Читать книгу Magick Run Amok - Sharon Pape - Страница 18

Chapter 10

After a quick sandwich of turkey, cranberry sauce, and coleslaw from the mini-mart, I sat down at the computer, ready to begin our investigation into Ryan’s death in earnest. I knew Travis wasn’t going to rest easy until we found his brother’s killer.

I accessed the coroner’s report for the first name on the list. The public part of the report provided only the basics. Martin Frank of Watkins Glen was forty-six at the time of his death on March tenth, 2011. His death was attributed to multiple stab wounds to his torso. To get a broader sense of who he was, I tried looking him up on Facebook, but there were a lot of people with that name. In any case, the odds were his account had been deleted years ago. Since his death was ruled a homicide, I also checked back issues of the local newspaper for articles about his untimely end. Authorities believed he was the victim of a botched burglary. The murder weapon was never recovered and the killer was scrupulous about cleaning up after himself, because no DNA was ever found. Martin was survived by his wife, Nina, and their two sons. There was a family photo of them all dressed up and smiling. Anything else we learned about him would have to come from interviewing members of his family.

The next name was Calista Gonzalez of Hassettville. She was listed as deceased on February twenty-eighth, 2012, at the age of seventy. Cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage, most likely the result of a fall. I found her account on Facebook where her brother, Max, had posted a goodbye to her. There were a few other acknowledgements of her passing, but nothing that provided more useful information about her.

According to the coroner, Axel Stubbs of Burdett was twenty-four when he died July third, 2014, from a drug overdose. A dozen people had posted on his Facebook page, many of the comments along the lines of It’s about time and Axel who? His obituary in the local paper said that he was survived by his father and two sets of grandparents.

I only had two names to go, but as much as I wanted to continue, the words were swimming on the page and I was sure I fell asleep for a few seconds with my eyes open. I’d heard it was possible, but it was unnerving enough to send me upstairs.

When I walked into my room, the cats were already fast asleep and covering a good portion of the bed. Even my pillow had been usurped. I didn’t want to disturb them and set off a game of musical cats, so I lay across the width of the bed, curving my body around and between them and using an afghan blanket Bronwen had made in her one attempt at crocheting.

Travis called the next morning as I was stepping out of the shower. I asked him to hold on while I wrapped myself in my terry cloth robe. Morgana had added a neat little spell to it that allowed me to warm it to any temperature I desired. Almost everything in the house tied me to one family member or another. It was like living inside a hug.

“What’s going on there?” he inquired when I got back on the line. “Is someone there with you?” Before I could answer, he barreled on with wry indignation. “I knew it. I’ve been gone one day and you’ve already replaced me with another man.”

“Men are way too much trouble for me to start breaking in a new one,” I said. “The truth is you got me straight from the shower and I needed my robe, before I froze to death.”

“Oh, then I guess you’re forgiven.”

“How’s it going in Albany?”

“Turns out corruption and kickbacks aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Have you made any progress on Ryan’s notes?”

I updated him, adding that I’d check out the last two names later in the day. A busload of tourists was scheduled to descend on New Camel at ten and I wanted to make sure every bottle and jar was sparkling clean. Travis wished me a profitable day and said he’d check back later.

Bus tours at this time of year were far less frequent than in the spring and summer. When the temperature dropped and snow, sleet, and ice came to town, day-trippers were replaced by skiers, for whom après-ski took second place and shopping came in a distant third. All the shopkeepers were looking forward to an uptick in business from this busload of tourists. We were bent on making their experience one that would lead to return visits and favorable word of mouth.

Tilly was already deep into her baking by the time Sashkatu and I arrived at Abracadabra. She had a full slate of customers for the hours of the tour, thanks to the company’s revamped website that urged people to make reservations in advance for the town’s restaurants, as well as her readings. By ten o’clock, I was high on the sugary aromas wafting into my shop from hers. It felt like I was gaining weight by simply inhaling the air.

