“That’s brilliant, Professor. I’ll bet that’s just what happened. Now all we have to do is prove it.”
“Here’s another question, why did they kill Seymour and not Mary? Why not kill them both?”
“If they killed them both, then there wouldn’t be a logical suspect for the murder. Everyone would realize that something strange had happened. This way, they can frame Mary without anyone even suspecting the real murderers,” Rachel said.
“That’s right. I wonder how many other people have been framed for murders committed by magicians.”
“I’ve got another question,” Rachel said. “Why did they kill Seymour? If they were able to cast a sleeping spell so that Mary couldn’t remember anything, why kill Seymour? If they just put him to sleep, he wouldn’t have been able to remember anything either?”
“Killing Seymour must have been the object of their crime,” I surmised. “If they had just come to steal something, there was no need for a murder. Maybe there really isn’t anything missing from that office.”
“Then the question becomes, ‘Why would anyone want to kill Seymour?” Rachel said. “I think that should be the focus of our investigation. Who had a motive? We know the means and the opportunity; all we need is a motive.”
“What if Mary had a motive?” I asked. “What if she arranged the whole thing?”
“If Mary wanted to kill Seymour, she wouldn’t have arranged it so that she would be the only logical suspect,” Rachel said.
“The only way that Mary would have done it, would be if it were a spontaneous act with no planning,” I agreed. “We know that magic was involved, so that implies planning. If Mary had planned it, she wouldn’t have implicated herself. Ergo, Mary is innocent!”
“‘Ergo’? Could you possibly be more nerdy?” Rachel responded.
“I most certainly could be, and most likely will be before this case is solved.”
“As Charlene would say, you’re a hoot and half, Professor.”
“That’s my mission: explain and entertain. So what do we do next?”
“Next, we talk to Mary Martingale,” Rachel declared.
Chapter 12
We arrived back at the Goose, and we both went upstairs to my apartment.
“Do you still want to call Gabriel?” I asked.
“Yeah, we need to know more about the Snoozer.”
I opened my magic bag and took out the box containing Gabriel’s magic mirror. This particular magic mirror is a magical communication device made specifically for calling the Wizard Gabriel. It is a very shallow round glass bowl, about six inches in diameter, with a black substance painted on the back. I unwrapped the red velvet cloth from around the magic mirror and placed the cloth on the kitchen table with the magic mirror on top of it. Rachel and I sat side by side with the magic mirror in front of us. Following Gabriel’s instructions, I bent over the magic mirror and called Gabriel’s name. After waiting for about twenty seconds, I called his name again.
An image of Gabriel’s head formed in the black depths of magic mirror, and it vibrated with his voice.
“Greetings Rachel and Robert. How may I be of assistance?”
“We need to ask you about a magical device that has come into our possession. It’s a wand that has the ability to put a person to sleep for twelve minutes.”
“Ah, a Wand of Somnolence. That is a valuable device of protection.”
“We just call it the Snoozer,” Rachel said.
“Do you know how to activate it?”
“Yes, we figured that out,” I said. “I’ve activated it for my use and verified that it works.”
“Excellent. How did this wand come into your possession?”
“A friend found it at a yard sale, and after a slight misadventure, she gave it to us.”
“I am sure there is a magician somewhere who regrets the loss of that wand.”
“Do we have to find the owner and give it back?” Rachel asked.
“No. Obviously the wand is meant to be yours, at least for now. Are you aware of its other power?”
“No. What can it do besides put someone to sleep?”
“Once bonded to a particular user, the wand not only exclusively allows the user to put someone else to sleep, it also protects the user from all other Wands of Somnolence.”
“So I can’t be put to sleep by a magician with another Snoozer,” I stated.
“As long as your wand is in your aura, you are protected.”
“What do you mean by ‘aura’?” Rachel asked.
“You can think of your aura as your personal energy field. Like other energy fields, the aura’s strength diminishes with distance, but as long as Robert is able to reach the wand, it is sufficiently within his aura to protect him.”
“Does it work like the Mojo, you gave me?” Rachel asked. “If I’m in Robert’s aura, will it protect me, too?”
Rachel’s Mojo wouldn’t allow fast-moving objects, such as bullets or arrows, to get within four feet of her.
“No Rachel, unlike your Amulet of Protection, the wand only protects its bonded user.”
“How many of these Wands of Somnolence exist?” I asked.
“There are dozens of them, but there has been no ability to make them since 1861. It will not be possible to make more until 2021, and even then it will be difficult.”
“Why hasn’t it been possible to make them?” Rachel asked.
“It has to do with the orbit of Neptune. That planet will not be in the necessary gate again until May, 2021 at which time a two-year window will open making it possible to create more wands.”
“Astrology again,” Rachel muttered.
“You call some things Astrology, some things Physics and some things Magic. That is like giving different names to different types of music: Classical, Jazz, Rock. All music is vibration and all science is programming. Some people do not like Jazz and some people do not like Astrology. Do not get fixated on the names.”
“Sorry,” Rachel said. “This is all new to me.”
“There is no need to apologize, Rachel. You are here to learn, and I am here to teach. Those are qualities that help to differentiate us. We do not need to apologize for not being identical.”
