Witch at Heart: A Jinx Hamilton Witch Mystery Book 1 (The Jinx Hamilton Mysteries) (12 page)

R
ight up to
the moment she floated out of the door of the apartment behind Tori and me that night, Beth was coming up with ideas about why she shouldn’t accompany us to the graveyard. On the stairs, I had finally heard enough.

I stopped and turned toward her. “You really don’t have to come,” I said, making sure the words sounded as kind as I intended them to be. “I know this is scary for you.”

That’s when an odd thing happened. Beth’s form grew brighter and more solid, the same way it had when we told her she could come home with us. The girl cocked her head a little to one side and asked slowly, “What did you say?”

I repeated, “I know this is scary for you.”

“You do?” she said, a little note of wonder in her words. “And you’re not mad at me?”

Where the heck did that come from?

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” I said. “Everybody gets scared sometimes.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come.”

Tori looked at me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged. What the heck did I know about teenagers and their moods?

I parked the car off to one side of the graveyard where it couldn’t be seen from the road and the three of us approached the iron gate. “Beth, you wait here,” I said.

Beth nodded, her eyes wide and luminous in her pale face. I opened the gate and stepped inside, only to be instantly greeted by the ghost of Colonel Beau Longworth.

“Good evening, Miss Jinx,” he said, sweeping off his hat and offering me a courtly bow.

“Hi, Beau,” I said. “How are you?”

“Dear lady,” he said, smiling rakishly, “in my present state, I fear I am always the same. Quite dead.”

Well, at least he had a good perspective on it.

Tori, who was standing with one foot outside the cemetery and the other inside, said, “Hi, Beau.”

Longworth turned toward her. “Why are you standing there, Miss Tori? Please, come in.”

“I need her to be where she is, Beau,” I said, launching into an explanation of why we’d come to the graveyard that night.

The old soldier listened patiently, shaking his head sadly as I told him about Beth. “I fear this town harbors a cowardly black-hearted killer,” he said.

That about summed it up.

“I think so, too,” I agreed. “Beth is afraid to come into the graveyard for fear she will become trapped here like the rest of you.”

“A wise precaution on the part of the young lady,” he said. “We do, however, have something of a problem. It is quite rare for Miss Jane to leave the vicinity of her grave. I’m not sure she’ll join us here for this conversation.”

That I hadn’t counted on.

“Will you come with me to talk to her?”

“It would be my honor,” he said.

I started to tell Tori we’d be back as soon we could, but the young football player had already cornered her. He was eagerly asking about the latest sports news. Tori obligingly called up the headlines on her phone and started reading a story to him about the NFL draft. She glanced up, saw me looking at her, and nodded her understanding about where I was going.

As Colonel Longworth and I strolled toward Jane’s grave, I nodded at the two ladies in gingham we’d seen on our last visit. They raised their hands in greeting before going on with their conversation.

“Things seem a little quiet tonight,” I observed.

“The moon is in its waning phase,” Beau said. “We are at our best under its full rays.”

Okay. That was an interesting tidbit of information to file away.

“You seem like your usual self,” I said.

“As I told you before, Miss Jinx, I am old,” the Colonel admitted. “One gets good at anything with sufficient practice.”

We found Jane sitting forlornly on the ground beside her simple headstone. I squatted down so I would be on eye level with her. “Hi, Jane,” I said. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” she said in a low tone. “Have you found out who I am yet?”

“Not yet, honey,” I said. “But I’ve brought someone with me who might be able to help. She’s like you.”

Jane studied me for a moment. “You mean she’s dead?”

I nodded.

“And somebody did something bad to her?”

“Yes,” I said. “Somebody hurt her the same way you were hurt.”

“Was it the same somebody?” she asked fearfully. “He’s not here, too, is he?”

“No, he’s not here,” I assured her. “I do think the same person hurt you both. I was hoping you might try to talk to her so we can figure that out for sure. Her name is Beth.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“She’s waiting up by the front gate,” I said.

“I don’t go up there,” Jane said. “She has to come here.”

Beside me, Beau cleared his throat. “Miss Jane?”

The girl looked up and the Colonel went on. “My dear child, you do understand that none of us can leave this place, do you not?”

Jane nodded.

