Ouija, Death & Wicked Witchery Read online

  “As I was saying. We have the crossbow, a portion of the rope, and an athame in inventory. We had his diary, but it went missing a while back and I just figured it was here somewhere. Now, the river stones are missing.”

  What? Mallory looked at Kaden.

  Kaden asked, “These stones were for a fact here yesterday and now their missing?”

  “Yes,” Hatti answered.

  “No,” Mick corrected.

  “No?” Hatti’s voice rose again.

  “They weren’t there the other day. The day of the dinner, Mal. I had pulled those ledgers for you and delivered them. The stones weren’t here. I thought you had moved them, Hatti.”

  It was Mal’s turn to slump against the hall, she knew where this was going.

  Mallory reached out to Kaden as he swiped through his phone. He whispered, “Don’t worry, it’s zoomed in.” Then louder, Kaden asked, “Hatti, do these look familiar?” He held out his phone, displaying a close-up shot of the stones in water. It was impossible to see they were sitting on Edwin’s chest.

  “Oh yes!” She cried.

  Shoulders slumped. Mallory sighed. “Hatti, you said you had the athame in the painting? Could I see it please?”

  “It’s locked up in my office.”

  They all trudged up the stairs. She stopped them at the door. “I’ll retrieve it, if you don’t mind. I don’t let anyone see where I keep certain items.”

  Kaden and Mallory understood. Mick, however, turned bright red.

  Hatti opened her office door just enough for her to slide through and slammed it shut. She was acting like she was the curator of the British Museum. They could hear what sounded like rummaging, then drawers opening and closing.

  “Noooo!”

  They all pushed through the door to find Hatti sobbing on the floor.

  THIRTY FIVE

  M allory headed to Peace and Light. She felt sick inside. Two steps forward, one step or three back. At least one forward was the clearing of Star from BLPD’s suspect list. She wasn’t even sure they’d told her yet.

  As she stepped into the store, the sweet scent of lilac hit her. A cleansing flower if she wasn’t mistaken and one of the best scents in the world. Not seeing Star anywhere upfront, Mal walked into the back room and found her opening boxes, what looked to be a new shipment of scarves.

  “Mallory!” Star walked into her open arms. Mal hugged her, she felt tears on her neck.

  “Why is the store open, Star? Isn’t it too soon? I mean look, one hug and your crying.” Mal asked softly.

  “The store has to be open. I need work to keep my mind off everything and I’m a new store owner, so I can’t lose my foothold in the community.”

  “The people here care about you, so you wouldn’t lose business over a temporary closure due to death. We can help.”

  “Oh Mallory, do you mean it? About helping? I was afraid to ask, but this might be more than you meant.”

  Mallory pushed Star back at arm’s length to look her straight in the eye. “What do you need?”

  “I need to take Sylvia home in a couple of days. I’ll have to stay in California for two or three weeks for her burial, dealing with the house, and legal matters. I can’t close the store that long.”

  Mal nodded.

  “Mal, I’m not sure if I’ll get it back in time, but I want you to have Sylvia’s Grimoire. Since you are a finder like she was, it might help you.”

  “Now you have me crying, too. Thank you! But it’s too much, if I may just read it that would be a tremendous help. You should keep it.”

  Star shook her head. “You found Sylvia because she found a way to call to you. I believe it belongs with you.”

  A tinkling bell announced another arrival upfront. Mal yanked tissues from her purse for them both, then walked to the front of the store while wiping her own face.

  “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

  “Hey, Eve. Star is freshening up. She needs help with the store for a couple of weeks, to take care of things in California. Would you help? I’m sure I can get Danior to help, too. So, between the three of us…” Mal whispered.

  “Do I get to try my hand at window dressing? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “Do you promise no rude positioning of the mannequins?” Mal smirked.

  “You are no fun!”

  “Eve…”

  “A picture paints a thousand words!”

  Mallory stared, tapping her foot.

  Eve huffed and held three fingers up. “Ok, scouts honor.”

