Hex Type Thing

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Right.” I’d almost forgotten. “I want pancakes and juice.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” He gave me another kiss, this one softer.

  “I think I’m going to like this cohabitation thing if I get a home-cooked breakfast out of you a few times a week.”

  “Right back at you.”

  26

  Twenty-Six

  Dirk was indeed waiting for us, and he looked none the worse for wear after his witch hunt the previous evening.

  “Did you get lucky?” I asked as Galen and I reclaimed the same chairs we’d sat in the previous day.

  His smile was benign. “A gentleman never kisses and tells. How would you feel if our esteemed sheriff told everyone in town about the time he spent with you?”

  “I believe that memo has already been sent. He’s kind of a big talker.”

  Galen’s smile was indulgent. “I am,” he agreed. “I’m a little curious, too.”

  “I did meet a striking lady who was in dire need of being soothed,” Dirk replied. “She’s very upset about the festival falling apart. Apparently none of the things they were promised have come to fruition ... but she’s still hopeful that some big circle ritual they have planned will be held under the full moon tonight.”

  “I forgot it was the full moon.” I glanced toward Galen. He generally gave me plenty of notice when it came to the phases of the moon. He could shift whenever the mood struck, and I’d seen him do it a time or two, but he mostly considered it a solitary endeavor. The full moon was his favorite night. “I guess I lost track.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Galen supplied. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have to stick close to the festival. They leave the day after tomorrow. I’m running out of time.”

  “Which is why you’re here,” Dirk noted, tapping on his keyboard. “The warrant came through first thing this morning. What is it that you want to know?”

  “First, what did Alastair’s finances look like?” Galen started. “I mean ... we know he had money. How much money are we talking about?”

  “Well, it’s probably considerably less than you might imagine. He was almost completely wiped out in the stock market crash of 2008. Even before then he wasn’t doing all that well. He made a series of risky investments, which is why he came to me in the first place.”

  “Are you saying he was broke?”

  “No. He wasn’t rich, though. He was bleeding money. I would say he’s worth about one million dollars.”

  “That’s a lot of money,” I argued, my mind busy. “Most people — especially people his age — could stretch that to last.”

  “Except Alastair wasn’t most people,” Dirk explained. “He was a man used to being able to spend whatever he wanted. That, of course, was the problem.”

  “I would’ve thought the Herne family was worth more than that,” Galen argued. “I mean ... have you seen that house? The house alone has to be worth six million.”

  “Eight million, actually, but it’s underwater.” Dirk steepled his fingers and let out a sigh. “Alastair would freak out if he knew I was telling you this. He’s dead, so it doesn’t matter, but he’s probably rolling over in his grave.”

  “He’s not in a grave yet,” I offered. “You’re safe.”

  The smile Dirk shot me was devoid of amusement. “Yes, well ... here we go.” He tapped his keyboard again. “Alastair inherited at a young age. He was nineteen at the time, which is long before you or I came along on the scene, Galen, but I have the full history here.

  “His father, Cornwall Herne, was something of a miser. He amassed the bulk of the family’s fortune, although his father did provide seed money ... as did his grandfather and great-grandfather. The Hernes were well-to-do and known throughout the island ... but Cornwall wanted more.

  “He leveraged the entire Herne fortune to buy four cargo ships,” he continued. “Those ships were the only vessels bringing items on or off Moonstone Bay for a good forty years. Since the people on the island were fairly well off, he could basically name his price ... and he got it.”

  “Why didn’t the other residents simply buy their own ships?” I asked. “I mean, like you said, they were rich.”

  “It was a hassle, and until people stopped trying to land at Cooper’s Hollow it was dangerous. You wouldn’t believe how many shipwrecks there are out there. People claim the water is haunted by ghosts.”

  “It’s true,” Galen confirmed when I looked to him. “The waters on that side of the island are treacherous. There’s a reason the sirens claimed it for themselves ... and we gladly gave it to them. They don’t need boats and it’s best to keep any sort of vessel away from that area. The sirens handle that themselves.”

  “Right.” Dirk nodded. “Once the shipping channels were firmly mapped out, that allowed competition to come in and the Hernes lost their grip on what had been, up until then, a cash cow. Cornwall was smart, and he moved on to the next thing, which was construction.”

  “For a long time, the Hernes were responsible for everything built on Moonstone Bay,” Galen explained. “That’s why so many of the buildings look alike.”

  “Cornwall was brutal when it came to business,” Dirk added. “He had a horrible reputation. He was mean to his wife and wasn’t very kind to his only son.”

  “So Alastair learned to be a turd from his father,” I mused. “That’s ... interesting. I hope I don’t inherit that trait from my father.”

  “You’re fine,” Galen reassured me. “Go on, Dirk.”

  “Alastair was a young man when his father disappeared while on a kayaking trip around the island,” the financial advisor volunteered. “Cornwall was known to keep in shape, and kayaking was one of his favorite endeavors. He wasn’t afraid to visit Cooper’s Hollow, and even though he’d been warned about the currents there, he kept going ... and that’s where he disappeared one day.

