Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery (24 page)

“It’s just”—Skye twisted the phone cord around her finger—“I never want you to think that I’m keeping something from you again.”

“That’s good.” Wally cleared his throat. “Because secrets can ruin a marriage.”

“I promise I’ve learned my lesson.” Skye knew that the last time she had kept something from Wally it had almost destroyed their relationship.

“Good.”

After that single word Wally was silent for so long, Skye thought they’d been disconnected. She waited a little longer, but when he still didn’t say anything, she asked, “So, what do you think? Are we going to Bolingbrook?”

“No,
we
aren’t.” Wally’s voice was firm. “Zuchowski and I will go.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Wally cut off Skye’s protest. “If you’re right, and Jacobsen is hiding at this Wilderness Falls, he could very well be dangerous when we corner him. I’m not risking your safety.”

“But you could use me as the psych consultant to talk him down,” Skye pointed out. “He’s a big guy and he might be too much for the two of you.”

“No buts.” Wally repeated himself. “I’ll ask the Bolingbrook police to help us,” he assured her, then added quickly before disconnecting, “I’ll call you as soon as we get back.”

“For crying out loud.” Skye looked at the receiver in exasperation. “He just came pretty darn close to hanging up on me.”

“We could go to Wilderness Falls on our own.” Trixie dangled her car keys enticingly. “I bet I could beat the cops there.”

“Never mind.” Skye blew out a breath. She had no doubt that Trixie, aka Lead Foot Andretti, could get to
Bolingbrook way ahead of the police. However, she also had no doubt that she wouldn’t be getting married in December if Wally arrived and found them there. “I have something better to do while Wally’s busy.”

“What?”

“I’m going to get rid of Mrs. Griggs’s ghost.” Trixie was the only one she had confided in about her problem with the spirit’s refusal to allow Skye and Wally to make love in her house.

“Can I help?”

“Do you happen to have a pound of sea salt handy?” Skye asked, not really expecting an affirmative answer.

“Actually, I do.” Trixie hurried into the pantry and returned with a round blue container. “I like sea salt for cooking and it’s cheaper if you buy it in bulk.”

“Great.” Skye decided she might as well ask Trixie about the other ingredient she needed. “I don’t suppose you know where I can get some sage branches?”

“As a matter of fact, I probably do.” Trixie’s voice was smug.

“You’re kidding.” Skye gaped at her friend. “You’ve heard of that?”

“Uh-huh.” Trixie’s eyes sparkled. “A friend of mine is a witch.”

“Like Samantha?” Skye wiggled her nose.

“Well, as it happens, her name
is
Samantha.” Trixie snickered. “But she’s Wiccan, not
Bewitched
. And believe me, she doesn’t appreciate the comparison, so if you meet her don’t bring it up.”

“Sure. Right. Of course not.” Skye was disappointed. She had been hoping to meet someone magical. “Does she live close by?”

“Her place is a couple of farms down.” Trixie pointed out the window.

“Can you call her and see if she’ll sell me a few branches?”

“Sure.” Trixie picked up the phone. After a brief conversation with her neighbor, she said to Skye, “Sam said the sage is on her, and she’ll drop off the branches on her way to her office in town. She’s an attorney and has to meet with a client at six.”

“Terrific.”

“Why don’t you stay for supper? Then we can go get rid of Mrs. Griggs together.”

“Great.” Skye sniffed. An enticing aroma was coming from a Crock-Pot on the counter behind Trixie. “What are we having?”

“Spareribs.” Trixie pointed to the fridge. “You can make the coleslaw while I change clothes, then all I have to do is pop the baked potatoes in the microwave, pour some sauce over the ribs, and stick them under the broiler for a couple more minutes.”

During dinner, Trixie and Skye discussed bridesmaids’ dresses, the Pass Out game, and ghosts. Owen ignored all three topics of conversation, ate quickly, and disappeared into the living room.

