Chapter 7
“Rachel, that’s terrible news! Come in. Tell me what’s happened.”
“I just got a call from Caite Crenshaw,” Rachel blurted out. “She found Beth’s body this morning at her store—murdered. The police spent the morning at the store, and Caite is pretty sure that they think she’s the murderer.
“She asked if I could recommend a lawyer, and I said that I would call my friend at the law firm I do investigations for. She also asked if you and I would help her. I told her that we would come to her house as soon as we could and talk to her.”
“This is just terrible!” I exclaimed, “Why do the police think Caite did it?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find out when we talk to her. Do you have something to drink? I need to settle myself before meeting Caite.”
“Sure, I have wine, beer or Scotch.”
“No, I mean like Coke.
“Of course. I have Classic Coca-Cola in the refrigerator.”
“That would be perfect,” Rachel sighed.”
“Ice?”
“No thanks, straight out of the can is fine.”
We both sat at my kitchen table sipping our Cokes. “I feel terrible,” Rachel said. “I can’t help but believe that this must have something to do with the missing artifact.”
“You don’t know that for sure. It could be a coincidence.”
“In my line of work, I don’t come across many coincidences,” Rachel whispered.
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” I said sympathetically. “We’ll just go talk to Caite and get all the facts. Then we can see where those facts take us.”
After a few minutes, Rachel made a call to the law firm of Hastings-Cooley. She asked for Charlene Mosley, and told her about Caite’s predicament.
“Charlene agreed to help Caite,” Rachel said after she hung up. “I’ll give Caite Charlene’s number when we see her. Charlene is a very good criminal lawyer. When I was in college, I interned at Hastings-Cooley, and Charlene was nice to me. When I decided that I wanted to be a P.I. instead of a lawyer, she was the first one at the firm to give me work. I do quite a bit of work for several lawyers at the firm now.”
I knew this already, but I let Rachel talk. I thought it might help calm her down. We had only finished half of our Cokes when Rachel decided she was ready to see Caite. I asked Rachel if she would let me drive, and uncharacteristically, she agree to ride shotgun. We arrived at the small cottage that matched the address of Caite’s house, and I parked in the driveway in front of the detached single-car garage.
Before we reached the front porch, Caite met us at the door and invited us in. She was obviously in a state of distress. She had been crying and her posture was stooped, making her look shorter than her normal height of about five foot ten. Caite and Rachel sat on the sofa, and I sat in an overstuffed armchair in the front room. All the furniture looked like it came from a thrift store. A large doorway opened into a kitchen/eating area where I saw a teapot on the stove.
“I’m so glad you called us, Caite,” Rachel said. “I feel just terrible about Beth. I know you must be devastated.”
“Yes,” Caite sobbed. “I’m trying to pull myself together, but I’m not having much luck.”
“Can I make you a cup of tea?” I asked. “I see a teapot on the stove.”
“Oh. Thank you. That would be very nice of you. There’s chamomile tea in a box on the counter and a tea ball in the top drawer.”
I went into the kitchen and quietly put the teapot on the stove to boil while I eavesdropped on the ladies’ conversation.
“I just want you to know, that a friend of mine, a very good lawyer, can help you if you need legal assistance,” Rachel said. “I talked to her a little while ago, and she’s glad to help.”
“Thank you, Rachel,” Caite said so softly that I could barely hear her. “I think I’d better talk to her soon.”
“Why do you think you need a lawyer?”
“I just know the police think I killed Beth,” Caite said and started sobbing violently.
Rachel put her arm around Caite and whispered some words that must have been soothing, because Caite was able to take control and put on a game face. She wiped her eyes with a Kleenex she took from a box on the coffee table.
“Do you think you can tell me what happened this morning?” Rachel asked softly.
“This morning, I opened up the shop and found Beth’s body in the meeting room. There was a lot of blood, and she had no pulse. I called the police as soon as I could manage it, and they came over right away. They said she had been stabbed in the heart.”
“That’s terrible,” Rachel said consolingly. “I just can’t imagine how that must have felt for you.”
“It was awful,” Caite replied, and another, less violent, fit of sobbing ensued.
