By Familiar Means (20 page)

But it did not last. The flinty attitude was back before anyone could finish another breath. “So, you see, I had no reason to kill him. I was going to ruin him.” She spread her hands. “Perfectly legal, and a whole lot more satisfying.”

I thought about Chuck, risking his neck because he was trying to find a way to provide for his baby. I thought about the difference between making a lousy choice for a lousy reason and doing it for revenge.

I thought about what I would have felt like if one of my siblings had run out when Mom got her cancer. Even Hope had come home and done the best she could.

I suddenly wanted to call up every member of my family just to tell them how very, very much I loved them.

Shelly looked at her watch again. “Now, I have a real appointment, so we are done with this conversation. However, here's one last thought for you both.” She raised her index finger. “What if Jimmy had that money in his pocket because he was planning to skip town? It was much more his style than trying to help out his employers.”

As much as I hated to admit it, that was definitely something to think about. In fact, I'd already started.

Shelly stood, and we stood.

“Thank you, Ms. Kinsdale,” said Frank. “You've been very helpful.”

“I'm so glad, Mr. Hawthorne. Dreame Royale is always glad to speak with the media.” She actually shook his hand. Her smile did not once waver. “If, however, you try to print anything that jeopardizes my employment or could be considered detrimental to my employers, not only will I deny it, but I will slap your little tiny paper with the biggest libel suit in New England history. Are we clear?”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Frank. “Very clear.”

We all said good-bye very pleasantly, and Frank and I took ourselves out onto the inn's beautiful wraparound porch.

“Well,” said Frank.

“Well,” I agreed. “Do you believe she really didn't know Jimmy had that money on him?”

Frank shook his head. “Nope. Ms. Upton Kinsdale is definitely shading the truth there.”

“And maybe elsewhere,” I said. “Did you see the moonshine she had? I saw Kelly Pierce at the Harbor's Rest take a bottle of that brand. She said she was going to use it as a sweetener for a conference planner.”

“Really?” Frank pulled out his notebook and scribbled something down. “Now, that's very interesting.”

“Frank? Do you know if the cops still think Jimmy died in some kind of drug deal?”

“I know they do,” he said as he snapped his book shut.

“Why? I mean with all that stuff she told us about development deals and everything. That'd be a lot to ignore.”

“Yeah.” Frank sighed. “That makes for two possibilities. Either Blanchard has decided to ignore the entire business angle. Or Shelly Upton Kinsdale, who is already shading the truth, has told the police something different than she told us.”

22

“Anna, you are not concentrating.” Julia punctuated this pronouncement with a thump of her walking stick.

Four of us, plus dachshunds, had gathered in the cottage's deeply shadowed attic. Julia had seen no reason why our ghost hunting this week should cancel out my regularly scheduled magic lesson.

“At the drugstore, you observed, Anna. You did not practice,” she said firmly. “And considering how eventful things are becoming, we cannot waste this chance. You need your training.”

I really hadn't been able to work up any kind of good argument against that.

My attic room (mine for now, anyway) was right under the cottage gables, which meant the roof beams sloped overhead, and it had a low nook in each of the four directions. Each nook had a multipaned window to let in the sun during the day and the moon after dark.

When this attic had been Dorothy's, it had been mostly bare wood. I was starting to experiment with colors. According to Julia, and the reading I'd been doing about ritual
magic, certain colors represented specific aspects of the elemental and spiritual energies. East is air, so in that nook I had propped up some abstract canvases done in swirls of white and yellow. South is fire, and its colors were orange and crimson. West is associated with water, so the colors there were blues and turquoises and silver. North is earth and blacks and browns, streaked and studded with gold.

I had kept the rest of the space lightly furnished, except for the bookcase. That was filled to overflowing with the Books of Shadow, magical journals I'd inherited from Dorothy Hawthorne. The entire combination made for a place that was lush and mysterious and comfortable all at the same time. It was, quite literally, where the magic happened. At least, sometimes.

