ATwistedMagick (15 page)

Gabe’s phone beeped. He pulled it out, looked at the text and stood up. “I’ve got some interviews to do.”

Shylah rose to her feet as well. “Okay.”

“Walk me to the door?”

It wasn’t like the door was that far away, but she complied. Once there she asked in a low voice, “What was the text about?”

“Autopsy results. I need to call Hain to get the details.”

“It’s nice she’s sharing with you. Aren’t cops usually territorial?”

“I think she feels guilty that she didn’t find the culprit soon enough to prevent another murder. I feel the same way. I think she’ll take any help she can get and that means sharing information.” He opened the front door, stepped out, then tugged her after him. “Look, I’m worried that your card and fingerprint were found at the scene. Maybe they were just put there to deflect attention, but this means he knows you and was at your booth at some point.”

“Are you sure it’s a he now?”

“There was a rape involved this time, so it seems very likely.”

“Oh poor Eva.”

Gabe nodded. “And I really don’t like that Alain turned up at this time. I mean it’s weird, even if he has an alibi for when Matthew and Lalia were murdered.”

“How do you know he had an alibi?”

“I checked on it.”

“How did you do that?”

“New Orleans cops.”

Shylah was shocked, though it made sense that Gabe would do a thorough background on the Wanda Nance murder while he considered Shylah a suspect. She just didn’t realize he’d checked out Alain too.

“I asked about everyone in your coven. The only one the NOLA cops had lost track of was you. They’ve been keeping tabs on the rest since that murder still has not been solved.” He peeked back inside to see if Alain still sat on the couch. “So no, I don’t think Alain could’ve done these murders, but I also don’t think the same person is responsible for these murders and Wanda Nance’s.”

“Well, if there’s even a possibility that Alain killed her, I’ll investigate, see if I can get more out of him.”

He gripped her shoulders again. “You will do no such thing. The only thing you’ll do is get him out of your house as soon as possible.”

“Excuse me, but I’m a grown woman. Stop trying to order me around.”

“It’s too dangerous to poke at a murderer.”

“But that’s what you do.”

“It’s my job for which I trained and have experience. You do not.” He leaned in like he was going to kiss her, but she shook her head slightly. He straightened. “I will be kissing you again very soon.”

Shylah smiled. “That’s good to know.”

When she reentered the house, she found Alain stirring the fire with the brass poker. “So how long have you been lovers?” he asked.

“What?” She picked up her tea and blew on it though it was lukewarm at this point. She just wanted something to do.

“Come off it, Shylah. I’m a reader too.” He referred to psychic readings. “And even if I wasn’t, it’s plain to see on your face. You’re blushing.”

She didn’t know whether to frown or smile when it came to her weird, short relationship with Gabe. “It’s only happened a couple times,” she said, suddenly glad to have someone to talk to about it. She lowered herself to the couch and crossed her legs. “And I’m never sure if it’s going to happen again. He’ll be going back to California after the investigation ends, back to his normal life.”

“So you’re trying hard not to become attached?” Alain sat down next to her.

“Well, there’s the investigation as well, because of the occult angle.”

Alain gasped. “Did he consider you a suspect?”

“The whole town has. Gabe’s cousin Angela told him that I was the one who did it.”

“Does he still suspect that?”

“No, not now.”

“What’s changed?”

She didn’t want to mention the alibi part for some reason and she didn’t want to mention the clues that pointed directly to her, like the murderer was singling her out for some reason. “It seems more likely to be a guy because of the rape, I guess.” She shook her head. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Do you want to get some lunch somewhere? We could go into Charlottesville and I could show you my booth.” The police had likely come and gone by now.

“Or we could eat around here. You could show me your little town. Where’s your favorite place?”

Her house had been her favorite place for the past few months with no risk of running into someone who would degrade or threaten her. Even though she hadn’t moved out of town, she had been hiding to a certain extent. Maybe it was time to get out of that groove. “There’s this great quiche and cupcake shop. I haven’t been in a while, but it has little patio tables out front and today looks like great weather for it.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

Shylah found her cork-soled sandals by the door and put them on. “We’ll walk.” She didn’t think about the spectacle the two of them would make until they were halfway down the street, leaving the older neighborhood and entering the “planned” area. This area had weed-free sidewalks, street lamps and crosswalks, as well as three styles of homes repeated throughout. It did not have tattooed and pierced Pagans. Kids on bikes stared and pointed. A couple of girls on steps were texting. In a moment, a mother appeared in the doorway behind them and glared at the two weirdos walking down the street. Even though Shylah’s peasant dress and top were flowing and feminine, the outfit evoked the feel of flower children and hippies, in other words, anti-establishment. However, she wouldn’t have drawn much notice if not for her friend walking next to her. Alain seemed to be marching in his patent leather military-style boots. His spiky hair drew eyes to the top of his head, but his tattoos garnered the rest of the attention. Luckily one couldn’t read the words unless right next to him.

