Magickal Mystery Lore

by Sharon Pape

  I counted half a dozen federal SWAT agents on our way to the door. When we passed the cafeteria, I caught sight of Detective Duggan talking to another agent in street clothes. The detective was wearing a sour expression, clearly unhappy to be relinquishing control to the FBI in what he must think of as his territory. I couldn’t work up any sympathy for him.

  “When we get there do you think we can order pizza or something?” Tilly asked in a stage whisper.

  “I’m famished too,” Merlin chimed in. “None of our captors thought to offer us dinner!” As a friend of King Arthur’s court, he’d apparently never been taken hostage or mistreated in any way. I suspected his view of the Middle Ages was quite different from that of the average peasant.

  Reilly looked over his shoulder at the wizard and cracked a grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Outside Eagle Enterprises there were armored vehicles, unmarked sedans, police cars and a couple of ambulances parked every which way. Reilly led us to a sedan that was halfway into the tree line. I had no idea how he intended to get past all the other vehicles without playing Bumper Cars, but he did a masterful job of it. He asked Tilly to ride upfront with him, even though Merlin had called shotgun. It simply made more sense, given her age and girth. The wizard wisely chose not to complain, but he made no attempt to hide his disgruntled expression as he squeezed into the back seat with Travis and me.

  I asked Reilly when Tilly and I could come back for our cars. He made a quick call to the ranking agent at Eagle Enterprises. “They’ll be dropped off tomorrow—just give me the license numbers and your addresses when we reach the field office.”

  “I have my car here in Ithaca,” Travis said. “I’ll drive you all home.” Everything was settled in five minutes, flat. I sat back and tried to relax. Merlin was better at it. He was slumped in his seat, snoring, before Reilly said goodbye.

  The trip to Ithaca normally took forty minutes. But in the wee hours of the morning, going FBI-sanctioned speed, we arrived in half an hour. To Tilly’s dismay, there were no pizzerias or anything else open at that hour in the college town. Although I’d expected as much, it was easier to let her discover it on her own than argue about it all the way there. Reilly told us there was a diner that opened at five and delivered.

  The field office was equipped with a Keurig machine. Reilly invited us to help ourselves. Travis opted for coffee, Tilly and I wanted tea, and Merlin was all over the hot chocolate. He’d never seen such a machine before, so he was tickled to make all of our drinks. He looked crestfallen when the agent didn’t want anything. Not to be denied, he finished his cocoa and made himself another. Reilly found an open box of powdered sugar donuts from a local grocery store. Although they weren’t as fresh as they once were, they were still edible. Hunger made up for their deficiencies.

  Reilly asked us to recount everything from our time in Eagle Enterprises. Tilly began, because Merlin was busy stuffing donuts in his mouth and coughing from the powdered sugar.

  “Merlin and I had been riding around trying to find the cause of our magick problems, when we saw the dirt road and decided to find out where it leads.”

  Reilly’s brows bunched together. “Magick? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  Think fast, Kailyn! “That’s what my aunt calls her psychic ability.” It was the best I could do on the spot. ESP had come into the mainstream enough that Reilly wasn’t likely to refer her for psychiatric evaluation. “You may have heard of her,” I added to lend more gravitas to my words. “She’s been on several talk shows over the years. She was on the track to celebrity status when she decided to stop the train. She didn’t want to give up her quiet life in New Camel.” Tilly sat up straighter, apparently pleased with my appraisal.

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow that sort of thing,” he said, without any judgment in his tone. He turned his focus back to Tilly. “Why did you think Eagle Enterprises might be compromising your… your talent?”

  “It involves ley lines and magnets,” Merlin supplied between coughs.

  This time Travis jumped in. “Thanks, Merlin, but I don’t think we have time for that right now.”

  “We do need to move things along or we’ll never get you out of here.”