I came back from the kitchen and placed a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of Caite.
“Here, have a little tea,” Rachel said.
Caite pulled herself back together again. I thought she was being very strong under the circumstances. She wiped her eyes and stared into the distance resolutely. She took the cup of tea and sipped sparingly.
“Was there a murder weapon?” Rachel asked.
“She was killed with her athame. The police found it nearby on the floor.”
Rachel looked at me and I said, “The athame is a ceremonial dagger.”
“It was Beth’s own athame. I recognized it,” Caite said. “The police took it as evidence.”
“Was there a break-in?” Rachel asked.
“The police said no. The front door was locked when I opened it, and the back door and bathroom window were both locked. That’s one reason why the police think I did it. Only Beth and I have keys.”
“I’ll bet the killer somehow magically teleported into the shop,” Rachel speculated. Do you always open up the shop?”
“No, usually we come in together, but Beth spent the night at the shop. There’s a small bedroom in the back where Beth used to live until she moved in with me.”
“How long have you lived together?”
“We’ve been together for three years. We really love each other. We’re soul mates.”
Caite teared up again, but her sobs were weaker this time. I couldn’t tell if she was being brave or was just exhausted.
“Why wasn’t Beth at home last night?” Rachel asked.
“Sometimes she likes to be alone to meditate or prepare for a ceremony. The night before a meeting of the coven, she, as our priestess, will cleanse and sanctify the meeting room. So it wasn’t too unusual for her to be alone at the shop after closing, but she rarely spent the night. We just had a ceremony four nights ago, and we don’t have another one coming up any time soon, but she said she wanted to do whatever she could to try to find her stolen artifact. She was going to try a finding spell.”
Rachel and I looked at each other. Rachel had a worried look on her face.
“She said she might also try a sympathy spell,” Caite continued. “She told me not to wait up for her, and I didn’t. But when I woke up this morning, she wasn’t in the house. I went to open the store earlier than usual, and that’s when I found her. The police pointed out that I don’t have an alibi. They told me not to leave town.”
“The dagger that the police found,” Rachel prompted, “Did Beth take it with her to the store?”
“We used it in our last ceremony, and it was still on the altar in the meeting room. She may have used it last night.”
“The police will dust that dagger for fingerprints,” Rachel said. “Is there any chance your prints will be on it?”
“My fingerprints could be all over it,” Caite admitted. “The whole coven may have their prints on that athame. The only way it wouldn’t have my prints was if Beth cleansed it before using it to cast a spell.”
“Maybe the killer’s prints will be on it, too,”
Rachel speculated. “I think that, just to be safe, you should call my attorney friend. Don’t worry about her fees; I’m sure she can work something out. Now let’s call her. Her name is Charlene Mosley.”
Rachel called her friend at the law firm and handed the phone over to Caite. After she talked for a couple of minutes, I heard her make an appointment for the next day.
Rachel said a few parting words to the lawyer and hung up. “Caite, I hate to ask you this today, but would you be willing to lend us a key to Moonstone so that we could look for evidence?”
“Yes, I would like that. I don’t have to go with you, do I?”
“No, we can manage,” Rachel said.
“The police took Beth’s key, but we have one emergency key in the back of a kitchen drawer. I’ll get it for you.”
The key was right where it was supposed to be, and Caite gave it to Rachel.
“Don’t worry Caite,” Rachel said as we were leaving, “We’re going to help you. We’ll get to the bottom of this. You won’t go to jail. Try to get some rest and call me if you have any questions or need anything. I’ll call you after we’ve examined the shop.”
“That was intense,” I said as I backed out of Caite’s driveway. “Do you think the police will arrest her?”
“I don’t think so,” Rachel replied. “Unless Caite’s are the only prints on that dagger, that athame, all their evidence is circumstantial. I don’t think that they can prove any motive for Caite killing Beth.”
“Who do you think did kill Beth?” I asked.
“That’s what has me worried,” Rachel said. “You heard Caite say that Beth planned to use magic last night. We think that it was magic that alerted someone to the presence of the artifact. That same someone may be Beth’s killer. Beth didn’t have the artifact last night, though, so I don’t see how she could get into trouble.”
