“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Fern said with a bitter laugh. I knew there was going to be no reasoning with her when she was like this. I also knew that it was the stress of the situation causing her to say these things, and not that she actually believed them. At least that’s what I hoped.

  “What are you doing out here?” The Sheriff shouted at Fern from the entrance to the station. She leapt up from the bench. “We’ve officially got a homicide on our hands,” He said handing her some files. He didn’t even so much as look in my direction, let alone acknowledge that I was there.

  “That was fast,” Fern replied looking through the coroner’s report. “Blunt force trauma, head wound. You thinking he was pushed through that window?” She asked.

  “The coroner said that with the amount of force he hit that window, he had to have been pushed by someone. It’s not possible that it was a fall.” I hung onto every word they were saying to each other. Surprised that the Sheriff was going into so much detail with me there. Though, it still felt like he hadn’t even noticed I was there.

  “I guess that means I’ll be bringing in Amber for questioning,” Fern said with a sigh and a sideways glance towards me. I knew that the last thing she wanted to do was have to interview Amber. “Did she ever give us those tapes?”

  “Not that I know of,” the Sheriff shrugged. “Is there a reason you’re still out here and not in there working on getting this solved?” He asked pointing his thumb aggressively at the station.

  “No, none at all, I’m sorry,” Fern said flustered.

  “Then get to it,” He barked, before walking away to his car. I rolled my eyes, knowing that the man was headed out to one of his usual long lunches. He was going to get a full night’s sleep and three-square meals, when my sister would be worked to the bone until the case was solved, at which point he would take all the credit, no doubt.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said rushing off to the station. “Stay out of this one, I don’t need you to make any more trouble than you already have,” Fern warned before leaving me alone on the bench. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her. She needed someone to blame and I was always her easiest target. I worried if she might have a point though. Fern rarely used her magic, if ever. I tended to use it to make my life easier and maybe it did attract Gareth to Stillwater. I still thought my theory had merit, or at the very least I wanted it to. If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I wasn’t staying out of this one. Not in the slightest.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite everything that was going on, I still had to go to work and give tours. It was today that the busy season really got its groove going. I had almost half a dozen tours to do before I could take my first break and then after that I had almost two dozen more. Becky tended to take care of the morning tours and then tend the museum and the gift store inside the rest of the day. She was there to answer any questions someone might have. I was always impressed by how well she knew the history. You’d never know that she wasn’t born in Stillwater by the way she spoke so confidently about the town's past.

  I was surprised when I got there, and she seemed so much like herself. She'd been acting so strangely lately, that I no longer knew what to expect when I saw her. I had no idea if I would get normal, upbeat Becky, or despondent, quiet Becky or anything in between.

  “Where is our dear feline friend?” She asked as soon as she saw me. I didn’t know if I should be offended that the first thing she wanted to know about was not me, but my cat. Perhaps she and Moody were the better friends after all.

  “She is at home, getting fat off of treats she doesn’t have to hunt,” I said without thinking. I instantly regretted it as I looked up at Becky’s face. It was twisted in disgust and sadness. “Sorry, I forgot.” Becky seemed to have an extreme affinity for animals, it was almost like she could feel what they were feeling.

  “It’s okay,” she said putting her hand on my shoulder quickly. “You seem stressed,” she observed. I wriggled my shoulders loosening them up.

  “I’m loose as can be, no stress here,” I lied. It wasn’t like I could tell Becky what was going on, and if she knew I was stressed she’d want to do something to help, which there was obviously nothing she could do. I couldn’t exactly tell her that the guy who died this morning was a witch hunter, and that was a problem because Fern and I were witches. Oh yeah, and that witches exist in the first place.

  “I’ll pretend I believe you.” She rolled her eyes. “Is Fern alright?” She asked, everyone thought that something terrible was going on with her. It made sense that Becky would think that was what would be stressing me out.

  “She’s doing better than she has in a while. I think the new case gave her something to focus on. Re-energized her in a way,” I shrugged. “Honestly, she seemed just like her normal self.” I didn’t mention the argument, I couldn’t, but I desperately wished I had someone to talk to about it. I couldn’t help but feel like it might actually all be my fault.

  “So, there is a case?” Becky asked. She knew better than to believe the gossip. I’m sure she was even skeptical of there being a body in the first place. “Gareth really is dead?” She was starting to sound more and more like despondent Becky.

  “Yeah, and it looks like it wasn’t an accident. They said he had to have been pushed through the glass which killed him. I guess he couldn’t have fallen with enough force.” Becky looked pale and almost like she was going to be sick. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I only know this because I overheard the Sheriff and Fern talking.”

  “No, don’t worry about me,” Becky said waving her hand in the air. “I’m just sensitive to all that stuff.”

