Murder Kicks the Bucket

by Diane Darcy

  In the end, Olivia decided it wasn’t a good idea for her to spend too much time at the hotel, at least, not at the moment.

  All in all, Lena had agreed simply to keep the peace, and to keep the psychiatrist away. But now that she was here, faced with the choice, she was having second thoughts.

  She looked at her sister again, who widened her eyes and shook her head.

  “Maybe one afternoon a week?” Lena said, seeking a compromise, her gaze still locked with her sister’s.

  “Wonderful!” Esmeralda said.

  Olivia kicked her under the table.

  “How about Fridays?” Scarlett asked.

  Lena drew in a breath, suddenly nervous now that she’d committed. “Friday nights are one of my busiest on Fremont Street, so if I’m gone by six o’clock or so, that would work for me.”

  “Excellent!” Ava said, and shot Olivia an amused glance.

  “I suppose Lena showed you the genealogy chart Scarlett put together?” Esmeralda addressed her grandmother.

  Grandma finished a bite of salad. “She did, indeed. Though I thought some of the conclusions were a bit of a stretch.”

  “What?” Scarlett exclaimed. “It is absolutely correct.”

  “The fact that our family comes from the Martin line? Through Sara Davis, Hannah Johnson, the Spencer’s, Poer’s, McEvers, Randolph’s, Sullivan’s, and DeVille’s? Do I have that correct? I find that all highly questionable.”

  “How can you say that?” Scarlett, sitting next to Lena, snatched up her left hand and spread it wide. “Look at this.” She lifted Lena’s hand and turned it for all to see. Her grip tightened on Lena’s wrist and she drew her finger down the center of her palm. “Her ancestry is right here.”

  “You’re talking about Susannah Martin, who was hanged as a witch in Salem, am I correct?” Mom asked.

  “Yes, and her family came from the old world, fleeing persecution the previous century,” Scarlett insisted.

  She glanced around to see their disbelieving faces, then drew out a sharp quill that was sewn into the neckline of her dress. It resembled a tiny, pointed knife.

  Lena watched the quill flare green within Scarlett’s hand before she quickly stabbed the middle of Lena’s palm.

  “Ouch!”

  Chapter 2

  William walked through the casino, a spring to his step, and a smile on his face. Seeing Lena always had that affect upon him.

  The end of April hit with a vengeance, the start of their busiest season, and the casino was already packed as the afternoon crowd continued to swell.

  Through the crowd he saw Caleb’s dark, cropped head coming toward him, a stupid, cheese-eating grin on his face. William was tempted to duck between the slot machines and join a bevy of blue-haired ladies chattering away as they pushed buttons and stopped to congratulate each other for the slightest little win.

  Caleb must’ve read his mind, because he hurried forward to intercept. “Hey, Boss. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with Lena?”

  He should be so lucky. Courting Lena seemed to be one step forward, one step back, so they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere fast. But, when she smiled at him as she had today, his spirits rose and he couldn’t help his optimism.

  Unfortunately, their entire community seemed to take joy in the process.

  “Lena and her family are lunching with the witches.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Aye.” He was trying to keep busy so he didn’t stalk her.

  “Excuse me, young man.”

  William turned to see one of the blue-haired ladies gazing up at him. Frail, tiny, and with an appealing smile on her cherry-red lips, she peered up shyly, and then glanced at her two friends, standing off to the side.

  All three giggled.

  “Do you think I could take a picture with you?” she asked, her head ducking, but her tone flirtatious as she peeked up once again.

  William wasn’t Scottish for nothing. He gave her his most charming smile and said, “O’course, I’d be delighted.” He made sure his accent was thick, to the point of being almost unrecognizable.

  More giggles. “Thank you, young man.”

  The two posed together and William wrapped an arm around her as one of her friends snapped a picture.

  Another round of giggles, and they were off, chattering with excitement once again.

  “Do ye think I might have a picture with ye as well?” Caleb asked.