  “His kayak was found in pieces,” he continued. “It had shattered against the rocks out there. His body was never found. Lost at sea … .”

  I opened my mouth, but Galen shook his head before I could ask my question.

  “It wasn’t a shark shifter,” he guaranteed. “Don’t let your head go there.”

  “Fine.” I folded my arms over my chest and pouted. “I’m totally going to see a shark shifter one day. Just you wait.”

  “I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you.” Galen’s gaze was heavy on Dirk. “I’ve heard the stories about Cornwall. Nobody liked him, but everybody respected him.”

  “Pretty much,” Dirk agreed. “When Alastair inherited the family fortune, his mother was bypassed. Cornwall was a stingy bastard, and as I said, cruel to his wife. She received one-hundred grand and was sent on her way.”

  I shifted on my chair, dumbfounded. “By Alastair? Are you saying Alastair did that to his own mother?”

  “He was always a jerk,” Galen answered for Dirk. “There’s a reason everyone on this island has a bad Alastair story.”

  “Unfortunately, Galen is correct,” Dirk confirmed. “Alastair basically kicked his mother out of his house and sent her to the mainland. My understanding is that she had to get a job.”

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with working, but ... that’s low.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe he’d do that to his own mother.”

  Galen reached over and snagged my hand, giving it a squeeze. It was a silent acknowledgment that he knew what was really bothering me. Some of us would give anything to actually have a single memory of our mother. Alastair threw his mother out as if she were trash.

  Dirk cleared his throat to get our attention, refraining from commenting on the private moment. “When Alastair inherited his father’s estate it was worth almost one-hundred million dollars.”

  I let out a low whistle. “Wow. Are you saying that didn’t make him one of the richest people on the island?”

  “Unfortunately no,” Galen answered. “I told you that this place is crawling with old money ... and old ideals. Alas
tair is only the tip of the iceberg.”

  “And, unlike his father, Alastair couldn’t hold on to the money,” Dirk added. “Every generation of Herne took the money they’d been bequeathed upon the death of their father and built on it. But all of that came to a screeching halt with Alastair.

  “He didn’t even try to add to the family coffers,” he continued. “From the first moment that money landed in his lap, he started spending ... and he never stopped.”

  “I don’t understand how he burned through one-hundred million dollars,” I said. “I mean ... how is that even possible?”

  “Not all of it was his fault,” Dirk reassured me. “Some of it was the changing times. For starters, we live on an island. We don’t have endless land to build on. I think Cornwall assumed the city would keep growing until it ingested the entire island. That’s not what the DDA wanted, and it’s certainly not what the other factions — including the sirens — wanted.”

  Galen flicked his eyes to me. “There would’ve been a war,” he explained, “if the city tried to move too far out. The other creatures who live in the woods and hills — and, yes, even the volcano — would’ve put up a fight. At some point, and I’m not entirely sure when, but at some point boundaries were drawn and we’ve stuck to them ever since.”

  “The boundaries weren’t drawn until after Cornwall died, so he had no idea it was coming,” Dirk offered. “I have to assume that Cornwall would’ve had another plan in place before he died if he’d seen the writing on the wall. Alastair wasn’t driven enough to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  “You see, he always wanted the easy way out,” he continued. “Cornwall had a solid financial advisor, but he took seven percent. Cornwall considered that the price of doing business. Alastair wanted someone cheaper.”

  “I’m betting someone cheaper didn’t have the same knowledge base as the expensive guy,” I noted.

  “Exactly.” Dirk grinned at me, and this time it was legitimate. “It started with bad returns on investments. Then it turned into outright losses. The guy Alastair hired embezzled money. The funds dwindled fast given the money that he was shelling out for the upkeep of that house and the yacht he insisted on buying and never using. He even bought a private jet, but he couldn’t keep it on the island so it was stored in a hangar on the mainland. He spent money he didn’t need to spend ... and it started to drain him.”

  “And now he’s down to one million?” Galen, stuck on that number, shook his head. “I don’t want to tell you your business, but that can’t possibly be right. My understanding is that Alastair shelled out millions of his own money on this festival. He expected to make ten times that back, but he did put the initial funds out there.”

  “Did he?” Dirk cocked his head. “He hasn’t touched his accounts with me in a week. I don’t know for certain what he had in the bank, but I can guess. He had about five-hundred thousand invested through our funds. It’s locked up tight and can’t be drawn for another ten years if he wants the full worth of the account returned to him. He chose a very high-risk investment, and that comes with strings attached.”

  “But ... I heard him say it,” Galen protested. “I heard ... .” Slowly, he turned his gaze to me. “You were right.”

  I wasn’t expecting the quick shift. “I was right about what?”

  “That first night, after Alastair and I argued on the beach, you asked me why he would host this festival if he didn’t need the money. I shot you down and said it must be a prestige thing, but you were right. If I’d chased the information then, maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

  I hated it when he doubted himself. “You couldn’t have known. I’m confused about how Alastair managed to fund this entire thing if he didn’t have any money.”

