Magickal Mystery Lore Page 4

  “Men,” Tilly said, wagging her head. I wasn’t sure what she meant by the comment. Although Morgana and Bronwen had been abandoned by their husbands, Tilly had enjoyed a happy marriage. Maybe she was just trying to be supportive.

  “That was the end of it?” I asked, breaking off a piece of my carrot muffin and tucking it in my mouth.

  “Everything was quiet for a while. Elliot didn’t have to ‘stay late at the office’ anymore. He spent more quality time with her and the kids. I thought, okay, I could breathe easy again. But about a month ago, I was driving past the Winterland hotel. A car was coming out of the parking lot, so I slowed down to let it pull in front of me. There was a woman at the wheel. A mile or so down the road, she moved into the turn lane and I pulled up beside her. That’s when I saw Elliot in the passenger seat. I wasn’t even surprised; but I was crazy angry, so angry I was shaking. Not only had he betrayed Dani’s trust again, but now I had to be the one to tell my daughter. I had to be the one who would tear her world apart.” Lolly choked back a sob. “If I was ever going to kill someone—that would have been the moment.”

  Tilly scooted her chair closer to her friend and put her arm around her shoulders as best she could. “That wasn’t the end of it,” Lolly said. She paused to sip her tea, the scone forgotten on her plate. I couldn’t imagine what she meant. “Danielle filed for divorce. Elliot pleaded and begged her to take him back, but she’d had enough. With all that going on, Ava walked into my shop one day. You could have knocked me over with a feather.”

  Tilly and I were slack-jawed. I recovered first. “What on earth did she want?”

  “She came to buy chocolate.”

  “No,” Tilly said, stretching out the word in disbelief.

  “And she didn’t understand why I refused to serve her. She said, ‘I’m here to conduct business. Any smart business owner knows better than to let personal issues affect commerce.’ She left in a huff, as if she were the injured party.”

  I could see that Lolly was drained from reliving the emotional story, but I had one last question before we left. I asked if she had any objection to me sharing the information with Travis. She managed a weak smile. “Not at all. In fact, I’m grateful you’re doing this for me. You two make an amazing team.”

  “I understand why you lied to Duggan,” I said when she was walking us to the door.

  Tilly put her hand to her heart. “Can you imagine if you’d told him the truth? We’d be visiting you in a jail cell. Now don’t you worry,” she added, giving Lolly a proper, muumuu-enveloping hug. “They’ll find the killer before you know it.”

  On the drive home, Tilly and I were both quiet, lost in our own thoughts. “If I’d been aware of the havoc Ava was wreaking, I might have been tempted to try a little black magick,” I admitted, swinging into my aunt’s driveway.

  “That’s not a subject to be taken lightly,” Tilly said, as solemn as I’d ever seen her. “There’s already enough darkness in our little corner of the world.”

  Chapter 5

  I started visiting my fellow shopkeepers during what I laughingly referred to as my lunch hour, because lunch was rarely consumed. I tried to keep it at the same time every day so that I wouldn’t miss customers who counted on finding me open during my standard hours. On tour bus days, I generally worked right through lunch. The folks who came on the buses didn’t live locally and wouldn’t be back anytime soon. I couldn’t afford to lose their business. For that matter, the other shopkeepers would be attending to business as well.

  On the plus side, using lunchtime to carry on my investigation meant I didn’t have to open Abracadabra late or get home late—a boon for my gang of would-be familiars who wanted their dinner on time. My grandmother, Bronwen, had called the five young cats Morgana’s Folly, a name my mother did not appreciate. She’d gone on the familiar-summoning spree with the hope that a new familiar would fix the problems we’d been having with our magick. At cat six, she finally gave up. Apparently, the fault didn’t lie in her aging Sashkatu. But since one can’t simply give away magickal cats on a street corner, or through craigslist, they became part of my inheritance. Through no fault of my own, I was eligible for the title of crazy cat lady before I was out of my twenties.

