Midsummer Night's Mischief Read online

  As always when I needed some direction and encouragement, I turned to the craft. When I got off the phone with Farrah, I went into the kitchen to whip up a little herb magic. Standing in the center of the room, I closed my eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and set my intention: to find some inspiration as to where to look next for the answers that eluded me.

  Opening my eyes, I knew just the thing. I walked over to the corner cabinet and pulled out the tools I would need for a Japanese tea ceremony: a matcha bowl, a bamboo scoop, a bamboo whisk and, of course, a container of tea—in this case bright green matcha tea. I set about boiling water, warming the bowl with the water, drying the bowl, straining the powdered tea, and carefully adding two delicate scoopfuls to the drinking bowl, all with slow Zen-like movements. Then I added boiled water and whisked the jade-green brew until it had a creamy froth. As I watched the swirling liquid, I repeated my intention, murmured a prayer to the Goddess, and took a healthy mouthful.

  Mmm. Essence of summer.

  I finished the tea, licked my lips, and nodded. Of course. If I wanted a sign, a trail to follow, I would have to leave the house.

  After cleaning up the kitchen, I changed clothes and laced up my running shoes. I had plenty of time to make the 6:30 p.m. yoga class over at the gym near my office. I hadn’t actually been to the gym since the weather warmed up in the spring, but I still kept a locker there. It was convenient for after-hours workouts in the winter.

  After the two-and-a-half-mile jog to the gym, I grabbed my soap, shampoo, and towel from the locker and showered before yoga class. Then I rented a mat and entered the yoga room for forty-five minutes of strenuous asanas, followed by ten minutes of deep, relaxing shavasana, the corpse pose. I came out feeling tranquil, slack, and a little floaty. After turning in my mat at the front desk, I walked over to the water fountain for a cool sip, wondering how long it would take me to amble home in this state.

  As I straightened up, the door to the men’s locker room opened and out came Jeremy, freshly showered, gym bag in hand. Ask and ye shall receive, I thought, with a mental bow to the Goddess.

  His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Hey, boss!”

  Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me into a close hug, and I inhaled the fresh masculine scent of his body wash and shampoo. I gently pulled back.

  “Hi, Jeremy. How are you? How’s the office?”

  “Same old, same old. We miss you, of course. When are you coming back?”

  “Soon, I hope. What has Beverly said?” I tried to sound casual. This whole situation was mortifying enough as it was.

  “Not much. She basically said she won’t have any gossip around the office. But then she doesn’t give us any information to combat speculation. I gather your absence has to do with your client who died, right?”

  “Right. I’m actually trying to help the family recover the missing Shakespeare Folio.” It was a true statement, even if it might lead one to infer the family had hired me for that purpose. Not my fault how Jeremy interpreted my response.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Any luck?”

  “Well, I am making progress, as a matter of fact. I’ve been talking to people, learning a few things. I think I’m getting closer.”

  Jeremy raised his eyebrows again, looking impressed. “That’s awesome. So . . . what are you doing here?”

  I laughed. “I needed a break from all that sleuthing. I just finished a yoga class.” Rolling my neck, I stifled a yawn. “But I’m so relaxed right now, I’m not sure I’m quite ready for the trek home. I came here by foot.”

  “Oh, let me give you a ride, then.” He put his hand on the small of my back and turned me toward the door. “You crazy girl, walking all over town,” he said in a teasing voice.

  I shrugged my shoulders, feeling too weak to protest. Just then I became aware of another guy who must have just exited the locker room. He wore a red sweat suit and carried a matching red duffel bag. He blinked owlishly when I looked his way.

  “Crenshaw,” I said by way of greeting.

  Jeremy turned to him, still with his hand on my back. “Good workout, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he turned back to me. “My car’s right out here in the lot. Hey, do you want to go get something to eat first?”

  Crenshaw stood immobile, watching us as we left. He was so weird. I noticed he was growing his beard again, the orange stubble making his face appear dirty.

