Every Witch Way But Dead Read online

  He read from his notes. “You mentioned during the…vision, the perpetrator said he was friends with the Arthurs.”

  “I did? I don’t always remember what transpires during a trance session.”

  “Well, we won’t know one hundred percent until we get the tests back. I’ll check and see if Paul Sumner knew the Arthurs, perhaps through a fan club.” He was staring again, just about to ask me something when we heard yelling from outside.

  I heard Jon call to one of the officers, “I want to see my wife!”

  “I better go.” I sighed.

  “Sure, I’ll meet you at your home. I’d like to hear what else you have to say, before you forget,” he said as he gently rubbed my shoulder. He was so kind, and as I looked into his eyes I couldn’t imagine that he was behind any of this as Marisa had hinted.

  I stood up to leave. “It’s the same guy, I know it. It’s the eyes—the same eyes. You’ll find skin under Becky’s nails. I bet it matches your DNA sample from Sally Shaw. He raped Becky as well, he left plenty of evidence, no condom. If you can’t get him for Diane’s death, at least you can arrest him for Sally’s and Becky’s.”

  “Is there anything that points to where he may be? Did he say anything?”

  “Not that I remember, no. Just that he’s after Ronnie. Sean, did you warn her? Mrs. Arthur, I mean. She needs to know.”

  “Yeah, we have an officer watching the house.” He stood now and looked around the scene once more.

  “Does Josh Sumner have blue eyes?” I asked.

  Sean put his note pad away in his inside jacket pocket. “Offhand I don’t recall, why?”

  “The killer’s eyes are blue,” I said as I walked over to the sliding glass doors and pulled the curtains away from the wall. There in blood was the message the detective assumed was for me.

  “Sean, I don’t feel this statement was meant for me. You see, the Arthurs are also followers of Wicca. They don’t come right out and say it, for business reasons, I would guess, they don’t want to alienate certain fans. I think this is meant for Ronnie. I didn’t feel him even think of me once during this crime. His anger is focused entirely on Veronica Arthur.”

  “Let’s go, James, I want to get you out of here,” Jon ordered, calling from downstairs, making quite a commotion.

  Sean looked over at me. “James?”

  I smiled. “Long story. If you could get me photos of the suspects, I might be able to tell. Perhaps it’ll jog my memory. It’s worth a shot.” I stood next to Sean, trying to read him.

  No, I decided. Nothing pointed to his involvement in any malicious way.

  He frowned, casting his eyes down in slight embarrassment. “I’ll see what I can do. My superiors aren’t too happy with me consulting with you.”

  “I understand. Sean?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The accent was stronger. I noticed with fatigue it became more prevalent.

  “The little girl, Sara? Have you located her yet?” I asked hopefully, though I knew the answer.

  He took my arm and started to lead me toward the door. “No, we haven’t.”

  Looking again into those periwinkle eyes, I said, “Sara’s father’s got her.”

  “We checked him out, he doesn’t.”

  Jon’s voice became louder and more insistent. “Angelica!” Oblivious to Jon’s ranting, I continued. “I’m telling you, he does. He’s got her held up at a friend’s place, in Glendale Cove. It’s a girlfriend of his. If you can find out who she is, you’ll find Sara. I guarantee it. Tell her mom the other psychic’s right, she’s alive.”

  He winked and nodded as he was going over his notes once more. “I’ll check it out, ask the mother if she knows who the girlfriend could be. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled.

  The officer allowed Jon upstairs and he rushed over to me. “I got worried when you didn’t answer me. I know how you sometimes get after these episodes, I’m sorry, sweetie.” He took me into his arms and hugged me. I got the feeling it was more for appearance sake.

  “I’m fine. I guess I’m finally getting used to it,” I said, pulling back, looking at my husband. He really was worried. “I’m okay. Really.”

