by Sharon Pape
Sashkatu found me in the kitchen drinking the last of my coffee. He frowned at me with eyebrows cats technically don’t have. The muscles of his face had always been more expressive than any cat I’d ever known. When I didn’t instantly react, he began trilling at me. If he’d said, Get on with it, human! he wouldn’t have been any clearer. I checked my watch. It was nearly nine-thirty. I grabbed my purse and we were out the door.
We crossed the street to the back door of Abracadabra. I turned off the alarm and Sashkatu headed straight for the window ledge with its memory foam pillow to ease his aging joints. I turned the closed sign to open and unlocked the front door. It was rare for me to find a customer waiting. But of course, that morning there were two.
I apologized for being late. Beverly Ruppert marched in first, greeting me with a cool hello. “I wouldn’t have waited, but I’m completely out of the under eye smoother.” I knew she was angling to be compensated for her time. She pumped all the merchants in New Camel for discounts and freebies for one reason or another. Of course, when the situation was reversed and she kept you waiting at her salon, she was quick to point out that stylists ran late at every salon—it was to be expected, the same as in a doctor’s office. Arguing with her was pointless, so most of us ignored her broad hints and hoped she’d stop patronizing our businesses.
I didn’t recognize the second customer. She had about five years on me. Although she was pretty, she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but there was something about her—the word that popped into my mind was polished. Her blonde hair was short, cut to the line of her jaw. Her makeup was subtle, highlighting her blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her beige suit had simple lines, but fit her as if it had been custom-made. She wore graceful heels, but not stilettos. Small gold crescents hugged her earlobes and a flat, gold chain rested just above her clavicle. There was a gold band on the third finger of her right hand. She was either married or wanted to give that impression. The only off note was the Apple watch. It looked too big and clumsy on her wrist. I wondered if she’d had trouble deciding whether to wear it with her otherwise perfect outfit. Maybe she believed that allowances should be made for the convenience of technology. All of this went through my mind in the few seconds after Beverly moved off and the newcomer approached me.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said.
“No problem. It’s a beautiful spring morning and I spend entirely too much time indoors.” Her voice was smooth, no rough edges. I wanted to ask what she did for a living, but I wouldn’t. No one likes a nosey merchant.
“Is there something in particular you’re looking for or would you prefer to browse?” I asked.
“I’ve had a number of people tell me that I could not leave this town without visiting your shop. If only twenty percent of what they claimed is true, I’ll be a customer for life.”
“Oh good, no pressure.”
She laughed. “I have a meeting to make at ten, so would you put together a few of your best sellers for me?”
“I’d like to oblige, but it’s really not possible without knowing more about you, what you like and don’t like, what will work best for you at this point in your life.”
“I’ve given you license to sell me the most expensive items you have, and you won’t accommodate me?” She seemed both taken aback and curious.
“I have a reputation to protect. This shop has been in my family for many years. Maybe you could come back when you have a little more time?”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll cancel my lunch meeting and come here instead. Will that work?”
“I didn’t mean for you to inconvenience yourself.”
“I’m afraid you can’t have it both ways,” she said amiably. “Either I take your advice and come back later, or you put a few things together on the fly for me now.”
“I’ll be happy to help you during your lunch hour,” I said, forced into choosing on the spot. I was willing to bet she never hesitated to make decisions.
“Terrific. I’ll be here at one o’clock.”
After she left, Beverly came up to the counter with her basket. “Some people! Who does she think she is, giving you an ultimatum like that?” Her hoarse whisper was loud enough for Tilly to hear next door. “I would have thrown her out of my salon if she tried that with me.” I didn’t say anything. “Any chance of a discount for wasting my time this morning?” she asked sweetly.
“I’m sorry. No discounts on Thursdays after the first Wednesday of a month without an R in it.” I smiled and handed her the tote with her purchases. Judging by her expression, she left the shop still trying to make sense of what I’d said.
The rest of the morning was slow. Spring could be that way. Folks were busy airing out their houses, cleaning winter’s debris from their gardens and planting fresh annuals and vegetables. Buses brought the occasional group of tourists on the weekends. Day trippers seemed to be waiting for the warmer temperatures when they didn’t have to bother with jackets and walking from one shop to the next was a pleasant saunter instead of a race to get out of the nippy wind. Winter wasn’t quick to let go of Schuyler County. It hung around in the early morning and crept back in after sundown.
Polished Lady, who turned out to be Whitney Reynolds, returned at one o’clock sharp. During the hour we were together, she told me she was an interior designer in town to oversee work on the new Waverly Hotel. She was easy to be around, with a quick wit. For all her attention to style, she didn’t take herself too seriously. By the time she was finished shopping, she’d spent over three hundred dollars. The sum was even more impressive when you took into account that I keep my prices low. We Wildes believe that everyone should have access to the best health and beauty aids magick can supply.
A number of locals came in during the afternoon for refills of products or simple spells. On days when I wasn’t busy, it was nice to chat with people I’d known most of my life. After so many years, many were like extended family. I especially loved to hear stories involving my mother and grandmother.