“Miss Beth is afraid to enter the cemetery for fear she will become trapped with us,” Beau said. “You must speak to her through the gate.”

“I can’t go up there,” she said, her voice breaking. “If he sees me, he’ll hurt me again.”

Colonel Longworth’s mouth set in a firm line. “No one will hurt you, Jane. You have my word of honor that I will protect you at every moment.”

Jane regarded him solemnly. “When you were alive, did you have a little girl?” she asked.

The question took Longworth unawares. He looked uncertain for a moment, then said gruffly, “I left behind a wife and a daughter. My sons were killed at the Battle of Gettysburg.”

“I bet you were a good father,” Jane said, getting up and holding out her hand. “I’ll go with you.”

Longworth took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. I had to look away and swallow hard to keep from crying as they started to walk away.

“Are you coming, Miss Jinx?” the Colonel called over his shoulder.

“Right behind you,” I answered.

As Jane and Longworth approached the cemetery gate, the other spirits began to gather in curious little knots. Obviously the Colonel hadn’t exaggerated when he said Jane never strayed far from her grave.

Beau quietly and carefully explained to Jane how the conversation with Beth would take place through Tori. Jane nodded that we should go ahead, so I told her everything we knew about Beth and the night she was abducted.

The girl frowned when I mentioned the campground.

“Camping?” she said. “You mean like when people use sleeping bags?”

“Yes,” I said. “Have you ever been camping?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Is there a barn there?”

“There is,” I said, “but not a barn for livestock. It’s where people have parties and things like that.”

“You have to clean up after a party,” Jane said flatly.

Okay. This could be a long night.

“Somebody has to clean up,” I agreed.

“You don’t get paid very much money for that,” Jane said. “But the food was good.”

Suddenly, her disjointed statements were starting to sound a whole lot more connected.

“Tori,” I said, “ask Beth what kind of food they had at the party.”

Oddly enough, from inside the cemetery, I couldn’t hear Beth speak.

Tori listened for a minute and then said, “She said it was a barbecue. There’s was a big pit . . .”

“In the barn,” Jane finished. “The smoke smelled good. Not like the rag.”

A warning bell went off in my head.

“What did the rag smell like?” I asked.

“Awful,” Jane said, gagging. “Sweet.”

Chloroform.

From the gate, Tori said, “Beth wants to know if Jane remembers the camera.”

Jane’s eyes went wide. “Click click,” she said, “click click, click click.”

We’ll go with a “yes” on the camera.

Tori listened again, a sick look coming over her face. “Beth wants to know if Jane was a good girl and did what the man said.”

At that, Jane started backing away making frightened, incoherent sounds. Colonel Longworth tried to soothe her. “It’s alright, my dear,” he said gently. “No one will hurt you in this place.”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I was a bad girl,” she said. “Bad girl. Bad girl.” With that, she turned and fled back to her grave.

Longworth looked at the women in gingham. “Ladies,” he said, “would you see to her, please?”

The women glided away making anxious, clucking noises. Longworth turned back to me. “I fear we will not get her to talk any more tonight.”

“She doesn’t need to,” I said. “We’ve heard all we need to know. I’m so sorry we frightened her so badly, Beau.”

“It was not your intention to harm her,” he said. “If you will pardon me, I want to check on her now.”

As I watched the old soldier hurry away, I had to agree with Jane. I’d bet any amount of money that he had been a good father.

I found Tori outside the gate attempting to calm Beth who was gliding back and forth along the wall wringing her hands in intense agitation. Her form was fluctuating so badly, she almost disappeared entirely before flickering back into coherence.

Not good.

“Mama always said do as I was told,” the girl cried. “She said if I did as I was told everything would be alright. So I did as I was told and it wasn’t alright. It just wasn’t.”

“Has she said anything else?” I asked Tori in a whisper.

“No,” Tori said. “Just that she’s afraid we’re going to punish her.”

Dear God. That wasn’t even a remote possibility.

“Beth, honey, calm down,” I said, approaching her slowly.

The girl looked at me with wide, earnest eyes. “I was good,” she said. “I was. I’m not lying. I was good.”

“You
are
good,” I said. “You really helped us tonight. Thank you.”

Beth faltered. “I helped?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” I said. “You did. Are you ready to go home now and see that cats?”

