Confessions of a Teenage Slayer (Sister Witchcraft Book 2) Page 4

  Kashmir yawned when he saw me, then stretched and said, “News flash. The Jiggs sisters stopped by this morning.”

  “Stopped by? You mean, knocked?”

  Kashmir sighed. “Not really. Once they had ascertained that the shop was closed, they decided to open it on their own. They jiggered the lock and got the front door open.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. They would have ransacked the place, I’m sure, except that they found it to be defended by your brave and loyal familiar. I puffed up royally and gave them a fine feline shriek. They took one look and retreated very quickly, closing the door behind them.”

  “Lucky you were here.”

  “Yes. Wasn’t it?” He preened a bit.

  “What do you think they were doing here?”

  “They were after what they’ve been after from the beginning. They were looking for your Grand-Mere’s Book.”

  “Oh, The Book.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it called again?”

  He sighed, but he’d grown used to me by now and sort of expected this kind of thing. He leaned close and whispered, “The Grimoire of Circe.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “That book that we can’t find ourselves. Why would they want it so badly?”

  “Because your grandmother was the most powerful witch in this part of the state. They think the book will endow them with that same power. And they might be right, which is why it is so important for us to find it first.”

  I was looking at him speculatively. “It’s kind of funny that you can’t sense where The Book is, isn’t it? I mean, from all I’ve learned, it’s sort of like a living thing and it often follows the witch it belongs to. Right?”

  He looked mildly insulted. “That is correct. But something seems to have gone awry. That disturbs me greatly, but I’m determined to find it and fix what’s gone wrong. In the meantime, we must keep those two away from it.”

  I nodded. I could tell that he really was upset but I couldn’t do anything about that now. I had a wedding shower to put on.

  The ladies began arriving for the party and I went into my professional trance, my mind all on the lovely magic atmosphere and ambiance I was spinning for the bride to be. The music had to be right, a little Sinatra, some Chopin, a lot of Satie. The temperature, the scent in the air, and of course, the decorations, including balloons, lacy streamers and exotically sculptured decorative items in the icing of the cake. Today it was a magic forest with fairies and cherubs with harps and bows and arrows. I’d done it all before, all those years when I would help Grand-Mere; it only took moments to lay it all out there.

  The young ladies were sweet and very pretty and we had a wonderful time. The bride cried when she thanked me. I was very pleased and so were they.

  And it was over in time to make it out the door to the funeral. Believe me, my day was jam-packed.

  However, a large black cat stood in my way as I went to the door. From the look on Kashmir’s face and the angle of his head, I was ready to hear him intone something like, “Beware the Ides of March,” in his most formal voice, but all he said was, “We’re running low on dry cat food.”

  “Right. I’ll pick some up.”

  “See that you do.”

  I hesitated, wishing I had time to really have a talk with him. I had a feeling he knew a thing or two that might enlighten me.

  “I’m worried about Sybil,” I said. “She’s acting strangely.”

  He flicked his tail. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be alright.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she will. But in the meantime, what do you know about her teenage years? Her last two years in high school? Was she running with a wild crowd at the time? Was there something strange going on in this town?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I’ve been visiting with the Secret Angels.”

  “Ah. Yes. They seem to be real witnesses to history, don’t they?”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant or why he was acting sort of sarcastic about them. And I didn’t care. I only wanted to know what I could do to help my sister.

  I started to say something along those lines, but Kashmir stopped me with a raised paw. “I’ll tell you this,” he said. “It was a tense time. Your grandmother had to struggle against many forces and she was getting very little help from your parents.”

  “I know they wanted to keep us girls as far away from anything supernatural or magic as they could. Was that part of it?”

  “Yes.” He yawned right in my face. “But those stories are for another time. Right now, I have a nap to take. Please excuse me.”

  Tail high, he took his sleepy old self off to the top of the corner cupboard where he could snooze undisturbed by anyone or anything. I sighed, knowing from experience that he wasn’t going to give me anything else until he’d had his proper sleep. The old curmudgeon. So I left.

  I jogged to where my car was parked near the Secret Angels’ cottage, then drove quickly to the Parkside Cemetery.

  The Parkside is just what it sounds like, a couple of acres of softly rolling hills covered with trees and grave markers, including stone tombs and some elaborate headstones. The funeral was being held in a relatively quiet side of the cemetery, where white wooden crosses were interspersed with beautiful concrete edifices and brass ground plates. Here and there an assemblage of flowers was stuck in a graveside vase. All in all, it was a typical small town cemetery. This was where we buried our beloved ancestors—those we missed and wanted to remember fondly whenever we paused for a moment in our bustling daily lives. It was here we would all end up someday. That thought sent shivers down my back, but I walked in stoutly and headed for the small crowd of people on folded chairs near a fresh gravesite, knowing that was probably the one.

  Someone had brought a boombox, as we used to call them, playing some beautiful old hymns very quietly while the preacher was preparing his words of comfort. I looked around at the people who made up the crowd and noticed Max was there and in the front row. The Secret Angels were sitting behind him, and the Jiggs sisters had decided to lend their presence to the occasion as well.