A few seconds later, when Skye heard loud voices as the TV came on and a commentator announced another political scandal in Chicago, she said to Trixie, “How come the news always begins with the words
Good evening
, but then they go on to tell you why it isn’t?”

Trixie snickered as she and Skye started to clear the table. They had finished wiping down the stove and the counters and started to do the dishes, when the doorbell rang. Trixie excused herself and was gone several minutes before returning with a small bundle of sage branches in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

“What’s that?” Skye asked, pointing to the yellow notebook page.

“Sam said this is the method she recommends for cleansing a house of an unwanted being.” Trixie gave Skye the instruction sheet.

Skye glanced down the page and frowned. “Everything here looks the same as what I got off the Internet, except this says you should do the ritual between the full and new moons. The new moon was just a couple of nights ago, and I can’t wait for it to come again.”

Trixie looked over Skye’s shoulder and pointed out, “It doesn’t say you have to do it during that period, only that it’s harder if you don’t.”

“True.”

“So, we can do it tonight. Then if it doesn’t work, we can try again in two weeks.”

“Good idea.” Skye turned back to the sink. “Let’s get these dishes done, then go kick some ghostly butt.” She plunged her hands into the hot, soapy water. “If nothing else, maybe Mrs. Griggs will be scared into behaving herself when Wally’s around.”

“Oh.” Trixie stopped dead as she walked toward Skye. “I almost forgot. Sam mentioned that if you do the ritual wrong, instead of warding off negative spirits, you might end up inviting them over for a playdate.”

“It says we need to wrap the sage branches with string, making loops about a half inch apart.” Trixie squinted as she read the directions to Skye. The two women were sitting at Skye’s kitchen table and Skye was attempting to assemble the smudge sticks.

“Now close your eyes and visualize positive energy flowing into the sage,” Trixie continued, then giggled. “What do you think positive energy looks like? Maybe a lightning bolt made of chocolate?”

“Shh.” Skye shushed her friend and concentrated for several minutes.

“Hey.” Trixie poked Skye. “Did you fall asleep? Come on,
CSI
is on at eight.”

“Fine.” Skye was beginning to regret allowing her friend to participate, but truth be told, she was a little
scared of doing the ritual by herself.
Crap!
She probably should have checked with Father Burns before she started this. What if they conjured up a demon from hell? Refusing to think about it, Skye asked, “What’s next?”

“Light that sucker on fire and smoke the meddling old ghost out of—” Trixie stopped short as her purse flew off the counter and hit her in the back of the head. “Ouch! What the heck? How did that happen?”

“See. You thought this was a game, but Mrs. Griggs is here and now she’s clearly ticked off.” Skye glanced fearfully around the room. “Maybe I should have asked Father Burns for some holy water.”

“We could always make our own.” Trixie’s mouth twitched. “You know, just get a big pan of water, and boil the hell out of it.”

“You are so not funny,” Skye scolded, then shivered as she felt a chill go up her spine. “Come on. We’d better do this quickly before Mrs. Griggs decides to throw knives instead of your handbag.”

“It was probably Bingo.” Trixie looked doubtful, but clearly refused to believe in ghosts. “He must have jumped up on the counter, brushed against my purse, and it…” She trailed off.

“Yeah.” Skye sneered. “That was Wally’s excuse, too. But the trajectory is all wrong. Let’s get this show on the road before she starts breaking dishes or something blows up in our faces.”

“Right.” Trixie sobered at Skye’s words and said, “You’re supposed to start at the back of the house and walk the perimeter of each room until it fills with smoke.” She stopped. “I hope we have enough sage branches. This old place has a lot of rooms.”

“Maybe they burn slow.” Skye got up and stood next to the back door, a box of wooden matches in one hand and the sage in the other.

“Wave the smudge stick around all the windows and
doorways,” Trixie continued, then read from the directions. “You’re supposed to say ‘I banish all negative energies, spirits, and ill will from this dwelling. Go now and do not come back.’”

“Got it.” Skye moved through the house doing as Trixie had instructed.