  As we walked to the parking lot across the street from the gym, I wrestled with whether it was really a good idea to go anyplace with Jeremy. But I did want to get some information from him about Rob—and about his own secret outings. Besides, I was sure it was no coincidence that I had bumped into him shortly after asking the Goddess for a divine clue.

  “Maybe something light,” I agreed. “How about the juice bar around the corner?”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s still take the car, though. We already had our workouts.”

  Jeremy winked at me and unlocked his car. I got in, tossing some papers from the front passenger seat to the back, which appeared to be an annex to Jeremy’s office. The backseat was covered with case files, legal pads, and assorted books, including a couple of fat phone directories from Chicago and St. Louis, as well as several days’ worth of newspapers. I also noted a number of used lottery tickets littering the floor. Surprisingly, the scent in the car was a not unpleasant combination of caramel corn, faded cologne, and male sweat. I cracked the window as soon as he started the engine.

  As we drove along in a comfortable silence, I glanced sidelong at Jeremy, trying to figure out how in the world I could bring up the casino without letting on that I was actually there. Spying on him. I couldn’t think of any way.

  At the juice bar, we ordered our drinks and took them out to the small patio in front of the shop. We sat at one of the round, umbrella-shaded tables with a view of the square. I took a seat on the attached bench that circled the table, and Jeremy sat down right next to me, within knee-touching distance. I scooted the other way, making an excuse about the sun being in my face, and eyed him warily.

  “So, how’s Stacey?” I asked.

  “She’s good. Always studying. By the end of the summer, she’ll have earned her master’s.”

  Nothing fazes him. Not a trace of guilt or even surprise when I brought up his girlfriend. Maybe I was imagining him putting the moves on me.

  I brushed off my worries, made an appropriate comment about Stacey’s hard work, and sipped my juice. The sky was turning pink and violet, reminding me that this day was about over. I needed to stop wasting time.

  “So, Jeremy, do you know if Darlene Callahan has had any more communication with Beverly or the firm?”

  He looked at me blankly. “Who?”

  “Darlene Callahan. Eleanor Mostriak’s daughter. She’s the one who came to the office and made a big scene last week.” Prompting you to buy me flowers, I thought but didn’t say.

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

  “The rest of her family is actually pretty nice. I’ve been talking to some of them, including her sons, Wes and Rob Callahan.”

  No reaction. Just a polite listening face.

  “Rob Callahan actually plays baseball in the local men’s league. He’s probably about your age. You ever play baseball?”

  “Not since I was a kid. Maybe I’ll look into it sometime. Are you still running a lot?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “About every day, if I can manage it.” This was getting me nowhere. Either Jeremy had a marvelous poker face or he really didn’t know the name of the guy who was sitting next to him at the card table the other night.

  Jeremy finished off his juice and squinted at the sky. “This was good, but it only whetted my appetite. How about we stop off at the Loose Rock for a burger and fries?”

  The Loose. That was the last place I wanted to go with Jeremy, undercover or not. I had to draw the line somewhere.

  * * *

  Two days later I began to r
egret not pressing Jeremy more about Rob and the riverboat. I should have just come out and said I was there with a friend, and I thought I saw him. Blah, blah, blah. At least then I could have asked him about the thug with the scarface.

  As they said, hindsight was a crystal clear looking glass.

  Now I was stuck again.

  Worse, it was my birthday.

  Here I was, thirty years old. Jobless, loveless, and darn near hopeless. Terrific. Who was I to think I could play detective and make everything right? I was starting to despair of ever recovering Eleanor’s Shakespeare book. And lately I hadn’t even had anyone to commiserate with. Farrah had been busy with work, and I was too embarrassed about my situation to call any other friends.

  To shake my dark mood, I went outside to my garden right after breakfast. I pulled weeds, checked the moisture level, gathered vegetables. The spinach and lettuce were flourishing, as were the green onions and sweet peas. I was already planning the big salad I would have later. Amid the soil and plants, I felt exponentially better. Everything would be okay.

