Flamed Out, page 1
Flamed Out
A Magic Candle Shop Mystery, Book 5
Valona Jones
Chapter One
The winged lion winked at me, and I reared back in surprise. How could a rock-solid object move an eyelid? Impossible, as there was no flesh or blood in this mythical statuette. Even so, my intuition flared.
I’d been discovering my psychic abilities over the last ten months, but this oddity didn’t fit with anything I’d learned. How could an inanimate object, even one representing such a powerful creature, bat an eyelid? And why now? This particular item had been in The Book and Candle Shop for nearly three weeks and never once moved on its stony perch.
Weird. Perplexing. Troubling, even.
Was this a magical message?
If it wasn’t magic…was I losing it? A terrible fear swept through me.
Not now.
Not when everything was so right.
My sister, Sage Winslow, pinged me right away on our twin-link. You okay, Tabs?
Busy, I replied as I studied the winged lion on the shelf. Nothing different about his fierce large wings or his sturdy lion body. I squinted to make sure of what I was seeing. Nothing there. Was I losing it? Didn’t want to go there.
Perhaps it was a message from beyond? I stared fixedly at the statuette. Come on, lion, wink at me, I double dog dare you. It stared at me steadily, no give to his stone eyelids.
I exhaled slowly, trying to figure this out like a rational person. No secret message. No decline in mental abilities. But I saw what I saw. Hmm.
As usual, Sage had no wait in her. Both cats went tearing out of here and through the cat door to the shop. Tabby, if you don’t answer me right this second, I’m coming downstairs and braining whoever is bothering you.
My black cat Harley thundered toward me and leapt into my arms. His sister Luna twined herself around my legs. I would’ve snuggled them both, but Harley filled my arms. His noises of contentment soothed me. Recently I’d wondered if he was a familiar since he knew when I was in distress. This added another chip into the “yes” pile. He’d known I was having a moment and come running to help.
Even though Sage’s new guy had a calming effect on her, she hadn’t lost her hair trigger of emotions. I better follow up. No need. It sounds strange, but I believed the winged lion winked at me. Totally caught me off guard. Took me a second to realize it wasn’t a housecleaning issue. I’m fine but a bit puzzled.
Harley took that moment to jump down and curl up on the cushioned wicker chairs of our book nook. His sibling joined him.
Understood, Sage said in my head. I’ll go back to sprucing up my lettuce containers for next weekend’s plant sale. We’ll see you at dinner tonight with a green salad and garlic bread.
Dinner. Right. Quig and I didn’t entertain, per se, but having my sister and her boyfriend over for dinner made me feel like I was doing married life right. Sure. Sorry for spooking us both. That eye shimmer put me in serious reverse for a moment.
No worries.
It wasn’t fuzz, but it never hurt to dust. I extended my duster, bent my body at an angle to reach the statuette, and bit my tongue for good measure. Then I moved farther down the aisle to check for any other cleaning issues in the shop.
The doorbell chimed, signaling the exit of a customer my part-time shop clerk, Eve Serratt, had been checking out. I’d caught the curious looks she’d sent my way earlier. Another shopper stepped up and asked Eve about the history of the building.
Their voices faded as my fingers trailed casually across the primary color display of taper candles, hung in pipe-organ style, each hue giving off a distinct scent. I loved how the citrus and beach scents melded with the tang of forests. Then, as I strolled toward our sales counter, I rang each overhead wind chime in turn, the resonant tones tingling my spine in a good way.
“What’s going on? You seem antsy today. Something worrying you?” Eve asked, coming to meet me halfway.
I glanced around and saw we had a few shoppers, so I kept my voice soft. “You’re right. I can’t settle today. Feels like a storm is brewing.” If I mentioned I’d been spooked by a winking winged lion, she’d think I was losing it for sure. But she must’ve wondered what the thundering cats meant. Perhaps she thought the cats were playing and Harley needed comfort instead of me.