“So the Snoozer is valuable,” Rachel stated.
“Yes, although it is not rare like your amulet of protection, it has great value. Also, unlike your amulet of protection, it is a device that can act on others rather than just acting on yourself. That means that it can more easily be used as a weapon of offense in addition to being defensive. It is good that it is bonded to Robert rather than to one of the Dark Forces.”
“Can you tell me who was previously bonded to this wand?” I asked.
“No. Now that it is bonded to you, I cannot trace a prior bond. I can tell you that it was not bonded to anyone in my coterie, and if it was bonded to anyone in the League of Light, I will eventually know. I suspect that it was in the hands of the Dark Forces. I am glad that it is now bonded to Robert.”
“Thank you, Gabriel,” I said. “This has been very helpful.”
“Be well, love each other, and may peace be with you.” Gabriel said as his image faded from the magic mirror.
Chapter 13
It was five o’clock, and we decided to make an early dinner. While I was scrounging in the refrigerator, Rachel put her phone on speaker and speed-dialed Charlene’s personal cell phone.
“Hey, Rachel. What did you find out?”
“The Professor determined that magic has definitely been used at the crime scene, probably in the last twenty-four hours. We think that two magicians were involved in translocating into the locked office. We think that the magicians cast a sleeping spell on both Mary and Seymour and then killed Seymour.”
“Lordy, that’s a powerful theory. Do you have any proof?”
“No, we don’t have any proof yet, but here’s our line of thinking: Magic was definitely used at the crime scene. The use of magic implies planning. If Mary was part of th
e plan, she wouldn’t have arranged the murder so that it implicated her as the only logical suspect. Ergo: Mary is innocent.”
“‘Ergo,’ Rachel? When did you start using such highfalutin words?”
“Since I started hanging out with the Professor. I’m sorry, but he’s rubbing off on me.”
“Well that can’t be all bad. The Professor is a smart cookie. So you believe that Mary is innocent.”
“Yes, we’ve both come to that conclusion.”
“Excellent. Now what do we do?”
“We need to talk to Mary.”
“We have a hearing tomorrow morning to determine if Mary can be released and if any bail or other conditions need to be imposed. We have a very fair judge, and I think Mary will be released. A lot depends on the stance the district attorney takes. If all goes well, you can talk to Mary at her home tomorrow.”
“That’s great. Will you call and let me know?”
“Sure thing, honey. Bye bye, now.”
“Charlene sounds encouraging,” Rachel said as she disconnected. “What’s for dinner?”
“It looks like it’s either eggs and bacon, a cob salad or BLT sandwiches.”
“I vote for BLTs. Do you have wine?”
“Sure, I have wine. What goes with BLTs, red or white?”
“I don’t know. Do you have beer?”
“Stella and Blue Moon.”
“Your usual selection. I pick Blue Moon this time.”
“OK then, BLTs and Blue Moon.”
Rachel turned on my kitchen Bluetooth speaker and played some light jazz from her phone while we made dinner.
“It’s been eighteen hours since Moshi’s wand burned,” Rachel said, “and we haven’t had any retaliation.”
“The night is still young.”
“At least we have our Spell Bells to warn us.”
“I don’t think any of the bad guys know where we live,” I said. “All they know of is your office.”
“Seth knows our names. Any good P.I. could discover where Robert Walker lives in Portland, Oregon.”
“We just speculated that Seth is involved, because he’s the only evil magician that we know. Maybe Moshi has no connection to Seth at all.”
“We can’t count on that,” Rachel said.
“Even if Seth is involved, maybe he’s fed up with fighting us. After all, four of his henchmen have been killed and another one is in jail since our path crossed his. You and I are still alive. That’s a pretty one-sided casualty count.”
“You make us sound like badasses, Professor.”
“Hey, it’s a fact. Call it skill, call it luck, call it quits is my advice to Seth.”
“Ooh Professor, you are a bad boy. I can just see Seth quaking in his English wingtips.”
“You personally terminated his two Russian minions,” I said.
“I don’t want to talk about that, Professor. That wasn’t my finest hour.”
“It most certainly was your finest hour. You saved my life as well as your own. You do what has to be done, but I won’t discuss it anymore tonight. Suffice it to say that, Rachel Chase is a real badass P.I.”
“You make me want to go out and buy a Harley.”
“Oh no, no motorcycles for me. That’s where I draw the line.”
“What’s wrong with motorcycles? They’re fun.”
“They’re dangerous; that’s what they are.”
“Did you have a bad motorcycle experience, Professor?”
“I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”
“OK, I’ll honor your discussion taboos since you’re honoring mine.”
“Thanks. We’re listening to smooth jazz, we have some good beer, and now we have delicious BLT sandwiches. Let’s enjoy the evening.”
“Today was a good day, wasn’t it?” Rachel mused as we ate our sandwiches.
“Any day I spend with you is a good day.”
“You’re sweet, Professor. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“What are your long-term goals in life.”
