This Magick Marmot

by Sharon Pape

  “As am I,” said Merlin, dribbling ice cream into his beard.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, Tilly, Merlin, Froliquet, and I headed out to Burdett. My aunt called shotgun, leaving Merlin and his familiar the whole backseat. Since it was the marmot’s first car trip, Tilly worried the animal might succumb to motion sickness and ruin her new apricot and aqua muumuu that went well with her sneakers. Tilly had always marched to the beat of her own fashion drummer.

  We made it to Burdett in an hour. My last trip there was on a cold day in late fall, when Elise and I were investigating another murder case. Back then the town had been desolate, and dreary, a study in gray. Only a handful of stores had been open for business. Summer had resurrected the place. The shops were all spruced up, freshly painted, windows sparkling. Their doors were flung open to welcome the tourists who’d come to vacation in the Finger Lakes. Colorful banners and flags beckoned. People filled the streets. They waited in line for homemade ice cream and freshly squeezed lemonade. The tiny town was bustling.

  For a couple of years following Scott’s drowning, I hadn’t been able to go anywhere near the lake or the town without grief swelling in my heart. Genna’s death at the reunion was making it hard for me to be there again. But I was older, more experienced with loss, and determined not to let anything or anyone stand in the way of the investigation, least of all me.

  Once we left the town behind, I pulled off on the shoulder of the road and asked Merlin to take Froliquet out for a bathroom break. He’d modified a dog harness to fit her for trips outside. But whenever he put the contraption on her, she spent the whole outing trying to pull it off. They clambered back in the car ten minutes later with nothing accomplished. Merlin muttered that he should have opted for a cat, and Froliquet chattered angrily back at him with what I imagined was marmot four-letter sentiment.

  Although Travis wasn’t with us, we would not have known where to find Conrad without his help. He’d called in a favor from a buddy who worked for the local electric company and within minutes he was reading me Conrad’s address.

  “That sounds like the address where his mom and he moved right after graduation,” Tilly said when she heard it. “Money was always tight. I know she had a hard time holding onto the house in New Camel”. She smiled wistfully. “I went to see them at the new place a few times. Whenever I visited, I brought his mom a lemon meringue pie—it was her favorite. And blondies for Conrad, hold the nuts.”

  I was lucky Tilly had been there and still had an agile memory, because even though I had the address, the house was not easy to find. She directed me down a dirt road with no street sign, where we bounced along through potholes and ruts for the better part of a mile.

  I was beginning to wonder if I’d put too much faith in her memory, when she pointed to a thicket of evergreen bushes and old gnarled trees with roots bulging out of the ground. I turned off the dirt road into a driveway that was equal parts gravel and dirt.

  We were facing the clapboard, windowless side of a small ranch house, which suited me fine. I didn’t want Conrad to see us ahead of time. If I craned my neck, I had an oblique view of the front yard with its patches of grass stubborn enough to grow without any encouragement. A silver Chevy from the mid-nineties sat in the front yard, rust slowly consuming its body.

  “I was right,” Tilly said as if she hadn’t been all that sure herself. “He never left his mother’s house. It’s a lot more overgrown than it was back then and the trees are taller, but this is the place I remember.”

  The initial part of the plan rested squarely on my aunt’s muumuu clad shoulders. Merlin, Froliquet and I would remain in the car, while she tried to work her magick. First up was getting in the door. We were counting on the fact that Conrad had fond memories of Tilly’s visits with his mother. She was carrying a plastic cake holder with two dozen of the blondies he once loved, to grease the process.

  Her next move would be to gently probe Conrad’s mind for information about Genna. She had warned me that a person as closed off to social interaction as Conrad probably had his subconscious locked down tight. If she was right, she had one last card to play—hypnosis. Since it was a skill she didn’t often use, she practiced it on Merlin, who proved to be easily entranced.

  If the hypnosis worked, Tilly would let the rest of us into the house. I would check around for any evidence he might have been involved in Genna’s murder. Merlin and Froliquet had no purpose in our plan, but Merlin insisted on coming along, until he wore us down.