  “How about I just shove your phone up your arse, instead?”

  Caleb laughed. “Pass.”

  The two of them walked around the edge of the casino, watching the crowd, enjoying the high-spirited laughter, excitement, and revelry.

  They’d had to escort a couple of men out of the building earlier for trying to substitute loaded dice at the craps table, which was, of course, an utter joke.

  All of the dealers were paranormal creatures, many with extrasensory gifts and abilities, so cheaters rarely prospered here.

  William saw Quinn leaning against one of the stone columns, and nodded at him as Caleb joined him to chat.

  William kept going. If everything kept running smoothly, he’d have a chance to think about Lena and how she’d —

  A loud alarm went off in the center of the room and William knew immediately what it was. Someone had won the Corvette Z06, up on a pedestal, and surrounded by slot machines and players attempting to take the gorgeous black vehicle home.

  “Come on!” Caleb called out, as he and Quinn immediately headed in that direction.

  Winning the car was an unusual event. It wasn’t like it never happened, but as it was only about once every six months or so, and because the noise was loud, attractive, and exciting, many in the crowd immediately veered in that direction.

  Not only was William in a good mood, but he liked this part of his job.

  He made his way over to see the group of young, well-dressed vampires he’d had a run-in with, earlier. They’d been loud, obnoxious, high-spirited, and he’d warned them to tone it down. Twice. The second time he’d threatened to call their queen, and there’d been no problems after that.

  Exuberant and out for a good time, they’d been spending money like water, and so, the cocktail waitresses had kept them supplied with their drink of choice — ninety-proof shots, mixed with a little O negative.

  A slim vampire, wearing a blue silk shirt, jumped up and down, bowed his back, and crowed. His friends joined in, looking like jumping beans.

  He glanced around, spotted Alistair, and gave him a questioning look.

  Alistair nodded, letting him know it was all on the up-and-up.

  Aye, then. Good for them.

  Two vamps now patted the third who continued his antics, holding his arms up in the air, hooting and turning half-circles, making sure everyone knew he was the winner.

  Some clapped, others looked jealous, and still more laughed at their antics, especially after the winner climbed up on the chair in front of the still flashing slot machine, and shouted out, “I am the victor!”

  From his perch he turned to lay possessive hands on the car and leaned down to kiss it, inspiring more cheers from the gathering crowd, and more photos taken.

  All good for business, as far as William was concerned.

  He made his way over, stuck his key in the winning machine, and turned off the lights and noise.

  Playing to the crowd, he turned, smiled, and spread his hands wide. “What do ye think, folks? Does it look as if we have a winner?”

  The crowd cheered, and William held his hand out to the vampire and helped him down from the chair.

  Everyone started to quiet, as William turned to look at the young vampire in front of him. Young, being relative, of course. The boy looked to have been turned when he was about twenty-three, but the blue ring around his eyes established his age to be at least one hundred.

  “Congratulations, sir. It looks as if ye’ve won yerself a beautiful machine. What’s yer name?” />
  The young brunette smiled. “Emilio Vargas. Whoo!” He lifted his hand in the air once more.

  “Well, Emilio, like the sign says, ye get all the winnings, and the car, so if ye’ll step back …” William waited until he did, then grabbed the bag Alistair produced. “We’ll start with the winnings.”

  William kept his grimace to himself as he set the bag at the opening, used his key, and let all the silver dollars out in a rush, careful not to let any touch his skin.

  The only way to use these particular machines was with silver dollars purchased from the cashier, and William could feel the heat coming off the coins. Werewolves and silver might not mix, but you didn’t mess with tradition here at The Hemlock. Besides, most wolves just wore gloves and seemed to like the danger of using silver.

  There was more cheering, from Emilio, his friends, and the crowd and soon all the coins drained from the slot-machine, William relocked it, then held up the bag to more cheers.

  He liked this next part.