“I see.” Eve wore flowing orange batiks today, and she’d added a coordinating turban to her ensemble, giving her a radiant earth-mother-gone-tropical vibe. Truth be told, I envied Eve’s stylistic ease and her bold colors. I tended toward neutrals in classic styles, like chinos, jean skirts, that sort of thing. Boring, I know, but it was a casually professional look that worked for me. At least I’d bowed to Eve’s fashion advice on sandals. We both wore the same brand of strappy sandals with cushy soles today.
Her fashion sense wasn’t all I envied. She grew up in a magical household and had years of experience wielding her craft. Thanks to her generosity and kindness, she’d shared some of her knowledge with me and Sage, teaching us how to ward The Book and Candle Shop. In addition, Eve taught us how to pinpoint focus our twin-link telepathy so no one could eavesdrop on our private conversations ever again.
“Decided I’d put all the extra energy to work. I’m on a mission,” I explained. “No more dust bunnies in our shop.”
Eve shrugged. “You’re fighting a losing battle there. Dust happens.”
I made sure the nearest customer was far enough away so she wouldn’t overhear us. “Is there a ward for dust?”
“Unfortunately not. It’s old school all the way.” The door chimed. Eve greeted the new customer and hustled to the register.
“Ms. Tabby, do you have a minute?” another woman asked.
The voice sounded familiar but when I saw her, I didn’t recognize the demure young woman dressed in shades of grey. But something about her eyes tugged on my memory. What was her name?
Good thing I had a decent shopkeeper’s smile now, and I kept talking in hope my memory would suddenly ping. “Yes, I do. How’ve you been?”
“Good. School is awesome, and I have a new roommate this year. But that’s not why I’m here. I need your help, though I’m sorry to bother you again.”
Her face twitched into a scowl as she spoke, and her name surfaced. Fawn Meldrim, the Savannah College of Art and Design art student I formerly dubbed as “Blue Hair.” Only now her chin length locks looked brunette with the tips an electric blue. She’d replaced her Goth look with a soft grey tee and charcoal shorts, completed by Chuck sneakers with bright green laces.
“I’m happy to see you.” My professional smile softened into a genuine one. “You’re growing your hair out, Fawn. It looks nice!”
“I needed a change. One of my summer courses focused on the value of presentation, and it made sense to work on my look, so I started over with my clothes and hair. A friend helped with the colored tips.”
“It’s a flattering cut and still gives you an artistic edge. Now what was this about needing my help?”
She wrung her hands. “There’s been a…homicide…in our family. Uncle Willim is gone. I need to know who killed him and why. Will you take his case?”
Hmm. An investigation. My relationship with the Savannah Police Department was fine as long as I stayed out of their business. But perhaps thinking about a murder would settle my nerves. “When did this happen?”
“A few days ago. Dr. Willim Rosemont is actually my great uncle. Or, he was. I spoke with him last week, and he was absolutely hale and hearty. I only have a few family members left, and I’m devastated by his murder. The paper reported he had an accidental fall, but that can’t be. Someone ended his life on purpose.”
Willim. I remembered that unusual first name from a recent Savannah Morning News article. A prominent psychiatrist had plunged to his death on the ubiquitous Stone Stairs of Death, the flight of steps that led people from Bay Street down to River Street. Not for the faint of heart, those thirty-three steps were steep and gave me vertigo. I always avoided them and took an alternate route down to River Street.
But this wasn’t about me. It was about Fawn’s uncle. “You have my sincere sympathies. I didn’t know your uncle. When did he pass?”
“Today’s Friday, so he died Monday evening. The newspaper hinted that his death was a suicide, that he flung himself down the stone stairs. However, there’s a story going around that someone shoved him. Another rumor says black magic drove him to it.”
Black magic. I barely knew anything about regular magic. Worse, I didn’t know if Fawn was a member of the paranormal community, but she often visited our shop with her art school buds, so it was possible. Too bad I couldn’t ask her outright.