  “I didn’t know you were a girl scout,” Mallory said.

  Eve snorted. “Boy scout. I dressed like a boy and made it through the ranks until my womanly bits appeared and was kicked out.”

  “Ah, Star, good timing. I wanted to ask you,” Mal said. “Did Cody or Kaden tell you you’re no longer a suspect?”

  “Captain Lumos stopped by. He mentioned a note and that it looked like Sylvia was trying to protect me.” Her eyes filled again. “I feel like it’s my fault.”

  “That’s your grief talking. You know full well the murderer is responsible and just used you. They would have found another way. Edwin mentioned she had been receiving hate mail of some kind and he saw her burn a letter. It had nothing to do with you.”

  Star nodded.

  “On another note, have you heard from Willa?” Mal asked.

  Star sniffled. “No. Nothing. Which I’ve got to say is really strange. She usually checks in with me at least once a day, more times usually. She was especially clingy once she found out Sylvia was coming to town. I can’t believe she would just leave me all alone like that. And the Osgood’s say they’ve heard nothing either. I don’t know whether they’re lying or not but they also said that there’s been no activity on her credit cards.”

  Mallory frowned thinking of the note from the mysterious W.H.O. “Hmm. That is odd, but criminals are smart. If she were planning this then I’m sure she would know not to use her credit cards. Can I ask you a question? What was her middle name? Did it begin with an H by chance?”

  Star shook her head, “No, her middle name was Mena. I know that for a fact because she was named for her great-grandmother, Wilhelmina Hawke. Only her mother chopped the name into two to modernize it.”

  “Hawke? That’s right I forgot she said she had a different last name. Hmm. Anyway, don’t worry about that or anything for that matter. Eve and I will look after the store and I’m sure Danior will help. Now, no more tears. I told you, your friends care about you,” Mal said.

  Star sniffled. “Thank you both.”

  Eve warned, “You haven’t seen what I’ve planned for your window.”

  Star looked wary.

  “Don’t worry,” Eve said. “Mal already laid down some ground rules.”

  That surprised a laugh out of Star.

  “Anyway, I came to tell you I have news. I know who’s responsible for Rebekah and Balthasar’s deaths.” Mallory filled them in regarding the past and the more current thefts at the historical society. “I’ve started thinking there is a connection between the murders in the past and now. I talked to Sera and really think it’s strange that Sera’s father left the house to her, but nothing else. I think an investigation into that lawyer is my next step, but I have no idea where to start. Sera never met him. I guess I’ll call him and make an appointment. Try to come up with a reason for a face-to-face consult,” Mallory continued.

  Star asked, “Well, who is he?”

  Mallory shrugged. “James Hubbard. It’s a common enough name.”

  Eve dropped a necklace she was trying on. “Who?”

  THIRTY SIX

  “J ames Hubbard,” Mallory repeated.

  Eve whistled. “Mallory, James Hubbard is Cotton Hubbard! He acquired the nickname Cotton when he was a kid because his hair has always been white blond.”

  “Of course, it makes sense. He seems obsessed with the Witch House. Okay, I need to visit Cotton for some legal advice.”


  “What legal advice?” Star asked.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Mallory searched the internet when she got outside. The phrase James Hubbard, lawyer, Bohemian Lake turned up an address—his home address. Apparently, Cotton worked from home. Great. She headed straight there.

  When she looked up at the house, she noticed the paint was peeling. There was also a loose shutter that wouldn’t stop squeaking in the breeze. It was a little creepy, and she tripped on the cracked walkway. Okay, don’t freak out. The screen door rattled as she knocked.

  “Mr. Hubbard.” Mallory said when the familiar thin, old man in dress slacks and suspenders answered the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I just heard you’re a lawyer and I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you have time for a consult?”

  “I don’t normally…”

  “Please, Mr. Hubbard?”

  Nodding, he opened the door all the way.

  Mallory took in all of the rooms they passed as he led her to his office. She hoped this worked.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Vianu?”