  “Good morning, Keli! Still on vacation?”

  I looked up to see my neighbor, Mrs. St. John, picking her way down the grassy path from her garden to mine, her floppy sun hat bobbing up and down with each step.

  “Hello, Mrs. St. John. How are you today?”

  “My arthritis is acting up, and my back is sore. And Mr. St. John is driving me batty. Other than that, I’m all right.”

  I smiled and stood up, then brushed the dirt off my knees. “Well, it’s a lovely day, anyway.”

  “Yes, I suppose. Listen, the reason I came over here is to let you know there was someone hanging around your house earlier this morning.”

  “What?” I stiffened, my senses on alert.

  “I was coming home from the store, pushing my cart up the sidewalk, when I saw him. He was standing on your stoop, kind of hesitating. At first I thought he had knocked on your door and was waiting for you to answer. Then he leaned over and appeared to be messing with your window.”

  I frowned and glanced over at my back door.

  “I called out, ‘Young man, what are you doing?’ Then he took off running down the sidewalk and around the corner.”

  “What did he look like?” I asked, already anticipating the answer.

  Mrs. St. John knitted her pale gray eyebrows, trying to picture him. “Kind of tall, wearing a blue baseball cap, jeans, a T-shirt. I mainly saw him from the back.” She paused and cocked her head. “Who knows what he had in mind. It’s a good thing I scared him away.”

  I shook my head. If not for my concern, I would be amused at the idea of Mrs. St. John scaring anyone—she was barely five feet tall and thin as a wisp. As it was, I was worried not only by someone possibly trying to break into my home, but also by Mrs. St. John’s description of the prowler. It was amazing how many men I knew who seemed to meet those stats.

  When Mrs. St. John left, I put away my garden tools, took my basket of veggies inside to the kitchen, and walked straight through the house to my front door. I looked all around, wishing vainly for a clue. I guessed footprints, cigarette butts, and hotel matchbooks appeared only for fictional detectives. Darn. I did note that my potted daisies needed watering, so I started to go back inside to get the watering can. Just then a delivery truck pulled up, so I waited to see who the package was for. It was my birthday, after all.

  Much to my delight, it was a package from Moonstone Treasures. After signing for the delivery, I sat down on the front steps to open it. Carefully, I tore away the outer wrapping, then unfolded the glittery purple, green, and gold tissue paper within to find a beautiful colored-glass framed picture. It was a shimmering print depicting a lovely fairy with iridescent emerald wings twice the size of her delicate body. She sat curled on a tree branch set against a moonlit sky. A soft, mischievous smile played across her rosebud lips.

  Beneath the picture was a caption in looping cursive lettering: I am that merry wanderer of the night.

  Also in the package was a card from Mila. The front of the card featured a circle of dancing women, while the printed message inside was a short poem about celebrating life. I smiled at this but was even more touched by the handwritten note on the side:

  My Dear Keli,

  You have reached a very special milestone . . . and are at the threshold of a magical decade. (Ask me about the power of three sometime, if you’d like.) But, as every Gemini knows well, there are two sides to every coin. At this time in your life, embrace the wisdom of your maturity and the exuberance of your youth. Love your dreams and the trials along the way. Be serious and practical when you need to be, but have fun and laugh every day.

  Blessed be, my friend.

  Mila

  P.S. The quote under the picture is Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He may have written about hags, but he wrote about fairies, too. It’s all magic, don’t you think?

  I sat on the front stoop for a long time, lost in thought. I would head over to Mila’s shop sometime soon to thank her for the lovely gift. But now something tugged at the corner of my mind. There was something I had to do, if I really wanted to help Eleanor. There was someone I had to see. And that someone, I realized, was the person I had been avoiding all along.

  CHAPTER 18

  Sometimes it was a plus that my family lived hundreds of miles away. It made it easier to fib about how perfectly peachy everything was in my life. After the first three birthday calls, the tall tale started to roll off my tongue with frightening ease. When my phone buzzed again as I walked down the sidewalk toward my car, I was all set to pour on the syrup yet again.