I believed her concern about her uncle. Her aura positively shimmered with a truth vibe. So, there was a case to solve. I remembered more of the article now. Rosemont had been on Bay Street late in the evening and plunged down the infamous stone steps. Those were treacherous in broad daylight. We had a rain shower on Monday night, so the stairs were slippery and dangerous. This guy had been a psychiatrist to Old Savannah. No telling how many secrets of Savannah’s movers and shakers he’d known.
Did those secrets get him killed? If not, why was he downtown so late on a work night? I itched to take the case. “Was he married?”
“Yes. But they lived apart. His estate went to his kids and also his nieces and nephews like me. He donated his house on the square to the city to become a museum. I got five thousand bucks when his lawyer read the will Wednesday afternoon.”
Eve must’ve had the hearing of a bat because she drifted over and jumped into our conversation. “This is about Willim? I knew him. He stopped by often to shoot the breeze with MawMaw. His death is a tragedy. He will be missed by so many people. I can’t believe the doc’s gone.”
“He’s my uncle,” Fawn said. “I asked Ms. Tabby to find out who killed him.”
“Killed him? I heard it was either an accident or suicide,” Eve said.
Fawn stomped her foot. “No. Willim never had dark thoughts like that. He was a natural-born caretaker. I’m certain my uncle was murdered.”
Eve gasped and sagged against a bookshelf. “Oh, no. Willim was such an icon.”
Old Savannah was the largest “small town” I knew. It amazed me how various people were related or connected to each other. “I didn’t know him,” I repeated to Fawn, “but I believe what you’re saying.”
Tears misted in Fawn’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“Something this big will rattle the bones of the paranormal community for years,” Eve said. “Yes, definitely get Tabby involved. We need one of our own investigating. The cops don’t have an in with people like us.”
There was an answer to one of my questions. Fawn had paranormal ties. The tightness in my chest eased, and I relaxed my tense shoulders.
Thanks to my late mother’s insistence on keeping us twins isolated from everyone, Sage and I grew up clueless about our modest psychic abilities and our peers. We had few connections within the paranormal community. But I had an intuition for the truth, and I believed Fawn was right. I wanted to say yes, but something Eve said made me hesitate.
“Why does his death have such import?” I asked Eve.
After a quick glance at Fawn and then back at me, Eve leaned in confidentially. “Because Willim is, I mean, was, on the Paranormal Council.”
The group I’d been hiding from my entire life.
Chapter Two
“Smells great in here, like an Italian restaurant.” Larry Rau placed the hefty bowl of salad on the island counter. “Thanks for inviting us to dinner.”
Quig stepped close as soon as I rose, which was awkward because I was lifting the heavy pan of lasagna from the oven. Marriage to Dr. Octavian Henry Quigsly IV was everything I’d thought it would be—the fantastic evolution of our childhood friendship and deep affection for each other. But there was a downside I hadn’t expected. He acted very possessive toward me when other guys were around.
It didn’t bother me when we were alone, just the opposite. However, in front of others, his posturing annoyed me. He’d been this way when we were dating, and I had no problem with it then, which was why I’d delayed discussing this with him. Back then, I’d enjoyed the extra attention. Now it seemed unnecessary. Did he think I’d flirt with my sister’s boyfriend? I’d married Quig and promised myself to him.
“Careful, I might drop dinner.” This wasn’t the time for a discussion of trust issues. But it looked like we needed to have that conversation.
“Of course,” he said. “Let me take that dish for you.”
I handed it over, gratefully. As the host, I should suggest a conversation topic, but my mind blanked.
Sage smirked at my hesitation, sensing my dilemma without any telepathic exchange. “How’s married life, newlyweds?” she asked.
“It has its moments,” I said, unable to keep a wry tone out of my voice.
“Absolutely,” Quig added and drew me close for a kiss.
He kept it short, thank goodness, and I gave him The Look, the one that meant “not right now.” I did not want to put on an intimate display in front of my twin and her boyfriend.
Sage roared with laughter. “Yeah, Quig, knock it off. No need to prove your mutual attraction to us. We know what y’all have been doing over here.”
