Chapter 8 #2
I sat on a stool at the bar, gazing blankly at the bottom of another empty glass.
Drinking wasn’t my go-to in times of strife, and Judd certainly wouldn’t have approved, but I felt at a loss.
Judd and I didn’t always see eye to eye on matters, but he’d been a constant since my arrival on the island.
I wasn’t sure I could function without him.
I’d allowed myself to grow weak over the past five years.
In some ways, I’d forced myself to. I may be perpetually bruised, but I had to remind myself that I was never broken.
Although I felt like I was about to fall to pieces.
“Another round?” Meg asked. Like me, she was a member of the staff who’d given up mainland life to serve the needs of Neighbors.
“I should probably cut myself off. ”
“I’ll let you know when you’re about to cross a line.” She pulled my glass toward her and refilled it with a golden liquid. “This one’s on the house.” She poured one for herself and raised her glass. “To Judd.”
I clinked her glass with mine. “To Judd. And Belinda.”
“Two deaths in one week.” Meg sucked the air between her teeth. “I’m starting to think whatever protective spell they had around the island perimeter has gone tits up.”
“The ward doesn’t protect the residents from harm; it only keeps the island hidden from the rest of the world. Physical protection is my job.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Maya,” Meg said. “None of this is your fault.”
In my drunken haze, I’d forgotten Meg was both a seer and an empath. I’d have to skedaddle unless I wanted to give her access to my deepest, darkest secrets.
That was nonnegotiable.
I drank half the ambrosia and said goodnight. No tip, because we were all paid a living wage. The island architects were going for a utopia, knowing that most of the residents had lived enviable lives and would be loath to give them up voluntarily without incentives.
I was glad my golf cart was incapacitated because so was I. I walked like I was being trailed by an alligator, a few steps forward to the left, then to the right. It had been a long time since I let myself drink in excess.
A golf cart pulled alongside me. “Need a lift, Maya?”
I squinted in the darkness to see the barely discernible face of Kaito. “No thank you. I’m fine.”
“You sure? You walk like a pirate who climbed out of a barrel of rum.”
“Better than one walking the plank.”
“I know you must be upset about Judd. We all are… ”
I didn’t bother to ask how he knew. No doubt the entire island knew by now, no matter how much I’d hoped to keep the news quiet.
“Belinda too,” I said.
“Didn’t realize you were close with Belinda.”
“I wasn’t.” But I still felt a sense of responsibility.
“Get in. Let me drive you home before you fall into a sinkhole and disappear forever.”
Sinkholes were a potential issue on the island, one that even magic couldn’t fix. We lost a couple condos to a particularly bad sinkhole a few years ago, but mostly they caused inconvenient damage to the land.
I dragged myself to the passenger seat and slumped against the pride flag draped across the back. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Don’t mention it.”
I closed my eyes and felt the breeze tickle my face. It was nice. Comforting even.
“People are speculating that Judd was involved in Belinda’s death.”
“People are wrong.”
“I know, but it’s important to understand public sentiment.”
The golf cart stopped outside my house. Two green spots flashed in the darkness. Jinx was in her usual place, guardian at the gate.
“Take care of yourself, Maya. If you need any pain relief in the morning, I highly recommend one of Meemaw’s tonics.”
“I’ve got it covered,” I said with a haphazard wave that ended with me smacking myself in the face.
I lumbered to the front door where Jinx awaited me. I expected a pissed-off meow to express displeasure at the late dinner schedule. Instead, I was greeted with a ferocious growl that sounded more like a mountain lion than a domestic cat.
“Was that you, or am I drunker than I thought?”
Jinx shot in front of me, positioning herself between me and the door.
“What’s gotten into you?”
As I reached for the handle, she jumped up and scratched at my leg.
“Okay, you don’t want me to go in the house. Message received.”
That was when I heard the noise coming from inside.
Shit. Someone was inside my cottage. I patted myself down, trying to remember whether I’d brought any weapons. Of course not. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew I was going to drink, so I did the responsible thing and left them home.
Why did I have to be so responsible? Stupid Judd influence.
I crept off the porch and rounded the corner to the back of the house.
The back door was ajar. I hadn’t bothered to lock it, not when everybody knew that the assistant director of security lived here.
