Pretty Witches All in a Row (5 page)

Nick set down the muffin he’d been unpeeling and picked up the half muffin on the napkin, holding it on his lap for the moment.  “When was the last time you heard from Miss Mackenzie?”

“Oh… let me think now…”  Ellie stirred a blot of honey into her tea as she considered the question.  “I think it was a little over a week ago, we had a… picnic of sorts over at Highland Park.”

“A picnic?  Was that with your… pagan circle friends?”  He wasn’t quite sure what to call them.

“Yes, that’s right; we usually meet once a month come rain or shine.  We had shine this time, that was nice,” she smiled, taking a sip of the hot tea.  

“What sort of things do you normally do at your monthly gatherings?” 

“Oh I couldn’t tell you that; if I did I’d have to kill you,” she replied with a gleam in her eyes that he wasn’t quite sure how to interpret, but she smiled a moment later. 

“Of course,” he laughed weakly. 
Definitely not going to eat the muffin…

“I’m just funnin’ you, dear,” Ellie chuckled again, reaching over to pat his arm lightly.  “But we normally don’t discuss those things with outsiders.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, moving on for the moment.  “When you last saw Miss Mackenzie, how did she seem to you?”

“She seemed fine to me, only she forgot to bring the spoons; we had to eat the macaroni salad with forks.”

“How… unfortunate.”  Not quite what he was going for, but Nick was quick to redirect.  “So she didn’t mention any problems she was having at all?  Boyfriend trouble?”

“I don’t think so, but then again most of the girls don’t talk about that sort of thing with me, they think I’m too old to remember what it’s like to date anymore.  They’re wrong of course.”  She gave him an almost coquettish smile, lightly touching his arm once more. 

Good lord… was the old bird flirting with him?  Deciding to ignore it, he pressed on.  “Did she have any enemies?”  So far this wasn’t proving to be terribly enlightening and Nick was starting to feel himself at another dead end.

“Land sakes… of course not!” Ellie gasped, hand going to her breast.  “Oh honey, you said
did
she have any enemies… has something happened to poor Skye?” she asked with visible distress. 

“I’m afraid so, Ma’am, she passed on last night,” he said as gently as he could.

Her eyes quickly became watery and she blinked rapidly.  “Oh that poor, sweet angel…” Ellie’s voice quavered, a trace of a southern lilt creeping into her tone. 

“Is there anyone you can think of, anyone at all, who might have wanted to harm her?” 

“This world is such a dark place…” she sighed, pulling a small white handkerchief from her sleeve and bringing it to her nose.  Nick nodded, uncomfortable as usual with a woman’s tears.

“Yes Ma’am, it can be.” 

“It’s getting so a body isn’t safe going out after dark without an escort.”

“Ma’am, I need to ask you, where were you last night, between eleven PM and two AM?”

“Why, here of course.  Apart from ritual nights I’m not much of a night owl these days.  Most nights I’m in bed asleep by ten PM.”

“I see.”  Another alibi without corroboration.  “Are you able to direct me to any of the other members of your circle of friends who might have more information on Skye’s whereabouts last night?”

Ellie paused to think it over, dabbing lightly at the corner of her eyes with the handkerchief.  “There’s Annaliese, she owns this wonderful shop down on Hawthorne, Argent Flame.  She and Skye were fairly close, she might have seen her more recently.”

“I’ve just come from seeing Miss Cross; she’s the one who directed me to you actually.”

“Oh, did she now?”  There was a small measure of surprise in her voice.  “Let’s see, who else then…?  Perhaps Mei, she might know a little more.”

“Is that Meiliyn Xiang?”  Nick looked up.  “I tried her apartment but she wasn’t there.  Do you have any idea where I might find her?  Any places she might frequent, or a day job we’re not aware of?” 

“Goodness no, I couldn’t say where she might be at this time of the day, I would have thought you’d find her at home.  I’m afraid I can’t help you all that much, Sergeant Gibson, this has been such a terrible shock… but if I think of anything that might be helpful, do you have a calling card?”

A calling card… Nick dug out one of his business cards and handed it over to her.  “Please, do give me a call if you do think of anything.”  Rising, he set the uneaten muffin back on the tray.

“I surely will, Sergeant Gibson.”

