Chapter Five

“I want you to think of your heart’s desire.” I gave Judith Finch a thick pad of paper. The middle-aged woman, with the nervous habit of saying everything twice, had tracked me down, demanding a refund on the love potion or another way into the heart of the man she’d set her cap on. Her potent perfume stifled me in the tiny enclave separating us from the rest of the restaurant. Half as much scent would have done the job twice as well.

“Write it down. Just a few words will do.”

She bent her dark head over the lined pad, her mouth working, miming the words.

“Okay, now circle the first letter of each word, ignoring any that begin with a vowel. How many letters do you have?”

“Three. Three.”

“Good. I want you to think of how to combine those letters to make a magic sigil.”

Her quizzical expression while she tilted her head had me adding, “Make them into one drawing. An abstract figure. Like a logo maybe. Any which way you like.”

Ah. Comprehension dawning, Judith gave me a broad smile. “Then what do I do? Then what?”

“You need to charge the sigil. Focus all your energy on it while staring at it. Any extreme emotion works. Then, look at it once a day, letting it slip into your subconscious. You can even burn it if you like. But whatever you do, keep it private and show no one. Clear?”

“Sure, sure. Thanks, Charm. Thanks.”

Star popped her head in, nearly making me fall over backward from my cheap diner chair. “You should tell Judith the best way to charge a love sigil is by having an orgasm.”

“Really? Really?” The woman’s dark eyes rounded, her mood brightening.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” I shot Star a bolt of fire with my eyes, sending enough energy to load twenty sigils.

She grinned and danced off as the chimes sang out over the door to the café, announcing a new customer.

I waived my fee for the reading, aware that not much could help a heart yearning for the love of a particular person if said person was not right for them. I sighed.

“Morning, Charm.” Ace touched the brim of his Stetson when he caught sight of me exiting the magic cave. He sat down at a table, nodding at Star’s inquiry about coffee, and took off the spectacular hat. He reached up and placed it on the rack.

“Howdy, Sheriff.” I didn’t wait for an invite but plopped down across from him. Dressed in his RCMP uniform, all official, he’d turn heads anywhere. What would the red serge look like on him? Best guess? Pretty darn amazing. Maybe we should have a parade?

He shook his head at me, his expression grim. My stomach dropped into the floorboards.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let Mrs. Hurst take that first jar of jam before I spelled it.”

His eyes widened. “You put a spell on jam?”

“Ah—yeah. The Kismet Spell. I want to give all our food the energy to keep people healthy and happy.”

“Doesn’t seemed to have worked in this case.”

“No.” I looked away, chewed on a thumbnail. “It didn’t.”

“Did you see Mrs. Hurst earlier in the day?”

I stilled, frowning. “Yes, she was here.”

“I have to investigate this properly, Charm, it’s standard procedure. Mrs. Hurst was seen leaving your café in the morning.”

“Then why ask like that?”

“Like what?” His brow knitted.

“Like I’m going to lie to you?”

He sighed. “It’s the way we’re taught to formulate our questions. No offense meant.”

“No offense taken.”

His eyebrows rose at my short reply. “I suggest you don’t take up poker. You’d be lousy at it.”

“Anything else?”

“We’re sending the jam in for testing. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“I can assure you, Officer, it’s of the finest quality and ingredients!” My heart slammed and my lips froze in anger. How dare he?

“I’m sure it is. She might have choked, of course, or had a stroke or heart failure while eating it. The coroner didn’t find any other wounds. We won’t know the cause of death until his report is concluded. That could take days. But I’m here to suggest—strongly—you not sell any more of that brand for now until we know the deal.”

“I think you should leave.”

He retrieved his Stetson from the hat rack by the table, smoothing the brim with his extra-large fingers. “It wasn’t my intention to offend. My sincerest apologies.”

I nodded, but was unable to force even the briefest of smiles, I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him stroll from our former haven. The door chimes turned traitor as well, singing out gaily to announce his departure. Frickin’ man.

Star joined me, topping up my coffee. “Ace is just doing his job, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” I took a large sip of the strong brew. “Just don’t like aspersions cast on our product.”

Her forehead creased with concern. “What if something did go wrong?”

“How? It was made under ideal conditions.” I crushed my lower lip between my teeth. But if even a whiff of a scandal about our jam got out, we’d be finished.

“I need to find out more.” I held the cup in my two hands and took another sip. “If someone doctored our jam, then we need to be proactive.”

“What do you mean? How’s that possible?”