“I’m not very strategic. I guess I don’t really have any long-term goals. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering what my own long-term goals are. I don’t have any long-term goals either, but I think I ought to. You’re all set financially with the money you made when SimBiotic Arts went public, but I’m just living paycheck to paycheck.”
“Money isn’t everything,” I said. “For me, money is just security, I don’t spend much.”
“I could use some security, but it’s not just money. I can’t be a P.I. for the rest of my life, can I? Have you ever heard of a P.I. who moved up to a better job? Most of us just retire and try to live off of Social Security.”
“You’re young enough to save regularly and have a decent nest egg when you decide to retire.”
“But what’s the point? I love being a P.I. now, but will I still love it when I’m fifty-five instead of thirty-five? If I don’t love it then, what will I do? This is all I’m good at. What happens if I stop loving the only thing I’m good at?”
“You’re a little young for a mid-life crisis, but it looks like that’s just what you’re going through. I think it’s important to realize that a mid-life crisis is normal, and people get through it. Sometimes it causes a person to make big changes in their life. Sometimes a person realizes that they actually like the life they have. My philosophy is to embrace the mid-life crisis, realize that you aren’t the only person to face it, and go with the flow. I don’t believe that you can think your way out of it.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I’m a thirty-five year-old divorcé in a dead-end job with very little savings.”
“You’re a thirty-five year-old self-employed, independent woman whose skills are in constant demand and who has lots of friends.”
“I know, I know, but Professor—I’m lonely,” Rachel said as tears came to her eyes.
“I’m lonely, too,” I admitted, “except when I’m with you.”
“Me too, but what does this all mean? What are we doing? How will this all end? We’re in business together now, but what will happen in the future? Is there more in the future, or is there less? I just don’t understand how we got here or where we’re going. This just doesn’t make sense. This isn’t the way things are supposed to happen. We could get killed tomorrow, or we could grow to hate each other next year. You’re fifty years old and successful; I’m thirty-five, and I’m a hot mess. This is absolutely insane.”
“Rachel, I love all this. You are fabulous and the most interesting woman I know. I don’t know where this will all end, but I know that I’m enjoying life now more than ever before. I have to believe that whatever happens is supposed to happen. I don’t want to diminish the present by speculating on the future. Let’s just take things one day at a time.”
“I think I have to go now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Rachel got up, leaving half of her sandwich, and went to her own apartment.
Chapter 14
I awoke the next morning, Tuesday, at my normal time of about six thirty, and started a pot of Peet’s House Blend coffee brewing. I went into my office, turned the TV on to the business channel, and fired up the stock trading program on my laptop. It looked like the stock market was having a fairly strong opening, so I checked my portfolio while listening to CNBC in the background. After about twenty minutes, I went to the kitchen, made myself an Adams peanut butter with Smucker’s blackberry jam sandwich, and poured a cup of coffee with half-and-half. This was a typical first breakfast.
I sat at the kitchen table thinking about my conversation with Rachel the previous evening. We had both opened up to each other a little, which I considered to be a milestone in our relationship, whatever our relationship was. Neither of us was particularly good at expressing our feelings, but it was easier for me to share with Rachel than with anyone else. Rachel exhibited a tough persona, and I think it was difficult for her to admit any weakness. I thin
k she believed that displaying any lack of self-confidence was a failure of sorts. I didn’t really know what to conclude about our evening conversation. I was glad that it had happened, but like Rachel, I didn’t have any idea where the relationship was heading.
Being unable to make heads or tails of our conversation, my thoughts turned to wondering what our next move in the Martingale case would be. I certainly wasn’t going to come up with a strategy—that was Rachel’s department, and I didn’t hear from Rachel until ten o’clock when she called as if nothing had happened the previous night.
“Good morning, Rachel,” I said answering her call.
“Good morning, Professor. Charlene just called. Mary Martingale is going to be released this afternoon under house arrest.”
“Just what does ‘house arrest’ mean?”
“It means that she’s confined to her home. She can’t go anywhere, not even to work, and she had to give her passport to the police.”
“At least she’s not in jail.”
“At least there’s that.. We have an appointment with Mary at her house at three o’clock.”
“OK, Rachel, I’ll see you then.”
“I think we should go talk to the people at her business before we talk to Mary.”
“OK, when do we leave?”
“I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
“OK, see you in fifteen,” I said, and we disconnected.
Fifteen minutes later, Rachel was driving us to Martingale Asian Antiquities in the Northwest Industrial District. The building was in a light industrial business park of indistinguishable single-story structures. Most of the building was a warehouse with some office space in the front part of the building. The front door opened directly into a hallway that led back to the warehouse. A window on the left wall of the hallway looked into the business office which we entered through a door just past the window. There was a second door on the right side of the hallway that didn’t have a window into the hall.
This wasn’t a retail business location. Although I hadn’t researched the company, I was guessing that they were wholesale only. They might have retail customers, but they didn’t have a fancy gallery to attract them. There were two desks in the office and several chairs and a couple of tables for visitors. A middle-aged woman with dark red hair and lipstick sat at one of the desks. The other desk was unoccupied. Behind the desks was an inner office we could see through a window identical to the one in the hallway.
Crimes of Magic: The Yard Sale Wand Page 9