Nick paused by the doorway.  “Do you by any chance hail from the south, Miss Ellie?” 

“Originally, yes, for more years than you’ve been alive, though I’ve been gone for quite some time,” Ellie nodded.

“I thought so; you’ve still got a trace of an accent sometimes,” he remarked, tucking his notebook away.

“You know what they say, you can take a girl out of the South but you can’t take the South out of the girl,” she gave him an impish smile. 

“Indeed.  It was a pleasure meeting you, Ma’am.” 

“Goodbye, Sergeant.  You be careful now.”  Ellie saw him to the door, giving a little wave as he stepped out onto the front porch.

“I always am.  Have a nice day, Ma’am.” 

Chapter Three

Nick pulled into the central precinct parking lot, gratified to find an open spot that wouldn’t require an extended walk to get back to the entrance.   It was getting close to lunch time, but he was eager to see what the rest of the team had put together in his absence.  So far, all he’d been able to find out was that Skye Mackenzie had been well liked, if not terribly respected, by her friends and coworkers, and that no one could think of anyone who would want to harm her, let alone murder her.

Park and Brady huddled together in their corner of the bullpen, making notations on the big dry erase board.  “Daddy’s home, whatcha got?” Gibson called out, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Park went first, picking up a clipboard with a sheaf of papers attached.  “I spoke to her parents and sisters.  They were understandably upset at the news, didn’t have much to contribute.  Apparently she didn’t call home much and wasn’t a regular writer; she hadn’t been home to visit since moving out here.  I got the impression that the father didn’t much approve of her lifestyle.  None of them knew who she’d been seeing or who she regularly spent time with.  The mother said she’d look through some of her letters and see if there was anything she thought could be useful. 

“I talked to the neighbor, Eddie Sang.  He had a good deal more gossip to contribute.  He’s made complaints to the building owner before about her late hours and the smell of incense that makes it into his unit.  Didn’t seem too broken up over her death, he thinks it was her own fault for having something burning at all hours of the day and night.  In fact, he asked me if I thought he could sue the building owner for placing his life in danger for renting to a pyromaniac.  A real charmer,” she added sarcastically. 

“Nice,” Nick grimaced, “Did he have anything useful on her visitors?  Did he see anyone go into her place last night?”

A shake of the head was given.  “I’m afraid not.  He didn’t particularly notice if she was there when he got home from work.  He was out with his bowling league until about eleven-thirty, which the manager at the bowling alley and two of his bowling buddies confirmed.  When he got home, her light was on, but he didn’t see or hear anything unusual until he heard the fire alarm go off and smelled the smoke.  He called the fire department and got outside, but didn’t see anyone else around until the emergency crews arrived.”

“What about the other neighbors?  Any of them see anything?”

“That’s a big fat nada,” Brady interjected.  “There are still a couple of people we haven’t been able to reach though, so here’s to keeping that hope alive.”

Nick nodded, it was unlikely they’d catch a break and have someone pipe up with something useful, like the license plate of a car speeding away just as the fire alarm went off.  “Did you reach the owner of the building?” 

Park nodded, flipping to another page on her clipboard.  “Yes, Wally Tuttle.  He owns several rental properties on the southeast side, this is the only one this far north.  He didn’t have too much to say.  She was habitually late in paying the rent, but always managed to come up with the money.  I asked him why he continued to rent to her if she never made the payments on time and he shrugged it off, said in that business you had to take the lesser of the evils.” 

“Plus, do you know how hard it is to evict someone?” Brady snorted in disgust.  “He probably figured it was easier to deal with the hassle of her paying late than the hassle of trying to boot her out and fix the place up before he got a new tenant in there.”

“Okay, what else?”  Nick looked to Brady expectantly, ignoring the little diatribe on tenant woes.

Brady reached for his own clipboard, handing it over to Gibson.  “We ran the call history on her cell phone; for the most part it doesn’t deviate from the people in her contact list.  There are a lot of calls to one number in the past three weeks though, a guy named Brandon Forrester.  He’s a bartender over at a bar on 82nd called The Graveyard.  Nice, huh?”

“Okay, let’s see what we can dig up on this graveyard guy, and the two of you go over and pay him a visit.  Also see if anyone can place her at the bar last night.”  The two younger detectives traded a look over the bad pun but nodded at the assigned task.  “What else?”  Nick flipped the page from the cell phone log to the next.