“Ever read Agatha Christie?”

“You know I haven’t. I like my cowboy or rancher stories, with lots of steamy heat.”

“Well, this could be bad for us if I don’t start my own investigation. I need to get to the bottom of this before it goes south. If it turns out Mrs. Hurst was murdered—”

“You think she was murdered? Tulip said she did look really awful. I hate to think that’s what a normal dead person looks like.” Star shuddered.

I checked the rooster clock about to crow the hour and finished the last of the coffee. “We need to set up for the festival. And I’ve got that darn dunk tank thing this afternoon.”

“Yeah, going to buy a few balls myself. I’ve still got a pretty good arm. I just might be the first to dunk your hiney.” Star’s eyes gleamed.

“Yeah, better line up. There’s a few waiting to have that honor. I’d be putting Ace Collins at the top of the list after yesterday’s bear spray incident, hot new sheriff or not. Not to mention Judith will probably sling a few if this new idea for a sigil doesn’t pan out.”

“You driving off possible suitors with pepper spray while I was gone, granddaughter? I didn’t teach you very well now, did I?” A melodic voice rang out behind us and I span around with a leap of joy. Finally!

“Granny! I didn’t hear you come in. You should have called us. I’d have picked you up from the airport.” I rushed to embrace her, the fragrance of lavender emanating from her soft skin soothing my frazzled nerves. I released her to allow my sisters to hug her too. She was looking serene, an invincible sage who saw the world for what it was, and though she found it lacking in character, she made it spin just fine in her sphere. Did I imagine a hint of tiredness about her eyes? We had to step up our game.

“Elsie gave me a lift. She left her car there on purpose. I’ve already been home.”

“Sit down,” I urged her, rushing to prepare a pot of tea. Earl Grey, her favorite.

“Just a quick cup. We’ve got a festival to set up for, sweetings.”

I fixed a pot, added a slice of lemon and bore it back to the table where a flock of magpies—my hyperactive sisters—were haranguing Granny about all the events that had occurred since she’d been gone. I caught the last bit of spilled information about Mrs. Hurst from Tulip’s lips and tried to catch her eye. Enough already.

“Tulip!”

“I found her. It’s my story to tell.”

“It’s not a competition, sweetings.” Granny sighed. “How are you holding up, Charm?” Her soft blue eyes met mine.

“I’m fine.” I gave a quick look around to make sure there was no customer within earshot. “But our new local constable thinks our jam might be at fault.” I hadn’t meant to share the worry, but when Granny was around, I never could seem to help myself. She’d sleuth it out soon enough. It was her way.

“That’s why he was here just now.” She frowned.

“Yes. And we both went to Mrs. Hurst’s last night.”

“So, you saw the body?” She held the teacup in both hands and blew on it to cool it enough to drink.

I nodded over the tight lump in the back of my throat.

“Terrible thing.” Granny shook her head. “I’ve known Anne Hurst for decades. A misunderstood woman and a very unhappy soul.”

Star choked on her coffee and I patted her back absently. Granny continued her tribute. As much as she hated cussin’, she hated speaking ill of the dead more. The practice had become ingrained and was maybe not a bad thing, even if it did set us at odds with the rest of the world on occasion.

“She wasn’t born to the big house and money. I knew her as a child. She came from humble beginnings and made her own way in the world. There’s something to admire in that.”

Star rolled her eyes, but Tulip sniffed and blew her nose.

“Not much to admire about Auntie T.J.,” I said. “Playing handsy with our new Mountie like he’s her prize ox.”

“Big one, is he? And a southern gentleman, I hear. We’ll all have to bone up on our southern expressions. They’ll go well with our Canadian expressions, eh.” A twinkle glinted in her soft blues. “I’ll have a word.” And it would work as well as last time. Not. At. All.

I picked up the empty tray. “I’ve got to cart the treats over to our booth before ten. I could use an extra pair of hands,” I hinted.

“Go—all of you,” Granny directed, shooing us out. “I’ll manage the café. Won’t be many customers with the festival about to start, anyway.”

“Shoot. I’ve got to make sure the apricot jam is safely hidden away until we know more.” Brother, the trouble that new Mountie had brought to town. Not his fault, the fairer side of my brain intervened. Yeah, well the timing is piss-poor, at best.

Fortunately, the jam in question was still in the back. The fancy jars with their decorative labels looked the epitome of wholesome, the nectar inside gleaming golden in the sunlight. I shook my head. Crazy. And that included our new lawman. I would vouch for our product any day.