  As we made our way out of the apartment, I swiped Marisa’s crystal in some blood that was on the coffee table. I wasn’t sure whose blood it belonged to, but it was my only opportunity without being noticed. Or so I thought.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Hawk eye ~ This is a black and silver colored stone which aids psychic ability, transforms negative energy into positive and mends negative energy from past lives. It may also aid in letting go of karmic attachments. ~ From Marisa Arrucci’s Gem Power workshop.

  “It’s got to be Becky’s blood,” Marisa announced as she and I huddled over the maps. “It’s not moving. Nothing!”

  We tried repeatedly to get some fix on where the killer vanished. He was hiding and we got nowhere with scrying.

  “The spirits couldn’t help either,” Ouida said, sitting at my kitchen table. “I tried my best to get some information. The only explanation is it’s karma and that it has to be played out. It’s between all of you. The singers, Ronnie, the killer, you, of course, and another two males. You would have a better idea from the regression. I don’t recall, was Ronnie in that life, sister?”

  I nervously paced. “Yes, she was Khaldun—the killer’s—brother.”

  “Ivy tried with her runes,” Kara offered. “Heena used psychometry with a piece of Sally’s jewelry that her brother brought over, but we’ve got no information. I’ve been meditating and getting no answers. Just weird symbols, like the clefs in music. But no location.”

  “The killer has to be using a glamour to disguise his identity from us,” Marisa said.

  “Yeah—it’s probably Becky’s blood. In my vision, I didn’t see him cut himself. Bastard! I want to go over to see Ronnie, to make sure she knows what’s going on,” I said.

  Pushing a stray curl behind her ear, Marisa grumbled, “Damn, she must feel horrible.”

  “He wants to screw with her, in more ways than one. It’s creepy, the amount of rage in him. I’ve never experienced that, ever,” I sadly remarked. Marisa just stared at me, clearly fearful for our friend’s safety. Ouida and Kara were silent for a moment.

  “But why is he connecting to you?” Ouida asked.

  “Other than karma, I don’t know. I tried to get an answer from my ghostly friend, Ronnie’s mom, but she’s suspiciously quiet as of late.”

  “I’ve got to get to the hospital. Be careful sister,” Ouida murmured.

  Kara nodded, grabbing her gym bag. “I’ve a class to teach, I better get going too,” she said.

  “Thanks for coming by, I’ll talk to you guys later.” I hugged each one before they headed into the sunshine.

  “You seemed to be getting use to this channeling. You’re not as knocked out as the first time,” Marisa noted as we got in her car. “I like the braids, too,” she teased, referring to my hair.

  “My Daisy Duke look.” I laughed.

  Before we could get out of the driveway, the familiar car of Sean Bennette drove up in front of the house. I went out to greet him, with Marisa coming up behind me.

  “I wanted to tell you about something you asked me about the other day,” he said, all business, staring at my outfit—cut-offs and long braids.

  “About?” I’d forgotten, having discussed many things with him.

  “A woman came in to the precinct on August first, late. The report’s actually dated the second. She filed a complaint that a man tried to stab her during a ritual.” He looked over his notes and proceeded. “The Great Rite, he took his—anthem—”

  “Athame,” I corrected him.

  “Yeah—and tried to stab her while they were having…intercourse.” He winced. “I suspect this is what you meant about odd behavior?”

  I twirled my hair anxiously. Perhaps we were finally getting somewhere. “Yes, ex
actly. Who is he?”

  “That’s just it, she doesn’t remember. They met in the park for the ceremony and she luckily escaped. She said, ‘Something told me to watch him carefully’. She’s a High Priestess of some coven. She was doing this as a favor because this guy told her his Priestess left and he hasn’t been able to replace her. She’s into the sex magick, on occasion.” He shrugged.

  “Was that all?” I prodded him. “Anything else?”

  “She did say he was very handsome, but for some reason she can’t give a description, she doesn’t seem to remember much about him except—” He stopped short. He must have realized what he was about to say confirmed what I’d been saying all along.

  Immensely proud of myself, I finished his sentence. “He has blue eyes,” I said.

  “It’s got to be a glamour,” Marisa added.