My first customer of the day was a young mother with a toddler boy and a girl who looked about seven. The mother seemed to be entranced with the shop from the moment she walked in. The little girl was clearly on watch-your-brother duty. She was glued to his side, taking his hands away whenever he tried to reach for something. Why wasn’t he strapped safely into a stroller? I wondered. Or home with a babysitter? I felt sorry for the girl, who was too young to bear the sole responsibility for her whirlwind of a brother. The mother never even turned around to see what was going on with her children, although her daughter kept saying, “no no, Joey, no touch.”

The mother came up to the counter to pick up a shopping basket, then went back to browsing as if she were on her own for the day and the kids belonged to someone else. I was about to tell her I was concerned about the safety of her children, when words became inadequate. The girl had paused for a moment to look at a display of amulets. That was all it took for the toddler to start scaling one of the wooden shelving units, knocking glass jars off to shatter on the floor. If he fell, he could be slashed by the shards of glass below him. If that wasn’t worrisome enough, the whole unit started wobbling, on the verge of throwing him to the ground and toppling onto him. Before I knew what I was doing, I was whisking the boy off the shelf. After I’d carried him out of harm’s way, I reached out with my mind to pull the whole unit upright again. I struggled against gravity, my powers failing. Defeated, I watched the unit wobble and then... stand straight up again? I was bewildered, until I saw Merlin duck out of sight at the back of my shop.

“What is all the commotion?” the mother demanded, finally dragging herself out of the aisle to see what was going on.

When I thought about the incident later, I realized that the only way I could have reached the toddler in time was by teleportation. That would help explain why the girl looked awestruck. And why she told her mother that the shop lady had to fly so fast to save her brother that she became invisible. Maybe all my practicing was finally starting to pay off. Teleportation was still leaving me drained, but not unconscious like my first successful attempt.

“Shop ladies can’t fly, Bella,” her mother said sharply. “You’ve been watching too many cartoons.” She took the toddler from my arms without so much as a thank you, grabbed her daughter’s hand, and stormed out of my shop with one parting remark. “This store is dangerous for children. You’re lucky they didn’t get hurt.”

“I’d say we both are,” I replied tightly. I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes the customer isn’t even close to being right.

I took a minute to poke my head into Tilly’s shop and thank Merlin for his strategic help. My aunt was involved in a reading, but Merlin was sitting in the kitchen area where the clients couldn’t see him. I waited for him to look up from his new iPad and motioned for him to join me.

“Thank you,” I whispered when he met me in the hallway.

“You are most welcome, mistress. I felt your energy surge, then plummet, hence I came to see if my help was required.” Under the circumstances, I couldn’t bring myself to blast him for using magick without our permission. After all, he had kept the shelving unit from crashing and possibly taking down the next one and the one after that like a line of dominoes. Had that happened, the kids’ mother could have been badly injured.

I closed the shop as soon as the bus pulled out of town. There had been no time for lunch, so I was tired and hungry. Thankfully the trouble with the first customer was the only speed bump of the day. Everyone else who came into the shop was friendly and well-mannered. They bought beauty products for themselves and others on their Christmas lists, as well as healing teas, crystals, and amulets. It was going to be a very magickal holiday for dozens of people.

Since it was early for the cats’ dinners, I walked down the block for a slice of mushroom pizza. Travis had introduced me to what he called “real pizza” when we were in Brooklyn investigating our last case, but when you’re as hungry as I was, New Camel pizza hit the spot. I stopped back at the shop for Sashkatu, who ignored my cajoling to come down from his window sill. The steady stream of people in and out of the shop had apparently disturbed his daytime napping cycle and he was busy catching up. Words held no sway with him when he’d made up his mind about something, but since he was quite portable, I picked him up and carried him home to the accompaniment of his outraged yowls. I figured that some salmon in his dinner kibble would make up for any real or imagined indignities he’d suffered and restore me into his good graces.