  Armed with the blondies, Tilly marched up to the front door and knocked. No one came to the door or asked who was there. She waited a minute and knocked again. If he was in the house, he must have heard her. I heard her from my car with the AC blasting. She was starting to walk away when the door opened. She turned back and a few seconds later disappeared inside. My heart quickened, but not with the excitement of a plan in motion. It was more like anxiety. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have sent her in there alone. What if Conrad had developed homicidal tendencies during his years of solitude? I wanted to run to the door and pound on it until he let me in, but Tilly would be furious if I ruined the plan because I didn’t trust her to take care of herself.

  Each minute that ticked by was torture, and Merlin made matters worse. While I fretted silently, he pulled out all the stops in an Oscar worthy performance. “My dear sweet Matilda,” he wailed. “What is to become of me without you?” Froliquet was doing her best to provide harmony with high-pitched whistles inches from my ear. But when I looked at her whisker twitching muzzle and big dark eyes, it was impossible to be annoyed with her. I stroked her head and she leaned into my palm, quieting.

  “Tillie opened the door,” Merlin sang out with enthusiasm as if he hadn’t been the one wringing his hands moments earlier. “I never doubted her ability for a second.”

  “You are to follow me, touch nothing and keep quiet—both of you!” I reminded him.

  “You suck all the joy out of things,” he complained, carrying Froliquet out of the car and setting her on the ground.

  We found Tilly and Conrad at the dining room table. His eyes were closed. Apparently the attempt to probe his mind hadn’t worked. My aunt put her finger to her lips, a reminder not to make any noise that might snap Conrad out of his trance. I sat down beside her. Merlin ambled off to look around the house with his marmot in tow.

  Conrad looked pretty much as I remembered him. He’d gained some weight since being on his own. Takeout and junk food no doubt. His skin was a pasty white as if he spent most of his time indoors, gaming and bingeing TV. The high school yearbook had almost named him most likely to become a serial killer, but Mr. Hemming, the teacher in charge of the yearbook, made the pranksters change it. They finally settled on most likely to write horror novels. To the best of my knowledge, he’d never shown any interest in writing.

  “Conrad,” Tilly began, “why did you say Genna was not the person Kailyn thought she was?”

  His brow lowered. His jaw clenched. Either he had trouble remembering or he was fighting her suggestion to explain his words. “Relax,” Tilly said in the calm monotone she used for hypnosis. “You are safe. Nothing can harm you.” His expression softened.

  “She wasn’t nice. She did things girls shouldn’t do.”

  “What kind of things?” Tilly asked.

  “She went with any boy who wanted her,” he said. “Any boy but me.” A tear ran down his cheek. He dashed it away with his fist.

  “The truth is Genna thought you were too good for her,” Tilly said to soothe him. With Genna gone, there was no one to contradict her.

  I whispered a question in Tilly’s ear and she asked it for me. “How did you know those things about her?”

  “I liked being around her, so I went where she went and I watched what she did.”

  Tilly and I exchanged looks of horror. Goosebumps flashed alo
ng my arms.

  “Did she realize you were doing that?” I blurted out, covering my mouth after the fact, which did as much good as closing the barn door after the horse has galloped off. Maybe Conrad wouldn’t hear the difference in our voices. No such luck. He sat up straight, his eyelids fluttering. Tilly swooped in for damage control. I held my breath as if that would make up for what I’d done.

  “Your eyes are too heavy to open,” she crooned to him. “Everything is fine. You feel very relaxed and safe.” His shoulders slumped forward again. I let out my breath as quietly as I could.

  “Conrad,” Tilly resumed, “did Genna know you were following her?”

  “I don’t think so. I was good at it. I didn’t want to scare her or anything.”

  Tilly consulted the list of questions we compiled ahead of time. She had it beside her on the table. It’s easy to forget something important when the subject’s answers take you far afield.