  His brows knit together and he rubbed his temples. “Yes, blue eyes, precisely. Is this a normal practice, having intercourse as favors for a ritual?” Sean was confused by all this new information he was absorbing, and it showed.

  “Not normal, no. It’s more often a High Priest and High Priestess who do the ritual and they’re either married or a couple. In any case, it’s always with consenting adults. As I said, most covens do a symbolic Great Rite ritual, using a chalice and the athame. The ritual knife. The chalice represents the female and the knife, or athame as it’s called, the male.” I explained it as best I could to the newbie.

  “We haven’t found anything at the site except a makeshift altar and her cloak. The crime scene investigators are looking for any evidence, semen, perhaps. Something that might’ve been left there. She did say she made him wear a condom, though.” He looked around uncomfortably as if he expected someone to come out of my house and intrude on our conversation. His weight shifted from one leg to the other.

  Answering what I knew his next question would be, I admitted, “I haven’t had any more visions.”

  “All right, then, I’ll be in touch. You let me know if you get any other information, okay?” He finally smiled, although he seemed to have something on his mind he wanted to say, but for whatever reason didn’t.

  “Sure thing. Can you find out what coven she’s a part of? Maybe I can get some information from her. Witch to witch, ya know?” I winked at him this time.

  “You got it.” Sean left.

  Marisa and I got back into the car. I stared out the window, watching the landscape as we rode along Route 26 North.

  She finally spoke. “Heena’s going to meet us there. Jon knows where we’re going?”

  “Yes, I told him,” I moaned. “He doesn’t really want me over there, like they’ve got a disease or something and I’m going to catch it.”

  “Well, in reality, Angie, people around them are ending up dead. Who’s to say how or if this nut is differentiating between band members or simply anyone the Arthurs care about?” Her voice raised a few decibels to make her point.

  I kept my eyes on the road. “Anyone Ronnie cares about. He’s angry with Marc, but not nearly as much as he is at Ronnie.”

  “I guess Marc is one of the males connected, karma-wise. Who do you think the other is?”

  I fingered my pentacle that hung around my neck. The energy in the air was heavy, and I knew what that meant. Marisa wanted to talk. “No, it’s Jon, the killer and Sean.”

  “That makes sense. He’s attracted to you. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  I finally glanced over at her. “No, I don’t. We’re simply working together Risa, that’s all. It doesn’t matter, anyway, I love my husband,” I answered, somewhat defensively.

  “I know you do, I just wondered if you realized the way he looks at you. He’s smitten.” She smiled coyly.

  It appeared like a storm was brewing. I felt an internal one, as well. “I think he’s just like all the other people I come across who see me as a link to their loved ones who are gone. He loves his wife, still. I’m the closest thing to her—to get messages from her, I mean.” I stared at the gathering clouds in the distance.

  Marisa wore a serious countenance on her pixie-like face. “How long’s she gone?”

  “Five years, I think.” I sighed, wondering if indeed it was the link to Rita that had him hanging around me more than was really necessary. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened.

  “That’s a long time, and he’s a young guy—what would you guess? Thirty-eight, forty?” she asked as she pulled off Route 26.

  “I guess late thirties, yeah, sounds right.” His face flashed in front of my inner eye, all smiles, his energy so gentle.

  “Rich told me that Jon doesn’t like him. At all. Evidently, your husband picked up on the attraction as well,” Marisa said, glancing over at me, waiting for a reaction. “He’s really uncomfortable with him coming around. I mean look at him Angie—he’s drop-dead gorgeous! Sorry—I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  “I know, Risa.”

  She backtracked. “Not that Jon isn’t, but…you know what I mean.”

  “I know, Jon told me that, too, that he thinks Sean’s attracted to me. I’m helping him with this case and that’s all. I wonder why Jon’s so jealous. If anything, I should be questioning him. He’s been putting in a lot of overtime lately, and he’s the one with the bad track record. I’m going to have to have an in-depth regression with Ivy and Ouida. Maybe he’s got residual feelings from the past. It’s really irrelevant, anyway, I’m married and that’s that,” I stated, sending the message that the conversation had ended.