  Then I noticed Karl Ledger, the bank employee who had helped me get my papers together for the grand opening of my tea shop. I’d known him in high school, a condition he seemed to resent a little. But I’d also seen him at the Shady Tree, in the crowd looking in on the original investigation right after Richie was killed. Right now, he was standing off to the side and didn’t seem to be with anyone. I decided to sidle over and see if he had anything interesting to say.

  “Hey Karl,” I said softly, looking down at the ground instead of at him.

  He looked at me quickly, then looked away. “Oh. Hi Mimi. You helping Max again?”

  I looked up. “You know Max?”

  “Sure.”

  Not a surprise, I supposed. “Did you know Richie?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. That’s why I was there at the café yesterday. We were meeting for lunch. I was trying to get him a job at the bank and I was going to tell him I’d finally got him an interview.”

  “Oh.” We met gazes and both shook our heads sadly. “Too bad you didn’t tell him before…before….”

  “Yeah.”

  We were quiet for a minute. Death is so final. No do-overs allowed. It pretty much sobered us both.

  The service hadn’t begun and people were talking softly all around us. The wind was rustling the leaves in the trees and the whole place seemed to be murmuring sadly.

  “Do you remember my sister Sybil?” I asked hopefully. If he knew Richie, and remembered how he might have known Sybil, he could have the key to my current puzzled dilemma.

  But he shook his head. “Not really. I knew Richie because he used to teach guitar and I took lessons from him. Way back. We always got along and when we reconnected, he asked me to help him try to get something at the bank.”

  I nodded. “Did you tell the police?” I asked him.

  “W
hat? That we were going to have lunch and talk about jobs?”

  “Yes. They need to know that kind of stuff. Every little detail helps them establish a more solid explanation for what happened.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose I’d tell them if they asked me.”

  “You could always volunteer the information.”

  He shook his head, his gaze troubled. “I don’t really want to do that. I hate to…you know…tell on people and all that.”

  Uh-oh. That certainly rang an alarm bell in my little brain. I grabbed his arm.

  “Karl! What do you know?”

  “Nothing.” He pulled away and started to leave my side, then suddenly he was back, and this time he grabbed my arm. “There she is,” he hissed in my ear. “I can’t believe she’s here.”

  “Who?” I looked around, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

  “Patsy Perdue. Richie’s girlfriend.”

  “Where?”

  He pointed her out. Small and vaguely pretty, she was standing down by the pine trees. All things being equal, she seemed to have a sly look. I made a plan to go on down and ask her a few questions.

  “Tell me quick,” I said to Karl, trying not to be too obvious. “What was the deal with the two of them?”

  “Okay.” He was willing enough. “They went together for awhile down in some little town in Texas where they lived. Near Fort Worth. And from what he told me, once he’d decided he wanted to move on, she clung like a sticker burr. He snuck off back here to California and the next thing he knew, she was here too. He couldn’t get rid of her. She was un-ditchable.”

  “Right.” I shuddered at the made-up word. “So what are the odds? Did she kill him?”

  He looked shocked. “I didn’t say that. I never, ever said any such thing. Don’t you go….”

  “Alright, alright. I won’t tell anyone you think little Miss Patsy might be the murderer. I promise.” I made a face at him. He looked really perturbed. “But I will go on down and ask her a few questions. See you later.”

  The minster had begun his sermon and I hated to be rude, but I wanted to make sure I got a chance to talk to Patsy and I felt I had to strike while the iron was hot. I made my way between people and slunk out of the core assembly, heading down toward the pine trees, but by the time I got there, Patsy was gone.

  “Darn it all,” I muttered looking around at where she might have disappeared to.

  As I gazed about, my eyes took in the distance, and there on the parameters of the cemetery I noticed a car, half hidden by a tree. Hey. Wasn’t that Sybil’s car? I began to walk toward it.

  I went carefully, zigzagging so that I could stay hidden from the vantage from where Sybil’s car was. If she was up there, I had a feeling she didn’t want to be noticed. I went from one tree to another, always just out of sight, in case she really was in that car and looking. Finally, when I was almost at my goal, I hid behind a tree and peeked out, trying to see what Sybil was up to.

  There she was, in her car, with Max’s camera with its huge telephoto lens propped up on the window ledge, taking pictures of the comings and goings below. Sybil was covertly taking pictures and using Max’s camera to do it.

  What?!?

  I pulled back into the cover of the tree and stood there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Should I just watch her? Should I begin following her everywhere she went and try to figure out what the heck she was doing? Or should I confront her? Demand to know what was going on. What she was trying to prove with this nonsense. Or whatever it was.

  I was really conflicted. I didn’t want to embarrass her. I didn’t want to scare her either. I wanted to understand, to be able to support her in whatever she was doing. But it hardly seemed possible from this perspective. What was she mixed up with, anyway? I just couldn’t even guess. It was definitely frustrating and I was getting emotional about it. Tears were stinging my eyes and I had to get control of that. Sigh.

  I did some breathing exercises for a few minutes, and then my head cleared. Okay. I was ready. I came out from behind the tree and went straight for her car. She was so concentrated on what she was doing, she didn’t even notice. I opened the passenger’s door and slipped into the seat. She looked at me in surprise.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “Hi.” I looked at the camera. “That’s Max’s, isn’t it?”