  “This storm has really made us think of the future at Caravan Manor. We own a great deal of land with trees, so now we must clean up thanks to the recent storms. What if we decided to lease some of our land? That would make it the lessee’s responsibility, right? We’d want the power to veto activities that might hurt the overall image of Caravan Manor, though. Is something like that possible, Mr. Hubbard?”

  “As long as you retain ownership and have a clear contract, it should work in theory.” He said, running his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “We could draft a special addendum to make it clear what is and is not allowed. This would help insure any lessee understands from the outset.”

  “I just worry, you know, I mean look at the Remy House!” Mallory added, aware that Cotton flinched. “I’ve heard stories about owners fighting over old homes like Sera’s and I’d hate to see that happen to us in the future.”

  “What do you know about the Remy House?” Cotton asked.

  “It’s interesting. I worked with Sera trying to look up the history. We’ve searched the house for any information because we think it’s odd that Sera’s dad left it to her, but nothing else. No paperwork, nothing. Sera says you were her father’s lawyer. You should know this. The only thing we’ve found is an old diary, but three pages are missing.”

  “The three pages describing a book that opens the secret passage, the existence of a safe and then the combination to that safe?”

  “I never saw anything like that. Wait. How do you know what they say since they’re missing?

  “I tucked them into the book before returning it in a box of home ownership paperwork to that little witch, Sera. I read it cover to cover. I thought it might have information that could help me prove my claim.”

  “We had to go all the way back to the beginning and found that a Thomas Hobart owned the house for about thirty years. It’s strange, that gap with another owner, when Popescu’s have owned the house all this time.”

  “They don’t own the house!” shouted Cotton.

  Mallory was surprised by the outburst but didn’t say anything.

  “Thomas Hobart was my family. Hobart is the origin of Hubbard. He never sold that house. I have family letters of Thomas’ that have been passed down. He said in one of the them that the house would always be in the family.”

  “What else did the letters say, Mr. Hubbard?” Mallory asked quietly, not wanting to stop the flow of information.

  “Balthasar Popescu killed Thomas’ mother. She was hanged as a witch, but she was just the local healer. He vowed revenge and he had it. It took him years, but he hired a criminal to kill Balthasar’s wife and frame him, making sure he swung for it. He purchased the house to make sure a Popescu never owned it again.”

  “I’m sorry, but the historical society has the purchase records.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s true!”

  Mallory nodded. “I agree, however, when Thomas passed away, Thomas Jr. sold it back to Theodore, Balthasar’s youngest son. It may have been out of guilt from sins of the father, but it’s true.”

  Cotton started wailing. “It can’t be true! After all I’ve done. I stole the diary from the historical society years ago. Then, I had to give my home to that witch. The ultimate irony. A witch inheriting a witch-hunter’s home. I have watched every day and night to see what she does. To see if she finds something that could help me.”

  Mallory stood to leave while Cotton stared at nothing and mumbled to himself. Eve stormed in the house shouting for Mal.

  “We’re back here.”

  “Oh, thank goodness, Mal. I found a thick rope in the garage hidden behind some boxes. I think you should take a look.”

  “Okay, Eve. Cotton, Mr. Hubbard, are you alright?” He continued muttering to himself. Mal passed her hand in front of his eyes. No response. “Cotton, do you know about the rope in the garage?”

  “The rope, garage, the rope, garage.” Rinse and repeat. Mallory felt bad, like she had broken him. Then he went on and she didn’t feel bad at all. “I should get rid of her then the house will be mine. Thou Shall Not Suffer a Witch! I should strangle her as Balthasar Popescu did Thomas’s mother. We, Hubbard’s are witch hunters now.”

  Mallory took the rope from Eve. Since this wasn’t the actual length of rope used in the murder, she only picked up negative vibrations and a faint feminine trace. Possibly the murderer, but it didn’t make sense. Maybe she was picking up that this rope touched Sylvia, it looked like the piece that might have been tied under her arms. No direct link to her death, just used in the overall commission of the crime.

