A Witch Axe to Grind Read online

  Applause was uneven, with the ladies in the audience vigorously clapping and the vampire hunting men staring suspiciously. Nick simply nodded and put his notes on the lectern. Public speaking didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Thank you, thank you for the nice turn-out. I understand that this bookstore has only been in business a year, so for Nann’s benefit, it would be great if word spread. Thank you for allowing me to present my book here, Nann.”

  She wondered if it would seem too impolite to sink out of sight behind the checkout desk as a round of applause started up. Nann gave a little wave. She then pretended something on the computer demanded her complete attention.

  “For those of you who haven’t read the book, I don’t want to spoil your enjoyment. However, I will throw a few interesting tidbits your way. The founding of this town, Amity Corners, occurred after the War of 1812, as you all know, I’m sure. It was just before the founding of your neighbor to the west, Port Argent. Port Argent was founded by Captain Guillaume Donjon Argent, of course, better known as William Argent. What you probably don’t know is that Lieutenant William Argent first sighted this area while fighting on the side of the French Canadians against the forces of George Washington and the British Colonials in the French and Indian War. Argent returned, as a captain, under the command of the Marquis de Lafayette and became the man we know, a hero of the American Revolution.”

  Nann listened in. O’Broin was a good speaker. Some of the audience appeared rapt—mostly the women. But what nagged at her mind was the briefcase Nick had left in her office. Was there a way to sneak back there and see what he had?

  “...following the War of 1812 when he was in his sixties, Argent received a land grant from then-President James Madison. The plan was to establish Port Argent as one of the access points of a canal system that would link the east coast to the frontier. We know this now as the Erie Canal.”

  If she did sneak around, the audience would have their backs to her. Except O’Broin would see her go into the office. Should she risk it? Nann couldn’t imagine him stopping in the middle of his talk to shout “Hey, you, stay away from my stuff!” Still, she couldn’t urge herself to her feet.

  “What Argent didn’t know was that some years prior, a secretary of Thomas Jefferson had already granted another group with land in the area. This was here, in Amity Corners. Initially, the town was named for its primary geological feature, Corner Bluffs. It was founded by people out of Providence, Rhode Island. Despite the religious freedoms offered by that colony since its inception, this particular group was deemed a little too outre, even for liberal Rhode Island.

  “They are, by turns, described in the records as a secret society, a religious sect, a cult, and, by more than a few sources, as a dangerous galère. They were in fact believed to be a faction of the Galère d’Merlinite, an occult group steeped in black magic.”

  Nann started paying more attention. The lifeblood of Amity Corners was the papermill. Some months ago, the mill’s board of directors visited town. Mill employees put together a plan to buy the mill and employ themselves. Before the CEO could announce his decision, he had dropped dead right there at town hall. He had been murdered by sympathetic magic, and Nann uncovered the fact that almost the entire board were members of the galère.

  Nick went on. “Now, of course, you have two groups working at opposite ends. A secret society on the one hand, would like to practice its doings in secret. And on the other hand, you have William Argent wheeling and dealing to make a bustling port city on Lake Ontario. And thus the clash began.

  “To keep it short, the New York State Barge Canal did not connect itself to Port Argent, but to Oswego, despite secret deals between Argent and canal designer DeWitt Clinton. To thwart Port Argent becoming an Erie Canal port, Indian raids were staged on the port town by the galère, who were already trading with the natives, both in commercial goods, and what the Indians called medicine, i.e., magic.

  “On the same level of malevolence, William Argent rejected the building of a papermill on the little bay, instead recommending the site of Ten Mile Creek. While this was land Argent himself owned, it happened to be directly adjacent to Corner Bluffs. And as I’m sure some of you here are well aware, the mill attracted employees by the hundreds. Of course, the ups and downs of the mill are well known, while Port Argent has remade itself into the primary vacation destination on the Great Lakes. The battle rages on.”

  Nick smiled. “I’ll leave it to you all to read about the details, the burning of the temple that stood on the site of this very building, and of the many strikes of one town against the other, some of which turned quite murderous. I hope you all enjoy the book. I will take any questions you have.”