  Tilly told him about their capture up to the point when I arrived. I finished the narrative, leaving out the parts about ants and teleporting. Since the diner would be opening in a few minutes, Travis took us out for breakfast. Despite all the donuts he’d eaten, Merlin put away pancakes, eggs, bacon and potatoes.

  After Travis dropped Tilly and Merlin at their place, he drove to my house. He put the car in park and turned to me. “We did it. We took down Eagle Enterprises.”

  “I know that’s a good thing, even if it was accidental, but we still don’t know who killed Ava.”

  “We will.” He ran his index finger along the side of my cheek. “More importantly, you’re all right.” A yawn snuck up on me. Travis laughed. “You need sleep—lots of sleep and you’ll be good as ever.”

  “Wait, if you need a place to crash…”

  “I’m good—three cups of coffee and leftover adrenaline. Besides, I have things to take care of. We’ll talk later.” I let myself into the house and found Sashkatu atop the couch as if he’d been too worried about me to stay in bed. I figured I had a couple of hours before the other cats would be demanding breakfast. I didn’t have the strength to climb the stairs, so I curled up on the couch, and Sashki left his high ground to snuggle with me.

  * * * *

  Travis was at my door in the late afternoon. I was surprised he’d driven all the way back from the Glen instead of calling. “Did you get any sleep?” I asked, closing the door behind him.

  “Some, but I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee.”

  “How about tea—one of Tilly’s special blends?”

  “Sure.” He followed me into the kitchen and sat at the table while I put the water up to boil.

  “I thought you were going to call,” I said, mystified about why he would choose to make the trip back instead.

  “Certain things need to be said in person.” I turned away from the stove and found him standing behind me. He took my hand. “Like an apology. I want to apologize for acting like a fool with Whitney. I guess I was flattered that she still had feelings for me. And I felt guilty about the way I’d treated her back in school. I don’t know how I thought I could make it up to her. But the other night, when I didn’t know if I’d find you alive or… well it put things into perspective. This morning I told Whitney I wouldn’t be seeing her or speaking to her again.” He took a deep breath. “I hope you can forgive me for being an idiot.”

  “Since you admit to being a fool and an idiot, I’d say we have some common ground to build on.” Travis’s mouth turned up in one of his charming, lopsided smiles. “I do have certain terms you have to agree to,” I continued. “When you’re with me, you’re only with me. And by my rules, two strikes and you’re out—forever.” He folded me into his arms and whispered agreed in my ear as the kettle whistled.

  Chapter 42

  The news about Eagle Enterprise’s deal with the Russians hit the media big time. The story was everywhere—the internet, TV, radio, and newspapers. Hudson Monroe, the CEO, and several of the board members were arrested and the company shut down pending a thorough investigation.

  After the federal government reneged on its contract with Eagle Enterprises and pulled its funding, the board had one option—declare bankruptcy. Monroe was irate; he wanted revenge. The Russians showed up at the perfect time, flush with cash and ready to bargain. The most serious charge against Monroe and his cohorts was treason. And it carried the death penalty.

  Travis called two days after Eagle Enterprises blew up, figuratively speaking. He sounded altogether too chipper. I was still down about not being any closer to finding Ava’s killer. “If you’re handing out jolly pills,
I could use a few,” I said.

  “You mean you don’t have a handy spell to tickle you pink?”

  “I did try one on myself when I was teenager, but when it wore off I was more depressed than ever.”

  “What if I share some good news? Would that help?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “I just got off the phone with Ed. Agents have been scouring the Dark Web for any additional evidence on the deal between Eagle Enterprises and the Russians. They turned up something that may help us nail Ava’s killer.”

  “Travis—didn’t anyone ever teach you not to bury the lede? What did they find?

  “An add soliciting wet work.”

  “Wet work? You mean like laundry?” Either I was being obtuse or he was talking in code.

  He chuckled. “No, I mean like murder.”