  He went to the back of the Corvette, caught the key-fob Alistair tossed to him, and popped the trunk. He lifted the bag up high and emptied the silver dollars onto the pristine black carpet. It made a nice chinking noise, and a pretty picture for anyone tall enough to see.

  As always, the crowd loved it, and the cheering continued.

  He shut the trunk and turned to Emilio. “What do ye say, lads, shall we have ye out driving The Strip tonight?”

  Emilio and company went crazy, jumping up and down again and yelling for all they were worth.

  William chuckled. “I’ll take that for an aye. If ye’ll follow me, I’ve some paperwork ye need tae sign, and then we’ll see ye on yer way. After I hand over the keys, o’ course.”

  He looked at the crowd again. “Sooner done, and the sooner we can get a new car up here. What do ye say? Another Corvette? BMW? Porsche?”

  As people yelled out suggestions, William led Emilio and his two friends toward the cages, and the three of them, eager to follow, grabbed drinks off a tray, and trailed after William to claim the prize.

  When they reached the door beside the cashier’s cages, he took out a key and opened it.

  With a wave of his hand he escorted the three excited men inside, and after he’d made sure the door was shut and locked once more, led the way to the back office.

  He tapped on the door that read manager, underneath which was a sign reading, ‘In my experience there’s no such thing as luck’ — Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  “Come in!”

  William opened the door to see Felix Ambrose, a tall, lean, shapeshifter with a hank of dark hair, who’d worked at The Hemlock Hotel for the last sixty-odd years. “We have a winner.”

  Felix, perpetually grumpy, shot William a sour look, his sharp-angled face peevish. “I heard,” he said, his voice as acid as his expression. “Well, come in, don’t just stand out in the hall catching fairies when there is paperwork to be done.”

  William stood back and allowed the three men to go in front of him. “No drinks in here!” Felix snapped.

  Emilio pointed at the drink on Felix’s desk and raised his eyebrows.

  Felix’s lips twisted. “My office, my rules.”

  The three tossed back their beverages, and then looked around as if wondering where to set the empty glasses.

  Felix sighed heavily. “Go on, put them out in the hall.”

  They did so, and when Felix gestured with a sweep of his hand, two of them sat in the chairs across from his desk, and the other stood in the corner and sank back against the wall, out of the way.

  Felix looked at William. “It was the car?”

  William leaned against the doorframe. “The Z06.”

  “Whoot, whoot!” Emilio called out as he pushed his palms towards the ceiling twice.

  His friends responded with catcalls of their own, and Felix sighed again, opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out some paperwork.

  “Name.”

  “Emilio Vargas.”

  “Address.”

  William stopped listening, and glanced around at the coin collection, and then at the Star Wars figurines on the shelf behind Felix, wondering if Lena was a fan.

  “I’ll need your identification.”

  They’d gone to an action adventure movie recently, bought popcorn, drinks, and went for pizza afterward. William had been in heaven.

  “And, sign your name here.”

  The fact that she seemed to want to take their relationship slowly, had him impatient and excited all at the same time. Impatient, because he’d have moved her into his penthouse already if he could have, and excited, because she was willing to consider the relationship.

  “And we’ll have your friend here sign as a witness.”

  At one point he’d thought she might not, and panicked at the realization that his soulmate might not want him back.

  All things considered, it was now easy to remain in the excited camp.

  William, daydreaming about seeing Lena later, was startled by Felix’s exclamation of total disgust and he snapped back to the present.

  “Emilio!” His friend in the chair next to him put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? What’s the matter?”

  Emilio stood, and Felix squawked in horror.

  Emilio swung toward William, fangs extended, brown foam oozing from his mouth, covering his chin, and dripping onto his blue shirt.

  William straightened, muscles bunching, his gaze narrowing on each man in turn, before winging back to Emilio as he made a choking noise, clutched his throat, and dropped to the ground.

  Emilio’s eyes stared up at the ceiling and, as they all watched, his skin crumpled and grew old, corpse-like.

  There was no question he was dead.

  And unless William missed his guess, it looked like poison.

