Charmed to Death (A Farmer's Market Witch Mystery Series Book 1) Read online

  Larson turned and stomped away, before I could utter a single word in my defense. I stood there, baffled. I thought I was doing a good deed, talking to Vera, when most people wouldn’t. And this was the payback I got?

  You want me to give him a toothy grin or just go for the gusto and take a bite? When the mundane were near Gus would power his thoughts to my mind. Sometimes I giggled at the most inappropriate times...like now.

  I was tempted to tell Gus to go ahead, but I knew that would only make matters worse. I stood there, my cheeks burning with shock and shame.

  “I heard,” Brad said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  For Brad, two sentences were practically a speech.

  “Thanks, Brad. I don’t know what got into Larson. I certainly didn’t mean to step on his toes.”

  “Honey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I turned to where Alice stood. “That man is a philandering menace. Everyone knows that. And they know how sweet you are. So, don’t you worry your pretty head about it. I’ll make sure everyone in town knows how rude he was.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Alice. I can take care of myself.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Bullies need to be put in their place, or they won’t learn.”

  I knew that nothing I said would deter Alice. She was hellbent on taking down Larson. Arguing with her would only make things worse. I nodded and retreated to my chair. I was sincerely embarrassed, and I wanted to forget all about Larson and Vera as soon as I could.

  The market closed at four, and I was only too glad to pack up my goods and wheel them back to my ten-year-old SUV. I needed a new one, but I had other needs that had to be taken care of first. As I drove home, I felt happy for the best opening day I had ever had. The people who bought my charms would be happy with them, as that was the little something extra I added. A tiny bit of magic kept the buyer enchanted with the charm. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t last forever, but it was there. I parked the SUV in the garage, not bothering to unload it, as I would be back at the market the next day. The market was open four days a week—Monday, Tuesday, Friday, Saturday. That suited my schedule.

  I let Gus run around the back yard for a bit, while I fixed dinner. Gus liked to run...a little. He wasn’t a dog to play fetch with, as he had once been a cat. He didn’t have to fake indifference, it was built in. I filled his bowls, water and food, and poured myself a glass of red wine. I was still having a bit of a problem getting over Larson. It was amazing how guilty I could feel, even when I did nothing wrong.

  After dinner, I went to my workshop and fiddled around with several designs I had been working on. Some charm makers simply copied what was already available. I wasn’t like that. I always wanted to offer my buyers something a bit out of the ordinary. I didn’t always succeed, but I came close.

  In bed, I finally managed to rid myself of the guilt. To heck with Larson. I had no reason to feel bad. I had stopped to help a woman who needed help. Nothing more, nothing less. I had always heard that no good deed goes unpunished, but I didn’t believe it. Good deeds were always in demand. My sleep was untroubled. My alarm clock—Gus—licked my face at precisely 5:30 A.M. Day two had arrived. I was ready.

  Gus and I were ready when the Abbot Rise Farmer’s Market opened its gates. I glanced down the row, even as a throng came around the corner. All the booths were open, except for Larson’s. His curtain was still down, which was unusual. Like the rest of us, more than a little bit of his income came from the market. I didn’t think he could afford to take a day off so early in the season. But after the day before, I was in no mood to go looking for him. I concentrated on the shoppers who arrived at my booth. It wasn’t till mid-morning that Vera arrived.

  “Have you seen Larson,” Vera asked.

  I shook my head. “He hasn’t opened up.”

  “He’s not at the pickle plant either. I called. It’s not like him to just disappear...now, that he’s divorced.”

  “Do you think I can sort of sneak under the curtain and check his booth? I mean, he might be hurt or something.”

  “Well, he was your husband, so I suppose it’s not too odd to consider.”

  “Thanks, Elle.”

  I watched Vera hurry along the row and duck under the curtain of Larson’s booth. A young African-American woman walked up with a smile, wanting to know if I had any charms with an African origin. I didn’t have a large collection of African derived charms, but there were several inspired by Zulu and Swahili totems. We were discussing the pros and cons of the charms, when Gus popped a message into my mind.

  I hear sirens, and that can’t be good.

  I agreed, even as the sirens grew loud enough for me to hear.

  CHAPTER 2

  The African-American woman turned toward the entrance, as the sirens came to a stop there. Someone screamed, and a rumor pulsed through the large crowd.

  “Dead,” I heard. “Bloody.”

  At that point, people started heading for the gates. The woman I was waiting on told me she would be back, and she hurried into the crowd. I stood next to my booth as a male policeman in uniform ran up to Larson’s booth. In a moment, he was under the curtain. Whatever was happening, it started in Larson’s booth. A few minutes later, a policewoman arrived and took a position in front of the booth, making sure no one entered. Behind her came two EMTs, hustling up with their gear. That didn’t look good, but I was in no position to pass judgment. I waited. The curious waited with me, held at bay by the policewoman. The uncurious streamed for the gates—until the word came along that the police were not letting anyone out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something bad had happened in the booth. I settled in for a long wait. I knew the police rarely worked quickly.

  I sat in my chair and wondered how the food and drink vendors were doing. They were probably making a killing, which on second thought didn’t seem like a good turn of phrase.