  Aha. The Q&A. Nann was certain she could pull a sneak into her office. Nick might be too distracted to notice. But halfway to her feet, Nann froze.

  “Yeah, I got a question.”

  Nann winced. Bob Reynolds stood up.

  “Go ahead,” Nick said.

  “Are you a vampire?”

  “WOW, THAT’S THE MOST interesting question I’ve ever been asked.” Nick didn’t miss a single beat.

  Bob seemed nonplussed at first. “Oh. Thanks.” But he got it together quick. “Are you?”

  “I can say unequivocally that I am not a vampire.”

  Nann saw Rascal Metzger pull an aspergillum out of his gym bag. He was going to sprinkle Nick with holy water. But she caught a gesture from Nick. It was so swift, and so subtle, she doubted anyone else noticed. He tucked his ring finger under this thumb, and twisted his wrist. The holy water sprinkler came apart in Rascal’s hands and dumped over his pants. The VHS guys on either side scooted away. It looked for all the world like Rascal had just wet himself. Nann wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry “blasphemy.” Rascal made the sign of the cross and scurried off to the men’s room.

  “Any other questions?”

  Shuck. My. Corn. That man is smooth, Nann thought. Not only that, but he had some kind of magical ability. This made sense. Otherwise, it was tough to disappear from a room with one door.

  One of the housewives waved her hand. “Are you married?” Which brought a titter from the rest of the women.

  “I’m not,” Nick said. “But I am engaged to a wonderful woman. We have a daughter. I’m expecting twin girls. Soon... Not a vampire, not yet married. Anyone else?”

  Chapter 17

  “You’d better apologize to Nick, Ralph Metzger,” Nann said “Apologize, and buy his book. And you, too, Bob. Tom. Jim. Branden.”

  The hang-dog VHS looked over at Nick O’Broin, surrounded by women and signing books.

  “We had to know,” Bob said.

  “He walks around in the daytime,” Nann said. “You’ve actually all seen him in the sunlight.”

  “Fine.” Bob dropped his shoulders like a teenager and grabbed a book. The rest of them followed suit. Zinnia was hiding in the cooking section. Tink and Manuel had already bolted. To Nann’s surprise, Keith Schwenk pushed through the doors, dressed in civvies. Nann cornered him before he could reach the signing queue.

  “Tell me you’re not here to question Nick O’Broin about Arthur Perkins’ murder.”

  “Okay,” Keith said. “I’m not. But I really enjoyed his book. I just wanted to tell him I liked it, and have him sign it.”

  Nann scowled at the crowd. “I think you may be the only one.”

  Keith didn’t ask what she meant. With a shrug, he joined the queue. Nann realized this was now her chance. With Nick fully engaged, she moved along the edges of the store and into her office. His briefcase lay on her desk. After an over-the-shoulder glance, she examined the case. It was latched, locked by a combination.

  Locks were not a challenge to a Druid. A simple ceremony could spring those latches. Someone giggled out in the store. Nann jumped at the sound. Immediately, she chickened out. Skulking back to the check out desk, she looked at the sales software. When she typed Nick’s name, she realized she was on a wr
ong page.

  Still, something came up. Sales, not of Nick’s book, but of sales to Nick. Nann squinted at the page, scrolling. And scrolling. Funny, usually when a customer ordered a book, the name would ring a bell. Nick’s hadn’t. Nann took a breath as she realized why.

  BY NINE O’CLOCK, IT was just her and Nick left in the store. Only three copies of his book remained on the shelf. He autographed them all. Nick grabbed the briefcase from her office and leaned against the checkout stand.

  “That seemed successful,” Nick said, the statement holding a question.

  “Probably my best sales day since I opened,” Nann said. “Thanks for coming.”

  He shrugged. “My publisher thought it best to begin this book tour here, the place my book is about.”

  “Sure.” Nann realized she was staring at him. Stopped staring at him. Started staring at him again.

  “Something the matter?”