I opened a bottom cupboard, stacking the jars way in the back. No point in making things worse by not following standard procedure. Constable Ace Collins had been here one day and was already proving the biggest thorn in my side. I didn’t have one iota of sympathy left for the bear spray incident now. We were more than even. The man had insulted my cooking, and no one got away with that.

Straightening, I picked up a large plastic-covered tray of assorted cookies then hurried out of the back door, headed for my jeep that I’d parked there to make the process easier. The fairgrounds were on the outskirts of town near the high school and too far away to schlep the cookies on foot.

My two fellow triplets trooped after me, handing off the trays to store on the backseat. “Meet you there.” I waved to them and turned the key to start the motor. Nothing. No, don’t fail me now, Thor. A quick prayer, a love pat on the dash and the motor turned over. Pays to be nice to man-made objects.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I directed the jeep into traffic and followed the lineup of vehicles headed to the fairgrounds.

The decorating committee must have worked all night. Flowing white banners, bunches of colorful balloons and streamers dancing gaily in the breeze all screamed funfair. The biggest banner, Welcome to the ‘Eh Neighbor Festival, was strung over the road from two hydro poles. Oh boy, I wouldn’t want the job of shinning up there. If one of the volunteer firemen spotted that infraction, it guaranteed a bruhaha of major proportions. But, not my problem today.

I disembarked and picked up two stacked trays. I’d need to make a few trips, but Tulip and Star should be along shortly if they ever got their act together. Grumbling to myself, I slammed Thor’s door closed with a determined foot and strode over to our waiting booth set in the middle of the action. The delicious fragrances threading the air enticed me. I took a deep, appreciative breath. The odor of fried treats, pizza, the barbecue pit with meat roasting on the spit—a glorious bouquet of flavors that made my mouth water in anticipation. My stomach rumbled, agreeing wholeheartedly it was past eating time. My step quickened.

After stacking the trays on the ten-foot counter that ran the length of our gaily painted booth—glittery gold stars on a midnight-blue background courtesy of Star—I got down to the work of setting up. With my sis being one of the main attractions, singing with her band at regular intervals all day long, we were going to be hard-pressed to cover all the bases. And then there was that darn dunk tank thing right after lunch…

I glanced over to where a community crew was finishing up the money-maker, filling the large steel tank below the drop chair with ice-cold water. Shuddering, I took a sip of the hot coffee I’d packed and nabbed myself a chocolate chip brownie cookie from the tray. Between nibbles, I sipped more delicious coffee.

“I’d offer to take your hour, but I’ve discovered I’ve been signed up for my own slot, called ‘get the new guy’. Not certain my heart can take an hour of being shocked by freezing water.”

I’d missed Ace’s arrival. “Wait until they add the buckets of ice.”

“They do that?” His dark brown eyes widened in dismay.

Touché, Constable. I snorted. “Not usually, but I could always have a word with them. When’s your shift start?”

“Can’t wait to get your chance at soaking me, eh.”

“No way I’d miss that opportunity, Sheriff. So, low man on the totem pole gets corralled for the job. You could always bow out. You have an investigation to run, after all.”

“I can give up an hour for the good of the town.”

“I teach a self-defense course on Monday nights. Any chance of you giving up another hour to show us a few of your tactical techniques?”

He gave me a quick glance.

“Why, is that a look of surprise in your eyes, Officer?”

“No, no, I think that’s great.” He shrugged. “Sure, count me in.”

“Ah, are there any new developments in the case?” I asked, casually. “Want a cookie?” I gestured at the tray.

He shook his head. I squinted at him and he picked one up, the same kind as mine. At least he had good taste. He took a bite.

“Good cookie.” He took another quick bite, swallowed and continued. “It’s early days. Not entirely certain if we even have a murder on our hands yet. Other explanations are entirely possible. There was no sign of a struggle, other than by the victim when she fell to the floor. Seizures have many causes, anything from a brain tumor to a blood clot. Perhaps a drug interaction. Won’t know until I get the results of the autopsy.”

Goosebumps erupted all over my body. My worst worry was the blue skin that I hesitated to mention and draw undue attention to. I’d read Sparkling Cyanide, and blue skin was a hallmark of a drug that caused an agonizing death. Had someone put cyanide in Mrs. Hurst’s food or drink? And if so, who? The list of suspects was not going to be short. I needed to take this seriously, now, before fingers got pointed. My gut said it might be up to me to solve. I knew the town. I could interrogate people without them realizing my intentions.