  “What did he fund?” Dirk challenged. “The Porta-Potties belong to the city. The brochures were paid for on Calliope’s credit card. I know because I heard him arranging the deal. The tents were fronted to him by the Bentley brothers, who assumed they would be getting paid after the event. Alastair convinced them that would be the way to go because they could just figure in the resale value on the tents after the fact.

  “The food trucks were secured on credit cards, bills that I’m certain will never be paid now,” he continued. “The entertainment, such as it is, isn’t scheduled to be paid until afterward. What does that leave?”

  “His influencers,” I automatically answered. “He paid a bunch of people to hype the festival online. Surely they had to be paid upfront.”

  “No.” Galen, thoughtful, shook his head. “The day Cissy and the others were in my office to answer questions they said they weren’t supposed to be paid until after the festival.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I sort of remembered it as well. “Wow. This thing was a scam from beginning to end.”

  “But how do all the pieces fit together?” Galen’s frustration came out to play. “Did Alastair have any business dealings with Salma that you were aware of, Dirk?”

  “No. I don’t think he would’ve necessarily told me if he did, but I never saw her name on any of the festival contracts.”

  “I just can’t figure it out.” Galen rubbed the back of his neck and got up to pace. “Salma knew the entire thing was a fraud and was trying to shake down Alastair. The information you just gave us makes him an even more likely suspect in her death because he couldn’t afford to pay the hush money she demanded.

  “The problem is, Salma and Alastair were killed within a few hours of each other, and with the same knife,” he continued. “That indicates we have one killer.”

  “Two voices, though,” I murmured, more to myself than him.

  Slowly, he tracked his gaze to me. “Yeah, but one of those voices didn’t belong to Alastair. He’s gone. Unless ... you don’t think you’re starting to hear ghosts, do you?”

  “Other than May you mean?”

  He turned sheepish. “That was a stupid thing to say. Of course you hear ghosts. I hear them, too. When they want to be seen on this island, they’re seen.”

  Something occurred to me. “Is it not that way in other places?”

  “Actually, no,” Dirk replied. “Only those with a specific gift can communicate with ghosts in most places. It’s rare. This island, however, has never been normal. It’s littered with ghosts, spirits that are stronger than in most places, and everybody who wants to see them can.”

  I filed that away to think about later and returned to the problem at hand. “We have to break it down in the simplest terms. Who would want Salma dead? Who would want Alastair dead? We have to look at them separately. I think that’s the only way we’ll figure this out.”

  Galen’s grin was quick. “You’re starting to think like an investigator. Maybe I really will add you to my team. I mean ... you didn’t run headlong into danger last night. You did the smart thing. I agree about tearing apart everything we know and starting from scratch. We’re obviously missing something.”

  “Do you need anything else from me?” Dirk asked. “If not, there’s a pretty witch waiting for me at Lilac’s bar.”

  I checked the clock on the wall. “It’s not even noon.”

  “I have to go home and freshen up.”

  “I think we can take it from here,” Galen said dryly, shaking his head as he stood. “I do have one more question. I know you’re not Alastair’s lawyer, but do you happen to know what happens to his estate in the event of his death?”

  Dirk hesitated, and then nodded. “I do. I didn’t have anything to do with that situation, but I heard him on the phone with his attorney once. He was arguing about setting up his will. As it stands, his mother will inherit everything because he had no children ... at least to my knowledge.”

  “That’s because I’m certain no one could stand having sex with him despite the money,” I muttered. “It would kind of be poetic if his mother inherited after all, huh?” I smirked. “Now that might be enough to have him rolling over in his grave.”


  “Except it won’t be nearly as much as she would’ve gotten when Cornwall died,” Dirk pointed out.

  “No, but you said he had five-hundred grand in an investment and more money in the bank … ,” I trailed off, something niggling the back of my brain. “Galen, didn’t the bank tell you how much of his money went missing when we met there?”

  Galen shifted his eyes to me, conflicted. “I ... no. They did not. They just said multiple accounts were drained and they weren’t sure where the money went.”

  “If it was only a couple-hundred thousand dollars rather than the millions everybody was expecting, wouldn’t they have mentioned it? I mean ... Bradley seems like a pretty diligent, if annoying, guy.”

  “That’s a very good point.” Galen rubbed his chin, considering. “I think we have to head back to the bank. Apparently I wasn’t as wily as I should’ve been.”

  “Can I ask the questions this time?”

  He held my gaze for an extended beat and then nodded. “I think you’ve earned it.”

  “Yay!” I clapped my hands and did a little dance. “I finally get to do the grilling. This is going to be great.”

  Galen laughed as he moved his hand to the small of my back. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

  I ignored him. “Can I threaten him with hard time if he doesn’t come up with the right answers?”

  “Oh, geez.” He blew out a sigh. “Your head is going to be huge by the end of the day if we solve this thing.”

  “You have no idea.”

  27

  Twenty-Seven

  Galen was thoughtful when we reached his truck. I could tell his mind was working at a fantastic rate. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was what he was thinking.

  “You have something, don’t you?”