Page 35 of Crossroads Magic
“When was that?”
“The nineteenth of this month.”
Ghaliya lowered the mug. “Two days before she died? What else did she say?”
“This is the last entry.” I fanned through the pages left in the notebook. They were all blank.
Ghaliya clutched the mug in both hands. “Do you think…maybe someone killed her because of this?”
“Because she believed in magic and thought she must cast a spell to ward off evil spirits?” I had trouble even saying it aloud. My highly practical, relentlessly self-disciplined mother had never once during my childhood even hinted that she thought the fairy tales she told me were more than just stories. It just didn’t compute in my mind. It was as though she had come here and caught a disease that had permanently changed her. “It was just what Nanna believed,” I continued. “Why wouldanyonewant to kill her for believing that? It’s harmless.”
“Terrorists kill Americans for believing in democracy,” Ghaliya replied. “Maybe someone in this town feels like magic is a bad thing, enough to think of Nanna as an enemy.”
I opened my mouth to dispute that harsh comparison. Then closed it, because in this narrow sense, she was right. I shut the notebook. “As there’s only nine other people in this town beside you and me, it shouldn’t take too much effort to figure out if that’s true.”
“Ninepeople? But…all the houses…”
“They’re empty, most of them. Hirom lives in a shack in the woods, Frida lives in a room on the second floor, and Doctor Marcus and the mayor live in the two houses directly across the road from here. I’m still figuring out who everyone else is. There’s a Juda who built the network the town uses. Which reminds me. Give me your phone.”
She fished her phone out of her back pocket and tossed it to me. I added the phone to the network and tossed it back.
Ghaliya put the phone on the arm of the chair and went back to sipping tea.
“I think we’ll have to stay a few more days,” I told her.
She sighed. “I could see that coming.”
“As soon as I’ve got everything settled, we’ll leave, I promise. But I need to get through all this.” I waved at the piles at my feet. “And I need to talk to the Sheriff’s office, and have Nanna taken care of.” The fact that she was in the bedroom, only a couple of dozen feet away from us, made me feel itchy and uneasy. Modern society is so used to the unpleasant facts of life all happening somewhere out of sight, taken care of by someone else. Bodies are sealed up and carried away, often before they grow cold. Few people outside the health industry ever saw a body that wasn’t cleaned, prepared and cosmetically enhance to remove the frank evidence of death.
A mere hundred years ago, adults were exposed to more of the realities of life, but I felt a little lost and a lot more uncomfortable, having a body in the room next door.
Ghaliya made a small, soft sound. Her face drained of color. She put the mug of tea on the floor and staggered to her feet, rushed past me and up the steps into her bedroom.
The door didn’t swing all the way closed and thirty seconds later, I heard the distinct sound of retching.
I got to my feet, stepped through the hillocks of paper and books and went to help.
Chapter Twelve
As Benedict Marcus had reported, Olivia did, indeed, have a car. A helluva car. It was a 1980 baby blue Lincoln Continental with a soft top, all square corners and lines, and as big as a whale.
I couldn’t see a dab of rust anywhere, and the engine ran as smoothly as the sewing machine engine of my rented Ford Focus, but with the deeper note that promised there was a lot more where that came from. I had a feeling that if I got bogged in the snow on the way out to the highway, she would be able to tow the car out without too much effort.
I followed Olivia in her absolutely unmistakable car all the way to Syracuse. She seemed to know exactly where she was going when we reached the city. She turned into the rental yard and drifted regally over to the visitor parking bays, while I pulled up in front of the office.
Turning in the Focus took only a few minutes. I felt a touch of relief, once it was done. My credit card was a holdover from when I had been earning serious money and had an enviable credit limit. I could have kept the car for a good many more days. The problem, though, would be paying the card off later. Even the three days I’d rented the car created a balance I wouldn’t be able to clear all at once.
I walked over to Olivia’s car. When I opened the door, warmth rolled over me. The inside of the car was toasty warm, and I slid onto the wide seat with gratitude.
“You need a better coat,” Olivia observed, watching me shiver and thrust my boots under the dash, close to the heater vent. She wore a belted wool coat with huge lapels and padded shoulders. When she had got into the car, in the parking lot next to the inn, I’d noticed the flaring and very feminine hemline of the coat, and her fur-lined, heeled ankle boots with a touch of envy for both their quaint stylishness and their warmth.
I told myself I wouldn’t be in New York long enough to worry about acquiring a warmer coat. Then I told Olivia the same thing, using more diplomatic words.
She got the Continental going, and we were swiftly heading north on 81.
I eyed the radio, then noticed that it was AM only. Out here on the highway, we’d likely pick up nothing but static. With a silent sigh, I braced myself for two hours of conversation. It seemed fair enough, considering how much Olivia had put herself out for me. And she would probably have to repeat this journey again in a few days’ time, to deliver Ghaliya and I to the airport.
“Thank you for this, by the way,” I began. “I hadn’t realized how isolated Haigton Crossing is.”