  For my first lunch hour of sleuthing, I stopped in The Wheel, the pottery shop next door to Lolly’s place. The owner, Tess Webster, had opened her business about six months earlier. She’d come over to introduce herself to Tilly and me when she was setting up. She looked to be in her thirties, and usually had a toddler and a baby in the shop with her. Since she was new in town, I didn’t have high hopes that she knew Ava, but I didn’t want to leave any stone unturned.

  I’d only been inside The Wheel once before, when Tilly and I had brought Tess welcome-to-New Camel gifts. Tilly’s offering was a trio of breads—pumpkin, banana and zucchini. Mine was a basket of my most popular skin care items. The interior of the shop looked very different from the other shops in New Camel. It was more bare bones and functional. There were two potters’ wheels, two rectangular wooden tables that reminded me of the ones in my high school art class, a desk with a computer, and a kiln in the back of the shop. A bookshelf ran along one wall, the titles on the books’ spines covering every aspect of the history and art of pottery, as well as more practical volumes on how to go about throwing a pot. A Pack ‘n Play was near the opposite wall and a quilted cradle rested on one of the tables.

  I loved Tess’s work, the beautifully decorated pots, each unique in shape and style. They were on display in glass-fronted cabinets that kept them safe from the curious hands of children and the often careless hands of adults. I would have bought one on that first visit if I’d been able to choose just one.

  Tess was putting a pot in the kiln to bake when I walked in. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a clay-smudged denim apron covered most of her jeans and T-shirt. Throwing pots was not a glamorous business. Tess set the timer and joined me in the front of the shop. She seemed happy to see me. “Aren’t you missing someone?” I asked. The baby was asleep in her cradle, but I didn’t see the toddler anywhere.

  “My husband took the day off to spend with the whirlwind, otherwise known as Conner. He wanted to give me a break.”

  “Sounds like you found a winner.”

  “Let me get back to you on that. Today might just cure him of that winning charm.” She pulled out two chairs from under the table where the cradle was perched. “Sit, please. I’d love some grownup conversation that’s not punctuated by crying or complaining. Wow,” she added, “I just heard myself and I sound like the worst mom.”

  “No way, I don’t know how you create such beautiful pieces, teach classes and watch two little ones at the same time. And that doesn’t include taking care of a household.”

  Tess laughed. “Most of the time I don’t know how I do it either. I’m like a tightrope walker—if I look down, I’ll lose my footing and we’ll all wind up in a pile on the floor.”

  “I guess you know what happened to Ava Duncan,” I said, when there was a pause in the conversation.

  “Unfortunately, I had a front row seat for it. When I heard the first police car screech to a stop next door, I looked outside. At that point, there was nothing going on in front of Lolly’s shop, so I looked out back into her yard. I saw that poor woman lying there with the garbage cans like she’d been discarded, thrown away. It’s ironic really—we moved here to raise our family in a peaceful place where we wouldn’t have to worry about things like that.”

  “New Camel was that place until last year,” I said. “And if it’s up to me, it will be again. In fact, that’s the reason for my visit.” Tess cocked her head. “My boyfriend and I have been investigating the murder cases around here and closing them before the police. But please don’t repeat that to anyone, especially detective Duggan. I’m not exactly his favorite person.”

  “My lips are
zipped.” Tess pulled an imaginary zipper across her mouth. “I had the dubious pleasure of speaking to him myself.”

  “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions regarding Ava’s death?”

  “Sure—anything that can help. You have a much nicer approach than he did.”

  “Jack the Ripper probably had a nicer approach than Duggan,” I said. “Did you know Ava? Ever see her before yesterday?”

  “She didn’t look at all familiar to me. I’m certain she never came in here.” The baby was making little noises in her sleep. Tess leaned over the cradle to check on her.

  “Did you happen to see anyone in Lolly’s backyard before the police arrived on the scene?”

  “No, but I had no reason to be looking before the sirens.”

  “Did you hear any shouting or arguing coming from next door in the days or weeks before Ava was killed?”

  “Not that I can recall. This town is usually so quiet, I would remember if I heard something like that.”

