the air.”

  With that, I opened the door and doused the incense, while Mila gathered some cleaning supplies. For the next thirty minutes, we dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed, and mopped, while softly chanting the words Mila had chosen:

  “Bless this place

  Cleanse this space

  Death erase

  Let in grace.”

  With the door open, it quickly cooled off in the back room, but the exertion of cleaning kept me warm. My suit had gotten dusty and my hair was falling out of its bun, but I was too focused on the task at hand to notice.

  Toward the rear of the room were two inner doors side by side, one leading to a small bathroom and one to a broom closet. While Mila cleaned the bathroom, I decided to check the closet to see if it ought to be cleaned, too. When I pulled open the closet door, I heard a small ping, as if the bottom of the door had tossed a stone across the floor. I turned around to look for it and spotted something a few feet away. I picked it up and turned it over. It wasn’t a stone. It appeared to be a fragment of bone.

  Mila came out of the bathroom, wiping her brow. “I think that about does it. I’m going to close the back door now.”

  I nodded and continued to turn over the bone in my hand. It was brownish yellow and about one square inch. I figured it must have chipped off of a larger piece.

  Mila shut the door and slid the deadbolt into place, then turned to me. “What do you have there?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, handing her the fragment. “I found it on the floor.”

  She walked over to her computer desk, where she sat down and held the piece under a lamp.