Lalia’s house was a little farther down the street, but Shylah had no intention of going anywhere near it. She turned onto the end of Main to head toward the tiny downtown area. Houses gave way to churches and little shops and more stares, now from shoppers and business owners. Alain whistled as if he was used to being stared at, though in New Orleans he wouldn’t have stood out quite as much, but Shylah was cringing inside and regretting that she hadn’t stuck with her idea of taking him to Charlottesville. So far no one had hurled insults or crossed the street from them, but she had no doubt that would happen soon.

“This really is Mayberry, isn’t it?” Alain said.

“Kind of.”

“Why do you want to stay here?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t sure anymore. “I’m just tired of running and starting over, I guess.”

“Come back to NOLA. You fit in there. The coven needs a new high priestess.”

“Why? What happened to your last one?”

“She’s still there, but she doesn’t channel magick the way you do. And she’s not as open to experimenting like you were.”

“Well, I’m not like that anymore.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I prefer to practice as a solitary.”

“Don’t you miss the camaraderie? We’re your friends.” He paused and looked her directly in the eyes. “Why did you leave?”

She wanted to look away but didn’t want to seem evasive. “I just changed. I’m older now. I don’t want to do the things we used to do.” She started walking again. The café was just two stores down from them, but now she was worried about sitting down outside as she’d suggested.

Alain kept pace with her. “Come back and you can guide the coven in the direction you like. We could make beautiful magick again.”

“That’s just not me right now.” She didn’t want to delve more deeply into her reasoning with Alain, didn’t want to explain her doubts and forebodings about him, her fear. She hadn’t felt settled since he’d arrived.

“Did you tell the PI anything about me? I could tell he didn’t like me from the minute he showed up at your door today.”

They reached the café so Shylah opened the door. They went inside, Alain holding the door for two teenage girls coming in after them, and got in line to place orders. “I think he just isn’t used to someone who looks like you, plus he’s not overly fond of Wiccans.”

“And jealous that you had another guy in your house?”

“Maybe a little.” Shylah broke away from the conversation to give her order. Alain followed suit, completely ignoring the curl of distaste on the counter girl’s lips. Once they had their food, Alain moved to go outside. Shylah shook her head. “Let’s sit over here. It’s a bit humid outside.” It totally wasn’t, but she didn’t want to deal with the stares from up and down the street.

“They’ve treated you badly here, haven’t they?”

Shylah shrugged, barely tasting the mushroom quiche she’d just taken a bite of.

“I know I told you to grow a backbone, and I think you have, but I can’t see you ever being happy here.”

“Maybe not, but I’m not leaving while they think I’m guilty. Once they catch the real murderer maybe I’ll decide to leave. I don’t know.” The future seemed a friendless place no matter where she went, always starting over with no real family. “Charlottesville’s not bad. If I moved there, I’d be closer to my business.” Maybe she should pick up the classifieds and see what was for rent. She was beyond tired of dealing with Smith Creek’s small-town attitudes.

The teen girls whom Alain had held the door for sat down with their orders at the table right next to them, though there were plenty of other tables. Shylah braced herself.

Here it comes.

The blonde one, whom Shylah vaguely recognized from seeing around school, turned to face her and Alain. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“What of it?” Alain answered immediately.

“No,” Shylah said in a much lower voice, thinking of Gabe and how calmly he’d handled Candice. From Alain’s tone of voice she knew he wasn’t about to be calm.

Blondie’s friend had extremely red hair, obviously dyed. Shylah recollected her name was Cindy. She’d won the spelling bee last year, though that wasn’t a “cool” accomplishment for a teen. “You’re the one who killed Lalia and Mercedes, aren’t you? The witch?”

“I have not murdered anyone.” She ignored the witch comment, because it would only inflame things.

“But I have,” Alain said, his voice creeping Shylah out as much as the girls. “And I am.”

The girls’ eyes widened. “You’re saying you murdered Lalia and Mercedes?” Cindy asked as she pulled out her phone.

“Nope, I’m not from around here.” He laid his Louisiana accent on thick. “But I do enjoy girls like you.” Shylah noticed Cindy’s friend was taping them with her phone. She tapped Alain’s arm, but he ignored her. “Would you like to practice some magick with me?”