  “Let’s talk about the night of the senior prom, Conrad. Were you at the lake the night Scott Desmond drowned?”

  “Genna went to the lake, so I went too. It was nice and dark there. I finally got up the nerve to ask her out.”

  “What did she say?”

  He didn’t respond immediately and when he did, his voice was higher and thinner as if he was being strangled from inside. “She laughed like it was a joke, and then she said, ‘That’s not going to happen. That’s never going to happen.’” His voice cracked on the last words.

  I didn’t know how to feel. I was horrified and repulsed by the way he’d stalked her, but I ached over the way she’d treated him. I knew Genna could be self-involved and thoughtless. I’d never known her to be purposely cruel.

  Tilly must have been dealing with the same mix of emotions as I was. She drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Conrad, I want you to put Genna out of your mind for now. Can you tell me what the kids at the lake were doing? What they were talking about?”

  Conrad shook his head. “All I cared about was getting the chance to talk to Genna. Nothing else mattered. And after…after she…I left.”

  Tilly looked at me and raised her eyebrows. I nodded. We’d heard enough. Tilly had told me years ago that confessions from people under hypnosis weren’t reliable and usually not allowed in court.

  “You’re tired, Conrad,” Tilly said. “You deserve a nice long rest, while I keep watch over you.” His head slumped forward onto his chest. Time for me to look around.

  Conrad kept a tidy home, every drawer and closet in perfect order. No dust bunnies under the bed. No toothpaste in the sink. I found Merlin sitting on Conrad’s bed, watching television with the volume down low. Froliquet was asleep by his side.

  I searched the two bedrooms, the china cabinet in the dining room, even the bathroom vanity. A laptop was on a desk in the smaller of the two bedrooms. It leaped to life as soon as I moved the mouse. Conrad was logged into his email account, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. A quick perusal of the sites showed me that he didn’t interact much with other members. His friend count on Facebook was eight and included an aunt in New Jersey, and a cousin in Alabama. Nothing I saw raised any alarms.

  I went down to the unfinished basement. There was a washer and dryer, a dehumidifier, a shredder, and a couple of large plastic storage containers. One was filled with old photos, the other with tax returns and other financial papers. If he’d written out a plan to poison Genna, I couldn’t find it.

  Coming up the stairs to the kitchen, I heard the sounds of a scuffle. I ran up the last few steps to find what could have been a scene from an old silent film. Tilly and Merlin were fighting over the box of blondies. They didn’t say a word, but they looked like they were engaged in mortal combat. Before I could intervene, Merlin pulled the box out of Tilly’s hands, knocking over a chair in the process. The crack of the chair on the tile floor was like a crack of thunder in the stillness. Conrad’s head jerked up and he opened his eyes.

  “This is all a dream,” Tilly said to him. “You’re still asleep. Close your eyes.” His eyelids started to droop, then flew open again. He seesawed back and forth, one moment yielding to the powerful tug of the hypnosis and the next, fighting it off, until he finally broke through to full consciousness.

  His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the three of us standing around him. We had to calm his fears, before he called 911. If Duggan found out what we’d been doing there, he would throw us all in jail.

  “What is this? Why are all of you here? Who’s that old man?”

  I set the chair back on its feet and sat down beside Conrad. “You know me, don’t you?”

  “Yes…yes, Kailyn.”

  “I knew my aunt was coming to visit, so I popped in to say hello. This gentleman is a cousin of ours visiting from England.” I leaned closer to Conrad and whispered, “He’s a bit eccentric.”

  “I want you all to go,” Conrad said, despite my attempt to engage him. He was about to rise when Froliquet jumped into his lap. The three of us went to grab her, but Conrad put his arm around the marmot. He smiled, cuddling her closer to his chest and murmuring endearments.

  “I’ve never held a marmot,” he said, eyes beaming. “What’s her name?” Even his voice had changed. The hollowness had been replaced by a softer, sweeter tone. I’d never heard of a therapy marmot, but she seemed like a natural.