“When was she last seen alive?”

“In the morning, leaving your place. Did you get along with Mrs. Hurst? Not finding too many people in town who speak well of her. And most just clam up when her name’s mentioned.”

“Ah, sure. We got along for the most part. Not an easy woman, but she’s—was—a good customer,” I self-corrected. “Always buying our jam in bulk. Loved a good discount.” I made myself chuckle as if I found it charming. Not. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing really. Just making conversation.”

“Yeah, right. Okay. Straight goods. She was not well-loved, though the evidence is entirely circumstantial that she sold the soul of her firstborn to the devil. She never had a kind thing to say about anyone. Ever. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Hmm. Why did she come to the café yesterday morning?”

“She’d lost something. Wanted my help.” I glanced at him, taking in the chiseled jawline and the brooding Heathcliff eyes. He wore faded jeans this morning, hanging off trim hips. A red T-shirt stretched tight over his Bigfoot-sized chest. The shirt was neatly tucked into his pants, buckled with a silver engraved buckle with a bull image engraved on it, along with the year 2015. Had he been a rodeo bull-riding champion?

“Why would she think you could help?”

I sighed, letting out a long hiss of air between pursed lips. This was territory I didn’t want to get into. Like a cop would ever understand.

“My sisters and I all have areas of expertise. Star’s a wiz at the tarot card readings and Tulip divines dreams for clients.”

“And what is your gift, Charm, other than the obvious?” He leaned in closer, pushing a strand of hair that had broken loose of my hastily constructed braid behind my ear. His eyes locked with mine and my heart stuttered. I was suddenly glad I’d taken the time to apply a light floral scent instead of yesterday’s bug spray. Oh, and a bit of makeup.

I looked away first. I took a gasp of air, my eyes searching into the distance. “I’m a tracker. I help people find things.”

“What does that mean exactly? A tracker?”

“It means I see visions in my head. Then I can tell people where they lost something!” My anger at being grilled boiled over. Great. Now he’d think I was certifiable.

I chanced a glance. His brown eyes had widened and in the depths swam curiosity and surprise. But no condemnation. At least, not yet.

“What did you see that morning?” He kept staring at me and I chewed on my bottom lip. Nervous, I wanted to step back, but an invisible force pinned my feet to the ground.

“I saw her pearls. She’d lost them and was blaming her maid.” I shook my head at the loathsome idea. Suzanna was a good person and it was terrible that she’d been slandered. “They were behind her dresser in the bedroom.”

“That was all you saw?” Why was a Mountie taking me seriously?

“I—yeah, that was it.” No way was I going there, to the dark force I’d experienced surrounding the woman. That would sound crazy. I crossed my heart automatically with a gesture for forgiveness for lying and opened my eyes to find him still staring at me.

“You’re certain?”

“You believe me—about my being able to track?” Misdirection works wonders.

“Why shouldn’t I? The world constantly amazes me. So much we are never made party to, just being human with our limited capacity. Besides, I’m a big fan of Brian Green’s theories. I’ve read The Elegant Universe—twice. Also, The Hidden Reality, The Fabric of the Cosmos, Icarus at the Edge of Time.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he named each one. “Oh, and I’ve watched all his PBS television specials. And I’m also partial to Michio Kaku’s Parallel Worlds. Oh, not to forget Carl Sagan and Kip Thorne.”

“Me too! Hard to choose between them. Are you for real?” A lawman who read books about our amazing universe by a Pulitzer Prize finalist and by other great names in physics? Something we had in common, a love of reading and big ideas. Note to self, tread lightly and don’t underestimate this guy.

“Yeah, not much else to do during a cold Canadian night in the dead of winter. But I’ll have to do more than dunk you in the water tank if you breathe a word of this to my staff sergeant.” A killer smile accompanied his joking threat.

“If you don’t dunk me, I promise not to tell.” I returned his grin, adding, “And a belated welcome. It’s nice to have another certifiable bookworm in Snowy Lake. I’m just waiting for the geniuses of the world to invent the ultimate equation that explains everything. Someone needs to pull another Einstein.”

The look he shared with me was priceless. It paid to have read any book I could get my hands on. Our librarian was eclectic—I’d give Miriam that distinction—bringing in books on a variety of subjects meant to expand Snowy Lake’s residents’ horizons.

“Truce?” He held out his hand.

When I took it for a quick shake, my world literally imploded. A bright light flashed across my mind and coalesced into an image. Oh, boy. I was sunk.