  “I know, that’s why I shouldn’t be saying anything,” I said. She gave me a half smile, before turning back to her work. “I’m going to go out to the field and make sure everything is in tip top shape for the tours. I’ve got so many today I think my feet might fall off before the day's end.” I wanted to talk to the ghosts again about Gareth. Maybe they would know something else about him and about witch hunters. Ironically, it seemed that he had to have some kind of power himself. He was able to sense the ghosts around him, and I was starting to think that the mugwort hadn’t really done anything. With his death I regained a clarity that I hadn’t felt in a while, or not since he arrived. I felt like I could safely assume that his presence had done something to affect both Fern and me. My remedy wasn’t powerful enough to put a stop to her visions, it was only meant to help relieve side effects. He had to be the cause of her visions, and the cause of my nightmares and cloudiness.

  As soon as I was outside, the ghosts were on me. “He returned again last night!” The Colonel shouted.

  “Gareth?” I asked. He nodded with vigor.

  “If that is the name of the man who we discussed previously, then yes,” He responded. “He seemed frightfully angry. Yelling at himself this time, instead of just talking.” Angry, Fern had said the same thing. Perhaps he had come here right before he went to Amber’s.

  “What was he angry about?”

  “He was shouting about how he was unable to find ‘it’,” Little Timmy said. “He never named the item he was referring to, but he was certainly upset about it.” I shuddered to think that the ‘it’ he was referring to was either me or Fern. It’s possible that the witch hunter thought of us as objects to hunt instead of human beings. Well, we weren't really human I guess.

  “He started to dig a hole over there,” Mary Jane said pointing towards the far side of the field. “I think that he was looking for ‘it’ there.” I started to walk over, while the three ghosts patiently waited for me after appearing where Mary Jane had pointed.

  “You’re sure he wasn’t burying anything?” I asked. Looking at the small hole that had been dug into the ground. He'd obviously used his hands to dig, the dirt thrown all over the place around the hole. It wasn’t very deep and there was nothing inside. I thought maybe he'd dug deeper and placed something inside.

  “He did not put anything in that I saw,” The Colonel said. “Besides, he was looking for something. He clearly thought he was going to find here. Perhaps that is the reason behind his frequent visits.” He had a point. Maybe the energy he felt from the ghosts at the field attracted him to the area for a reason. He seemed to be most interested in two places in town, the battle field and The Witch’s Cauldron, three if you count Hazel’s. Fern said he was looking for a weapon, maybe he thought it was buried somewhere under the field.

  “How long was he here for and when?”

  “He did not stay long, as soon as he dug here, he abandoned the hole and left in a rage. I do not know where he was going. Unfortunately, his ranting to himself had ceased, if only he had spoken to himself more, we might have additional details,” Mary Jane said.

  “It was very late at night. We had set up camp and were already asleep when he arrived, woke the three of us in quite a fright,” Little Timmy said. The Colonel made a funny sound in his throat clearly disagreeing with the statement.

  “It woke some in a fright. I myself know nothing of the emotion,” He said straightening his back to stand taller. “We did not see much as we have been keeping our distance from the gentleman. Ever since he uttered Little Timmy’s name, we have not wanted to risk any sort of confrontation.” I was glad of it. Not too long ago, they had gotten themselves into a bit of trouble by making themselves corporeal and scaring a man to death in an attempt to get him to leave town. If they learned one lesson from that, it was to keep a low profile.

  “They found his body this morning,” I said finally. I had forgotten that they wouldn’t know anything about the murder. Mary Jane gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Little Timmy and The Colonel seemed to hide their surprise. Another trait of their time, men weren’t keen to show emotion (not that they are now) and women tended to over dramatize theirs from time to time.

  “How dreadful,” Mary Jane said, her hand still in front of her mouth. “I did not like the man, nor did I care for his frequent visits, but I did not wish him dead.” It seemed that this was everyone’s sentiment. No one could honestly say that they were sorry to see him gone, but no one would say that they wished him dead.

  “It looks like he was killed. I’m trying to do a bit of digging to help Fern figure out by who,” I said. I was ignoring the fact that Fern was angry with me and blamed me for the witch hunter’s presence. “He was a witch hunter.”

  “Well then, I cannot say I am sad he is gone,” The Colonel said. This was as close to sentimental as he would ever get.

  “Do you think that’s why he was drawn to this place?” I asked, though I didn’t know how much they would know about witch hunters.

  “I suppose it is possible. Many hunters have a sense that leads them to the supernatural. Three ghosts in one place could have garnered his attention.” That must be why he was also drawn to The Witch’s Cauldron. The few items that Amber stocked that weren’t useless tchotchkes would give off enough energy for him to follow. I was about to continue that train of thought when Mary Jane pointed to something behind me. I turned around and in the parking lot Fern’s car and a squad car were pulling in. Without a word, I jogged to the lot.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, shamefully out of breath from my short run.

  “Where’s Becky?” Fern asked, her eyes apologetic, but her voice harsh.

  “What do you mean? She’s inside,” I said not fully comprehending what was going on. Fern pushed passed me, an officer following her. I walked behind them into the museum. It was practically deserted in between tours, but there were a couple of people milling about. Becky was standing by some Civil War Era artwork when she looked up and saw Fern.

  “We need you to come with us,” Fern said firmly.

