This Magick Marmot Page 4

  “The griping might have something to do with her attitude,” I said. “After spending an hour with her, I wished Duggan would hurry back.”

  Travis winced. “Since we can’t possibly talk to all the attendees in the next twenty-four hours, we’re going to have to narrow it down.”

  I drew up the last mouthful of ice creamy seltzer. My salad remained untouched—what can you do? Stress demands comfort food. “In the reunion packet, there was a list of email addresses for the whole class so we could keep in touch. I thought I’d send out an email blast asking if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious with regard to Genna’s death. That could give us some leads. And I think I’ll tack on another question—did anyone see anything unusual lately.”

  “Like a dead man wandering around.” Travis polished off the last of his burger. “Flag down Margie for the check and let’s get this show on the road.”

  Five minutes later, we were back in my shop and I was installed at my computer, composing the email. Sashkatu woke from his nap, stretched languidly, and came down his custom steps to wind around and through Travis’s legs.

  “Hey, when did I start to count?” he whispered to me as if trying not to spoil the moment.

  “Sashki is a pensive and wise cat. He doesn’t love every person who comes through the door. It takes him a while to develop an affinity for someone.” Unless of course you happened to be Merlin. “He’s never once made the mistake of trusting an unworthy soul.”

  In my email to the alums, I mentioned our success as investigators and leaned on the emotional aspect of losing one of our own, taken down in the prime of her life, never to see her young children grow up. I showed it to Travis.

  “A bit over the top emotionally?”

  “This is our one chance to beg for information.”

  “You’re right. Go for it.”

  “I’ve got one last thing to add—a spell to open their hearts and coax them into helping us. But first I have to weave it.”

  The door chimes jingled, announcing a group of customers. I knew the two guys from school, although we’d never run in the same circles. Tony had been a big deal on the football field. His popularity bought him the title of senior class president. Between the two, he had his pick of colleges. The guy with him was Chris, his constant sidekick and wingman.

  I didn’t know the women—no doubt wives or girlfriends. I turned to Travis. “Greet them and show them around a little—I just need a minute to finish this.” Fortunately my brain was clicking along from my sugary lunch. The spell practically wove itself:

  Sharpest eye and ear recall

  All you saw and all you heard—

  Furtive act or troubling word.

  Help us find who took away

  One of ours just yesterday.

  I repeated it silently three times and hit send. Time to rescue Travis, who was answering every question with, “Sorry, I don’t know. Kailyn will be with you in a minute.” He was a newsman, accustomed to asking tough questions, not floundering without answers.

  I found him with the group in the first aisle, trying to figure out what the various products were used for. When he saw me, he excused himself and beat a hasty retreat to my desk.

  “Never visited your shop before,” said the guy I knew as Tony, “but my mom has always come here for natural stuff.”

  “Do you have natural cosmetics too?” asked the girl who seemed to be with him. She held out her hand. “Sorry, I’m Courtney, Tony’s wife and this is Tessa, Chris’s better half. If we wait for the guys to introduce us, we’ll be beyond the help of makeup.”

  I laughed. “Some things never change. What you’re looking for is in the second aisle.” I led the women there and the men trailed after us as if they were wearing lead boots. They were thoroughly bored. I knew the signs. “Why don’t you guys go say hi to Lolly and get some fudge?”

  “The fudge shop!” they cried in unison and made a beeline for the door as if I’d magickally regressed them to the age of five.

  “Thanks,” Courtney said, “it’s impossible to shop for things when the guys are practically groaning out loud.” We spent a half hour filling their baskets with products.

  “Do you have a website we can reorder from?” Tessa asked. We were at the counter, where I was ringing them up.

  “Sorry, I haven’t taken that leap yet.” I watched their faces fall. I’d been getting so many requests lately, was I a fool not to look into it? “I promise to give it some serious thought,” I told them. Travis was still at my desk behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him wagging his head. Whenever I’d brought up the possibility, he asked if I wanted to run a big company or if I wanted my life to continue as it was. “Because you can’t have both.” Any decision would have to wait until we’d put Genna’s death to rest.

  I packed their purchases into two tote bags imprinted with the shop’s name. The guys returned at that moment with bags of Lolly’s fudge and chocolates, instantly elevating the mood. They offered Travis and me candy, but we declined. With easy access to Lolly’s goodies, we had to pace ourselves.

  Courtney was eating a pecan turtle and trying to speak at the same time. “This is too amazing.”

  “I hope you can enjoy the rest of your time here,” I said. “And if you think of anything that might help us, please call or email.” They all promised they would. By the time they reached the door, the girls had taken possession of the candy and the guys were left holding the tote bags.

  Chapter 5

  I checked in with Charlotte after I closed the shop for the day. She sounded much better, except for a hitch in her voice. She thanked me for taking care of her and apologized for drinking too much. I couldn’t be angry with her. To be Charlotte’s friend was to accept her for who she was. For as long as I’d known her, she’d been the life of every party she attended, whether it was a princess themed birthday in third grade, spin the bottle in middle school, or a homecoming dance in high school. She loved a good time.

