Midsummer Night's Mischief (25 page)

Still, if anyone
had
seen us together, I supposed they might have gotten the wrong idea.

I felt light-headed and confused. Jeremy moved to pass me again, and the heavy duffel bag bumped my leg. I backed up—and suddenly laughed.

“Who would believe you, Jeremy? You're a liar and a thief.”

Before I knew what was happening, Jeremy reached out and shoved me. I staggered for a moment but managed to grab a bookshelf to keep from falling over. Then I turned to watch as Jeremy ran down the center aisle. He made it to the elevator as the door opened and a tall police officer stepped out with one hand on his holster.

“It's in the bag!” I called out.

Literally.

CHAPTER 27

My first day back at the office was a fairly typical Wednesday. I had messages to return, appointments to schedule, mail to review. What was surprising, though, was the fact that all my case files were stacked neatly on my desk, beneath detailed notes on any actions taken and the current status. Notes written in Crenshaw's slanted handwriting.
Interesting.

When I met with Beverly later that morning, she repeated what she had said before about Crenshaw looking after my cases for me while I was away.

“A lot can happen in two weeks,” she said.

“Tell me about it.”

We sat in Beverly's lounge, in two wingback chairs near the window. Sunlight streamed in, making speckled shadows across the table between us. Beverly had welcomed me back and had congratulated me on solving the case. However, she hadn't apologized for my forced vacation. I guessed it was the price I had to pay for causing any kind of threat to the firm in the first place.

Even though it
so
clearly wasn't my fault.

“So, have you heard from Jeremy?” I asked.

She shook her head. “He's being held pending arraignment, which should be later today or tomorrow. The state's attorney told me Jeremy has decided to defend himself.”

“Ooh. That doesn't sound like a very good idea.”

Beverly raised one eyebrow. “I think we now know that Jeremy's judgment is seriously lacking in a lot of areas.”

“Yeah. I feel sorry for his girlfriend. Although, she's probably better off without him.” I didn't mean to sound so cold, but I was still pissed at Jeremy for what he did. Not only did he cause a lot of heartache for a lot of people, but he was also now causing a hardship for the office. In fact, it occurred to me that the lost relationship predicted by my tarot reading was probably the loss of Jeremy as my coworker and friend.

“Well, I truly feel sad for both of them,” said Beverly. “I don't see Jeremy getting out of this without forfeiting his law license and serving jail time—which, of course, he should.”

“Right. Of course. He has to pay the consequences.” I thought back to my conversation with Darlene the night before. She was so relieved to have the Folio back, and even more relieved the thief wasn't one of her sons or her brother, that she had almost declined to press charges. I didn't know which of her family members had convinced her otherwise, but I had to agree with them. I certainly intended to press charges for the vandalism Jeremy had done to my front window. He wouldn't admit to it, but I was hoping the police would find some evidence that linked him to the crime.

Shortly after taking Jeremy to the jailhouse, the police had received an anonymous tip that Jeremy was involved in an illegal money-lending racket. I had a strong hunch it was Rob who had made that call to the police. Wes had told me his brother felt guilty about informing Jeremy that the Folio was at his grandmother's house. Apparently, Rob had said he would do whatever he could to make things right. Wes was hopeful Rob would turn his life around now and get the help he needed to kick his gambling addiction.

Because of Rob's tip, the police had been able to obtain a warrant to search Jeremy's apartment. Besides finding a list of rare-books dealers and a list of names under the label “RQ Regulars,” they'd uncovered another disturbing item. It was a picture of me, printed from the Internet, with a big
X
across my face. The letters
MYOB
were written across the top.

I shuddered to think how Jeremy had planned to deliver that charming little message. The creep.

On the bright side, I'd learned it wasn't Jeremy who had been prowling around my home the morning of my birthday. Farrah had told me that Jake had confessed to lurking on my doorstep, but that he wasn't trying to break in. He was trying to see if Farrah was inside after she failed to return his calls following his proposal. Mrs. St. John might have exaggerated her tale just a little bit.

Beverly checked her phone and sighed. “Kris and Randall are reaching out to all of Jeremy's clients. And we'll have an all-staff meeting tomorrow to discuss messaging and next steps.” Beverly paused, gazing out the window. “Interestingly, I already had a visit from Edgar Harrison last night.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, Jeremy had been moonlighting as an agent for a company that does security and collections work for River Queen Casino. Edgar assured me that Jeremy had no direct ties to Edgar, the casino, or any other Harrison enterprise. He'll be counting on our firm to ensure his name never appears in connection with Jeremy or his crime.”

I nodded, even as I thought to myself how challenging this might be. I didn't tell Beverly I already knew about Jeremy's side business. According to Wes, Rob had also admitted that Jeremy pushed Rob into taking out a “bad loan.” He said Jeremy had spent a lot of time at the casino, getting friendly with the regular customers and leading them to Mr. Derello's “loan shop.”

Well, I would let the police conduct their investigation, come what may. If Jeremy had been working for Scarface instead of directly for Harrison, Harrison should have nothing to worry about. He would just have to find another security company. That was all.

Beverly stood up, her cue that our meeting was over. “The next couple weeks are going to be difficult for our little workplace family,” she said. “But we'll get through it.”

After leaving Beverly's lounge, I headed down the hall toward my office. As I passed the open door to the reception area, I overheard Julie say something about the master key. I froze.