Oh, boy. I didn’t want to talk about bedroom activities either. Quickly, I moved the salad bowl to the table, dressed the greens, and blurted out the first thing that occurred to me. “Something odd happened today. Fawn Meldrim, a SCAD student that hangs out in the shop, asked me to look into her uncle’s death. Fawn believes he was murdered.”
Larry’s eyes widened. “Her uncle?”
So far, so good on this topic. I mustered on. “Yes. Her great uncle actually. Dr. Willim Rosemont. She said he was a psychiatrist. You know him?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Larry’s tone sounded choked. “He’s the Senior Magistrate on the Paranormal Council. Or he was.”
My jaw dropped. Not just on the council but the head of it?
It seemed like every time I turned around lately, I heard talk of this group. For nearly thirty years, Mom’s secrecy kept us wary of strangers and tethered to our Bristol Street home. I’d never heard of the council until this, my thirtieth year.
After Mom died last fall, Sage and I scrambled to make ends meet and to deal with other paranormals we encountered. All of our recently acquired experience came via the school of hard knocks. Mistakes were made. It would have been easier to start this journey with more skills and experience.
Everyone was staring at me. Oops. Not the time to get lost in my thoughts. Luckily, I didn’t need to search for something to say. Words tumbled out of their own accord. “This is going from bad to worse. What did I get myself into?”
I wouldn’t mind taking on a low-profile case but that never happened. This one certainly wouldn’t be low profile. Further, our district police captain, Captain Kenzo Haynes, and I had a love-hate relationship. He had asked me to be a police consultant. I’d turned down the job, of course. I had no choice. Mom’s number one rule was fly under the radar.
Plus, my paranormal investigations bent every rule cops followed. I often took a person’s measure by viewing his or her aura. Snooping in their homes or work areas gave me access to energy residue in those spaces. Sometimes I went invisible to avoid discovery, to get into a locked area surreptitiously, or to eavesdrop. Sage could pick locks on sealed doors super-fast, so she often helped me snoop.
Bottom line, none of the evidence I collected off-the-books was admissible in court or was written in police reports. Cops were very keen on having court-worthy evidence to prosecute criminals.
“I hear you, Tabs. Seems like we can’t shake a stick without tripping over that blasted council these days,” Sage said. “I prefer autonomy over having a ruling body. Do other paras feel this way?”
“As a whole, the Paranormal Council is tolerable,” Larry said, “but you hear about them these days because you are now known to the community. You’re one of us.”
This discussion felt bizarre. However, both Larry and Quig had paranormal talents and knew more about the magical world than Sage and I did. When our foursome battled Jeanine Acworth a few months ago, Larry spoke in my mind and went invisible. Quig showed he was a mirror talent when he reflected Jeanine’s bad mojo back on herself.
Sage wrinkled her nose at Larry. “You told me your family has always had someone on the council. With your brother and parents gone, does that mean you’ll be tapped for your brother’s seat?”
He glanced at Quig first before turning back to Sage. “Aunt Althea sits on that board now. I grew up with her son. He wants her seat when she retires.”
I digested this news, envying Larry’s easy familiarity with this. He knew many paras due to growing up in the community.
“What role does she have?” Sage demanded.
“Althea Morgan was the Junior Magistrate. Now she’s the acting interim Senior Magistrate until they fill Willim’s vacant seat.”
I’d been listening to this exchange while fingering my locket, a comfort behavior that helped center me. This topic ignited my amateur-sleuth curiosity. “Your aunt benefitted from Dr. Rosemont’s death?”
“No way.” Larry snorted. “The Senior Magistrate hears an unending tidal wave of complaints, endures special interest jockeying, and wrangles a nightmare of administrative red tape. Everyone insists that their issue should be the council’s top priority. I wouldn’t wish that job on anyone.” He paused for a long moment. “Willim excelled at it, though. He kept us out of the public eye and managed our disputes in-house.”
“If he was so good, why did someone kill him?” I asked.
“There’s nothing to indicate he was murdered,” Quig said from over my shoulder, jumping into the conversation for the first time. “He had a bad fall.”