  “Have you noticed anyone walking around town, checking things out, maybe trying to get a look into the yards behind the shops—that sort of thing?”

  She didn’t answer right away. I saw her look at her watch and worried she might have reached her limit with interrogation, even if I was a lot nicer than Duggan. I was hitting her with one question after another, because I knew a customer could walk in at any moment. The longer Tess took to reply, the more I expected to be shown the door. She was probably trying to come up with a polite way to go about it.

  “No one stands out in my mind,” she said finally. “Between working and caring for the kids I don’t have much time to be observant. And if someone wanted to scope things out and remain anonymous, they’d just have to wait for a bus tour to come through and they could blend in and never raise any suspicions.” She had a good point. “I’m sorry I’m not being much help.”

  “No, actually you have a valid point. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to pummel you with questions. I just want to clear Lolly’s name and get Ava’s killer off the streets as soon as possible.” The timer rang on the kiln, punctuating my words.

  “I totally understand,” Tess said, rising. “And I’m rooting for you. It scares the hell out of me that the killer could still be around here. What kind of person sneaks up behind you and plunges a knife in your back?” A frisson shook her body as she headed to the kiln. “And poor Lolly. From the day we moved in, she’s been so kind to us. Of all people, she doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this mess.”

  “Have any of your customers commented on Ava’s death?” I asked once Tess returned to her seat.

  “It happened so recently, I’ve only seen a few of the people who take lessons from me. Their reactions were basically, ‘Did you see it happen?’ and ‘Why would anyone want to frame Lolly?’”

  “If anyone does voice an opinion about who killed Ava or why, would you let me know?”

  “Absolutely.” The baby was fussing again, all her tiny limbs going at the same time. It didn’t take long before she worked herself up to a strident wail. Tess lifted her out of the cradle and patted her back. In moments she quieted, but every time Tess tried to put her down, the crying began anew. “I think Emmy needs a diaper change. I have her things in the bathroom. I won’t be long.”

  “That’s okay, I should be getting back to my shop anyway. I’ll be in touch.” I was reaching for the door when it flew open, and three-year-old Conner ran in, followed by a man who I assumed was Tess’s husband. He was nice looking in an outdoorsy way, with a neatly trimmed beard that put Merlin’s mangy one to shame. I could picture him living in the wilderness, splitting wood for the fire, staring down a Grizzly or a moose.

  Conner stopped in his tracks and looked up at me with a frown. “Who are you?” he asked in an accusing tone.

  “Conner, buddy, that’s not polite.” His dad squatted down to his level. “Here’s what you do.” He stood and extended his hand to me. “Hi, I’m Ben Webster, Tess’s husband, and this is our son Conner.”

  I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ben. Nice to meet you too, Conner. My name is Kailyn Wilde.” I held out my hand and after a wary moment, he put his small hand in mine.

  Ben grinned. “Good job, Conner.” He gave his son a high five. “Nice to meet you too, Kailyn, and thanks for being part of the impromptu etiquette lesson.”

  Tess poked her head out of the bathroom. “Kailyn owns the shop across the street.” Ben said it looked intriguing and he’d been meaning to check it out. Conner had clearly lost interest. He made a beeline for his mother who was coming out of the bathroom holding Emmy. He was so intent on reaching them that he wasn’t looking where he was going. His foot caught the edge of the Pack ‘n Play. It would have been better if he’d fallen there, but he managed to stay upright, stumbling forward out of control and headed straight for the side of the kiln. Tess and Ben shouted for him to watch out. He couldn’t. It was all happening too fast. In the split second before Conner went headlong into the kiln, I focused my energy on it and nudged it out of his way. He fell, spread-eagle on the floor.

  For a minute, no one said anything. Conner sat up and looked at the bruise on his knee with a quivering lower lip. Ben and Tess reached him at the same time. Ben checked his knee and deemed it okay. “This calls for an emergency ice cream cone,” he proclaimed like a doctor issuing a prescription. Conner sniffled, caught between tears and a smile.

  “With sprinkles?”