“She had my pictures of the artifact,” I said.
“How would that matter? You said that a copy of the artifact wouldn’t have any magical powers.”
“Yes, that’s what I said, but I’m worried, too. Maybe we’ll see something at the crime scene. Are we on the case?” I asked.
“Yes, we have to help Caite,” Rachel said. “We’re on the case.”
“She didn’t sign a contract, and you didn’t discuss fees,” I pointed out.
“I don’t need paperwork for this,” Rachel said. “Caite can’t afford to pay, but she needs our help, and we’re going to give it to her.”
“Count me in,” I said.
When we parked in front of Moonstone, Rachel pulled a pair of blue medical gloves out of her bag and put them on.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any gloves that would fit you Professor. I have small hands.”
“That’s alright. I have driving gloves,” I said as I reached over and took the gloves out of the glove box.
“I’m sure they’ve already dusted for prints, but in case they come back, I don’t want to muddy the water,” Rachel explained.
We left the “Closed” sign on the door and locked it behind us. I found the light switch and illuminated the front of the store. The front room looked just like it had looked yesterday. No one had disturbed anything there.
We went through the back doorway into the meeting room. This was obviously the crime scene. In the center of the room, two large concentric circles were drawn in white chalk on the wooden floor. Outside the circles, near one wall, was a dried pool of blood. There were chalk smudges at various points within the circumference of the inner circle.
“Look at these chalk smudges,” I said to Rachel. “It looks like symbols were drawn on the floor and somebody erased them. Do you think the police erased them?”
“No way,” Rachel said. “Anything like that would have been evidence. Either Beth erased them before she was killed, or the killer erased them. Do you think the killer drew these circles on the floor?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Caite said that the coven had a ceremony here a few nights ago. I’ll bet that Beth drew the magic circle for the ceremony. She probably also used it last night while trying to cast her finding spell.”
An altar was set up against the wall across the circle from the pool of blood. On the altar were four candles: black, white, red and green. They had all been burned down about half way. There was also a crystal sphere, a mirror and a wooden display stand. They were all placed on top of a scarf or cloth runner that covered the top of the cabinet that served as the base for the altar.
“I’ll bet this stand held the athame,” I said as we went over to the altar. “I don’t think the police touched anything on the altar.”
Rachel looked closely at the items on the altar without touching them. Then she opened the doors on the front of the cabinet. There was nothing inside. She opened the single drawer and there was a box of wooden matches, a saucer, three spools of colored thread, and two small bottles. One bottle looked like it held salt, and the other was filled with dirt.
Rachel knelt on the floor and looked underneath the cabinet. Reaching into her purse, she took out a small LED flashlight and shined it under the cabinet.
“There’s nothing under here except dust bunnies. Wait a minute, what’s this?”
Rachel was shining her flashlight on the inside of a rear cabinet leg.
“Someone has carved off a chunk of this leg, and there appears to be blood on the cut.”
“Maybe someone cut themselves on the gouge,” I suggested.
“Maybe, but this cut is clean. I think it must be recent.”
“So what do you make of it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Rachel admitted. “But it’s strange. It’s too bad the police didn’t see it; they would have tested the blood sample.”
There were three doors in the back of the room. One was a closet with two columns of stacking chairs a mop, and, of course, a broom. A second door led to a small bathroom. The third door was ajar and led to the small bedroom that Caite had mentioned. The doorknob had been dusted for prints. The door had a lock and Rachel tried the front door key in it. The key turned.
The room held a single bed, chest of drawers with mirror above, wooden chair and a bedside table. There was no closet or window. The ceiling had a single light fixture, and there was a lamp on the bedside table. The bedclothes were made up and undisturbed. The chest of drawers had been searched and contained a few tee shirts, socks, a pair of women’s jeans, a hairbrush, comb and other mundane articles. There was no jewelry or anything unusual.
“I wonder if the police riffled through these drawers or if the killer did,” I mused.
“Could be either one or both,” Rachel replied.
Our search didn’t turn up anything suspicious except the smudged chalk marks in the meeting room and the damaged cabinet leg.