“Ew, no! Pervert!”

“How dare you talk to us that way!” Blondie said, launching to her feet holding her phone up brazenly. “I’m recording this.”

“But you’re the ones who sat down here and started talking to us, making unfounded accusations,” Alain said, his lips curving down into an exaggerated pout. “Be sure to tell your mommies that part when you go home and cry.”

Blondie backed toward the door, video phone pointed at them the whole time. Cindy followed with their food bags. Finally they turned and scrammed.

“Goddammit, Alain! That’s going to be all over Facebook in five minutes.”

He grinned. “Not even that many.”

Shylah shook her head. She wanted to leave and rush home, but she was afraid the girls were still out on the street, so she tried to eat her quiche. All she knew was she didn’t want Alain to stay in her house, but she’d agreed to at least one night. She’d figure out how to get rid of him tomorrow.

Gabe walked into Good Karma, the store that held Shylah’s stall, and looked around for the owner. He’d printed out photos of the male murder suspects so he could do a sort of lineup. There was a teenager behind the checkout counter, but he spied the older lady he had seen the last time he’d visited stocking shelves near the back.

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Shylah’s friend Gabe Niguel,” he said. “You’re the owner, right?”

“Yes, Becky. I remember you. Whether you’re her friend seemed questionable the last time you were in here.”

“Yeah, a bit complicated, but I’m also a private investigator working on the murders in Smith Creek. Would you mind if I showed you some photos to see if you recognize any of these men having been in your shop?”

She nodded, so Gabe spread the photos over the top of an unopened box of books. He had pictures of Principal Ackers, Clement Wann, Al Porter and a couple of the school janitors, as well the fathers and stepfather of the kids. He’d also added in Alain and a couple of Shylah’s male neighbors. A lot to look at, but he’d wanted to be thorough.

While Becky looked over each picture, Gabe asked, “The cops were in here earlier looking at Shylah’s stall?”

“Yes, they took her deck of tarot cards.” She shook her head. “That woman has had to put up with so much persecution and only because she is a witch.”

“Well, this time they know she had nothing to do with it.”

Becky looked up and met his eyes. “I’m glad.” Then she glanced back at the array and pointed to Al Porter. “This man was in here a couple months ago. I believe he and Shylah went to the movies.” She then touched another photo with the tip of her finger. “This man was in here very recently, day before yesterday I think.”

Gabe picked up Clement Wann’s photo and thought back to seeing him at Eva’s, the way he’d been looking at the photos of Mercedes. Wann was also connected to Louisiana, but Gabe no longer thought the Wanda Nance murder was connected to the kids’ murders. “Did you see him near Shylah’s stall? Was she here at the time?”

“She wasn’t here, in fact she hasn’t been back in yet since then. But I only saw him as he was leaving, because I’d been in the back on a phone call. You can check with Darcy at the cash register. She can tell you whether he bought anything.”

“So none of the other photos seem familiar?”

“No.”

“Do you have other employees who might’ve been here when you were not?”

“No. I keep shorter hours at this time of year. I might hire an extra student or two for the summer.”

Gabe nodded and swept up the photos. “Thanks so much for your help.” When he turned away from Becky he noted Darcy watching him curiously, which worked out fine since he wanted to talk to her next.

Once he’d spread the photos out again on the counter, Darcy pointed to Wann. “Oh yeah, I remember this guy from just the other day. Don’t recognize any of the rest of them.” She paused, her finger hovering over one of the other photos. She picked it up to get a closer look. She handed it back to Gabe. “He was in here too.”

“When?” Gabe’s pulse kicked up a notch. The prick had sworn he’d not been in Virginia yet and that he’d just found Shylah. How’d he know where she worked then?

“Yesterday, but he must’ve had a wig on or something, ’cause I didn’t recognize him at first.”

“I’ll be damned. Did either of these men go near Shylah’s booth?”

“I didn’t notice, but either could’ve ducked in when I was helping other customers, I suppose.”

“Did either man buy anything or do anything else memorable before they left?”

She tilted her head in thought. “No.”

As Gabe left the store, he debated his next course of action. He could call Hain and tell her about the photo IDs, but it wasn’t solid evidence and she’d be unlikely to get a warrant for Wann’s house based on it. He wanted to confront Alain, but he’d probably only piss Shylah off and entrench the man deeper in her graces. He needed more. First, he’d visit Angela and see if she could provide a connection to Wann that they’d missed before. Then he might stake out his house for a while. If he could catch Wann doing something suspicious then Hain could get a search warrant. But he was also worried about leaving Shylah and Alain alone overnight. No one was sleeping in Shylah’s bed except him, especially not some scrawny tattooed magician.