  “He’s dead. Body’s cold. Apparently, some sort of bloody head injury.”

  “How do you know so much, Gus?”

  “My hearing is far better than yours, Elle.”

  “Who’s dead?”

  “Larson Hall, according to the people in the booth.”

  Since Vera was in the booth, the identification had to be believed. Larson was dead and cold. For a moment, I simply couldn’t believe it. In my years at the market, there had been some petty crimes, shoplifting and fights, but no one had ever died. And certainly, no one had ever been murdered. That simply didn’t happen. I wondered how it had happened, and then, I told myself I didn’t need to know. It was better that I didn’t know.

  A Sheriff’s Deputy led two other Deputies to the booth. The leader was tall, over six feet and well-built, no doubt very strong. Black hair and dark brown eyes, I sensed there was something different about him. I couldn’t lay my finger on it, but he had a presence that was far different from the other deputies. He took command immediately, separating those who might have information from the looky-loos hanging around. He looked at me once, staring. I had no idea if he could tell I was a witch, but I had the feeling that he sensed me as I sensed him.

  I was about to walk over and introduce myself, when Percy came running. His face was flushed, and I could tell he was excited. It was easy to tell when Percy had a story to write.

  “Elle, you won’t believe it,” Percy said. “Larson Hall is dead. I managed to sneak into the booth before the police shut down everything. He was lying behind a table loaded with pickle jars. Well, loaded except for the two that got smashed. I assume Larson knocked them off the table when he fell. And he died in the most curious way. Someone thrust an ice pick into his ear. It went in all the way to the handle, there was blood—”

  “That’s enough,” I interrupted. “I have no desire to know all the gory details.”

  “Oh, come on, Elle. You’re no fainting violet. You’ve seen blood before.”

  “And never liked it.”

  “You’re a real fuddy-duddy, you know
that?”

  “I know what I consider too much information, and I draw the line at blood.”

  “Suit yourself. What do you think of the tall deputy over there?”

  “Think? Nothing, I guess. Why?”

  “I saw you looking at him, and I wondered if you had met. His name is Jason Hart, and he’s new to the force. He took right over, didn’t he.”

  “He seems to have the respect of the others.”

  “That’s clear. Think he will talk to me?”

  “At this point, you probably know more than he does. But you can try. Although, I’m pretty sure you’ll be interviewed before you leave the market.”

  “You’re right. I have to volunteer to be interviewed, as it could be hours before they work through this crowd. I can’t write my blog while waiting in line.”

  “Go get ‘em, Percy.”

  “If you see or hear anything I can use, call me?”

  “You got it.”

  I watched Percy head for the gates and no doubt, a quick interview with whatever police presence was willing to talk to him. I settled in for the long wait. I heard more emergency vehicles arrive. I watched the deputies use tape to keep everyone away from the booth. There was something about yellow crime tape that made me shiver. Tape meant the forensic team was coming. They were going to work the scene. After Percy’s revelations, that didn't surprise me.

  I recognized the coroner, only because his black vehicle was labeled CORONER on the side. He ducked into the booth, even as the EMTs came out. They weren’t leaving. They were just hanging around until they could transport the body. Vera came out next, escorted by the Policeman. She looked in shock, pale and staring straight ahead. I remembered that she had said she still loved Larson, despite all the heartache. I wanted to comfort her in some way, but that was impossible. She was being escorted out for a reason. I looked into the blue sky that had been so promising at daybreak. Now, it was nothing more than some sort of irony. How could someone die on such a lovely day? It didn’t’ seem right.

  Brad Price stood in front of his booth, watching the events. If he had any feelings, they were well hidden. He watched, giving away nothing. I thought he must be a terrific poker player. Or perhaps, his lonely existence in the woods left him ill-prepared for murder. Then again, he was a man who dealt in death every day. Would a dead human have any more significance than a dead deer? That thought made me shiver.

  “They’re not having much luck with the forensics,” Gus commented.

  “Why is that?”

  “The jars on the table were handled yesterday by a thousand people. There’s no way to eliminate all the prints.”

  “Well, I didn’t handle them.”

  “You should have. Then, you could have killed him with impunity.”

  Gus ventured a short chuckle that we both knew no one would hear. I had to join him. Gallows humor was still humor.

  “Elle.”

  I turned. Alice walked up, and real pain laced her face.

  “Can you talk?”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Of course,” I said. “What is on your mind?”

  “Is it true that in murders, the spouse is always the prime suspect?”

  “Well, Alice, that is the common thought. That doesn’t make it true. But generally, spouses, even divorced spouses make good suspects.” I believed that Vera genuinely loved Larson, but sometimes a cad could push, even a good woman, over the edge. Had Vera had too much? Was there a straw that broke the camel’s back? I hoped not.

  “I hope Vera is not the killer,” Alice said. “She always loved him, ever since grade school. She never stopped loving him, even when he cheated. I told her she was foolish, but Vera believed in ‘till death do us part’. She lived by her vows. You don’t often see that in today’s world.”

  “People change,” I said. “What was impossible on Sunday becomes doable on Monday.”

