Pretty Witches All in a Row (3 page)

“Nope, just me.  It’s a little early for breaking and entering, isn’t it?”  Her head canted to one side as she studied him.

“Technically it’s just entering, the door was unlocked,” Nick flashed a sheepish grin.

“But the closed sign was still up,” she set down the remote, keeping the counter between them. 

“I heard the music, I figured someone was around.”

“And this morning you were struck by a powerful need for incense?  So powerful, you decided to chuck convention and let yourself in?” 

Cute.  “Not exactly.”  He reached into his inside coat pocket and withdrew his ID, the little gold badge gleaming against the leather.  “Sergeant Gibson, I’m here in a strictly professional capacity.”

He’d clearly managed to catch her off guard with that one, as her brows rose with a measure of surprise.  “I’m Annaliese… Cross,” she added belatedly, studying his identification with interest.  “What can I do for you, Sergeant?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cross.”  At least he thought she was a Miss, a quick check revealed her ring finger to be bare.  “I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.” 

“If I can,” she nodded.  “Would you like a cup of coffee?  I think I can use one myself.” 

“Yes, thank you; that would be nice.”  Gibson watched her nervous motions as she went through the process of making the coffee on the fancy espresso machine on the back counter.  It wasn’t lost on him that she’d chosen to occupy her hands with something instead of just talking to him, but he was used to that reaction once people found out what he did.  “Is this your place?”  His voice rose over the noise of the machine.

“Yes, it’s all mine,” she nodded, voice rising to match. 

“You actually make a living with this stuff?”  The note of skepticism in his voice was regretted almost instantly and he tried to soften it with a smile. 

“There are more of us than you would think, especially in this area,” she smiled back, amused.  “Actually, I sell more over the internet than I do here in the store, but I enjoy having the interaction with people.  Most of my customers don’t buy more than a cup of tea and a muffin when they stop by.”

“That sounds like an expensive way to network,” he observed, watching her graceful movements and she gave a faint shrug. 

“I don’t have all that much in the way of overhead; this house is mine, free and clear.  It’s been in my family for a couple of generations.”

“What about employees?”

“I have a couple of part timers on the staff, and a few help out for barter sometimes.”  She slid over the latte, in the direction of the sugar.

“Thanks,” Nick smiled his appreciation; the coffee smelled a helluva lot better than any he could have gotten down at the precinct.  “Did you ever employ a woman by the name of Skye Mackenzie?” he asked, watching her face carefully as he mentioned her name.

Annaliese gave a long, drawn out sigh.  “This is about Skye?”

Not quite the reaction he’d been expecting; he was uncertain how to interpret her tone.  “Yes, how well are you acquainted with Miss Mackenzie?” 

“Fairly well, we’ve known each other for a few years, since right after she came to town.  Look… whatever it is she’s done, she’s a good kid.  If she needs me to vouch for her, I’ll do it.”

“A good kid, huh?   She’s not all that much younger than you are, is she?”  Perhaps a little dangerously close to soliciting her age, but the question begged asking.

“No, she’s a few years younger, but if you knew her you’d know what I mean.  I’ve seen old souls at eighteen who’ve been on their own already for a couple of years, and I’ve seen forty year olds just as irresponsible and prone to childish behavior as a teenager; age doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Gotcha,” Nick nodded sagely.  He was willing to bet she fit into the more responsible end of that spectrum.  She seemed pretty calm, cool and collected for finding a strange man in her shop while still in her pj’s.  “What makes you think she’s done something?”

Annaliese gave him a long look, “Because as sweet as she is, sometimes the girl doesn’t think before she acts.  Her heart’s in the right place, but sometimes her brain has to play catch up.” 

“When was the last time you saw Miss Mackenzie?”

“What’s today?  Tuesday, she came in last Tuesday.”

“How did she seem to you?  Troubled?  Unhappy?  Any problems with boyfriends, anything like that?”

“No, she was fine, same as always… Detective, what is this all about?”

Nick shifted his weight, taking a sip of the coffee, knowing even as he did it that he was delaying the next part for as long as possible.  “Miss Cross, I’m not here to investigate something she’s done, I’m afraid she died last night.”  He watched the play of emotions over her pretty features, the shock, followed by a stab of something that might have been pain, and then disbelief.

