This Magick Marmot

by Sharon Pape

  Listening to her, I felt sick to my stomach. I had to remind myself that Tony and the rest of them were just kids at the time—seventeen- and eighteen-year-old kids who thought they were all grown up and invincible. Any one of them could have died that night. Besides, Tony wasn’t solely responsible for Scott’s death. Genna had played a role in it too.

  Someone with justice and vengeance on their mind had put the pieces of the puzzle together—or made an educated guess. They’d already taken Genna’s life and were clearly determined to take Tony’s. Although I couldn’t bring Scott or Genna back from the dead, I could try to save Tony and keep his innocent family from paying a price they didn’t owe.

  “I had to tell you the truth,” she said, “even if it means the end of my marriage. I believe you and Travis have the best chance of finding the killer and saving Tony’s life, before he takes the rest of us down with him.” She had good cause to worry. The car bomb could easily have killed them all.

  I slid off the counter and knelt down next to her. “We will do everything in our power to find the killer. Is there any safe place you and your kids can stay until then?”

  “I’ve already made arrangements for the three of us to fly down to Atlanta and stay with my sister. I told Tony he’s not welcome to join us there. As long as he’s the target, he cannot be near the kids.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He said he understood, but I could tell it hit him hard.” She blew her nose. “I know this isn’t his fault and has nothing to do with the man he is today, but the situation has put us in an awful position. I have to take the kids away even though I can’t help worrying about him being alone.”

  I took her hand in mine. “We’re on it and I’ll be in touch.” We both stood up and Courtney grabbed me in a hug that was equal parts desperation and gratitude.

  After she left, I called Travis and brought him up to date. “That explains a lot,” he said, “but it doesn’t get us any closer to the identity of the killer.” He was right of course. All we’d gained was the likely reason Tony was on his hit list.

  “No matter how many times I go over it, I can’t see Lillian, Charlie or Ashley killing anyone. That leaves Conrad. He stalked Genna, but that doesn’t automatically make him capable of murder. Besides he has no beef with Tony. What are we missing here?”

  “If you were burning with vengeance, but couldn’t bring yourself to kill someone, what would you do?” Travis asked.

  “Hire someone who could. I had the same thought, but it takes money, and I don’t think any of them is sitting on that much cash.”

  “We don’t know what we don’t know,” Travis said. “Maybe one of them inherited money, or socked away a secret emergency fund or is bartering for the killer’s services.”

  “I guess there are bargain basement killers out there too, which could explain why Tony is still alive. You get what you pay for. Oh, I almost forgot, Courtney also mentioned that the Scott-ghost has been showing up. Even her kids have seen him. Between that and the car bomb…”

  “She’s doing the right thing by taking them down to her sister.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask you this, but on the off chance that Scott is actually a ghost and not an impersonator, do you think Tilly could hold a séance and talk him into going back where he belongs?”

  “Sorry, Tilly doesn’t conduct séances. She once told me that calling ghosts is one of the worst things anyone can do. Even if every person in the circle has the purest of motives, when you open a channel to the other side, all sorts of malignant spirits can sneak in.”

  “What about when your mother and grandmother visit you?”

  “I don’t reach out to them. They always come to me. They would never take the chance of endangering me, so I have to assume they’ve learned how to prevent others from hopping on their coattails.”

  “More than I wanted to know. From now on, I think I’ll keep my questions to myself.”

  Chapter 32

  My heart was racing, my forehead beaded with sweat. I was trying to catch Froliquet before the police did. Something wet flicked across my nose. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into the green depths of Sashki’s eyes. He licked my nose again and I fell back against the pillow, relief making me giggle at my own silliness. I’d been dreaming of the other day when I thought the marmot had escaped. Sashki shook his head at me and went back to curl up on his pillow.

  I didn’t have that luxury. There was a bus tour due in at ten. Some of the shopkeepers had put up websites, so they wouldn’t be as dependent on foot traffic. I’d toyed with the idea myself, but the arcane charm and magick of Abracadabra were a huge part of its success. People loved the shop, they loved talking to me, they loved telling friends about their experiences. Travis had cautioned me that a website might increase business to a point where I spent all my time filling orders, instead of running my shop. When I polled Tilly and Elise they agreed. For now the ancient magick shop would remain brick and mortar, or whatever it was actually made of.

  Although I spent the day selling beauty and health aids and the occasional magick spell, my subconscious was still playing with the dream from which Sashki had awakened me. I was talking to a customer, explaining the difference between two night creams, when it nagged at me to pay attention.

  “Are you all right, miss?” the woman inquired. I realized I’d stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and was staring off into space.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, having a hard time focusing on her again. “I just remembered something I have to take care of later.” After I helped her decide which cream to try, I answered questions from three other people. By then a line had formed at the register, and I rushed over to tally up their purchases.