  “Not for Vera. She was a gentle as a bunny rabbit. And she loved Larson too much to hurt him. She would have taken him back no matter what he did.”

  “You’re probably right. But even a rabbit bites when it’s threatened.”

  “Oh, I hope not. I would hate for Vera to be blamed for this.”

  At that moment, Jason wandered away from the crime tape and approached my booth. He didn’t smile, but I sensed no animosity. He seemed shy almost, which was surprising, considering how he had taken charge of the murder scene. I expected more confidence. It was as if he wasn’t comfortable around women.

  “I’m Deputy Hart. I was wondering if we could chat.”

  “Certainly, Deputy, what would you like to talk about?”

  “Your booth isn’t far from the booth where Mr. Hall was, well, where he died. So, I was wondering if you saw or heard anything.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help,” I said. “I heard about the murder second hand. I didn’t hear or see anything.”

  “How well do you know Vera Hall, the ex-wife?”

  “We’re friends, but we’re not close. I spoke to her yesterday, but you probably know that.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “About Larson.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well, she said she loved him still.”

  “Is that all?”

  I didn’t want to put Vera in more trouble, but I felt a need to tell him the truth. “Vera was upset because Larson was behind on his alimony payments, and she was having trouble paying her bills.”

  “Was she terribly upset?”

  “More like carping. Oh, I think she was set to carp to Larson’s face. But Vera doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

  “I believe you. But I’ve seen some very meek people do some pretty bad things. When you combine alimony with womanizing, well, that’s a double whammy.”

  “When you look at it,” I said. “There are many possible suspects. I mean, all those women Larson loved and dumped. Any one of them might have been upset enough to kill Larson. And then, there are the husbands of those women. Any one of them might have reached the boiling point. A man’s pride can be a dangerous thing.”

  “You’re right. From what I’ve heard so far, working through the suspect list will take some time. Any help with that?”

  “Help?”

  “Anyone with a big grudge, or maybe someone who might take the law into his or her own hands.”

  “Oh, I see. You want to know if there’s someone who might have threatened Larson?”

  “That would help.”

  I thought a second. I knew some of the rumors, the people that Larson had used and cast aside, the people who might have said something while drinking at the Abbot Rise Pub.

  “I have no firsthand knowledge of anyone,” I said. “I mean, I’m sure there are some who might qualify for investigation, but I can’t name them.”

  “That’s not unusual. Most people can’t name someone off the top of their heads. Or, they don’t want to.” He tried a smile, and it was pretty good but not great.

  “I would if I could,” I assured him.

  “I don’t doubt you. I’m just making a general observation.”

  He looked at me a moment, and I felt his aura. Something about him was magical in some way. It was intriguing, and I liked intriguing people.

  He pulled a small leather case from his pocket and removed a business card. On the back he wrote his number, and I guessed it was his cell phone. He smiled as he handed me the card.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me,” he said. “If you think of anything that can help, feel free to give me a call. As you are probably aware, the best time to solve a murder is within the first forty-eight hours.”

  “I’ll make sure to contact you, if anything comes to mind.”

  We exchanged looks, and I felt a power about him, something just below the surface. With a tip of his hat, he turned away and headed back to Larson’s booth. I looked at the cell number on the back of the card and wondered if he routinely gave
it out. I couldn’t know—another intriguing item. Just then, I remembered Vera’s complaint about Larson chasing the amulet, his obsession with it. I was about to call out to Deputy Hart, but something stopped me. I wasn’t sure. That was the long and short of it. I didn’t know if I could trust him. There was that...intrigue. Also, I didn’t know if he would believe me. A grown man chasing a magic amulet? It sounded far fetched, even to me. Yet, I didn’t doubt Vera. Middle-aged men often chased unicorns.

  I looked over my inventory and was pleased to see that I had sold almost everything. That meant a hard session in my dual workshops. A charm shop without charms was pretty useless, as far as I could see. I noticed that the crowd was beginning to flow out of the market, which meant the questioning was ending. Did they have a solution? I had no idea. I also had no idea why George White smiled when he stopped at my booth.

  CHAPTER 4

  George White was a hefty man in his forties. He had the look and smile of a proverbial “fat cat”. Small, blue eyes set close together, jowls that spoke of good eating, prematurely white-haired, he was known to be a shrewd businessman who had his fingers in a lot of local pies. I didn’t know him well, and I didn’t really care to. To me, his success was more facade than truth. While his clothes were new, they weren’t quality. I wondered just how successful he really was.

  “What a crazy day,” George said.

  “It is that,” I replied.

  “But not bad for business. You corral a bunch of people in the market for hours on end, and they’re going to spend some money. Yes, Elle, this was one of the best days ever.”

  I found George’s touting of the day’s receipts a bit callous. After all, a man had been brutally murdered. Didn’t that call for a bit of reverence? Didn’t it call for a tad of respect?

  On the other hand, I knew there was some bad blood between George and Larson. Rumor had it that Larson had tried to seduce George’s wife, Martha, more than once. Some people contended that Larson succeeded more than once. Their closeness the day before led me to believe that they liked each other, even if the rumors were just rumors. I tried to let sleeping rumors lie still.