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked. Her form still flickered nervously, but she seemed a little stronger.

“No,” I said. “I’m very, very proud of you.”

Tori and I both had to do a little cajoling, but we were finally able to get Beth into the car with us for the short ride back to the store. No sooner had we walked in the door than Myrtle made a concerned sound.

“It’s okay, Myrtle,” I said. “Beth just got a little scared at the cemetery.”

The store answered me with a disapproving rumble.

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

Turning to Beth, I said, “Why don’t you go on up and see the cats? Tori and I will be up in a little bit.”

The girl needed no encouragement to accept my suggestion. She was gone almost before I finished speaking.

T
ori
and I went into the storeroom expecting to sit at the table and talk, only to find the table gone. The room now sported a beat-up old easy chair, a sagging loveseat, and a wood box doing double duty as a coffee table.

“Where did all this come from?” Tori said.

Before I could tell her that I had no idea, Myrtle let out with a quiet trumpet fanfare over our heads.

Myrtle could materialize furniture?

Never mind. I didn’t want to know.

As soon as I plopped down in the chair, which fit my body like a glove, Rodney scampered along the edge of the shelf and jumped on to my shoulder.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” I asked the rat.

Rodney gave the rodent version of a shrug and wiggled his whiskers as if to say, “You like?”

“I like,” I said.

“Me, too,” Tori agreed, making herself at home on the loveseat. “We needed a place to hang out when we’re downstairs. We can call it the Rat Cave.”

Rodney stood up on his hind legs and performed a maneuver that looked exactly like a fist pump.

“See,” Tori said. “Rodney approves.”

He approved even more when I broke into the cracker stash. While Tori and I talked, I could hear the rat munching away beside my right ear. When I stole a glance to see how much of a mess he was making on my blouse, I discovered he was not only picking up his crumbs, he actually reached down and brushed off the fabric while I was looking.

From the loveseat, Tori said, “Well, that whole graveyard summit was pretty intense.”

“To say the least,” I agreed. “I hope Beau and the ladies were able to calm Jane down.”

We agreed that based on what we had heard that night; the killer appeared to be trying to get his other victims to mimic behavior he found satisfying in Beth. Even though it makes me sick to say it, the source of his satisfaction was apparently her compliant nature. Neither Jane nor Twenty-Five performed to his specifications, and at least in Twenty-Five’s case, severe violence ensued. But why the five-year lull between kills?

Even though the questions we were posing to one another were valid, neither one of us expected to solve anything that night. We were really just trying to give Beth a little time alone with the cats. Finally, I simply could not keep my eyes open any longer. We went upstairs to find Beth happily covered in felines and very much restored to her usual placid self.

“I’m sorry, Beth,” I said, “but we’re both exhausted and Tori sleeps on the couch when she’s here.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Beth said. “I’ll go downstairs. Thank you for taking me with you tonight.”

Dang. Whoever drilled manners into this girl really did do one heck of a job.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” I said awkwardly.

You’re welcome for a lovely night of trauma recalling your murder in terrifying detail, I added mentally.

Tori and I took turns in the bathroom and then it was lights out. About ten minutes later, she said, in a groggy voice, “Jinksy? You still awake?”

“Barely,” I mumbled. “What?”

“Do you think I should wear my green blouse to meet Pete or the red one with the stripes?”

That’s my gal. Always keeping her priorities straight.

The next morning, Tori insisted on trying on both blouses twice before settling on the green. I had gone through wardrobe angst as well, but I kept it to myself.

Okay. Maybe I did change outfits.

Once.

Regardless, we still met Chase out in front of the store promptly at eleven.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully. “You both look great today.”

Mission accomplished.

We thanked him as we all stepped off the curb to commit blatant jaywalking. Trust me. There is no Sunday morning rush hour in Briar Hollow, especially when the whole town is in church.

Pete, whom I now discovered did have a last name -- Miller -- greeted us at the door of the pizzeria. Since we were his first customers, he gave us a quick tour of his apartment for Tori’s benefit. She took pictures of some of the hardware and other details she liked, and then we claimed a prime table by the window before heading for the buffet.

While we were filling our plates, Pete deposited a pitcher of sweet tea and three generous-sized glasses on our table. We came back loaded down with crisp salads and sinful pizza slices, diving into our food with enthusiasm.