  “You really should think about hiring someone to help you,” the cream buyer whispered when I was ringing her up.

  “I appreciate the suggestion,” I said, “and I’ll give it some serious thought.” When Bronwen and Morgana were alive, there was never any reason to think about hiring help. And although I was often overwhelmed during the bus tours, I wasn’t busy enough the rest of the time to warrant paying an employee. In any case, even if I were that busy and even if had money to spare, I couldn’t have someone work in Abracadabra where they would see and hear far too much about my family’s talents. I’d probably have to put a muzzle on Merlin for starters—there was no way to tell what might come out of his mouth or what new crisis he would create with his misbegotten spells.

  Someday when I had a daughter and she was old enough, we would work side by side in the shop the way I had with my mother and grandmother. It was a lot more than wishful thinking. Without a daughter to carry the Wilde magickal DNA into the next generation, it would be forever lost.

  When the bus pulled out of New Camel, I made sure Sashkatu had ample water and I ran next door to tell my aunt I was driving over to the Glen during my lunch hour. Now that she and I were the only living members of our family, we were careful to keep each other apprised of our comings and goings. Merlin would be quick to point out that he should also be counted among our living family. But he belonged to the past and might one day go back to his rightful place in history.

  I parked in the lot at town hall and went straight to the office of the town clerk. The public files were computerized, so I sat down at one of three computer terminals and entered the name Scott Desmond. The record of his death was easy to access, but the system didn’t seem to have any record of his birth. Maybe it was my error, or whoever had input the data had missed that document. I wasn’t about to give up, not after driving all the way there. Considering the problems with computers, their reliance on electricity, and how vulnerable they were to hackers, the original paper records were probably stored away somewhere. I needed help, but lunch hour was the worst time to find it.

  I walked around the building, but it wa
s like a ghost town. Elizabeth Hathaway, the town clerk, was my last hope. Her office door was closed, but when I knocked, she said to come in. The office wasn’t spacious, but it was large enough to accommodate a standard desk, a couple of filing cabinets, two visitor chairs, a table holding a coffee maker, and shelving filled with books and personal knickknacks. Elizabeth was an attractive woman in her forties. When I walked in, she was eating what looked like a turkey sandwich. My stomach grumbled to remind me it was empty. I hoped she didn’t think I was coveting her food.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch,” I said with no intention of leaving.

  She put down the half sandwich she was holding and brushed the crumbs off her hands onto the tinfoil that held the other half. “Not a problem.” She paused to take a quick sip from the straw in a can of diet Pepsi. “I could have ignored your knocking if I didn’t want to be disturbed. Please have a seat and tell me what I can do for you.”

  “Thanks, but I just have a quick question. Why would a person’s birth certificate be missing from the computer records?”

  “They may have been born in a different municipality or it may have simply fallen through the cracks when the data was being input. Where human beings are involved, there’s always room for error. The only thing I can suggest is looking for the original certificate in the old filing cabinets stored in the basement.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Unfortunately it’s not that simple. We’re shorthanded today, and I’m working on a project I have to complete before I leave. Would it be possible for you to come back at another time?”

  “There’s no need to bother anyone else. I’ll be fine going down there myself.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure you would, but the public isn’t allowed in the basement. It’s a matter of safety and liability. The stairs are old and uneven, as is the floor. There’s a host of problems with old buildings like this. Plus the filing cabinets haven’t been anchored to the wall. The custodian has had too many other things to attend to. She picked up the half eaten part of her sandwich. “It would be a good idea to call in advance next time to make sure we can accommodate you. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, “another time.” Another time, I thought— preferably after hours.

  * * * *

  I waited until I’d fed the cats. I had no appetite for my own dinner. More to the point, I’d never teleported on a full stomach and this wasn’t the time to experiment. I’d visited the building afterhours once before and I’d had trouble navigating in the darkness. I needed a flashlight. I kept a small one in the kitchen and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans.

  I closed my eyes, drew deep calming breaths, and pictured the public computer area inside town hall.

  From here and now to there and then

  Attract not change, nor harm allow.

  Safe passage guarantee to souls

  As well as lesser, mindless things.

  I knew I’d reached my destination before I opened my eyes. Town hall had a particular odor I associated with old wooden buildings. It was the mustiness of time, layers of time piled one upon the other that the most thorough cleaning could not eliminate.

  When I did look around, I was exactly where I intended to go. In the spirit of better safe than sorry, I recited another spell I designed to shut down any motion detectors or cameras on the premises.

  Disarm alarms, detectors off,

  Disable now the circuitry.

  Cameras down, transmissions end,

  Scrub memory and never send.