  “A double dip of them!”

  “And a cherry, like on a sundae?” Conner was getting into the spirit of it.

  “No matter what the cost!” Ben set him on his feet.

  “Mama, mama,” Conner tugged on the bottom of Tess’s apron. “Can Emmy have one?”

  Tess bent down, the baby still in her arms. “Thank you, Conner, that’s very generous. You’re a wonderful big brother, but we’ll have to wait until she’s older.” Tess gave him a big kiss.

  “No mushies,” he protested, rubbing at his cheek.

  “That was awful close,” Ben murmured to his wife. “There must be a guardian angel watching over him.”

  “A guardian angel for sure,” Tess repeated, looking directly at me. Ben and Conner took off for The Soda Jerk, and she laid Emmy back in her cradle. “That kiln moved out of the way,” she said in an accusing tone. “Ben couldn’t see it from where he was, but I did.”

  “I’ve read that under severe stress, the brain can alter how we see things. It can make time seem to stretch out or stand still, even change how we perceive distances.”

  “I’ve heard things like that too,” she said with a big old serving of doubt in her voice. I needed her to focus on the important part of what happened.

  “I’m just really glad Conner wasn’t badly injured. In the end that’s all that matters, right?”

  “Well yes…” There seemed to be a but on the tip of her tongue. I had to get out of there. The longer I stayed, the more she would question what happened, along with my part in it. I checked my watch as casually as possible. “I didn’t realize how late it was—I’ve got to run before I miss any customers. I’ll be in touch. Take care.” I tried to sound natural and light-hearted, but I missed it by a mile.

  Chapter 6

  “I fear you may have opened an ugly can of worms,” my grandmother Bronwen said.

  She and Morgana had dropped by for one of their visits from beyond the veil, their energy clouds, serene and white. I had expected a rebuke when I told them how I saved Tess’s son, but I refused to let them undermine the peace in my heart.

  “At best it was an impossible decision,” Morgana chimed in. “Had I been in Kailyn’s predicament, I may well have done the same thing.” Was my mother taking my side?!

  Gray peaks rose in Bronwen’s cloud. A storm loomed. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t have myself. I was simpl
y pointing out that she will need to be careful should gossip spread.”

  “Maybe the gossip that spreads will be about how she saved the little boy,” Morgana responded. I kept waiting for her cloud to flare red, but it remained a snowy white.

  “Ever since your mother started that course in happiness, she’s become a wimp,” Bronwen muttered. “All the fight’s gone out of her—she’s insufferable.” So I was right, they did enjoy the sparring. But since it’s impossible to argue without an opponent, Bronwen was clearly determined to scuttle my mother’s plans for peace.

  “You could benefit from the course too,” she replied evenly.

  Bronwen’s cloud crackled and flashed with lightning. “I have no wish to undergo a lobotomy of the spirit.”

  “It’s not a lobotomy of any kind.” Morgana sounded calm, but telltale fissures of red were making her cloud look like a drunk’s eyes the morning after. She was losing the battle with herself.

  “Ladies,” I said. “I have a question.” They turned their attention to me with a tilt in their axes that reminded me of the way dogs tilt their heads when they’re trying to understand. “Have you ever considered how you might be feeling, if only one of you had died in that accident?” My question was met by total silence, which itself was impressive. My mother and grandmother were seldom at a loss for words and never at the same time. I watched the stormy gray ebb from Bronwen’s cloud and the red drain from Morgana’s. Without another word, their clouds blinked out together.

  Why hadn’t I thought to pose that question until now? It had certainly been on my mind for some time. I had no idea if it would soften their interactions, but at least I’d given them food for thought. I doubted a permanent détente was possible, or even desirable in the long run. As Bronwen had told me on numerous occasions before her death, they didn’t argue, they debated. “Exercising the brain is critical if one wants to keep it fit.” I didn’t know if that was true in their present states. For that matter, I had no idea how one thought without an actual brain, but since the dead were not allowed to enlighten mortals about the great unknown, I’d have to wait until I found out for myself.