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Sasha let out a sigh, looking even more pale and tragic, and I said, “Do you want to sit down? There’s a chair over by the dressing room.”
Because I did have one tiny little cupboard where my customers could try on clothes, along with a seat in case they had any bored husbands or significant others with them while shopping.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m too on edge to sit down. I have to wait for the medical examiner to release Brant to a local funeral home, and after that I’ll be able to take him back with me to Sedona.”
“‘To Sedona’?” I repeated, not sure what she was implying.
“To scatter his ashes,” she said. Her expression shifted, and she glanced up at me with a vaguely impatient look in her eyes, as if it should have been patently obvious what she’d meant. “We have a friend who’s a drone pilot, and he’s going to scatter Brant’s ashes over the Secret Mountain Wilderness area outside Sedona.”
That actually did sound kind of nice…although I had to hope no one would be hiking in the area when Brant was released to the four winds, so to speak.
“Won’t that all take some time, though?” I asked. Not that I pretended to be an expert on the matter, but I knew when Lucien was killed, it had been several days before his body was released to his family. The same thing with Lilith Black, except it had been her business manager and assistant who’d had to take on the grim task of bringing her body back to Los Angeles.
“A couple of days, probably,” Sasha said. “I booked a room at the Best Western. I figured in the meantime, I’d see if I could get any more information about what really happened to Brant.”
While I completely understood her motivations, I figured I should probably give her a piece of friendly advice. “Chief Lewis doesn’t much appreciate civilians interfering with his investigations,” I told her. “I know this from personal experience.”
“Because you’re the one who really solved the murders of Lucien Dumond and Lilith Black,” Sasha replied, and I blinked at her in astonishment. Before I could start to respond, though, she continued. “I know all about that stuff. Those stories were all over my Facebook groups and witch forums. You’re kind of a celebrity.”
“Oh, I don’t think — ”I began, but she waved me off.
“No, it’s true. Selena Marx, hedgewitch detective. It’s pretty cool.” She stopped there before adding, “That’s another reason why I wanted to talk to you. I know Brant’s death had to hit close to home for you because it happened in your parents’ house, but I realized as I was driving down here that you were the perfect person to help me out.” Another pause, and then she said, “I want to hire you to find out who really killed Brant.”
8
Hedgewitch Detective
For a second or two, I could only boggle at Sasha’s suggestion. Then I managed to gather myself and said, “I’m not a detective. I just had a little luck piecing the evidence together in those two murders. And really, in the case of Lilith Black, the killer basically confessed the whole crime to me, so it wasn’t as though I had to do any kind of real work to figure out who was guilty.”
This demurral didn’t seem to have much effect on Sasha Young. She crossed her arms and stared at me directly as she said, “Well, I can’t rely on Chief Lewis. He’s just another authoritarian with a buzz cut. He doesn’t even want to entertain the possibility that there might be a supernatural element to all this.”
Since I couldn’t really argue with her assessment of Henry Lewis, I figured I’d better try another tack. “None of us knows for sure if that’s actually the truth. The house feels really blank to me, for lack of a better word.” I paused after making that comment, because Sasha was still standing there and staring at me with an expectant expression on her face, like a kid who’s opened all her birthday presents but thinks there must be one or two stashed in a closet somewhere. “And you don’t have to hire me,” I added. “I want to find out what happened just as much as you do.”
Her expression was dubious but at the same time almost relieved. I had a feeling she really didn’t have the money to spend on a private detective, witchy or otherwise. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Positive,” I replied. A sudden notion struck me, and I said, “Are you psychic, Sasha?”
“No,” she said, looking a bit downcast. “I’m an empath and a Reiki practitioner, but I don’t get vibes from places unless they’re really full of bad juju, like a house where someone’s been abused for years. Things like that.”
I knew exactly what she was talking about. Several times in my life, I’d been in places thick with a miasma of anger and resentment and pain, places that felt as though they were choked with cigarette smoke even though the air was clear to the naked eye. Being in a haunted house was entirely different, though. It was more like I could sense something at the edge of my hearing and my sight, something I instinctively knew was there even if I couldn’t see it for myself.
“Well,” I said, “I just don’t get anything when I walk into the Bigelow mansion. Not even — not even after Brant died there.”
“He’s moved on, though, right?” Sasha asked, her pretty, pointed face now tight with anxiety.
“As far as I can tell. I don’t feel him there, that’s for sure.”
For a second or two, she was silent, letting herself come to terms with that information. Maybe she would have preferred him to be a ghost, since at least that way, she could still have some kind of contact with him. Then a certain light came into her blue eyes, and she said, “You didn’t know Brant, right?”
“No, I didn’t,” I replied. “I met him very briefly when he came to the house to check it out, but I didn’t stick around because I had to come in to work.”
“Well,” she said, “isn’t it possible that you couldn’t sense him because you didn’t know him at all? Maybe I should go to the house and take a look.”
That didn’t sound like a very good idea. I could try to convince myself I was only being cautious, but honestly, I just didn’t feel like setting foot in that house any time soon. “I don’t know — ”I began, and Sasha shook her head.
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“I don’t have a key, and no one’s home,” I pointed out.
