Midnight Spells Murder

by Mary Angela

  A knock came from outside, and Melissa checked at the window. “Oh man. It’s Tiffany Snow. She’s at the Visitor Center. I’m sure she’s there to sell me one of those dang wreaths. Doesn’t she get that I have kids? I buy enough of that crap from them. Most of my paychecks go to overpriced candles and tasteless cookie dough.”

  “The woman’s relentless.” Zo told Melissa about the Halloween parade and her kids not wearing costumes. They looked miserable.

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” said Melissa. “She and I sparred off once about the Easter Bunny. I told her to keep her ideas to herself. I don’t care what the occasion is. Any time is the right time for a crème-filled chocolate egg.”

  “I agree one hundred percent.”

  The knocking became more insistent. Tiffany hollered out Melissa’s name.

  “If I were you, I’d check into her whereabouts the night of Marianne’s death.” Melissa adjusted the purse on her shoulder. “If she knew Marianne was a witch, there’s no telling what she might have done to stop her from poisoning her children’s precious brains.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so,” said Melissa. “When it come to her kids, she’s the worst kind of zealot. The overprotective kind.” She grabbed the door handle.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” said Zo. “We’ll talk later—after she leaves.”

  With a smile, Melissa was gone, and Zo finished opening the store, but all the while, her mind was on Tiffany and Melissa’s remarks about her. It was hard to imagine any person being that overprotective of their kids. Did Tiffany really believe Marianne was a danger to her family? Even if she did, the world was full of threats. Tiffany couldn’t protect her kids from every one of them.

  Yet, the night of Marianne’s death, Tiffany was at Spirits & Spirits—alone. She was selling holiday wreaths. Maybe she and Marianne had a confrontation about the book or even the wreaths. Tiffany wasn’t at the store long before she left in a huff. She could have met up with Marianne on the way home. If they had a fight, she might have knocked her unconscious, leaving her for dead. Plus Tiffany was the type of person who would add the witch hat, making Marianne look like an evil person.

  The door opened, and Harley and Max walked in. They must have arrived at the same time, for they were in mid-conversation.

  Harley changed topics when she spotted Zo. “One, yes I saw the broadcast. Everyone I know has asked me about it. And two, where did you get that scarf?”

  Zo touched the gold and blue scarf in her hair, tied into a short ponytail. She loved how the material looked with her gold hoop earrings. “At the Cut Hut. They just unpacked a new box of them. I saw a bright purple one with your name on it.”

  “I’m so stopping after work.” Harley took off her jacket.

  “Sorry, no forest green, though,” Zo said to Max with a smile.

  “That’s okay,” said Max. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Zo told Harley her plans to return the hubcap. “I’ll be back this afternoon. Do you want me to pick up lunch?”

  “I brought my own.” Harley held up a tiny cooler.

  “Your car or mine?” Zo asked Max.

  “Let’s take your bike,” suggested Max. “Do you mind?”

  Zo tried to conceal her surprise. Her attempts must have failed because Max followed up with a laugh.

  “What?” he said. “It’s a gorgeous morning, and Jake lives in the canyon.”

  She grabbed her helmet from underneath the counter as well as the dented hubcap. “I have no problem taking the bike. I want to get it out as much as I can before the snow flies. Do you need a helmet?”

  “No, I borrowed Duncan’s. It’s in the truck.”

  A drive through the canyon could be chilly, so she picked up her leather jacket from the backroom before heading outside. She shrugged it on, glad she’d worn her jeans and knee-high boots.

  “Sorry to say, I just have my forest ranger-approved green with me.” Max grabbed the helmet.

  “I like it.” He looked adorable in the insulated forest ranger coat. It made him look softer, less serious. “How do you know Jake lives in the canyon?” said Zo, fastening the hubcap to the back of the bike. She slid on her helmet.

  He showed her his phone. On it was a picture of the temporary protection order.