  “I’m sure you’re ready to go home,” I said, trying to sound upbeat despite a pang in my chest that felt a lot like homesickness. I ached for a time that was gone and friends who belonged to that time. Genna was lost to me forever and in a few hours Charlotte would be three thousand miles away again. Travis was right. I would have been better off without the reunion. All three of us would have been.

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “One minute I can’t wait to leave and the next I feel a tug to stay here.”

  “Your life is in Portland. Your interior design company, your gorgeous condo, and your Andrew.”

  She laughed. “My Andrew would be insulted that you left him for last.” She grew serious again. “I know you’re right. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little nostalgia for what was my home once upon a time.”

  “You can always come back for a visit.” How many times had I said those words to her and Genna over the years? And how many times had they invited me out to see them?

  “I intend to.” She sounded determined, as if she’d given it some serious thought overnight. “And I’ll bring Andrew. We go back to his hometown every year for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. It’s about time he came to see mine.”

  I was still a little teary when I sat down next to Travis who was watching the evening news anchored by one of his junior associates. “You okay?” He put his arm around my shoulder and cuddled me closer to him. I nodded, my head resting under his chin.

  “Better now.” He kissed the top of my head. We sat quietly listening to the news that didn’t seem to have any relevance to my life.

  “What do you think of this guy?” Travis asked. “It’s his first time anchoring.”

  “I don’t know. He lacks gravitas. Maybe it’s his baby face. I’d probably switch to a different network if he was the permanent evening anchor.”

  He drew his hea
d back so he could look at me. “You’re brutal.”

  “I’m honest.”

  “The two are not mutually exclusive, you know.” He rested his cheek against my forehead.

  “We should figure out what to have for dinner,” I said, although my appetite was MIA.

  Travis laughed. “You’re just trying to change the subject. As it happens, food is the one subject that works for me. How about gyros? You call in the order and I’ll go for it.”

  When he left for the Greek Taverna, I went to make the cats their dinner. I was a little late. My brood had no patience for human excuses. When I walked into the kitchen they were pacing back and forth. Sashkatu was watching from the counter like a general reviewing his troops.

  I set their bowls on the floor and carried Sashki’s to the powder room. As he’d advanced in years and slowed down, he preferred to dine alone, beyond the greedy reach of the younger cats. He usually followed me and his dinner, but when I put down the bowl and turned around, he wasn’t there.

  I found him still atop the kitchen counter. Although he’d managed to jump up there unaided, he seemed to have serious concerns about getting down that way. He leaned over the edge as though wondering why his steps weren’t where he needed them to be. He looked up at me, clearly assigning blame. One set of his steps was in the bedroom, the other in the living room near the couch. I chose the easier option. I scooped him up and deposited him in the powder room. He tucked into his dinner with a fervor reminiscent of his younger days, lifting my heart.

  I made a pitcher of iced tea and had the table set by the time Travis returned. The gyros smelled great, but even with generous amounts of tzatziki sauce, I could only pick at mine. “I can’t get Genna out of my head,” I said. “The fact that she was killed on the tenth anniversary of Scott’s death, makes me feel there’s a connection.”

  Travis finished a mouthful and washed it down with iced tea. “You think Genna was killed as revenge for what happened to Scott?”

  “It’s not that far-fetched. He died right before graduation. Now she’s been killed at the first class reunion. And what about that guy who called and said he saw Scott? Maybe the killer is dressing up to look like Scott to push the connection. My gut is telling me it’s not just a weird coincidence.”

  “But why would the killer think Genna was responsible for what happened to Scott? You saw the police and ME reports on his death. It was an accident—a tragic accident. They didn’t say anything that singled out Genna, or anyone else for blame.”

  “That summer after graduation there was talk,” I said. “You know, small town gossip. People whispered that Genna went into the lake at the same time as Scott. But even if she did—what would that prove? I shut down anyone who was stupid enough to say it to me.”

  Travis put down the last half of his gyro. “How did Genna answer the accusations?”

  “She didn’t. She knew there was no point arguing with malicious gossip. She avoided going out in public as much as possible, until she left for college. Of course the gossips said that proved she was guilty. It was an awful situation. My heart broke for her.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but being close to someone can skew your perspective, your objectivity.”

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t want our discussion to turn into an argument. Travis was just trying to make me consider all the angles. “What if her killer chose her as a scapegoat, because they needed someone to blame for losing Scott? If you’ve been grieving for ten years, you may be far enough down the rabbit hole to convince yourself of pretty much anything, especially if you believe it will ease your pain.”

  Travis studied me. “If anyone other than you or your aunt talked to me about feelings, I would laugh them out the door.”

  “Meaning you won’t dismiss my theory?”

  “Meaning for now your theory is the only one around and since it’s based on your gut feelings, I’m willing to look into it.” He polished off the sandwich in two more bites. “I don’t know if it occurred to you, but we have an advantage in this case that we don’t always have.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, thinking I could use some good news.