  Nann’s stomach went tight and cold. Still, she didn’t think she had a choice. “You’re not what you appear to be, Nicholas O’Broin.”

  His brows lifted; head thrust forward slightly. He didn’t speak.

  “That little trick with the aspergillum. I don’t think anyone else caught it.”

  “Mmm.”

  Nann expected a little more push back than that. She pressed him. “Also, you’ve been on sabbatical from Pitt for a long time. So long, that you must’ve attained tenure at age three, at the oldest.”

  “I appear to look young, despite my obvious age. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “A little bit,” Nann said. “I found some orders from you in the computer. I keep everything on the computer, even records from the previous owners. You never know when one of the old customers will want another book. It’s a necessity in this business. It just happens that some of the orders go back before even my Great-Aunt Nancy owned the store. Even if you were a particularly precocious child, that would make you well over seventy years old. So, yeah, you appear young.”

  What would he do? Nann worried he was going to pull something. She had uncovered aspects, inhuman aspects, that he would need to protect. He wasn’t a vampire, Nann was certain, but just what was he? She tensed when his hand reached into his breast pocket. When a pair of aviator shades appeared in his hand, she relaxed—but just a little.

  “Interesting,” Nick said, donning the pink-tinted lenses. “What do you think I’m up to, then?”

  “You showed up at the same time Arthur Perkins died.”

  Nick kept his eyes on her. “You think I murdered him?”

  Fingerprints on the syringes that put Perkins to sleep had Perkins’s own prints on them. Keith could only come to the conclusion that Perkins committed suicide. That’s where the physical evidence pointed. But she had seen Nick perform some tricks that upended physics. “You have some connection to him, I think.”

  After a few heartbeats, Nick nodded. “You’re not exactly what you appear to be either, Nancy Ann Szymanski. A Druid, I’d guess.”

  He was trying to knock her off point. She wouldn’t let go. “What is your connection, Nick?”

  “Since you were so curious.” He put the briefcase on the checkout desk and opened it. Nick lifted out a newspaper, but below, Nann saw file folders with Perkins’ name on them. He motioned with the paper and she took it.

  Patient Missing from State Hospital, she read the headline. The story was about Arthur Perkins, DDS, who had been committed to the Warren State Hospital, in Pennsylvania. Neither hospital security nor local police could determine how he escaped his locked room. The public was asked for help in finding the man but warned not to approach Perkins. The man had run a successful dental practice for many years before succumbing to mental illness.

  “A short time ago, this man posed a threat to my family,” Nick said. “Given my pending nuptials, I had to make certain he was no longer a danger.”

  “By killing him?” Nann blurted.

  “Is that what you think?”

  She inhaled, exhaled. “I think it’s a really good motive.”

  O’Broin smiled. “I can’t argue with that.”

  Shuck. My. Corn. Would he try to kill her now? Nann tried to think up a protective ceremony, but Druids were lacking in that regard. Only the checkout separated her from a potential murderer.

  “So, give me your theory.” Nick took the paper back. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “Perkins died on Sunday.” Nann gave it some thought. “I know you were in town on Monday, because you brought books. Thanks again for that.” But he also vanished like a ghost after the delivery.

  “Then it’s likely I was in Amity Corners,” Nick nodded. “Go on.”

  Nann hesitated. The timeline didn’t make sense. “I checked around, but you weren’t staying at the local hotels, even though you had a reservation at the Ontario Arms. On Tuesday night, I saw you take Arthur Perkins’ records from the vet hospital...”

  Briefcase still open, Nick handed her the files. “I murdered him on Sunday and went back for his records on Tuesday.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Take a look.” He nodded at the files.

  Nann scooped them out. Perkins did adopt a lot of dogs. Sometimes a few at a time. There was a lot of information about vaccinations, de-worming, flea treatments. None of it was interesting.

  “Notice anything missing?”

  Nann didn’t.