  “Brady served it yesterday,” said Max. “Not without fanfare either. Jake made a big stink at the station. I told Brady I would swing by Jake’s house this morning to remind him of the stipulations.”

  “I suppose you didn’t tell him I was going with you.”

  “I might have left that part out,” said Max with a smile, flashing a set of straight, white teeth. They were a nice contrast to his new beard.

  “I’m proud of you.” Zo flipped down her helmet visor and hopped on the bike. “Rule bending, bike rides—what’s next? A tattoo?”

  He sat behind her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Besides, I’m scared of needles.”

  “You’re kidding.” She started the engine. “A big strong forest ranger like yourself, scared of needles? I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true. They hurt.”

  Her laughter trailed behind them as they headed out of town toward the canyon. Passing under the rocky arc was like entering a different world, one without consistent phone, internet, or satellite service. When tourists wanted to get away from it all, they came here. This time of year, with the fall colors fading from yellow to brown, it was worth disconnecting. Just five minutes in the fresh mountain air lifted her spirits, and despite her worries about Justin and the store, the longer she drove, the more she started feeling like herself again.

  Being in the canyon fortified her spirits. It always did. From the time she was a young girl, zooming to Spirit Canyon Lodge on her ten-speed bike, she felt as if she could do anything after a ride through the canyon. It was the strength of the place. It transformed everything it touched. Even visitors.

  She wondered if Max felt something as well. Maybe that’s why he mentioned taking the bike. He was determined to be professional, but out here in the canyon, she wanted him to let go a little. To forget he was a responsible forest ranger. She made a quick decision, not slowing down when she went around a familiar pass. That’s all it took for him to grab on to her waist as the motorcycle hugged the curvy road. Close together, they flew around the pass, Zo not thinking about anything except the beautiful fall day and the feel of his hands around her.

  She kept up the speed all the way to Jake’s house, a ranch surrounded by a circle of half-dead trees. Two old cars in different states of repair were parked near the house, and Jake himself was under the hood of the Chevy. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt and put his hand up to his brow to shield his eyes from the sun when he heard them drive up. Clouds were coming in from the west, but for now, the sun was still bright, high in the sky.

  “What can I help you with?” Jake hollered.

  They removed their helmets and dismounted the bike. Zo grabbed the hubcap. “This fell off your car the other day at Happy Camper. I wanted to return it.”

  Jake walked over, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Thanks. Things are always falling off that car.” He spied a glance at Max. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Max Harrington, a Law Enforcement Officer for Black Hills National Forest. I rode along to remind you of Nikki Ainsworth’s protection order.”

  Jake let out a guffaw. “You don’t need to remind me. I hate that woman. I was only collecting what is rightfully mine. After all the money my ex-wife squandered on the theater, the least Nikki could do is give me the seat.”

  “You’ll have a chance to tell your side of the story in thirty days, at trial,” Max explained. “Until then, please keep your distance from Ms. Ainsworth.”

  Jake pointed at Zo. “You were there. Tell him I didn’t do anything wrong.”


  “I didn’t hear the entire conversation,” said Zo. “But you seemed upset.”

  “Look at that fancy theater.” Jake wiped his brow with a handkerchief he retrieved from his back pocket. “She’s like a queen on her throne, giving orders. I won’t stand for it.”

  Max crossed his arms. “You will stand for it, or you’ll face up to a year in jail or a two thousand dollar fine or both.”

  Jake pressed his lips together into a belligerent pout. “Is that all, Officer?”

  “One question, then I’ll let you get back to your work,” said Max. “Where were you the night Marianne died?”

  “I already answered that.” Jake squinted at Max’s uniform. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”

  “Just answer the question,” pressed Max.

  Zo was upset for Max. It was bad enough when Brady challenged his authority but this guy? He had no right to question Max.

  “I was with my daughter, Emily.”

  “All night?” asked Zo.