The afternoon shadows were getting long when Gabe pulled into his cousin Angela’s driveway. He recognized her husband Dave’s car in the drive as well. Good, he could ask both of them at the same time.

Dave greeted him at the door and slapped his back energetically while welcoming him into the house, but his smile was strained. In a low voice he said, “She’s been drinking.”

“I guess the new murder’s brought it all up again.”

“Maybe.” He led Gabe into the kitchen. “Do you want a beer?”

“Sure.”

As Dave went through the motions of bottle, opener, hand-off, he asked, “Any new developments?”

“I wanted to ask you both a couple more questions.”

“Follow me.” There was a casual living room beyond the dining room. The fifty-inch TV showed a muted soccer match, which Angela was ignoring as she played a game on her iPad. A half-empty wine bottle sat next to a wineglass on the side table. “Angie, your cousin’s here to see you.” Dave claimed the armchair, so Gabe sat on the leather ottoman.

“
Oye, Gabriel, como estas?
” When she spoke, Gabe got a good whiff of her breath as well as some extremely slurred words.

“
Muy bien, Angelita.
” He leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Hey, I wanted to ask you guys a few questions about Clement Wann. You know him?”

“He’s a teacher at the school, right?” Dave asked.

“Yeah. Here’s his photo.”

Dave glanced at it and nodded. “He was never Lalia’s teacher, was he, Angie?”

“Noooo.”

“Do you know if he taught Matthew or Mercedes?”

“Might’ve.” Angela shook her head.

“Do you know anything about him?”

She picked up her wineglass. “He went out with the witch.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “He did? For how long?”

“A couple times.”

“Who told you this?”

“Everyone at PTA knew.”

And no one, including Shylah, had told him. Gabe scowled. “Did he ever have anything to do with Lalia that you know of? Were there rumors about him paying too much attention to his female students?”

Dave looked pensive, but Angela jerked her wineglass toward Gabe, spilling some. “Why are you asking about this teacher? Why hasn’t anyone arrested the witch yet?”

Gabe plucked a tissue from the Kleenex box and dabbed at the wine spot on his jeans. “Shylah is not a murderer.”

“Yes she is, and now she’s killed
pobre
Mercedes!”

Gabe plucked the wineglass from Angela’s hand and sat it behind him. “She has an alibi.”

“She’s lying!”

“I’m her alibi.”

Angela gasped. Then she launched at him, trying to claw his eyes out as she cursed him in Spanish. Dave kept shaking his head.

Barely keeping Angela’s wrists still, Gabe turned to her husband. “A little help here.”

“Looks like a family matter to me. You had to know that was the wrong thing to say.”

“I didn’t want to say it!” He stood up and backed away, still holding his cousin’s wrists to keep her from going at him. “
Mira
, Angela! I know you’ve needed someone to blame, but just because Shylah has a different religion doesn’t make her a murderer. The person who put those occult symbols on the bodies did it to point the blame at her, and I believe that person was Clement Wann.”

Dave finally stood up and turned his wife into his arms. “Are the police going to arrest him then?”

“I’m going to go over there and watch him, see if I can find some hard evidence. More and more things are adding up though.”

Angela was sobbing against her husband’s chest. Gabe patted her shoulder and said goodbye, ignoring the colorful epithets she hurled at him. God, he hoped Wann’s eventual arrest would give her some peace.

Back in the rental car, he took a deep breath. The last thing he’d wanted to do was upset Angela like that, but it had burned him when she’d accused Shylah again. She’d said the same thing when he’d first arrived, only a few days earlier, but now he felt totally different. He’d lost his objectivity as far as Shylah was concerned, but he’d also proven her innocence, at least to himself. Proving that Wann was the actual murderer would help the rest of the town see Shylah in a different light…he hoped.

But would this town ever truly accept her? Unlikely. Would they let her teach again? No. Would she stay anyway? Gabe hoped not, but that worried him. If he didn’t want her to stay here, where did he want her to go?

He pulled out his phone and called her. “How are things going?” he asked, trying to sound somewhat casual.

“We’re just having a grand old time.” Funny, but Shylah’s tone of voice didn’t match her words.

“What’s the matter?”

She sighed. “Can’t talk right now.”

Fear staked him. “Do you need me? Do you need the police?”

Shylah chuckled then said in a low, husky voice, “I do need you. Are you coming over soon?”

Damn, he wished he was there right now. “I’ve got some more work to do. You didn’t tell me you’d dated Clement Wann.”