By then, it was already ten minutes of noon, and other customers were starting to filter in. One of them was Sheriff John Johnson. Spying me and Tori, he waved and made his way through the tables to come over and speak.

“Good morning, Miss Hamilton, Miss Lewis,” he said, nodding to each of us before adding, “Hey, Chase.”

“Hey yourself, John,” Chase said. “Care to join us?”

“Just for a minute,” he said. “I wanted to tell Miss Hamilton and her friend what we’ve learned out about that skeleton they found.”

“It’s Jinx and Tori,” I corrected him. “Have the remains been identified?”

“They have,” he said sadly. “She was a local girl, Elizabeth Barlow. Went missing back in 1985 after the homecoming game.”

“Oh,” Tori said, playing her part beautifully. “That’s just awful! Was she . . . I mean did someone . . . ”

Her words trailed off, delicately avoiding descriptives like “kill” and “murder,” which caused Sheriff Johnson to assume an even more protectively official air than he was already displaying.

“I’m afraid it was a case of foul play, yes,” he said gravely. “She was killed by a blow to the cranium.”

Chase shook his head sadly. “How is Emily taking the news?”

What? Chase knew Beth’s mom? What the heck? My turn to act innocent.

“Who is Emily?” I asked.

“Beth’s mother,” Chase explained. “She was in a car accident when she was a girl. Her left leg is shorter than her right. She brings her shoes to me and I build the sole up so she can walk more easily. How is she, John?”

The Sheriff scrubbed at his face and let out a tired sigh. “Even after 30 years, she wasn’t ready to hear that we’d found her daughter like that. But I think part of her is glad to have the closure. We’re going to release the body as soon as possible. She wants to have a funeral.”

“Do you have any idea who killed Elizabeth?” Tori asked.

“Beth,” Sheriff Johnson said. “Everyone called her Beth. There was a suspect at the time, but there was never any concrete evidence. He’s just an irascible old bas. . . er. . . reprobate now. I really don’t think he killed her, but I do think he knew more than he was willing to tell the authorities.”

“This person was someone Beth knew?” I said.

“Just in passing,” the Sheriff said. “He runs the campground where she was abducted. The kids were having a party up there after the big game. Fellow named Woodrow Evers.”

Tori and I exchanged a covert glance.

“Oh my,” I said. “I think we met him yesterday by accident. Did this all happen at the Briar Hollow Family Campground?”

“It did,” Johnson said, arching his eyebrows. “What were the two of you doing up there?”

“We had driven up to Sparta to meet our mothers and go shopping,” I lied smoothly. “On the way home, I saw the sign for the campground and turned in out of curiosity just to see the place. Mr. Evers ordered us off the property and was really nasty when I told him Fiona was my aunt.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t take a shot at you,” Johnson laughed. “He’s been known to do that. Winged a bullet past an electrical company crew a couple of years ago when they were planning to re-route some lines across his place. They were threatened to cut down one of his trees. Danged if he didn’t take the whole thing to court and win. All that nonsense over a hickory tree when the woods are full of them.”

A hickory tree? Like the ones Beth and Twenty-Five were buried under?

“Did he have some kind of sentimental attachment to the the tree?” I asked.

“Who knows,” Johnson said. “The guy is an eccentric nut. Claimed the tree was a ‘cultural treasure’ due to its age, got a bunch of environmentalists on his side. They paid for his defense. Pretty slick deal if you ask me.”

“Why didn’t he like Aunt Fiona?” I asked.

“Trust me,” Sheriff Johnson said, “the bad feeling was mutual. Fiona opposed him about saving that damned hickory tree.”

My back-to-nature, hippy, peace-loving, crazy witch aunt was in
favor
of somebody cutting down a tree? There had to be more to that story.

“Anyway,” the Sheriff said, standing up, “I promised I’d let you know. Wish I could tell you we had the killer, but on a 30-year-old case, that’s not likely to happen. At least you’ve given Emily something to bury. Thank you for that.”

As we watched him head for the buffet line, Tori said, “We should go to the service to pay our respects since we’re the ones who found her.”

I knew what that meant.

We should go so we could take Beth with us.

So
not
on my bucket list.