  He pointed a stubby finger in her direction. “I might have to answer his questions, but I don’t have to answer yours, girly. Justin Castle says it’s no coincidence Marianne was found at your store, and I believe him. He’s got a report coming on Friday, and you’d better believe I’ll be watching. The whole town will, so careful what you say about me.”

  Zo felt a surge of anger rush to her head. She took a step closer to him. “Is that a threat?”

  Max stepped between her and Jake. “Thank you for your time, and remember what I said about Ms. Ainsworth.”

  A smug smile crept up on Jake’s lips as Max linked his arm in Zo’s and led her to the motorcycle.

  “You’re just going to let him get away with threatening me?” said Zo.

  “He knows who you are, and you’re not supposed to be asking questions. I am.”

  She handed him his helmet. “I didn’t realize I rated so low on your scale of protection.”

  “I’m pretty sure you can protect yourself. You’ve told me so a million times.” He leaned in closer. “The reason I didn’t react is because of Happy Camper. With one call to Justin, he could make the special report even more special.”

  Max was right. Jake was eager to mention Justin’s special report on Happy Camper. What if the whole town felt the way he did? What if they were convinced she was involved after the show aired? “What am I going to do?” she asked with a groan. She hopped on the bike.

  Max took a seat behind her. “You’re going to drive back to Spirit Canyon, at the speed limit, and we’re going to talk this through. If that doesn’t work, you’re going to summon help from the other side at tonight’s Zodiac meeting.”

  When she didn’t respond, he poked her waist. “Hey, that was a joke.”

  “It needs work,” said Zo, but she relaxed her shoulders. It felt good to have him near.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After closing the store, Zo and Harley set up the table Zo used for special events. Jules wanted to use it for the séance because Marianne signed books at the same table. As it turned out, the night was too cloudy for stargazing, and most of the Zodiac Club wouldn’t be attending the meeting. Gatherings would be hit-and-miss from now until spring. Tonight, Jules encouraged people who believed in the hereafter to join. Nonbelievers, according to Jules, would disrupt her psychic energy and should stay home.

  Zo decided she was a believer. Too many odd occurrences had happened to be coincidences. First the planner, then the black cat statue, George’s collar, and finally Roberto’s book. Marianne was trying to tell her something; she just had to figure out what that was.

  “Tell me why I can’t stay again?” Harley pulled her cross-body purse over her head.

  “Because Jules says nonbelievers break the circle of communication,” said Zo, placing candles on the table. “Marianne won’t be comfortable with your presence.”

  “Jules can say anything she wants.” Harley swiped her heavy bangs to the side. “Marianne liked me. You know she did.”

  “I know.” Zo smiled. “Who wouldn’t like you?”

  Max knocked on the door.

  Harley pointed at him. “If I can’t come, he can’t.”

  “He’s not.” She opened the door. Max was wearing a black thermal shirt and black jeans. Except for his light hair, he blended into the hazy night. “Hey Max. What are you doing here?”

  “The better question is why does Duncan get to come to your séance and not me?”

  “Seriously?” said Harley, still looking at Zo. “It would be my one-and-only chance to hold hands with the guy.”

  “First of all, it’s not my séance,” Zo explained. “It’s Jules’s thing. She makes the rules. Second, Duncan is a musician. He’s more…open to suggestion than you are.”

  “I’m open to suggestion,” Max insisted. “One hundred percent open.” He emphasized each word separately.

  Jules walked in as he was declaring his openness. She was wearing a purple dress and black headscarf that hung to her waist. “You’re as closed as a clam, Max Harrington. Both of you need to leave before you sully the energy.”

  Zo loved how certain she was of everything, including the uncertain.

  Duncan breezed in behind Jules wearing a leather jacket. He gave Zo a wink. “Hey Zo.”

  Max threw up his hands. “It’s the coat, isn’t it?”

  Zo took Max’s arm and walked him to the parking lot. Harley followed. “I would love to have you guys here. You know I would. Come back in an hour. I’ll give you all the details.”