  Merlin looked quite pleased with himself, as if her empathy was his achievement. “It’s Froliquet.”

  “Froliquet!—it’s perfect.” Conrad didn’t take his eyes off her. “Can I keep her?”

  “Of course not,” the wizard said indignantly. “She belongs to me.”

  “I’m willing to pay for her – whatever price you think is fair.”

  “It’s simply out of the question.” He looked crushed.

  “I’m sure our cousin would be delighted to bring her to visit you,” Tilly said, giving Merlin what I called the look.He opened his mouth, no doubt to refute her offer, when the look made him freeze. He knew what it meant—more chores, less freedom, and no dessert.

  “It would be my pleasure to bring Froliquet to visit you, my good fellow. Shall we say once a month?” He glanced at Tilly with a hopeful little smile. Her brow lowered. His mouth drooped. “Silly me, what I meant to say was once a week?” He stole another glance at Tilly, who inclined her head in approval. Of course if Conrad proved to be the killer, a prison sentence would get the wizard off the hook.

  Chapter 17

  When I opened my eyes, I was still seated at the computer desk in my study. I didn’t feel any different and everything around me looked the same. The spell hadn’t worked. Perhaps I didn’t have the ability to travel through time after all. I was disappointed, but also relieved. Had I let Travis’s fears become my own? That wasn’t acceptable.

  I could tweak the spell I created and try again. No, not could—I would work on the spell and the next time I tried it, I’d succeed. I’d had to build my teleporting muscle, and traveling through time was no different. It would take work. I had to be patient and trust myself. Doubt was the enemy of magick.

  Although I failed, my efforts had exhausted me. All I wanted was to crawl beneath my sheets and sleep. I signed out of my email and was about to shut down the computer when I noticed the date on the tool bar. My heart lurched in my chest, wiping the breath from my lungs. The date was yesterday. I looked down at my clothing and saw that I was wearing yesterday’s sundress and not the capris I had on when I sat down at the desk two hours earlier. I’d done it! I actually traveled back a day. My thoughts were in a whirlwind. I couldn’t separate the elation from the anxiety, the thrill from the fear.

  I’d had some hefty qualms about tackling time travel from the get-go, but I felt obliged to attempt it while I was still in my twenties. According to Morgana and Bronwen, any untried magickal talents I possessed would go dormant once
I hit thirty. Although I’d mastered teleportation, it was child’s play compared to the dangers of time travel. If teleportation went awry, I could wind up anywhere on the planet, but I’d eventually find my way home. If time travel misfired, I could spend the rest of my life dodging dinosaurs, caught up in war, pestilence, famine, or in some desolate future beyond my imagining.

  If I had misgivings about time travel, how could I expect Travis to ever be okay with it? I thought about not saying anything, but that was the coward’s way out. Besides, if I just disappeared one day, he would be left to wonder what had become of me. Not that knowing the why and the wherefore would help him. There would be no way to rescue me, if I alone possessed the unique ability.

  I had finally broached the subject at the table, after one of Tilly’s dessert tastings–old-fashioned charlotte russe and a chocolate pecan tart she was considering for her teas. I hoped the comfort food would make him more amenable to the prospect. I was wrong.

  “Are you out of your mind?” he said. His words were measured, but his eyes were dark beneath his lowered brow and his jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth would crack from the pressure.

  I tried to make it sound reasonable. “It’s the natural progression after teleportation. And it’s a very rare ability. How can I pass up the chance to find out if I possess it?”

  Travis ran his hand through his hair. “It’s the rare part that really worries me. There are no guidelines to help you, no books to warn you about dangers, teach you how to navigate through time, offer suggestions on how to get back home if things go south.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re even discussing this. I liked it better when I didn’t believe in magick.”

  He pushed back from the table hard, causing his untouched coffee to slosh over the rim. He paced around the room, before stopping abruptly to take the empty seat beside Tilly, as if he were playing musical chairs to music he alone could hear. “Aunt Tilly, please tell her this is craziness.”