“I am concentrating, Julia,” I protested. Julia declared that after everything that had happened, we could all use a little spiritual housekeeping, so the plan had been to conduct a cleansing ritual. I was to practice raising and holding positive energies so they could fill the space and “gently redirect” any negative energies that had crept into my spirit and my space.

I wondered if Lieutenant Blanchard counted as a negative energy. I wondered the same thing about Shelly Kinsdale, with all her anger toward her murdered brother.

“Of course you're concentrating, dear,” said Grandma B.B. from her place on the attic's north side.

For the ritual, Julia, Val, Grandma B.B. and the dachshunds marked out a protective circle around my altar. As a concession to her pregnancy and aching feet, we'd moved a chair to the east side of the attic so Val could sit during the ceremony. The circle would provide a shield against any malign influences that might be attracted by our magic. It also—and Julia was very firm as she reminded me about it tonight—would prevent any harmful or just plain misguided reactions from my working from getting loose.

Like Val and Grandma, Julia and I wore our ceremonial robes. Julia's was deep blue spangled with white stars. Mine
was a simple green, a sign of my apprentice status. Grandma B.B. didn't have any of her own ceremonial clothing anymore, but Valerie had brought along an extra black and silver robe. So now my grandmother looked sweet and smiling and witchy all at once.

“You have to clear your mind of extraneous concerns, Anna,” Julia was telling me. “You cannot hold the energies if your thoughts are scattered.”

I wanted to ask how I was supposed to clear my mind with Julia and Grandma B.B. giving each other the mutual stink eye, but in a rare moment of good sense, I kept my mouth shut. Unfortunately, Grandma didn't.

“She
is
doing her best, Julia,” said Grandma.

“This is hardly Anna's best,” replied Julia. “As
I
have reason to know.”

Val glanced at me. I did my best not to wince.
No, please,
I begged silently to whoever might be listening.
Do not let them start this up again.
I'd really hoped the events at the old drugstore were the beginning of a genuine reconciliation.

“Yip,” Max shoved his nose against my ankle.

“Yap,” pointed out Leo.

Great. Not only were Grandma and Julia still butting heads, but I was failing Witching 101 and being critiqued by dachshunds. This was so not my night.

“Merow,” added Alistair, who had not been there a moment before. He sauntered forward and gave Max a head butt, clearly indicating that my ankles were his personal property.

“Yip!” warned Leo, but Julia picked him up before anything more could happen.

“Thanks loads, cat,” I muttered to Alistair. “Where were you earlier when I needed the magic help?”

My familiar blinked and yawned, closing his mouth with a click of cat teeth, indicating his deep concern for my human problems.

“All right.” Julia sighed heavily. Leo whined and wriggled
in her arms and she set him down next to his brother. “I can see cleansing is not happening this evening.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. I also stood up. I hadn't been to yoga class in a while and kneeling was not as easy as it should have been. “It's just that I'm so worried about Jake and Miranda.”

“I'm sure it'll be okay,” said Val. “We know Pete and Kenisha have spoken with Shelly Kinsdale. They must know about the new development.” Before we started the lesson, I'd told everyone about the interview over a dinner of Chinese takeout.

“Has Kenisha said anything new?” I asked.

Julia shook her head before I could get any further. “Kenisha has plenty to do without risking a reprimand for trying to pass us extra information.”

“I know. I just . . .” I waved my hand vaguely toward the outside. Alistair circled my ankles and I picked him up.

“I'm worried,” I said. “From what Frank said, Lieutenant Blanchard really wants to make the case that Jake killed Jimmy over some kind of drug deal. If he finds out about Chuck and the marijuana, it's just going to feed into that theory.” I snuggled my cat close and he graciously permitted it.

“You're right,” said Val slowly. “It's only a matter of time. We have to have the truth before then.”

“But what can we do?” Grandma asked. She was, I noticed, looking very pointedly at Julia. “We have to proceed so
very
cautiously.”

Max looked pleadingly up at Julia, wagging his tail so hard his entire hindquarters wiggled. Val had also turned toward Julia with a surprisingly similar expression, but no wagging.

“Anna could try her automatic writing,” Val suggested.