Brady leaned over, “Oh, that’s the list of clients we’ve got so far, we’re still working on going through the files on her computer though.  Our vic was kind of a packrat, she’s got emails that go back for two years, and more files on herbs, candles, spells and stuff than you can shake a stick at.”

“Yeah?  See if you can find a spell to catch a killer,” Nick smirked, stepping up to the white board to pick up a dry erase marker.  “So… we know that things were peaceful and calm at eleven…” he made a mark on the timeline.  “And the fire department was called at one forty-two AM.”  He made another mark.  “That gives us a window of opportunity of just under three hours.”

Captain Quinn’s administrative assistant Tracy came up with a manila envelope tucked under her arm, a large paper bag in her hands and a long suffering sigh on her lips.  “You know… it’s not really my job to play delivery boy for you guys.”  She thrust the bag into Nick’s hands.  “I signed for these for you.”  Tracy handed the envelope to Park. 

“Thanks Tracy, I appreciate you saving me the trip.”  Park gave her a friendly smile; as the junior member of the team, she normally got stuck with the gopher duties. 

“It’s no problem.”  Tracy smiled back at the female detective, “but you guys owe me twenty-one fifty for the sandwiches.”

“Whose turn is it to pay?”  Brady looked to the other two.

“I’ve got it,” Nick offered distractedly, pulling out his wallet, his attention still mostly focused on the white board.  Pulling out a few bills he handed them over to the pretty blonde secretary. 

“Where’s my tip?”  Tracy raised a brow, eyes on Gibson.

“Always floss,” he flashed her a quick smile.  His stomach was empty, but he wasn’t quite ready to move away from the board yet.  Its big, white expanse bothered him; they needed more information.

Park opened the envelope, withdrawing glossy enlargements of the crime scene.  “Oh great, the pics are here.”

“Ah, just what we needed.”  Gibson pounced upon them, eager to have something, anything to put up on the board.  He started with a picture of the victim, placing that in the center of the board.  Park and Brady left him to it, digging through the bag to retrieve their sandwiches before they had to get back on the road again. 

Sorting through the pictures, Nick frowned at the images.  “I wish we knew a little more about what we’re looking at.”  There were things in her house that he was wholly unfamiliar with.  Would it give a clue to the killer’s identity to know what that marking was on the floor?  Or the kind of incense hanging over her bed?

“Maybe I’ll bring these down to that magic shop, see if the owner can shed a little light onto these, find out if there’s anything we’re missing?” 

Park and Brady traded a look over their respective sandwiches.  “You’re going back to see that Cross woman again?” Park questioned mildly.  “She must have made quite an impression on you.” 

“She was very helpful, probably the most helpful person I’ve talked to in connection with this case so far,” Nick defended his decision.  “What did you come up with about her, by the way?”  He stepped away from the board and picked up his own sandwich, starting to unwrap it. 

Brady held up a finger while he finished chewing, taking a swig of soda to wash it down with.  “Let’s see now…” he flipped to the right page of his notes.  “Annaliese Cross, age twenty-eight.  Sole proprietor of Argent Flame, which boasts a thriving online store.  She owns the property free and clear and also maintains her residence there.”

“All stuff I already know, skip to the good stuff,” Nick waved him on, taking a bite of his food. 

“Hmm, not sure what qualifies as the good stuff…  She was married briefly at age nineteen, but filed for divorce later that same year.  No record to speak of, she seems to be squeaky clean except for one incident… of public nudity, but she was never charged.” 

“Shut the front door… are you serious?”  Nick rolled his chair over to his desk and tapped a few keys on his computer, frowning when he couldn’t come up with anything on the incident.  But it made sense; if she hadn’t been charged, she wouldn’t have been booked, no pictures, no prints, nothing more than a report of the incident Brady found. 

“Even better, she wasn’t alone at the time.  Also reported to be at the scene in the buff was Meiliyn Xiang, Zoe Phillips, Eleanor Wentworth, Seraphine Ryan and a Rose Spencer.” 

If he’d been drinking at the time it would have sprayed all over his desk; instead Nick nearly choked on the bite of sandwich he’d been eating.  “Did you say Seraphine Ryan?” he managed to get out after sucking in a deep breath.