  Harley’s brow puckered.

  “I promise,” said Zo.

  “Fine,” Max agreed. “One hour.”

  “I have a test to study for,” said Harley, “but I want all the details when I come in to work tomorrow.”

  “You got it.” Zo turned to go inside. During her side conversation with Max and Harley, the rest of the participants had arrived. Hattie and Zo’s ex-boyfriend Hunter were there, as well as a man Jules described as her doorkeeper. He would keep evil spirits from entering the conversation.

  Jules gathered up people’s phones, temporarily, and placed them under the counter. Then she shut off the lights. A small side lamp illuminated the area.

  “Friends, you know why we’re here,” Jules announced as she lit the candles on the table. She tucked the lighter in her dress pocket. “To gather information from our dear friend Marianne about the night of her death. It’s important for Marianne to feel welcome and to join us at her leisure. Don’t overwhelm her with side questions. I will lead the conversation. Does anyone have questions before we begin?”

  Hattie pointed to Jules’s water glass. “What’s that for?”

  “Communication,” said Jules. “Sometimes it’s easier for the dead to communicate through an object. Any other questions?” When all was silent, Jules asked them to join hands to create a circle. After a moment, she said, “Marianne Morgan, we are gathered here tonight in hopes that you’ll join us. Please feel welcome to enter our circle whenever you’re ready.”

  Zo waited for a rush of energy. She was disappointed to feel nothing. She glanced at Jules, who had her eyes closed. Zo took a breath, shut her eyes, and cleared her mind. She wanted this to work. She needed this to work to exonerate herself and her store. So many odd occurrences had happened; Marianne had to be giving her signs. If she could just give her a few more, possibly in the direction of her killer, Zo would be forever grateful.

  The water splashed, and Zo opened her eyes. Everyone was staring at the glass of water in front of Jules.

  “If you are present, Marianne, let it be known by moving the water once more.”

  A splash landed on the tablecloth, and Zo’s heart knocked in her chest. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts. Heck, she’d grown up with the idea in Spirit Canyon. But to know that one was in her presence? That was
a little different.

  “Thank you for joining us, Marianne,” said Jules. “We’re glad you are with us. When you’re ready, we’d like to ask you a few questions about your death.” The candles flickered wildly. “Take your time,” said Jules. “We understand it’s difficult.”

  Sitting next to her, Duncan squeezed her hand. Until then, Zo didn’t realize how strongly she’d been gripping his.

  The flickering subsided, and Jules continued with her questions. “Dear sister witch and friend, were you murdered? Move the water if the answer is yes.”

  The water splashed. Zo pressed her lips together to keep from gasping. She knew Marianne was murdered; the police knew Marianne was murdered. But to have her confirm it was unreal.

  “Who did this terrible thing to you?” asked Jules.

  A flurry of activity ensued. One candle went out, and a nearby Halloween decoration fell off the clearance table. Sitting on the other side of Zo, Hattie arched a gray eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jules. “That was a poorly worded question. Was the murderer someone you know? If the answer is yes, indicate with water.”

  The water sloshed in the glass.

  “Good,” said Jules. “Was it someone you argued with?”

  The water moved again.

  “Was it someone you disliked?”

  Nothing happened, so Jules continued. “Was it someone you liked?”

  “I don’t think that’s a fair question,” Hunter interrupted. “How could she like someone after they killed her?”

  Jules’s eyes narrowed on Hunter. “I’m asking the questions. Don’t break the energy with skepticism.”

  “It’s not skepticism,” argued Hunter. “It’s input—informed input. I’ve done quite a bit of research on dreams, apparitions, and myths.”

  “Then you know to keep your mouth shut,” Jules ground out.

  The room cooled. Zo glanced down at her arms, where she could see goosebumps. It wasn’t her imagination.

  Jules took a breath and continued. “Let’s try another question. How did you die?”