My position came with certain perks, including thou shalt not fuck with Maya, not that it had stopped Meemaw and Margie from messing around with Judd on occasion.
The witches had to get their kicks somehow.
Maybe that was all this was. Someone wanting to get their kicks from breaking and entering into the home of the assistant security director to show they could.
I nudged the back door open and stepped inside.
The interior was a mess. Kitchen drawers had been emptied.
Papers were strewn across the counter. “Ransacked” was the correct term, although my brain couldn’t quite drudge it up at first. Apparently, alcohol impairment started at the vocabulary center of the brain before working its way to judgment and other areas.
My drinking stopped somewhere between vocabulary impairment and thinking I could appear sober to others.
Slowly and quietly, I set my purse on the counter.
My heart pounded as I ventured deeper into the house.
The intruder had cut a messy path toward the bedroom.
If they discovered my weapons cache, I was going to have a real problem.
I had to scare them away before they made it that far, even if it meant not catching them.
The weapons were more important right now.
“Who’s there?” I yelled.
The sound of thundering footsteps followed my inquiry.
The figure shoved past me, knocking the wind out of me as he went. I landed hard on my tailbone and swore loudly. My pride was more wounded than my backside. No more alcohol until this investigation was over.
Jinx trotted toward me, holding a scrap of cloth in her jaw. She dropped the gift at my feet. At least it wasn’t a squirrel head.
I picked up the shred of fabric. “Jinxy, did you bite him in the ass?”
The cat issued a proud meow. I rewarded her with a scratch on the head.
I ambled through the cottage, trying to determine what they were after. My weapons cache was intact. Small favors. I stubbed my toe on the corner of the bed and decided to put myself out of my misery. I fell asleep within seconds.
My excessive behavior resulted in a migraine that left me curled in the fetal position until noon the next day. I should’ve heeded Kaito’s advice, but I’d been too drunk to follow through with hydration and painkillers.
I forced myself to shower and dress, then eat.
My body needed sustenance if I expected to make progress on the investigation.
My first task was to clean up the mess in my cottage.
Not fun. I couldn’t figure out what they were searching for.
Did they want to know what evidence I’d amassed in the investigation, or was the break-in unrelated?
It had to be connected. The island was safe, despite recent events, although there were six dead chickens that might disagree.
I had to find out who was on egg duty the day before Edith to pinpoint the approximate time of Judd’s death.
If the chickens weren’t killed at the same time as Judd, then when—and why?
My mind raced with dozens of other questions.
Was Judd killed in the barn, or did the killer relocate Judd’s body there to delay its discovery?
Why not dump Judd’s body in the water where he’d likely never be found?
And if you’re only stashing a body, why draw attention to the hiding spot by killing chickens? It made no sense.
I glanced at Jinx. “I wish you could tell me everything you saw at the Farm.”
Jinx purred, as though the idea appealed to her.
What if she could tell me? There’s a spell for everything , my father used to say.
There had to be a spell that could help me communicate with Jinx.
I considered Meemaw for a brief moment, but I’d already asked one favor of her.
I didn’t feel comfortable asking for another so soon. Joan’s name surged to the surface.
“Joan it is,” I said to Jinx. One thing I’d learned in recent years was to trust my instincts. I’d spent the beginning of my life blindly following the lead of others .
Never again.
I debated whether to file an official report about my intruder. Without Judd peering over my shoulder, it seemed unnecessary and would only cause more concern. I decided to categorize the information as need-to-know.
“I’ll be back shortly,” I told Jinx. I didn’t want to show up on Joan’s doorstep with a stray cat in tow, not after Edith’s meltdown.
I parked my bicycle in the rack and walked upstairs to Joan’s second-floor condo. There was a refreshing breeze today that helped me pretend I didn’t notice the humidity. My frizzy hair, however, was always willing to remind me.
I rang the bell, realizing I should’ve called first. Joan was an active Neighbor; she could be participating in any number of activities right now.
“Who is it?” Joan’s voice called through the door.
Or not.
“It’s Maya. Can’t you see me through the peephole?”
“It’s broken.” She opened the door. “I put in a repair request two weeks ago.”
“I hear they’re backed up.”