“What?  She can’t be dead, I just saw her this week...”  Annaliese sank onto a wooden stool tucked behind the shop counter. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied succinctly, allowing her a few seconds to get ahold of her emotions before plunging ahead with the obligatory question.  “Where were you last night between the hours of eleven PM and two AM?”

Annaliese stared back at him blankly.  “I… was here.  We close up shop around ten PM, and then I finished up some paperwork and went to bed.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“No, not really.  After I shooed out the last customer I was on my own.”  She took a long drink of her coffee, cradling its warmth in her hands.  “How did she die?” Anna asked finally, still sounding a little shell shocked. 

“I’m not at liberty to say at the moment, we’ve just begun our investigation. We found a stack of your business cards on her desk.”  He drew one out of his coat pocket and laid it on the counter between them.

Nodding slowly, she picked it up.  “We trade off, I have some of her business cards here for massage, and she hands out some of mine for like minded people.”  Anna gestured to a series of little plastic business card holders with other local businesses.  Sure enough, Skye’s was featured in the group. 

“If you’ll excuse me for saying so, it seems like she was a little more than a networking contact to you,” he probed gently.

“Like I said, we’ve been friends since she came to Portland.  Everybody liked her; she had that way about her.  We were in the same circle.”

Clearly that wasn’t the case,
somebody
hadn’t liked her, or she wouldn’t have wound up dead, but he felt it best not to point that out just then.  “Is that like a cell phone calling plan?”

“No,” Annaliese shook her head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.  “Circle, as in group.  Like a pagan social club, only we practice rituals, not give each other pedicures when we get together.”

“Oh, I get it,” understanding dawned on him.  “So you practice what you sell, is that right?”

“In a manner of speaking.  I sell things that I don’t personally use; I have products from many different paths.”

“You don’t look much like a Wicca.” 

“Wiccan,” she corrected him.  “What were you expecting?  Pointy hat and a broom?”

“Something like that,” he admitted.   “Okay maybe not, but you look so… normal.”

“Thanks… I think,” she frowned, taking a long drink of coffee.  “And I’m not, not exactly.”

“What do you mean you’re not exactly?”

“I don’t like labels; I’m more of a… generic Pagan.”

“Generic Pagan?”  His brows climbed.  “Does that mean you offer discounts?”

“It means, that I don’t like to limit myself with a specific pantheon.  And no, I don’t perform any rituals for pay, though there are some that do.”  Her nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Pantheon…” Nick hastily scribbled down the word.  “I’m gonna have to look that one up later,” he admitted without a trace of shame.  The entire thing was way more interesting than the usual husband kills wife or bar fight gets out of hand type of case he usually dealt with.  “So, about this circle…” he looked up, pen poised.  “Can you give me the names of the rest of the club?”

A tiny pucker of concern appeared on her smooth brow.  “Why do you need to know that?”

“We need to talk to as many friends and family members as we can as part of the investigation.  Since it’s my understanding that most of her family isn’t around here, that leaves her friends.”

“Is that routine whenever someone dies?” 

“It is when they’re killed,” he admitted, sensing it was going to be harder than he’d thought to get those names. 

“You’re saying that her death wasn’t accidental then?  Why would anyone want to kill Skye?”  

“That’s what I aim to find out,” Nick’s chin came up with determination.  “So… how about those names?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help you.  It’s just… one of the cardinal rules, you don’t out someone without their prior consent.  Not everyone is ready to come out of the broom closet, so to speak,” Annaliese hesitated, teeth catching her lower lip.

“I think I understand,” he sighed.  Finishing off the last of his coffee; he slid the empty cup across the counter towards her.  “I can promise you, the only people who will have access to this information are other members of my department.  It’s not like we’re going to rent ad space in the Willamette Weekly and post a list of who’s who in the witch world,” he tried for a charming smile. 

“No, I know…” she smiled faintly at his response.  “How about this, I’ll give you a couple of names right now, the other two… I’ll need to check in with them first.  Once I explain what it’s for, I’m sure they won’t mind cooperating.  We want to find out what happened to Skye even more than you do.  Like I said, everyone loved her.”