  “Why?” I asked on behalf of Becky who looked stunned. Her jaw was slack, and I could almost hear her heart beating.

  “Please, Mazie, stay out of this,” Fern turned away from me. “You’re not in trouble, we just need to ask you some questions about Amber’s store last night.”

  “I don’t know what I could tell you,” Becky said, finally able to speak. “I just watched the store and then I closed it. I don’t know anything.” We were starting to gather attention from the few people in the museum. By now, everyone had heard about the dead body, the tourists and townspeople alike.

  “That’s okay if that’s all you can tell us, but we need you to come in and make an official statement, okay?” After a few moments of silence, Becky nodded. Fern gently guided her to the other officer with her. “Officer Stan is going to bring you in and I’ll be right behind you.” As soon as they were out of ear shot Fern whipped to face me. “Amber left Becky in charge of the shop, which means she’s likely the last person to see him alive, and our only suspect,” she said in a low whisper.

  “Becky?” I said incredulously. She literally couldn’t even hurt a fly.

  “The Sheriff wants this one closed and quick. He was ready to press charges. Forget what I said about not being involved. I need your help.” The crowd had dissipated after Becky and the officer left, but people were still paying more attention than average.

  “I’m already on it,” I said with a wink. Fern looked anxiously back towards the parking lot. “I will fill you in later, don’t let them charge her with anything.”

  “I’ll do my best, but the truth is the evidence is already stacking up against her.” I nodded understanding that there wasn’t much she could do once the Sheriff made up his mind about something. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you,” she added with a faux scowl.

  “I know,” I said squeezing her hand before she ran out of the building. I turned back to the museum patrons, realizing that I was by myself now.

  Chapter Nine

  The hours I spent finishing my shift at the museum were arduous at best. I was alone for the entirety of it after Fern took Becky away for questioning. It was impossible to run the gift shop, maintain displays and bring guests on tours simultaneously. Our boss had also conveniently decided that the best time for him to take a vacation was also our busiest. Eventually, I had to reschedule and refund all the tours for the rest of the day, which I was certain would get me into trouble later. There wasn’t much else for me to do though. In addition to trying to do more than one job at a time, I couldn’t focus for more than a few minutes before my mind got completely wrapped up in the case. Part of me wished I was a detective like Fern, that way I could actually be doing something, and I would know everything to do with the case. I would hate all the red tape the position came with and would be very bad at following the rules. Maybe a private detective then.

  Becky was gone for a few hours by the time I heard from Fern again. I had canceled the tours, so the museum was nearly empty...just a few tourists here and there who really loved to read all the signs. I answered my phone in a whisper to at least pretend that I was good at my job at that moment.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. Fern sighed one of her weary sighs. I knew that it couldn’t mean anything good.

  “The Sheriff is desperate to charge her. I don’t think he has enough, but he thinks he does. He wants to close this case quickly,” Fern whispered in a rush. “I don’t have much time, I only stepped out for a moment.”

  “I haven’t been able to do much, but this morning the ghosts told me that they saw him digging for something on the battlefield the night he was killed. They seemed to think that he didn’t find it, and they didn’t know what ‘it’ was, but I’ll bet it was the weapon you mentioned. Maybe he thought he could find it in Amber’s.”

  “You might be right, but that still doesn’t explain why or how he ended up dead.”

  “I know, but the more information we know about why he was here the closer we’ll be to figuring out why and how he died,” I paused. “And we both know that Becky had nothing to do with it.”

  “I know. I’m doing everything I can. I suggested we bring Amber in again. I highly doubt she has anything to do with this either, but it might give us more time to figure out what actually happened.” Fern sounded bone tired, but beneath that there was her fiery passion for justice. The Sheriff clearly didn’t have the same passion. He was always looking out for himself before anyone else. It was obvious that he only cared about closing the case because he would be up for reelection soon and an open murder case on his desk didn’t exactly make him look good. He could care less if Becky or Amber were innocent. If he had even a shred of evidence against them, he would lock them up for sure.

  “I don’t think whatever killed him was natural,” I said, voicing this opinion for the first time out loud. I looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “He was a witch hunter, he hung around the witch store and the battle field with the ghosts. I just don’t think it’s likely that he died without something paranormal involved.”

  “I know. We just have to be able to prove it in a way that looks like it wasn’t paranormal.” Fern sighed. “I’m going to have to go in a minute.”

  “I also think he had some powers of his own. The Colonel mentioned that witch hunters have a sense that leads them to the paranormal. I also think he had something that made your visions go crazy and my head go cloudy. Have you had any really bad visions since he died? I know my head feels clearer than ever.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. It’s not like mugwort can make miracles happen.”

  “We need to figure out what he was looking for, and then I think it will lead us to who killed him –.”

  “Amber’s just been brought in. I have to go,” Fern interrupted. I was about to say goodbye, but Fern had already hung up the phone.

  *****

  Fern turned to the officers bringing Amber in. “Amber, thank you for coming in again, we just have a couple more questions.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9