In the time that remained before closing, I made up more of our allergy elixirs. Most of them contained Quercetin, which reduces inflammation and is a natural antihistamine. Combined with vitamin C, Sabalia and other botanicals, it worked fairly well. With the addition of a magick spell, it brought raves.
At four fifty-five, Sashkatu roused himself and came down from the window ledge via the custom steps Morgana had designed for him when age and arthritis first started taking their toll. He’d always seemed to have an inner clock that told him when it was time to eat. As a child, I believed he must have eaten a clock, like the crocodile did in Peter Pan. I would put my ear to his belly to listen for the ticking. Even though I never heard it, neither my mother nor grandmother were able to disabuse me of that belief. I gave it up on my own at the age of seven, when I realized the kind of clock I had in mind couldn’t possibly fit down his throat.
Sashki stretched his velvety black body until he seemed to double in length, then gathered himself to sit and wait for me to do the many pointless things humans do. I was about to set the security system, when the shop phone rang. I stopped to answer it. Sashkatu wasn’t pleased. If he’d been able to roll his eyes, I’m sure he would have.
Travis answered my hello with, “I have the dates for Ava’s wake and funeral.” He had a habit of ignoring the social niceties when he had news to impart. And I had a habit of teasing him about it.
“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”
He refused to be detoured. “The wake is tonight and tomorrow. The funeral is Saturday morning.”
We knew Ava grew up in Williamsville, a suburb twenty minutes outside Buffalo, and that her parents still lived there, so it wasn’t a surprise that she’d be waked and buried there, but a girl can hope. “Buffalo is two and a half hours away,” I said, trying not to groan and nearly succeeding.
“Exactly—road trip!”
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br /> Chapter 7
Travis was happy about the trip to Williamsville. For him it was a change in routine and a chance to learn more about the latest murder victim. For me the trip came with complications. It meant having to burden my aunt with six more cats. She’d have to go to my house twice a day to feed them and clean their litter boxes. She lived close by and never complained about the added responsibility, but she was getting older, and I worried about all she already had on her plate. She was the only living family I had left.
“Of course,” she said without hesitation when I called to ask her. “Who knows what you might discover that could lead you to Ava’s killer.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much for you?”
“For goodness’ sake, dear girl, it’s just for one night. We all have to do what we can to keep Lolly out of prison.”
“Fear not, I am here to help your aunt,” Merlin piped up in the background—that alone had the power to make me stay home.
“Ignore him,” Tilly said firmly. “Everything will be just fine here. You’ll feed the cats breakfast before you leave, and I’ll see to their dinner and breakfast the next morning. I’m glad that’s settled. Good night.” She clicked off. I sat there looking at the phone in my hand, feeling like I’d been bamboozled. I had to laugh. With my mother and grandmother largely out of the picture, Silly Tilly had come into her own.
I packed my overnight bag, but left my demure, little black dress on its hanger so it wouldn’t wrinkle—a distinct perk of driving over flying. We’d be attending the wake, but not the funeral. At wakes one could talk to other attendees and eavesdrop on conversations that might yield useful information. Funerals were a lot more structured and formal. Plus I barely knew Ava and I didn’t feel right invading her family’s privacy during such a solemn and difficult ritual.
Sashkatu watched me from the bed, his green eyes narrowing. He understood the signs of an impending upheaval in his life. When I tried to stroke his back, he hissed and slinked away to nurse his pique. I knew it was an act just to make me feel bad, but it worked anyway. I had to remind myself that my aunt would coddle him and give him far too many goodies, because she was accustomed to the portions she gave her big Maine Coon. Sashki didn’t come to bed until after one in the morning and when he did, he made a point of smacking my face with his tail a few times to wake me.
Travis had to work in the morning, so he picked me up at noon and we headed northwest.
We had a reservation for the night at a hotel chain in Williamsville. The wake was scheduled from two o’clock to four o’clock in the afternoon and seven to nine in the evening. Since it was a workday, we would wait until evening, when the most people were likely to be there.
We ate an early dinner near the hotel and arrived at the funeral home at seven-thirty. If we arrived too early we would stand out as strangers. Our best bet was to blend into a crowd of people. The parking lot of the funeral home was almost full when we drove in. Travis snagged one of the last two spots. As we walked to the entrance, it seemed like everyone around us was stopping to greet friends and family. The greetings were subdued and sober, the hugs maybe a little tighter and longer than on days when death hadn’t come into their lives.
Travis took my hand and drew me closer to his side. He was probably thinking about his brother, as I was thinking about Morgana and Bronwen. I squeezed his hand and he came up with a lopsided smile for me. Ushers from the funeral home opened the doors for us. In the lobby, we checked the sign with the chapel number for the Duncan wake. It was the only one listed, which meant that everyone there had come to pay their respects to Ava and her family. When someone died young, it seemed to pierce the heart of even the most jaded souls.