Gibson pretended to think it over, but there was precious little he could do to compel her to tell him what he wanted to know at this stage of the investigation.  Besides, the victim’s laptop would probably clue them in to who the other members of her circle were anyway.  “Alright, you drive a hard bargain; I’ll take what I can get now.  Besides, this gives me an excuse to call you later and badger you into giving those last names up.” 

“You don’t strike me as the sort of man who needs an excuse to do what he wants.” 

“You’re very intuitive… or are you using your witchly powers on me?”  His eyes narrowed at her playfully. 

“That would be unethical,” Anna laughed at his expression.  “Okay, so one of the ladies is Meiliyn Xiang… I have her card here.”  She fished out one of the business cards from the holders on the counter. 

Nick accepted the card and studied it, reading aloud.  “Acupressure, reflexology, reiki.  Okay, acupressure I’ve heard of before, what are the other two?”

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure reflexology has something to do with your feet, something about how there’s a part of your foot to correspond to each part of your body.  Reiki is… energy healing is probably the best way to describe it.”

“
Okay
…” Not quite sure what to say about that without the risk of offending her since she clearly believed in that kind of stuff, he simply moved on.  “And the other lady?”

“Ellie Wentworth.  I can give you her name and address…”  Annaliese picked up one of her own cards and wrote them down with neatly, precise script. 

“What does she do?  Séances?” 

“No,” she snorted.  “Ellie’s the unofficial den mother for most of our crowd.  She’s been around for as long as I can remember.  Skye even stayed with her for a while about a year ago when she lost her apartment,” Anna added as an afterthought. 

“Thank you.”  Nick accepted the card and gave it a swift look to make sure he could make out her handwriting.  “So, no chance I can pry anything else out of you for the moment, huh?”  He gave her his best puppy dog look.

“No, but I’ll be in touch.  Like I said, I want to find out who’s responsible for this even more than you do.” 

He’d been trained not to make snap judgments, but he believed her.  “Alright, then I’ll be on my way.  What do I owe you for the coffee?”  His hand went back for his wallet.

“It’s on the house, Detective,” she waved away the offer. 

“Sergeant,” Nick corrected her automatically, dropping one of his business cards on the counter, “and thanks.”

“Whatever.”  She shrugged away the distinction without much apparent concern.  “You’ll let me know what you find out, right?”

“As much as I can,” Nick answered vaguely, which wouldn’t be much until after they made an arrest, no matter how cute her bare toes were.  Pausing before a display of little cauldrons ranging in size from three to six inches in diameter, he picked one up.  “Somehow I thought these would be bigger.  What are these, cauldrons for mice?” 

“Come now Sergeant, you should know better than I do, size doesn’t matter.”  A wry twist of the lips was given. 

“Only too well,” he replied with a self deprecating laugh.  “Thanks again for the help, Miss Cross.  I’ll give you a call if I think of any more questions.”

“Stop by anytime.” 

Nick turned and left the shop, already pulling out his cell phone and dialing Brady.  “So, what have you got for me so far?”

“Not too much yet.  Our victim wasn’t exactly tidy with her records.  I found a spreadsheet that logged payments but she didn’t use full names on it.  We’re cross referencing with her bank records, but the list is a little on the light side right now.” 

“Okay, what
do
you have?”  Gibson tried not to let the frustration into his voice; he knew Brady was doing his best. 

“I have records of direct deposits from a company called Naturelle Organics up until about three months ago.  They have an office on 2
^nd
and Davis downtown.”

“Okay, I’ll check that out, I’m not too far from there.  I have two names to add to your list.  Meiliyn Xiang and Ellie Wentworth.”  Nick spelled each of their names out and gave their phone numbers.  “Find out what you can, I’ll check in with you before I head out to see them.  They were both witches from Skye’s circle of friends.” 

Crap
… as soon as he’d said it, he realized what he’d done.  It was one of his little rules; try not to refer to the victim by name when possible.  It was too easy to get caught up in the vic’s life and run the risk of getting personally involved.  With as many deaths as he investigated, it wasn’t healthy to let himself care on that level; too emotionally devastating when the sordid details eventually surfaced.  And they always did.