  “The guys are working, honey, you know that,” Marisa said, coming to his defense.

  “Yeah, I suppose.” I was silent the rest of the way. I was lost in thought about the past, what felt like another lifetime, but unfortunately wasn’t. When Jon had been unfaithful… It had happened years ago, but like a fresh wound anytime I suspected him of something, the hurt was there as if it had just happened.

  Marisa called the house so that the Arthurs were expecting us, as was the officer sitting at the gate by the front entrance. They buzzed us in, and Marisa parked in their driveway.

  The house was dark, with heavy linen curtains drawn and the air conditioner blasting. Outside it was ninety degrees with barely a breeze.

  The housekeeper let us in and led us to the back of house. It was quiet except for the sound of sizzling emanating from the kitchen. The aromas were mouth-watering as we entered the back and went into the kitchen. Heena sat at the counter with a cutting board in front of her. She was slicing garlic.

  “Hi, ladies.” She smiled. “I was checking on Ronnie.”

  Marc was cooking up a storm. Pots of sauce, sausage and meatballs were cooking on the stove. Like a cross between Merlin the magician and Emeril the chef, he was making culinary magic.

  He diced some red and green peppers. “I have to do something or I’ll go nuts. Cooking is my hobby and I love Italian food,” he explained.

  I sat next to Heena and asked Marc, “How are you? I’m sorry, that’s a really stupid question. You’re horrified, scared, sad, emotionally spent.”

  “Yeah, that about covers it—oh, and angry as hell,” he added, though his Irish accent made everything sound blissful.

  “Ronnie sleeping?” I asked, picking at a meatball.

  “Yes,” Heena answered.

  “She should be getting up soon,” Marc said. “I gave her a sedative and it knocked her out. Ronnie’s devastated. I don’t understand why this is happening. I know you ladies have only known us for what, about eight months? And I’m not saying this merely because she’s my wife either, but she’s the sweetest, most caring woman I’ve ever known. The patience of a saint—to put up with me, she has to be…” His already red-rimmed eyes welled once again with tears. “I just don’t get what this maniac has against her. What could she’ve done to him?”

  “He’s sick in the head,” Marisa said, grabbing the other half of the meatball I’d taken.

  “I
think he’s in love with her, Marc, and he feels jilted, so he’s angry with both of you. He’s got a tremendous amount of rage in him,” I explained. “He’s also got serious issues. From what I remember about the visions, it goes back to his childhood and perhaps beyond. He’s extremely disturbed.”

  Marc poured more wine into his glass. “The detective said they’re looking at an ex-roadie and his connection perhaps to the other murders. He worked for me a few years ago. I met him when he was working for my landscaper, then we got to talking. We had some things in common, love of music being one of them. I was single at the time and we’d go out to pubs once in a while. He told me he played the guitar and we’d jam occasionally. I tried to help him form his own band. That didn’t work out, one thing led to another and then he was a roadie for a time. Then I met Ronnie. We actually met her at the same time. There was an immediate attraction between us. I know for me, I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her. I think it took her a little longer. We’d go out together sometimes, though I never saw him with the same girl twice. I honestly don’t remember what led Cliff to leave.”

  He reached for his glass and took a sip of the white wine. “But they’re not even certain if it’s him. They said they’re looking at two people at this point. I can’t imagine it being him. He’s such a gentle soul.”

  Heena handed him the garlic. “You can’t try to make sense out of this. Whoever he is, he’s not a normal person. You can’t assign regular values to him. Would Cliff know of your spiritual practice?”

  “Yes, we didn’t keep it a secret from those in our inner circle, so to speak, and he was a part of that group for a time. He’s come to our May Day parties, and if we were in town at Samhain, he’d be invited.” Marc handed me some mushrooms, onions and celery to dice.

  “Did he practice magick?” I asked, chopping up the vegetables.

  “He dabbled, I think. He didn’t talk much about what he did as far as rituals went with us. It was more talk of music.”