  She looked at it as though surprised to realize I was right. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”

  “He…he really wants it back.”

  “Of course. He can have it any time.”

  I waited a minute. She made no move to give it to me. “Sybil, he wants it back.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Now.”

  A look of quick annoyance crossed her face and then was gone in a flash. “Just a minute. I need it right now. But I’ll give it to him. Don’t worry.”

  I shook my head. “What are you taking pictures of?” I asked her, half scared to get the answer.

  She looked at me and sighed. “Nothing,” she said shortly, beginning to take down the camera, pulling out the memory card and slipping it into her pocket, then pulling out the camera bag and putting the parts of the camera away in it.

  “Nothing at all,” she muttered, but she flashed me a quick smile as she handed the whole thing to me. “Here, he can have it back. And thank him for letting me borrow it, okay?” Now she was impatient for me to leave. I could hear it in her voice.

  “Hurry, hon,” she said, glancing back down at where the ceremony was still going on below. “I’ve got somewhere I’ve got to be.”

  She was blowing me off yet again. Suddenly, I was mad.

  “Sybil, will you tell me what this is all about?”

  “No,” she said, looking at me defiantly. Her cell buzzed and she picked it up and read the screen. “Oh no. Gary’s bringing a client home for dinner.” She looked at me with tragedy in her eyes, as though she thought I might be able to do something about it. Then she remembered who she was talking to. “Come on, Mimi. Get out of the car. I’ve got to get home and make preparations.”

  “Preparations? For what?”

  “Dinner of course. What else would I be talking about?”

  I opened the door and began to roll out, looking back and shaking my head. “But Sybil,” I said as I went. “What is it all about?”

  She looked at me for a moment, then whispered. “Scary things, Mimi. Be careful.”

  I jerked back in surprise and she pulled the door closed and raced off down the hill. I stared after her, more confused than ever.

  “Scary things? What-- like Where the Wild Things Are?” I muttered sarcastically as I began to trudge down the hill, carrying the heavy camera. “Thanks Syb. That’s real helpful.”

  Chapter 6

  I reached the gravesite. The preacher seemed to have completed his remarks. People were lined up, filing by the casket to each lay a white rose on top. I slipped in beside where Max was standing. He had his main camera and he was filming it all. I held the other camera to the side so that he wouldn’t notice it. He wasn’t going to get his mitts on it until he told me the secret about where the Jiggs sisters were when they were supposed to be in the movie theater.

  An older man was standing at the head of the gravesite, hands held in front of him, looking very somber. I was pretty sure this was Richie’s uncle. He looked absolutely heart-broken, poor man.

  “Is that the uncle?” I whispered to Max.

  He nodded, turning off his camera. “Yes, that’s him. I tried to talk to him but he wasn’t in the mood.”

  “Of course not. It’s a terrible day for him.”

  Max shrugged.

  “Make any headway in any other direction?” I asked softly.

  “Not really.”

  “I think you’re going to be happy to see this again,” I said, and brought his camera out where he could see it. “Now tell me about the Jiggs sisters.”

  “Oh, great!” He reached for it and began to c
heck it out for damages. “It’s good to have you back, baby,” he cooed to it. Then he frowned. “Hey, where’s my memory card?”

  “Oh. I think Sybil took it.”

  “Well then, I don’t have everything that’s due me, do I?”

  My jaw dropped. “Max! You’ve got your camera.”

  “Get me back my memory card and we’ll be done with this. Until then, no dice.”

  “Oh Max, come on!”

  “Nope.”

  I scowled at him. “The Jiggs sisters are guilty as sin, aren’t they? They were hiding somewhere in that van and they ran Richie down, pulled back into their usual parking place, and made a run for it. Right?”

  He laughed. “Nope. You think that could happen and nobody notices two strange-looking ladies, one with black hair in a pixie cut, the other with purple curls, galloping down the street to get away?”

  I shrugged. “Attentions were diverted.”

  He didn’t buy it. “Motive?” he asked, looking completely unconvinced.

  “I’m sure we can find a motive if we start asking around.”

  He shook his head and grinned at me. “’fraid not, Mimi. There’s no motive and they’ve got an alibi. I know where they were all that time when they weren’t at the movies. And that’s something you won’t know until you get me my memory card.”

  “Rat fink.”

  “Where?” He pretended to look for one.

  “Right there,” I muttered, jabbing him in the chest with my index finger and glaring at him. “There are no witnesses, so…”

  “Ah, but there is one. A concerned citizen has come forward to say he saw the van hit Richie and then speed around the corner of the restaurant and pull into its usual parking place. Just like that.”

  That was new. “Who was driving the van?”

  He shrugged. “The witness couldn’t see with the afternoon sun reflecting on the windshield. And anyway, he was too busy running to help Richie to notice.”

  “Who was the witness?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  I groaned. “No motive and an air-tight alibi.” I sighed in a heart-wrenching manner. Not that he cared. “I so wanted the Jiggs sisters to be guilty.”