The line to enter the chapel made a double loop around the central hallway. “Let’s wait until there’s no line,” I whispered. “We can make better use of our time if we circulate and keep our ears open.”
Travis nodded. “You take this front section and I’ll hit the back half. I watched him weave slowly around the knots of people who weren’t in line, looking for a likely conversation to listen in on. I was about to begin my own gossip odyssey when a woman on my right said the magic word—Ava. I stayed where I was, facing the entrance and checked my watch as if I was waiting for someone.
The woman who’d caught my attention reminded me of a younger, more petite version of Beverly, from the way she looked, right down to her lack of discretion. Her voice rose above the many muted conversations as if what she had to say was too important to be hushed.
“Well that’s what I heard,” she snapped as if someone in the group had challenged her words. I was sorry I’d missed them.
The older woman next to her clucked her tongue. “Same old, same old.” I couldn’t tell if her comment was a rebuke to mini-Beverly, a remark about Ava or a general comment about the state of things in the twenty-first century.
“I still don’t think she deserved to be killed,” the one man in the group said in a low sandpapery voice.
“Ha,” mini-Beverly said, more like a bark than a laugh. “I’m not surprised to hear that from a man.” The other women looked uncomfortable. The ones in my peripheral vision studied their shoes or manicures, but no one responded to the remark. The man walked off shaking his head, perhaps too wise to start an argument given the venue. Someone quickly changed the subject to poor Val and Teddy, Ava’s parents.
What I’d heard from mini-Beverly and friends would be easy to interpret as a condemnation of Ava’s errant ways with men, but it could easily have applied to other aspects of her life. It would be foolish to jump to conclusions when I didn’t hear the beginning of the conversation and I didn’t know anything about the people speaking or what they had to win or lose. I moved on, trolling for other remarks that were likely to be about Ava. The few snippets I picked up were decidedly kinder than what I’d heard from the first group. So young, so much potential… never said a harsh word about anyone…. my kids loved to have her babysit back in the day…
By the time the line to pay our respects had dissipated, the crowd in the hallway was also thinning out. I caught up with Travis at the entrance to the chapel. “Any luck?” I murmured.
“Not much. You?”
“A little. We’d better go in or they’ll be getting ready to leave.” There were only two people ahead of us in the chapel. Val and Teddy Duncan were standing off to the side of the coffin. The young man who was on Val’s other side had to be their son, Liam. He was taller than his parents and bore a striking resemblance to Ava. There was a woman sitting in the first pew. What drew my attention was her long red hair. Even in the subdued lighting of the chapel, the color was dazzling. Travis and I waited at the top of the aisle to let the other couple have their private moment with the family. After they moved away, we approached the Duncans. They looked dazed, shell-shocked like soldiers in war. Val frowned, trying to place us. Teddy stared into the distance as if he was past caring who anyone was.
I introduced myself and Travis. We expressed our condolences.
“May I ask how you knew my daughter?” Val asked.
“Ava was a customer of mine in Watkins Glen.” I didn’t mention that Travis was a reporter. We didn’t want them to think he was there to make a circus of their loss. They’d probably had to deal with enough intrusions by the media, with more on the way. Murder sells.
Val reached for my hand. “Thank you for coming all this way.” She turned to her husband, still holding on to me. “Teddy, this woman came here from Watkins Glen, because our Ava shopped in her store. Can you imagine?”
Teddy nodded, and made an effort to focus on us. “Thank you.” His voice was flat, without inflection, like robots in old sci-fi movies.
Val put her hand on Liam’s shoulder and introduced him.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking both our hands. “It’s a comfort to see how many people have gone ou
t of their way to honor my sister.” His voice broke on the last words. More people were coming down the aisle to convey their sympathies, so Travis and I reiterated ours and stepped away. We were walking back up to the door when I noticed Lolly’s son-in-law Elliot. He was sitting in one of the last rows, staring in the direction of Ava’s casket. At least he didn’t break Dani’s heart over a meaningless fling. Not that she would find comfort in knowing it.
We drove the short distance back to the hotel in silence, lost in our own thoughts. Regardless of how I felt about Ava, her family’s grief had affected me. It was hard to turn off those feelings and dive right into analyzing the remarks I’d heard. Travis must have felt the same way. It wasn’t until we were back at the hotel that he finally spoke. “I’ve been to my share of wakes, but that was rough.” He dropped his car keys, phone, and wallet onto the dresser.
“I feel like we snuck in there to go through their dirty laundry. I keep telling myself they’d want to know who was responsible for their daughter’s death, they’d want to see that justice is done.”
Travis pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it over the desk chair, adding his tie a moment later. “I think you’re right on both counts. But to do that, we’re going to have to talk to them for background on Ava at the very least.” He was right of course, but it always felt wrong to question people in mourning. Travis understood my reservations. As a reporter, he’d learned to make peace with his conscience in order to do his job. I still struggled with mine. “If we don’t talk to them,” he said, “it will be like investigating this case with our hands tied behind our backs. I can assure you that Duggan doesn’t have any reservations about talking to them. In fact, I’m sure he already has.”