  There appeared to be a whole lexicon I knew nothing about. Growing up in tiny New Camel, I’d been living in a cushy bubble much like Sashkatu on his tufted window ledge. “Okay—now you’ve got my attention.”

  “Most people use an alias on the Dark Web. An agent came across a user there who contacted Eagle Enterprises on multiple occasions and later used the same alias to solicit murder. Big mistake. Now Ed wouldn’t confirm or deny my theory, but I believe the alias belongs to one of the Russians looking to hire a killer for someone at Eagle Enterprises who stumbled onto the deal and could have exposed it to authorities.”

  “The wire transfer Ava found.” A chill flashed along my spine. “She might have signed her own death warrant by going to her boss with it. Angie was lucky to get out of Eagle Enterprises before they decided she also posed a threat.”

  “Or so it appears. But what if Angie saw the ad for murder and decided it could solve her financial problems? To cover her tracks, she left the company and went back home to live with her parents a month before she killed Ava. I’m sure her parents would swear to any alibi she came up with.”

  “This is going to sound naive, but I can’t imagine Angie killing her friend for money.”

  “For a large sum of money she needs for her kids,” Travis said, putting a finer point on it. “You’d be shocked to know how many seemingly normal people out there are sociopaths with no conscience at all.”

  “You still haven’t told me what aliases the agent found.”

  “Sorry,” Travis said, “I got ahead of myself. The person who placed the ad went by Ursa Major, which is why they think he’s Russian. The one who answered his ad used Orion.”

  “The Hunter.” I’d expected a killer’s name to be along the lines of Avenger or Grim Reaper, names that resonated with darkness and death. Even if I hopped aboard Travis’s theory, I still didn’t know how to figure out who applied for the job of killing Ava. “Now what? We can’t ask our suspects if they ever cruised the Dark Web as Orion and expect them to tell the truth.”

  “No, but I have an idea.”

  * * * *

  It was nearly show time. A lot of work had gone into planning the event. I’d reserved a meeting room in the Sherwood Hotel near Henrietta, NY, approximately halfway between Watkins Glen and Buffalo. It was important to make the venue equally accessible to all five of our suspects. At the last minute, I’d unilaterally taken Lolly off the list. Yes, she had a motive and an opportunity to kill Ava. And yes, she was probably pleased the woman was dead. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe Lolly was capable of murder. If I was wrong, I didn’t have much hope for the rest of humanity. Travis thought I was making a mistake, but he didn’t try to change my mind.

  The five suspects received the same letter informing them they were finalists in a contest held by Granite Financial to promote the opening of their first office in the state of New York. The winner would be selected by a random drawing in the meeting room of the hotel—the prize a cool half million. Travis and I had debated the amount. It had to be large enough to ensure that all the suspects attended. But it couldn’t be so large that they shrugged it off as a joke or a scam. In an age when national lottery prizes approached a billion dollars, a half million felt about right for this small a group.

  Travis and I arrived at the hotel that morning to make sure everything was in place for the event. The invitation called for three o’clock. At two, we secreted ourselves in the small anteroom off the meeting room. It was used to store extra tables and chairs, but there was plenty of space for the two of us and the monitors on which we’d be watching the drama unfold. It didn’t take long for Travis to set up the video cameras around the meeting room. The images and sound would feed directly to our monitors. Without it we’d essentially be blind and deaf.

  The door already had the requisite lock to prevent any of the suspects from wandering in and finding us. Since some of the suspects knew each other, there had to be enough other people there to prevent the killer from becoming spooked. We decided on fifty additional guests. It was imperative they be strangers to the suspects. We contacted acting troupes, veterans’ groups, Moose and Elk lodgers, firefighters and EMTs from towns and cities in the Henrietta area. We told them the truth—we were conducting a sting to flush out a killer. Although the odds of anyone being hurt were tiny, in life there were no guarantees. I didn’t mention that I intended to cast a spell of protection over the room and everyone in it, because that might scare some people more than reassure them. We were surprised by how many people wanted to take part. When I asked one of the actors why he volunteered for the non-paying gig, his answer saddened me.