  As it happened, I could be myself this time. It was Farrah.

  “Hey, birthday chick! Welcome to the wonderful world of thirty. You’re gonna love it here, I promise.”

  “Really?” I said, with the slightest little whine. “When does the wonderfulness kick in? From where I’m standing, the future’s not so bright. In fact, I’d say it’s flickering, at best.”

  Farrah laughed as if I were the most amusing thing. “Just you wait, girlfriend. Nothing but wonderfulness tonight. Don’t forget. Be at the Loose at seven sharp. Fun-filled festivities await.”

  “I’ll be there,” I promised. And I had a feeling I was going to need all the fun I could get after the ringer I was about to put myself through. After starting up my car, I checked the address I’d jotted down, and headed over to Darlene’s house.

  It was high time, I realized, to make peace with the woman. I needed to find out what she knew and share with her what I had learned. We needed to work together.

  About ten minutes later I pulled into a modest subdivision that abutted a local golf course. It wasn’t quite the country club, but it was still nice. Unlike so many newer developments, the homes here weren’t cookie cutter. I passed brick colonials, low-slung ranches, and shuttered split-levels. As I watched the house numbers, I saw that Darlene’s home was a forest-green Craftsman bungalow. It would have been homey and welcoming if not for the police car parked out front, strobe light silently flashing.

  Several other cars seemed to be at the house, as well, in the driveway and on the street. I parked across the street and walked over as Kirk bounded out the door and headed to one of the cars along the curb. Dressed in jeans and a plain light blue T-shirt, he looked even more youthful than when I had met him at the visitation. Spotting me, he twitched his mouth into a rueful smile and raised a palm in greeting.

  “Never a dull moment,” he said, getting into the car.

  I watched him take off and raised my eyebrows as I caught a glimpse of his vanity plate: KNGLEAR.

  I hesitated for a moment on the sidewalk. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to pop in on Darlene. On the other hand, I was dying to know what the cops were doing there. It must not be too terrible if Kirk could joke about it.

  Just then the front door opened again, and two unfamiliar police officers came outside.

  “Hello,” I said
, walking over. “Is everything okay?”

  The officers eyed me, and one of them pulled out a pocket-size spiral notepad. “There was a robbery here,” he said. “Could I have your name and address, please?”

  “Keli Milanni. Twelve-oh-eight East Springfield Lane.”

  “You just arrive?”

  “Yes. That’s my car there.”

  “Been here before?”

  “No. It’s my first time.”

  “What’s your business here?”

  That one threw me for a loop. “I’m, uh, here to see Darlene. I—I knew her mother, who passed away recently. I wanted to see how she’s doing.”

  The officer wrote this down and seemed satisfied. He shut his notepad and nodded his head at me dismissively. But I couldn’t resist trying to get information from him.

  “So, what was stolen?”

  “That’s not for us to say, ma’am. Bye now.”

  I shrugged and walked up the steps to Darlene’s front porch. I noted the porch swing, the cheerful hanging plants, and the natural jute welcome mat and thought Darlene was a woman after my own heart. Ringing the bell, I wondered if this was where Wes had grown up. The house certainly seemed big enough to raise a family.

  After a short wait, Sharon came to the door. She looked tired and worried.

  “Hi, Sharon. I stopped by to see Darlene for a minute. Is . . . is she available?”

  Sharon slowly shook her head and spoke softly. “Keli, dear, now is not really a good time. Darlene is resting. I’ll tell her—”

  “I was hoping to talk to Darlene about the Folio,” I said quickly, before she could turn me away. “But I can see it’s not a good time. The police told me there was a break-in here.”

  Sharon stepped outside onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her. She sat heavily on the porch swing. “Can you believe it? First, the Shakespeare book, and now this.”

  “Was a lot taken?” I asked, sitting down in a wicker chair adjacent to the swing.