“They’re not the only ones. I had to take Mylanta this morning.” She patted her stomach. “The building’s still intact, but the plumbing needs work.” She motioned for me to enter. “Care for a drink? I have a fresh jug of iced hibiscus tea. Made the teabags myself.”
“That sounds perfect.”
I followed Joan to the kitchen and sat on a stool at the island.
Joan’s condo was Floridian in style. The flamingo-and-palm-tree interior motif extended to the kitchen, where even the oven mitt was in the shape of a bright pink flamingo.
Both the bird and the tree were perfect representations of Joan’s exterior beauty and inner strength.
If anybody on Evermore could stand one-legged in the middle of a hurricane, it was Joan.
“Any updates on Belinda?” she asked, pouring us each a tall glass of iced hibiscus tea.
“No, but I have one on Judd.”
She caught my eye. “I heard the news. I’m real sorry, Maya. You must be devastated.”
“That’s one word for it,” I said and sipped from my glass.
“We were all sorry to hear it. Judd was one of the good ones.”
“He was.”
She swilled her iced tea. “Do you think the killer is a Neighbor?”
“I’m not sure. I’m looking into a few visitors.”
“Who would be foolish enough to attack someone on an island of powerful beings? If they come for one of us, they come for all of us.”
I appreciated her sentiment.
“I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about your feelings,” Joan said.
“Not exactly.” I appreciated Joan’s no-nonsense approach to the conversation. Someone like Margie or Edith would want me to pretend the professional reason was secondary. Joan, on the other hand, would be annoyed if I danced politely around the point.
I drained the remainder of the hibiscus tea from the glass. “You probably didn’t hear that I found Judd’s body in the barn.”
She grasped the chain of her necklace. “How undignified.”
“There were also dead chickens.”
Her upper lip curled. “An animal on a rampage?”
“No. Judd’s body was concealed by a hay bale and magic.”
“Lots of rituals involve chickens,” Joan said.
“Yes, but most rituals don’t take place inside the chicken coop. It’s customary to bring a chicken to your sacred circle and then sacrifice it.”
Joan gave a dismissive shrug. “Could be a novice. Someone new to ritual sacrifice.”
“This is Evermore. No one here is new to anything. That’s the whole point of being a Neighbor.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I was new to edibles this year.” She released a deep sigh. “Life-changing. I sleep like a rock now.”
“Who’s your dealer?”
“Who do you think? Homemade by Meemaw.”
“She’s been holding out on me.”
“Naturally. You’re the fuzz.”
“I’m not a cop.”
She shrugged. “Close enough.”
“I doubt a ritual was involved. Too many chickens, from the sound of it.” I drummed my fingernails on the glass. “There’s a chance Jinx might have witnessed something.”
“Jinx?”
“The black stray cat that hangs around my house.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that little creature had a name.”
I licked the stain of tea from my lips. “Do you happen to know any spells that would help me communicate with the cat?”
“Hmm. Let me think.” Joan rinsed her glass and placed it straight into the dishwasher. No clutter in her sink, unlike my growing collection of dirty cups and dishes.
“It could be a telepathic link, or a spell that enables Jinx to speak.” Although the latter one scared me. What if the cat used the opportunity to make culinary requests? I’d find myself beholden to promises for a pantry full of gourmet tuna cans.
Joan leaned her hip against the counter. “I wish I could help, but I’m not aware of any spells like that.”
“I figured it was a long shot, but I’m short on evidence. If Jinx saw something, it could give the investigation a big push forward.”
“Why ask me and not Meemaw?”
“A communication spell seemed more up your alley,” I lied. Nobody ever wanted to know they were second choice.
“Gwen is a better bet for communication.” She hesitated. “Or she would’ve been a couple years ago.”
I’d had the same thought, but it seemed hypocritical to ask Gwen to perform magic when I’d scolded Lydia for that exact same thing. Then again, Lydia wasn’t conducting a murder investigation, and I could handle an unexpected result, unlike Lydia.
“Thanks for the tea.”
Joan swiped my empty glass from the counter before I could rinse it myself. “I promise I’ll keep our conversation between us.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, knowing perfectly well she’d be straight on the phone to Meemaw the moment I exited.
“Good luck, Maya.”
At this point I didn’t need luck. I needed a miracle.