“Didn’t I? I told you I went to the movies with Porter, didn’t I?”

“Is that all it was with Wann? Angela made it sound like it was more than that.”

“I might’ve considered the idea that the dates could lead to something, but they didn’t. Why?”

“I talked to Becky at your store and she saw Wann in there recently. He may’ve been the one to take your tarot card.” He decided not to mention Alain’s visit at the moment, since he didn’t want her to act any differently toward the man while she was unprotected.

“Clement? Really? He’s always seemed so mild-mannered. Although that could explain the lukewarm makeout sessions.”

“You made out with him?”

“Only twice.”

Gabe sighed. “You’ve never seen him acting odd around girls at school?”

“Of course not. I would’ve said something to Principal Ackers.”

“Anyway, I’m going over to keep an eye on him for a bit, see if anything turns up that I can give to Hain, but I do want to stay with you tonight if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely.” Her voice turned sexy.

“Your ex hasn’t tried anything?”

“Wants me to move back to New Orleans.”

“What?” Gabe’s palms itched. “You don’t want to go back there.”

“New Orleans is a great city, lots of character.”

“But…” Gabe clamped his mouth shut. But what could he say? Come out to California with him? “I thought you liked it here.”

“I’m tired of not fitting in. At least in New Orleans not fitting in was normal.” She sounded so wistful that panic fluttered in Gabe’s chest. What if she left now and he never saw her again?

“Get a grip,” he mumbled after hanging up. He started the car. He was naturally feeling protective of her since he suspected Alain of murder, but when all was said and done, he had no claim on her life. Whether she stayed or left Smith Creek had nothing to do with him at all.

* * * * *

Baron Samedi lolled out his tongue and kicked his hind legs as Shylah scratched his stomach. The dog was in ecstasy, which had his owner quite jealous, judging by the scowl on Alain’s face. Empty bowls sat on the coffee table unable to jump to the sink until someone stood up, but Alain’s jambalaya had them all in a semi-comatose state, including the dog since he’d had his share. Feeling relaxed despite her conversation with Gabe, Shylah found it easy to remember why she’d fallen in love with New Orleans and Alain in the first place. He’d even brought her a tin of Café du Monde coffee, which was half chicory, and a box of pralines. He was definitely doing the hard sell.

“Don’t you miss working magick together?” Alain asked.

“Sometimes, but I don’t miss the dark stuff.”

“You sound puritanical; sex magick isn’t dark.”

“But it lost us some of our close coven mates, and sex magick wasn’t all you wanted to get into.”

“Real magick is for more than just healing.” The way he said the word healing made it sound like something icky. “It’s for accomplishing things, bringing the magician a better life.”

“But we’re not magicians; we’re Wiccans, or at least I am.”

“What, you just want to roll around in nature and save the planet?”

“I want to honor the Lord and Lady and feel the calming power of Mother Earth, yes. I want to dance the circle and share cakes and ale, the way we used to.”

“New Age crap.”

“You didn’t think so when I first met you.”

His scowl deepened. “I knew what you wanted to hear.” He popped out of his chair, startling Baron into doing the same. “Come on—let’s do some magick! You and I, we had a vibe together.” He took her hands. “There must be something you want to work on.”

Shylah slowly rose to her feet. “I want to solve these murders. I don’t want any more innocent children to be killed by some sex pervert using me as a scapegoat.” And if Gabe was right about Clement Wann, then she wanted to help him find the evidence he needed.

“And nothing you’ve tried before has worked, right?”

Her scrying had only given her partial images of no use to the police. “Right.”

“That’s because you haven’t had me. We’re the perfect team.”

But had he murdered Wanda Nance, like Gabe suggested? If that was true, then she needed to know. A murderer would never consent to a spell that could unmask him, so how could she bring out that truth as well? “What do you think of a justice spell?” she asked.

He cocked his head. “Hmm, not sure about that. Where do you do your workings?”

“In the solarium usually.”

“Perfect.” He started tugging her from the room. “No, a justice spell seems too broad. Your boyfriend has a suspect, right?”

“Yes. He’s staking him out now.”

“Then we need to do a spell to help him find the evidence that he needs. What do you think of a bad-guy-do-something-stupid spell?”

“Well, I’m sure that’d be awesome, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. Also, too broad. Stupid may not lead to his arrest.” She managed to yank herself free. “Stop tugging me. The solarium’s not big enough for the two of us to do a circle. Probably right here in the living room would be best, over by the fire. Just rearrange a bit. Plus more privacy.”