  He blew out a breath. It made the hotel look bad when the guests were murdered.

  Especially after a big win.

  It was just a prick on her hand, drawing a drop of blood.

  As her family exclaimed in horror, Scarlett swiped the dot from the middle of Lena’s palm, and rubbed it between her own thumb and index finger. A small flame erupted accompanied by a strong smell of lavender. “Martin,” she said succinctly.

  Her family looked on, mouths hanging open.

  Lena studied her blood-smeared hand and rubbed at the tiny, stinging cut.

  “Oh, sorry,” Scarlett said, and, grasping her hand once more, ran her fingers over Lena’s palm, leaving a soothing warmth behind.

  Her mother’s face turned to thunder and she half-rose from her chair, narrowed eyes focused on Scarlett. “How dare you!”

  “It’s okay, Mom.” Lena lifted her palm to show her mother that she was fine, her palm now completely undamaged. “Look, it’s all right.”

  “But …” Mom sank back down into her chair as Grandma eyed the three witches with interest.

  “It’s not all right!” Olivia said. “You can’t just go around stabbing people in the hand and expect us to be okay with it. Jeez!”

  Scarlett’s face flushed as she looked around the table. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to show you that I was correct.” She looked at each of Lena’s family members in turn. “And, I was.”

  “Moving on,” Ava said. “Tell them why it’s pertinent.”

  “Well, it’s pertinent because Susannah Martin had eight children long before she was hanged as a witch.” Scarlett looked endearingly earnest. “We are directly related to her daughter, Esther, and you’re related through Sara. So, you see? We’re long lost cousins!”

  “Are the three of you sisters?” Olivia asked, then widened her eyes at Lena in an attempt to convey, are they crazy, or what?

  Esmeralda’s eyes darted from person to person. “Cousins, as well,” she said faintly.

  Grandma chuckled as if thoroughly entertained. “This salad is simply delicious. Are these turnips?”

  “Cucumbers,” Esmeralda
said, still glancing around the table, as if trying to decipher undercurrents.

  “It’s wonderful. I’ll try putting cucumbers in my next salad.”

  Mom, normally the happiest of women, was still looking at their hosts, suspicion evident in her gaze.

  Olivia just looked hostile.

  Lena didn’t know what to think. “Okay, let’s just say we’re your distant cousins. Why is that important enough to research?”

  “Because we want to extend an invitation for you to join our coven,” Esmeralda said.

  Join their coven? Gazes were darting around the table once more.

  “We understand that between the four of you, you have your own coven, but as there’s the blood tie between us, we thought perhaps you’d consider joining forces, so to speak.” Esmeralda looked around expectantly. “Together we’re stronger.”

  “Oh,” Mom said.

  “Join forces?” Grandma’s drawn-on eyebrows shot up.

  Olivia’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Like a witch coven, do you mean?”

  “Of course,” Esmeralda said.

  Olivia gave Lena another, are they crazy, look. “You think we have our own witch coven?”

  Now it was their hosts turn to look surprised. “What do you mean?” Ava finally asked.

  Lena sighed, setting down her salad fork. She’d sort of been processing these last days, and could see she should’ve been more forthright with her family.

  Before the luncheon.

  “All right,” she said. “We’re obviously talking at cross purposes here. William is a werewolf, I’m a witch,” she turned to Olivia, “and my family are not aware —”

  “Oh, Lena,” Olivia placed a hand on her arm. She looked and sounded devastated. “I should have guessed you were only humoring us. You should have let me call Dr. Paulson. We can’t help you, if you don’t let us in.”

  Olivia pushed back her chair and stood. “I’m sorry, but this lunch is officially over. My sister and I have some things to discuss, and —”

  “Olivia, sit down,” Grandma said. “We can discuss the situation with Lena later. If she’s crazy now, she’ll be crazy then. At the moment, I must say, as the leader of the DeVille Coven, I’m interested in their offer. I’d like to hear more about how that would work.”