I had forgotten to return the key that night I searched Jeremy's office. Hovering out of sight, I listened to Julie, who seemed to be talking to Pammy and Crenshaw.

“The police officers will be here with a search warrant in an hour. If I can't find that key, we're going to have to bust the door to Jeremy's office. Beverly is
not
gonna like that.”

“That's not even the biggest concern,” Pammy said. “If the key is missing, we have a potential security breach to address. You know, it really should be kept in a locked drawer.”

I winced and took a step forward. Crenshaw saw me. But then he turned to Julie and Pammy and held both palms forward.

“Ladies, not to worry. I have the key. I borrowed it when I locked myself out the other day. I simply forgot to return it. I believe I left it at home. I—I'll pop home and get it before the officers arrive.”

Raising my eyebrows, I silently backed away and hurried to my office.

First, Crenshaw takes care of my work for two weeks, and then he covers for me so I don't have to admit to sneaking around the office at night.
What in the world was going on?

I sat down at my desk, slapping my forehead as I did so. As the light dawned, I felt my face grow hot, even in the privacy of my own office.

Crenshaw liked me. He
like
liked me. Crenshaw's love sonnet was about me.

I found it hard to believe, yet I knew it must be true.

After grabbing my purse, I dug out the master key and set it on my desk. Then I pulled out a piece of stationery and wrote the only thing I could say:

 

 

I placed the key in the center of the paper and folded it in half.

After making sure the coast was clear, I dashed over to Crenshaw's office and left the note on top of his cleared desk, where he would be sure to see it. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an open briefcase propped on a nearby chair. A manila envelope was sticking out of the case.

An envelope much like the one that contained the Old West photo of Farrah and me and that had disappeared from my tote.

Then I spotted the shoes on the floor, next to the chair. They were shiny brown-and-white wing tips like the ones worn by the donkey-headed actor at the Renaissance Faire.

Slowly, I reached over toward the envelope. Then I hesitated.

Did I really want to know?

I dashed back out of the office.

* * *

I checked my hair in the mirror, checked the time again, checked my pulse. I still had ten minutes until Wes was due to pick me up, and all I could do was pace the living room. We were going to dinner and a movie, nothing fancy. Just a simple, old-fashioned date. I smiled, thinking that Eleanor would approve.

Wes and I had spoken on the phone several times in the past week, and each time he had opened up to me more and more. So much so that I was now seriously considering opening up to him, too, about being Wiccan. If we were to have any kind of lasting relationship, I wanted it to be based on honesty. I had a good feeling about our future, and if I'd learned anything this midsummer, it was to trust my inner feelings.

I imagined Eleanor would also approve of the family's decision about the Folio. As I circled my living room again, I paused at the mantel and reread the thank-you note Darlene had sent me. Honoring Kirk's wish, as well as Eleanor's, they had all decided to hold on to the Folio for one year. Each of the two kids would keep it for six months—safely and securely, under lock and key, of course. And they would make it freely accessible to all the family during each person's turn. After the year was over, they would sell the First Folio at auction, giving T.C. Satterly the right of first refusal.

My eyes shifted from the thank-you card to the beautiful framed fairy picture from Mila, then to the birthday cards I had propped on the mantel shelf, and then finally rested on the postcard from Aunt Josephine. I picked up the postcard and studied it once again. I furrowed my brow. Aside from the Latin phrases, which were quirky and inspirational, her choice of wording was a little bit peculiar. “To my beautiful niece and kindred spirit, as lovely and strong on the inside as on the out.”

I had never met my aunt Josephine. She had never seen me, as far as I knew. So why would she call me beautiful? And how would she know I was “as lovely and strong on the inside as on the out”?

For that matter, what did she mean by “kindred spirit”?

Okay, maybe I was overthinking this. Or maybe, possibly, my appetite had now been whetted for mystery solving. Maybe I would see mysteries everywhere now.

I smiled at this thought as I glanced again at the fairy picture, sparkling in a sunbeam. That would be okay. After all, life
was
a mystery.

Keli Milanni will return in . . .

BELL, BOOK AND CANDLEMAS
A WICCAN WHEEL MYSTERY

A Kensington mass-market and e-book
on sale January 2017!

The Wiccan holiday of Candlemas is right around the corner, but when vandals target New Age gift shop Moonstone Treasures, the mood is far from festive. Frightening threats and accusations of witchcraft aimed at the owner have some Wiccan patrons calling it a hate crime. And when things escalate to murder, the community turns to Keli…

As a friend and customer, Keli wants to help. But there's one problem: she's fiercely private about her religion. How can she stop the harassment, not to mention catch a killer, while keeping her faith hidden from her colleagues, clients, and her promising—and long awaited—new boyfriend? At a time meant to banish darkness, will Keli have to choose between risking the spotlight and keeping her beliefs locked in the proverbial broom closet? Or will she call on her deepest convictions to conjure the perfect path?...

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jennifer David Hesse
is an environmental attorney by day and author by night.
Midsummer Night's Mischief
is her debut book in the new Wiccan Wheel series. Born and raised in Central Illinois, Jennifer now makes her home in Chicago with her husband, guitarist Scott Hesse, and their daughter, Sage. When she's not writing, Jennifer enjoys yoga, hiking, and movie night with her family. Please visit her at
JenniferDavidHesse.com
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