“You know what we didn’t find,” I said, “the photos of the artifact I left with Beth.”
“Let me give Caite a call and ask her about them,” Rachel suggested.
After she hung up with Caite, Rachel said, “Caite said that Beth gave you the last printout of the artifact photo. She didn’t see the photos you gave to Beth.”
“I wonder what happened to my printouts of the artifact,” I mused.
“I think the killer took them,” Rachel said. “The missing pictures tell me that the killer is also the artifact’s thief. He took the photos to eliminate evidence. He probably erased the chalk symbols for the same reason.”
“I wonder where the store computer is,” I said. “Beth copied the photos onto my thumb drive from a computer. Let’s check the book room.”
We went back out into the main store and then through the side doorway into the small room that served as their bookstore. In the back of that room was a locked door. Rachel tried the store key, and it unlocked the door that led to an office/storeroom.
There was a desk and chair and a table with a computer and color
printer. There were also metal shelves that had merchandise and supplies on them. The desk was littered with papers, a teacup, pencils, etc. so that it was hard to tell if it had been searched.
“This door was locked, but the door to the bedroom was open,” Rachel noted. “I guess that means the police didn’t look in here. It might also mean that the killer didn’t come in here.”
“Let me see if the photos are on this computer,” I said.
I wiggled the mouse to wake up the computer and then looked in the obvious folder, the Pictures Library. Sure enough, there were the same photos that Beth had put on my thumb drive.
“They’re here,” I said.
“Hmmm,” said Rachel. “Do you still have your thumb drive?”
“Right here in my pocket,” I said.
“Can you copy that composite picture you created onto this computer?”
“Sure. I actually gave Beth three different images and I’m copying them all into her Pictures folder now.”
“Could anyone tell that those three photos came from your computer?”
“No, they’re just JPG files and no tags are in them. The dates are newer than Beth’s photos, though.”
“Can you fix that?”
“Let me see,” I said.
I checked to see if there was any photo editing software on the computer. There was no Photoshop, but there was a freeware photo editing program that could have been used to create my images. I checked the dates on Beth’s photos; they were from three months ago. Next, I changed the system date on the computer to a week after the date of Beth’s photos. I loaded my images into the photo editor, one by one, and saved them back onto the hard drive. I exited the program and checked for backup copies or temporary work files. There were none. Then I set the system date of the computer back to today’s date.
“There you go. That does it,” I said.
“Is there room on your thumb drive to back up the data on that computer?”
“If we don’t copy the programs or system software, I think there is.”
“Give it a try Professor. Just in case they didn’t make backups, we’d better protect their data. I think this computer is going to be stolen.”
There wasn’t much non-program data on the hard drive, and it all fit onto my thumb drive.
“Done and done,” I said as I rebooted the computer.
“Good, let’s get out of here,” Rachel said.
As we drove back to the Goose, I started thinking. “You know, I think the killer had an additional reason for taking the photos and erasing the chalk symbols. Maybe, in fact, Beth worked some magic that he either wanted to undo or didn’t want to be done again. I think that Beth used at least some of the symbols on the artifact to try to create a spell of finding. I think that using those symbols inside the magic circle, combined with whatever else she did, set off another magical warning to the killer. This time, not content with just stealing her artifact, he found it necessary to kill her.”
“Maybe,” Rachel said, “he responded to the magical alarm hoping to find another artifact and instead found Beth. She saw him and could identify him, so he had to kill her.”
“That means he is deadly serious about that artifact,” I said. “Anyone trying to find the artifact could be in danger. Caite could be in danger at her house,” I exclaimed. “Do you think she has a computer?”
“Everybody has a computer, Professor—even witches, but Beth and Caite don’t seem to spend a lot of money. The store computer is pretty old. It may be the only one they have.”
“The killer doesn’t know that,” I said.
“It makes more sense for the killer to check the store for a computer first,” Rachel explained. “That’s why I had you copy your images onto the store computer. If the killer finds them there, he may be satisfied that he found them all, but I don’t think we can count on it. Turn around, we’re going back to Caite’s house”