I'd been debating whether to try to bring this up. Automatic writing, or drawing, was a type of clairvoyance, a way to see something hidden by time or distance, and it turned out I was kind of good at it. Unfortunately, this particular talent had a few little drawbacks.

“You do remember that last time, Anna passed out for over eight hours?” remarked Julia acidly.

“Anna!” cried Grandma B.B. “You never told me!”

At this, much to my surprise, Leo's hackles came up. He growled right at Grandma, low and hard. His brother yapped in warning.

“Leo, Max,” murmured Julia. “Quiet.”

The dogs obeyed, but reluctantly. But Grandma was staring at Julia now; so were the rest of us.

“That other time wasn't anybody's fault,” said Val quickly. “Anna just wasn't ready for it.”

“Exactly,” said Julia without taking her eyes off Grandma B.B. “Unready and on her own.”

“How careless,” said Grandma. “Especially when there are so many established methods for testing the strength of the talents of a witch of the bloodline.”

“Yes,” said Julia. “Someone was very careless.”

“Merow!” Alistair stretched, extending all his claws. He also stalked across the circle to Grandma B.B. and hunkered down on her toes, putting his whole self between her and Julia and the dachshunds.

“Well, I wouldn't pass out this time, would I?” I said. Grandma was already drawing herself up, and I could tell from her expression that whatever she was about to say was not going to help defuse the situation. “I mean, this time you're all here. I'd be grounded.”

“And shielded,” added Val. “There wouldn't be any risk of her overstretching her powers.”

“There's always risk with someone who has not been properly trained,” said Julia directly to Grandma. Grandma's mouth hardened to a thin line, and I felt how very hard she was holding herself back. Something in her attitude and expression must have finally gotten through to Julia, because she rubbed her eyes. “However, under the circumstances, it might be worth a try. But only if you're sure, Anna?”

I admit, I hesitated. That whole blacking-out-and-falling-over thing was exactly as much fun as it sounded. Besides, even if I could get this to work, it wasn't going to produce
anything anybody could use as actual evidence in an official investigation. But maybe, if we were lucky, it could point us in the right direction.

“Okay,” I said. “I'll try.”

“Annabelle?” Julia faced Grandma B.B.

“Oh, of course,” said Grandma coolly. “I'll go along with whatever you think best, Julia. As you have pointed out, you are her mentor.”

Julia ignored this, mostly. “Very well. We'll close off the circle and cast a fresh one,” said Julia.

“I think I'd better be on my feet for this.” Val heaved herself out of the chair. She also pulled out one of the drawing pads I'd started keeping in the attic bookcase and handed it to me along with a fresh pencil from the box on top.

Grandma didn't say anything.

I sat cross-legged in front of my altar with the pad on my knees. Witches' altars come in all shapes and sizes. Mine was a low table covered by a length of green velvet decorated with gold pentagrams. It had all the magical elements represented on it—with wine in a cup symbolizing water, salt in a silver dish for earth, a lit white candle for fire and a brass dish of dried aromatic herbs and flowers from the garden for air. My wand lay at the center on a white cloth, waiting for me.

I tried to ignore the fact that Grandma B.B. was watching me, and not in a happy/proud grandma kind of way. There was something sad and a little deflated in her attitude that I didn't entirely understand. I just focused on the candle flame and breathed deeply in and deeply out. I pictured a blanket of light spreading across the floor. The others, including Max and Leo, moved around me, clockwise, then counterclockwise, releasing the energies and reshaping them into a fresh, and stronger, circle of protection. I kept breathing and kept focusing. This was important. This was what I wanted to be doing. If I could keep my magical stuff together, I'd be helping Jake and Miranda.

I just wished I could stop wondering how we were going to finally put things back together between Julia and Grandma B.B.

“Merow.” Alistair climbed into my lap, shoving his way under the drawing pad. I sighed. Cats. I decided to bow to the inevitable and put the pad on the floor and my free hand on his back.

Julia took up her position at the southeast. “We invite to this circle the spirits of protection, wisdom, healing and clarity. We ask that the truth be shown and nothing be hidden. In need we call, in hope we ask, an' it harm none, so mote it be.”