  “Mr. Hubbard. Are you saying you kill witches?”

  “Yes! Kill all witches! I am a Witch Hunter. Thou Shall Not Suffer a Witch!” He pulled open his desk drawer, and scrambled as if he were looking for a weapon. At last his hand wrapped around something and he held it out, brandishing a knife—well, it wasn’t exactly a knife. It was Rebekah’s missing athame—the one with the purple jewel. He continued to scream at Mallory from across the desk and she took a step back, actually momentarily afraid of the older man.

  Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, Mallory dialed Kaden.

  “What did you do to him?” Eve asked.

  “I told him he wasn’t the rightful owner of the Witch House.”

  ***

  The manor’s front desk phone was ringing when Mallory returned from town. The receptionist, Lizzy Hubbard was nowhere in sight. Of course, she was probably called to the hospital to admit her uncle. His mental health had rapidly deteriorated until he was drooling in the corner. Mallory had been all too happy to flee when Kaden arrived—who had by the way agreed that the rope looked similar to that used on Sylvia.

  “Good afternoon, Caravan Manor. Mallory speaking… yes, I’m sorry about that. What’s your room number? Yes, I’ll be right up to restock.”

  Mallory cursed as she hung up the phone. What was going on around here? Had the rooms not been turned over either? They were severely understaffed.

  She grabbed the key from the desk drawer and marched back to the supply closet, turning on the light. The shelves held everything from cleaning supplies to extra bath products, and even emergency candles and flashlights were stashed here.

  She found the towels and soaps and started back out to find the cart, carrying as many as she could hold. Big mistake. One of the soaps started to fall and when she tried to catch it, she dropped the rest. She bent down and felt around on the wooden floor beneath the shelf. But before she could gather them up, something else caught her eye.

  It was a photo, or rather a polaroid of a happy couple, performing some sort of ritual together in the woods at sunset. They wore matching black robes; the same robe she’d seen through Sylvia’s eyes, on the shadowy black figure. No, wait the robe was clearer in this picture. On the pocket, she saw letters: W.H.O.

  In the background
there was a stone wall, it was crumbling, but there was enough left to tell that it had once been a building—a church, perhaps because of the cross that was still attached, albeit hanging upside down on the blackened timber post.

  Edwin had his hand wrapped around the base of the athame. The other passionately on his lover. Her head was turned so you couldn’t fully see her face. They’d been right about the accomplice, after all.

  THIRTY SEVEN

  T the pieces were starting to fit together and Mallory couldn’t help but feel that she should have listened to her gut sooner. After all, she’d sensed that a woman had been the one to kill Sylvia when she touched the rope. And there’d been ample opportunity—she was at the Caravan Manor both nights. She had access to the truck and the horse ropes—access to everything at the manor. There were her disappearances; spreading rumors; and, though Cotton might hate witches—he may even have been the one to throw the brick with the threatening note threw Star’s window, he wasn’t in any shape to pull off one, let alone two murders.

  But wait, was she simply jumping to conclusions because she didn’t click with the girl? This picture only proved she was involved the theft of the athame. Being lazy and incompetent at her job didn’t make her a killer, Mallory thought. Then again, why had she hidden the fact that she was intimate with Edwin? And where in the heck was Willa? Was she also involved in this W.H.O. somehow? Could she be the leader of this cult? It was a strange coincidence that her initials were that of the acronym.

  Regardless, Mallory couldn’t be the one to openly accuse Lizzy of murder, especially since the police had already cleared her along with most of the guests during Hexfest.

  Deciding to wait until Kaden returned, Mallory put the picture in her pocket and headed upstairs in the elevator with the housekeeping cart. First and foremost, she needed to restock the guest rooms with necessities. Somebody had to work around here. Later, she would show Kaden the picture and they could decide what should be done.

  Heading out of the elevator, Mallory rounded the corner and nearly collided with one of the housekeeping staff.