  “There’s no home address,” Nick said. “Only a PO Box. Strange, if you have pets chipped to locate them if they are lost. It makes the man difficult to locate, if that’s all you have to go on. Other than the death at the shelter, I have no indication where Perkins was living. I suppose I could’ve skulked around town, hoping he might show up. Then found him at the shelter, along with a convenient weapon at hand. After dispatching him, I must have become interested in his records. Or, at least, the records of his dogs.”

  Put it that way, Nann thought, and he looked a lot less like a suspect. Less suspicious, yes, but not completely above suspicion. It did put Arthur Perkins in a dubious light. Or maybe Dr. Perkins simply wanted to avoid getting on mailing lists. Still, she counted nearly twenty dogs before feeling she was being rude.

  Putting the files back, she shoved the briefcase back toward Nick. “What is going on, then?”

  “I have no idea,” he shrugged. “My secondary objective in Amity Corners was to see if Perkins posed a threat.”

  “If you don’t have his address, how do you know he was here?” Nann challenged.

  Again, the hiked shoulders. “I saw him at a distance while I was researching the book. At that time, I had no idea if he lived here, or was simply passing through. People I have talked to didn’t know where Perkins lived, other than somewhere out in the county.”

  Nann had tried to find information on Perkins and failed. Of course, she was no bounty hunter. She only had Google and social media sites to look through. An idea formed, loosely, in her mind. Maybe she did have an idea where the former dentist lived. Nann opted not to share. “It kinda feels like you didn’t kill Arthur Perkins,” she said instead.

  “I suppose you’ll have to make up your own mind about that—” He closed and locked the case. “—Nancy Druid.”

  Nick walked out the door, the bell making no jangle when he did. Nann saw him in the big display window, walking up the hill. Then, he was gone. He vanished, looking like a sheet of tissue paper sucked up by a vacuum hose. With a dim flash of light, Nick O’Broin was gone.

  Chapter 18

  What in the holy frickin schmoly was that?

  Nann stared out at the street, the empty street. Not even the leaves stirred on the skimpy sidewalk trees. Nick was there, and then, shoop! he was gone.

  Was the VHS right? Was he a vampire? Nann didn’t know if vampires could just shoop away like that. Nick did manage to avoid a holy water attack. With magic. Nick was on the proud side. Maybe he just didn’t want to be embarrassed in public. Or maybe he
didn’t like getting wet. Like a cat, or the Wicked Witch of the West. Still, he used magic, that intent gesture. He was a, a, what did Tink call them? A Prete. What kind of Prete, Nann hadn’t the foggiest.

  The man’s vanishing act had thrown Nann off her thought track. What had she been thinking about before he up and disappeared? Out in the county, she remembered, a place where Dr. Arthur Perkins might live.

  She remembered Ricky the mailman getting attacked by dogs. Where had he said that was? A pack of ’em, out on Old State Road, she recalled. Nann closed down her cash register software and brought up Google. Yikes. Old State Road branched off State Route 104 and ran for miles and miles before joining up with 104 again. On Google Maps, it was narrow and straight, leading from Port Argent all the way into Sterling.

  How could she search that much road? Nann wracked her brain for useful things Ricky said. All she could remember was that he had stumbled through a hedge. The dogs chasing him must’ve been a fair distance away if he had outrun them.

  None of this helped. Old State Road, like most of the roads around, ran though endless farms and woods, a lot of open, empty country. Nann moused along the road. Google Maps made no mention of Dr. Perkins’ house.

  In the morning, she might get a better idea by asking Ricky. She shut down the computers and the lights. When she locked up, her eyes lingered on the spot where Nick had shooped. It looked like an ordinary sidewalk. Nann beeped Cricket’s doors open and drove home.

  BUT BECAUSE THE NEXT day was Saturday, Ricky was off. Damn. Nann didn’t have any orders to send out. Still, a couple bills arrived. The Saturday mailman just pushed them through the door slot and moved on.

  Nann sighed. She’d have to drive Old State Road, hoping to stumble across Perkins’ place. Maybe she’d spot a for-sale sign or happen upon an estate sale of his former possessions. Maybe she’d see a roving pack of savage, mailman-chasing dogs.