  “Safety is a figment of the imagination in our world. People are mowed down in public places on a daily basis. They’re killed in their homes by drive-by shootings. Kids are shot by assault weapons in their classrooms. I’ll be safer in the controlled environment you’re creating than in most other places.”

  Travis enlisted the help of the cameraman he’d partnered with for the last five years to make the whole thing look genuine to the suspects. He added two brawny security guards, who owed him favors, to nab the killer when he or she fled. And last, but in no way least, Travis’s director of news loaned us one of the studio’s metal detectors in exchange for an exclusive on the killer.

  Our emcee was Elise’s beau, Jerry the dentist. He said yes before I finished asking the question. He confessed to having dreamed of a career in acting, until reality came knocking with fistfuls of unpaid bills. Dentistry had the allure of solvency albeit after his student loans were paid off.

  As the clock ticked down to the hour, Travis and I toasted our enterprise with lemonade and waited for the first guests to arrive. By three o’clock, all the suspects were there along with most of the additional guests. We made the decision to start on time even if a few of our extras were late.

  Jerry stepped up on the podium and waited for the crowd to quiet down. Next to him was a glass fishbowl filled with the names of everyone assembled. He started off with a few dentist jokes that elicited some laughs and maybe served to relax folks. They didn’t relax me, but then I was wound tighter than an old-fashioned watch spring. From there he worked his way through a reiteration of who was holding the contest and why, not that anyone seemed interested. Cell phones were pulled out of pockets and purses. Before getting down to picking the winner, Jerry had one more story to tell and it was one Travis and I had written for him.

  “I know you’re all anxious to find out who will be walking out of here with a check for a half million dollars, but I have one more little story to impart.” A soft grumble rippled through the audience. The extras were either doing an admirable job of acting or they too were disgruntled by the delay. Jerry held up his hand and once again waited for silence.

  “This story has its origins in ancient Greece, where the poet Aratas first named the groups of stars in the night sky. Two of these constellations are particularly important today—Ursa Major and Orion.” I stared at the TV, trying to focus on all five of the suspects scattered around the ro
om, waiting for one of them to make a move toward the door. Without thinking, I reached for Travis’s hand. He closed his fingers around it.

  Dani looked over her shoulder as if to check how far she was from the door. Liam was busy with his phone. Brock shook his head. Angie was still as a statue. Had the killer slipped beneath our radar? Was it Lolly after all? Jerry stared straight into one of the cameras and shrugged for our benefit, clearly as baffled as we were.

  I turned to Travis. “Why isn’t one of them bolting?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. At this point, the killer has to realize this is a setup, a trap. And they’ve also figured out that no one knows who killed Ava or there’d be no need for this elaborate ruse. They’ve chosen to bide their time. Running at the first mention of their alias might be the worst mistake they could make.”

  For that matter, the killer could walk out of there with everyone else and we wouldn’t be any closer to knowing their identity. Why hadn’t we foreseen this possibility? Had we been so caught up in taking care of every little detail that this huge glaring error had gone unnoticed until now? I was holding out hope that the killer wouldn’t be able to take the pressure of hanging around for much longer.

  “Stop stalling,” Brock called out. Other voices joined his. Instead of risking an uprising, Jerry continued with the story. “Orion means the hunter. Ursa Major means greater she-bear. In this story, the bear tries to hire the hunter to kill someone for him.”

  Dani was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Liam popped his phone into his shirt pocket. Brock shook his head again and checked his watch. Angie dialed her phone as she turned and headed in the direction of the door. She didn’t run, but she walked with purpose as if she had somewhere to be and was running late. Was this what we’d been waiting for?

  She stopped once she was past the crowd and covered her other ear as if she was having trouble hearing the person she’d called. I was so focused on her that my heart leaped into my throat when the room erupted in screaming and shouting.