Trixie followed Skye, and when a window rattled, she muttered, “This place sure is drafty.” When a door slammed shut in front of them, she shrugged. “I didn’t know it was so windy out tonight.”

An hour later, when the two women came to the foyer, Trixie squinted at the sheet of paper she still held. “Do the front door three times and say, ‘By the powers of three times, only positive energy shall enter thee,’ then immediately put the sage outside.”

Skye complied. Next she and Trixie sprinkled sea salt across all the doorways and windows, and left a small pile in the corners of all the rooms. During this trip through the house, a picture fell off the wall in the bedroom, and in the parlor the glass in the front of the étagère cracked as if punched by a fist.

Both women were a little breathless and a lot freaked out when they finished. Skye said, “I sure hope that’s all of it.”

Trixie dug the instructions out of her jeans’ pocket and said, “Not quite.” She tilted her head toward the front porch, where they had put the used-up smudge sticks. “Now we have to cover the sage branches with salt and bury them. Then we shower and have a snack.” Trixie giggled. “Eating. Finally something that doesn’t require walking up and down the stairs a thousand times.”

Trixie took the bathroom on the main floor and Skye lent her a robe. Skye put their smoky clothes in the utility room, then headed to the master bath. She would shower as soon as she heard the water from Trixie’s go
off, then start the washer as soon as she was finished. Even with new plumbing and a new water heater, she wouldn’t risk doing all three at the same time.

Once they were settled in the sunroom with a bowl of popcorn and two glasses of wine, Trixie said, “Well, I hope that worked.”

The lights flickered, and Skye pointed at the TV as it wobbled. “Oh, oh!” Before either woman could get up, the set fell to the floor and smashed into several large pieces.

They sat in appalled silence until Trixie said, “I think you might need to call in a professional.”

W
hen Trixie left for home shortly before ten, Wally still hadn’t called. Skye wasn’t sure if that meant the police were still searching Wilderness Falls for Elijah or that he’d been caught, in which case Wally was busy interrogating the ex-doctor. And she wasn’t sure which scenario she preferred.

While she wanted Alexis’s murderer arrested and behind bars, in her heart of hearts Skye didn’t believe Elijah was the guilty party. Not, as Wally alleged, because she felt sorry for the poor damaged man, though she did, but because she was convinced it was impossible for someone with Elijah’s brain injury to pull off an elaborately plotted murder.

He didn’t have the ability to organize his thoughts, think quickly, and concentrate long enough to carry out his plan. Whoever had left Alexis’s car in front of Kyle O’Brien’s house had executed an intricate scheme to throw suspicion off him- or herself and implicate the victim’s ex-boyfriend. If Elijah killed someone, it would be in a fit of rage, and he wouldn’t be capable of covering up the crime afterward.

She frowned, unhappy with the events she had set in
motion and equally unhappy that she couldn’t stop thinking about Elijah. If he was going to take up space in her mind, he should at least be paying rent.

Skye tried to distract herself from what was going on in Bolingbrook by taking the next step in planning her wedding. And that meant inviting her old friend, and new sister-in-law, Loretta, to be her bridesmaid.

If Skye waited much longer to ask her, Loretta might hear about the wedding plans from someone else, and she would be hurt that Skye hadn’t been the one to tell her. Although May had promised to keep quiet until Skye had spoken to all her friends, Skye knew that her mother would burst if she had to keep the news to herself for long. So the window of opportunity to make the announcement herself was closing faster than a subway train door at rush hour.

It was late to call the typical Scumble Riverite, but Loretta was from the city, and Vince’s years as a drummer in a rock band had made him a night owl. There was no way either of them would be in bed before midnight, at least not to sleep.

Loretta answered on the first ring, her smooth contralto sounding mellow and contented—quite a change from her usual stressed-out lawyer’s voice.

“How’s it going?” Skye asked.

“Wonderful.” Loretta chuckled. “It’s so nice to finally find that one special guy that you can aggravate for the rest of your life.”