  “There’s a good chance you know the killer.” He let that sink in for a minute before explaining. “You know whose lives were changed forever when Scott died. They’re the most likely suspects in a case of revenge.”

  He was right—that should be an advantage. On the downside, I wasn’t thrilled to count another killer among my acquaintances.

  “How long a list of suspects are we looking at?”

  “Scott’s mother, his older brother Charlie, and his fiancée Ashley.”

  “Do they all still live around here?”

  “His mother Lillian does. I bump into her at least once a week running errands. And lately she’s been in and out of the knitting shop down the street. Charlie has a wife and a toddler. Last I heard, they bought a place somewhere in Pennsylvania. Ashley lives in Maine, so we should try to talk to her before she heads back there tomorrow afternoon.”

  I had no trouble tracking her down. She was staying at the Newcomb B&B in New Camel, a beautifully maintained Victorian with three guest suites. She agreed to meet us in the parlor at ten o’clock Sunday morning.

  I’d never been inside the house and had no idea how thoroughly the owner, Shirley Newcomb, subscribed to all things Victorian. Heavy velvet upholstery and drapes, thick, flocked wallpaper, fringes on the lampshades and bric-a-brac on every possible surface all contributed to making the room feel airless. Travis, who never paid much attention to interior design, looked like a lion who was just introduced to its cage. He wanted out of there. When Ashley suggested we sit outside, he jumped at the opportunity and led the way out the door.

  The porch wrapped around three quarters of the house. We arranged ourselves in a circle of rocking chairs off to one side so as not to be disturbed. It was the most relaxed I’d ever been conducting a murder interview. I imagined Travis and me dragging three of the cumbersome rockers along to every interview. I ordered my mind to behave.

  “How are you doing, Ashley?” I asked once we were settled.

  “I’m fine, but I’m more than ready to get back to Maine and the life of a small town baker.”

  “I can imagine. It wasn’t the reunion anyone was expecting.”

  “How well did you know Genna?” Travis asked, the reporter in him going straight to the heart of the matter. He wasn’t a fan of small talk, of lulling the subject into a feeling of comfort and trust. His direct approach served him well in his day job, but I’d seen it work against him when we interviewed skittish suspects.

  Ashley’s body stiffened slightly and she reached up to touch Scott’s ring on its chain around her neck. “I didn’t know Genna that well. We never really hung out together. Not that I had anything against her,” she rushed to add, as if she was worried about giving us the wrong impression—one that could flag her as a person of interest. She didn’t seem to realize she already was one.

  I smiled. “It’s not possible to be close friends with everyone in school. It would be a full time job and you’d never have time for homework.” I wanted her to let her guard down, feel like she was talking to friends. She’d be more helpful if she wasn’t a bundle of nerves. Travis didn’t get what I was doing. He looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language. I glared back at him. Our nonverbal communication skills were a work in progress.

  “I’ve always been an introvert,” Ashley said. “I’ve never had a big group of friends. Scott was the opposite. He was one of the most popular guys in school. I guess opposites do attract.”

  “I bet it wasn’t easy dating someone like that,” Travis said. “Other girls must have tried to take him away. Sometimes just to see if they could.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She knew what he was getting at and she didn’t like it. “Some tried,
but no one succeeded.” Her tone had a snap to it.

  “Were you at the lake with Scott and the others the night he drowned?” I asked. I knew she wasn’t, almost everything about that night was imprinted in my head, but I needed to say something to keep them from butting heads.

  She turned to me and her voice softened. “I was exhausted and I had a migraine. He dropped me off at home on his way there.”

  I nodded. “I didn’t go either. It was so late by that time, the thought of sleeping trumped everything else.” A little commiseration goes a long way. I felt the tension between us begin to ebb.

  “We need to figure out who was at the lake that night,” Travis said. “The police didn’t release any names except Scott’s. Most of the others were minors at the time.”

  “I can tell you that Genna was in Scott’s car when he dropped me off,” Ashley volunteered. “She was in the backseat with Todd and Alan.”

  It must have occurred to Ashley that she was still holding onto the ring, because she let go of it and intertwined her hands in her lap as if to prevent them from finding their way back up to it. After ten years the habit was deeply ingrained.

  “I don’t think the police ever had an accurate list,” she continued. “From what I heard, some kids left after a little while, others came later. Nobody was taking attendance. For a long time, I drove myself crazy trying to figure out who was there, until my mom sat me down and said, ‘Scott’s death was a stupid, tragic accident. What does it matter who was there? What would knowing change?’”

  The three of us were silent for a minute, our rockers stilled out of respect for the truth and the pain it couldn’t alleviate. When I’d spoken to Genna the day after the prom, she had no clear memory of what went down at the lake. She’d had a lot to drink and only knew for sure that she was in the water at the same time as Scott.

  Travis found his voice first. “Do you have any theories about why Genna was killed?”

  “I gave up on having theories,” Ashley replied. “I spend my time baking. It’s much more rewarding. When someone leaves my shop they’re always smiling. The only thing that keeps me up at night now is whether or not I remembered to reorder everything from the wholesaler.”