  Time to find the stairs. Given that the basement was off limits to the public, access to it was most likely behind a door. I’d never noticed before how many doors there were in town hall, apart from the main offices. I counted four supply closets, and a couple of small bathrooms, before locating a door that was locked. This had to be the one. A simple spell from my childhood opened it.

  The stairs were immediately in front of me. If someone opened the door with less caution, they could easily tumble straight down them. I pulled the door closed behind me, so I could turn on the basement lights without anyone outside noticing. The clerk was right. The steps were uneven, some more shallow than others, and the risers weren’t a uniform height. I held onto the banister, but even that wasn’t all that well secured to the wall. No wonder they didn’t want the public to go downstairs. It was a series of accidents and lawsuits waiting to happen.

  The basement itself was a slapdash affair with an old linoleum floor and peeling green paint on the walls. The filing cabinets shared the space with stacks of extra chairs, some folding tables, and a metal shelving unit crammed with items no longer needed, but too good to throw out—it was like a retirement home for things past their prime, but not yet dead.

  I went through the Ds for Desmond, making sure none of the certificates were stuck together. Again I came up empty. I went through the C and E files in case the certificate had been mistakenly placed there. Scott must have been born somewhere else. The one person who could provide that answer was his mother.

  Chapter 33

  Lillian Desmond was surprised to find me at her door the next afternoon. I didn’t call ahead to ask if I could visit. She asked me to forgive the current state of her house. “It’s always a battle between the dust and my arthritis,” she said, flexing the swollen joints of her fingers. “The dust has been winning lately.”

  “No worries. You haven’t seen dust until you have six cats.”

  Lillian laughed. “You always know the right thing to say, my dear. Can I make you tea? I’m afraid I don’t have anything sweet to go with it.”

  “No thank you. I can’t stay long. I was nearby and just wanted to see how you were doing.” It wasn’t a lie even if it wasn’t the primary reason for my visit. I had promised myself I’d check on her from time to time. If my aunt Tilly lived alone, I would hope someone would look in on her too.

  We settled at the kitchen table, where women always seem the most comfortable. “You’re a lovely girl to think of me, but I take good care of myself, if you overlook the extra pounds and pesky blood pressure,” she added with a wink. In spite of her words, she didn’t look well to me. Her hair lay dull and lank against her head, in need of shampooing and her eyes were sunken into dark hollows. On my last visit, she looked a whole lot better. Of course she’d known Elise and I were coming then and had had the time to whip herself into shape.

  Lillian must have felt my appraisal, because she put her hand up to her head. “I have to get to the beauty parlor. With one thing and another I forgot about my last appointment. I’ve put off calling to reschedule, because I know I’ll get a lecture from Beverly about not cancelling in advance. I ask you, how am I supposed to cancel ahead of time, if I’ve forgotten about the appointment?” She sighed. “If there was another salon nearby that was half as good, I’d switch in a heartbeat.”

  “I hear that from a lot of people, including my aunt,” I said, wondering how I was going to turn the conversation in the right direction without arousing her suspicions. Regardless of the fact that I’d known her all my life, she was still one of our suspects in Genna’s death and Tony’s near misses. Grief changed people and not always for the better.

  “A long time ago,” Lillian said, “when you were a little kid, there was another place in that little strip mall just outside of town. It was owned by a lovely young couple, but Beverly and her friends bad-mouthed them out of existence.”

  By talking about the past, she had inadvertently given me an opening. “You know, the other day I was thinking back and I couldn’t remember how old I was when you moved to New Camel.”

  Her eyebrows knit together. “That’s a good question. You and Scott had to be…let’s see…about three years old.”

  “Where did you live before that?”

  “Marlboro, New Jersey.
” Her mouth curved up in a smile. “That’s where I grew up. My husband and I were high school sweethearts. You remember Vincent, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I used to wish he was my father. So that’s where Scott was born.”

  “It was a nice place to raise children,” she said, without confirming my statement.

  “Why did you move to New Camel if you were happy there?”

  Her smile faded and she sat up straighter in her chair as if someone had called her to attention. “Vincent got a better job offer. Circumstances change, you never know where life will take you. I’m sure you didn’t expect to be running Abracadabra on your own so soon.”

  “You’re right about that.” I was trying to come up with a way to keep the conversation going when Lillian drew herself to her feet, holding onto the table for support.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Kailyn, I’m not feeling very well. I think I should lie down for a bit.”

  I stood too. “Not at all. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

  “Thanks, but with a little rest I should be fine. Please give your aunt my best regards.”

  * * * *

  I sat across from Tilly at one of the little tables in her shop, sipping a mug of her restorative tea. Merlin was in his usual spot, monitoring the oven from his seat just outside the kitchen. Tilly could have hired him out as a human timer. Nothing burned on his watch.