The Girl with the Uninvited Ghost: Pandemonium Cozy Mystery #1

Chapter 8

"Oh, that was easy." Mahogany lifted the jeweled dagger from the box. A chill from the cold blade seeped through the bag and into Mahogany's hand, and it ran up her arm, lodging in her heart. She gasped and dropped the anelace where it clattered to the counter.

Next to Mahogany, Guy swooned before his knees buckled.

"What's wrong?" Neema set her coffee on the counter and studied Mahogany, her eyes filled with concern.

"Something's wrong with the anelace." Mahogany shook her head as if clearing a fog. The ache in her heart slowly dissipated. "Are you all right?" Mahogany raised an eyebrow at Guy's fallen form.

"I guess being so close to the murder weapon triggered my memory from that night." Guy got to his feet, gently placed his hand through the evidence bag, and closed his eyes. "The murderer's rage left a curse in the blade. It's filled with their rage and hatred."

"Guy says the murder tainted the anelace with their murdery rage." Mahogany said. "That's a lot of bad juju. Let's hope they've left town."

"Did Guy sense that? Poor lamb." Neema removed a small brown vial from one of the kitchen cupboards. "Maybe the scent of chamomile will help calm his nerves." She opened the vial and placed it on the counter. "Inhale deeply," she said to the kitchen. "Wait, he can inhale, can't he?" she inquired, turning to Mahogany.

"Seems to," Mahogany said, watching as Guy stooped over the vile, puffing like a runner after a marathon.

Neema smiled at the space over the vial and turned to Mahogany. "We need to get started on the replica before anyone notices the box is missing."

"Gods, this is so much more work than just collecting relics from dead Folk. Where's the clay?" Mahogany eyed the anelace with suspicion.

"I have some in the storeroom," Neema said, heading back into the Haughty Hemlock. "Back in two shakes."

Beside her, Guy continued to huff the chamomile fumes.

"Better?" Mahogany asked, a speculative eyebrow raised.

"Much," Guy said. "I don't know if it's placebo or if I can smell it, but I feel much more centered."

"Fantastic," Mahogany said, rolling her eyes. She peered back into the box so she wouldn't have to look at Guy. A flat, yellow envelope caught her attention. Curious, she read the label, "One photograph?"

"Photograph? What kind of photograph?" Guy stopped huffing and peered over Mahogany's shoulder. "Maybe it's a clue to solving my murder."

"The description says it was in Magic Mike's hand when the police found his body." Mahogany slit the envelope's seal with the spectare and slid out a glossy 4x6 black and white photograph of four individuals. Two had black x's marking out their faces, while a third had their face circled. The last person's image was untouched.

Mahogany frowned and moved the image to catch the light, hoping to reveal the faces beneath the x's. She could just make out a woman with long dark hair adorned with a crown of roses. The other was a young man wearing tea shade spectacles and a short beard.

"That looks like Magic Mike," Guy said, pointing to the x'd out face of the bespectacled man with the beard.

"How do you know?" Mahogany said, her gaze glued to the woman with her face circled. A white patch sprouted from the young woman's hairline despite her youthful appearance.

"Those are the same round glasses he wore. It was his signature look." Guy shrugged. "His beard is shorter, about fifty pounds lighter, and twenty years younger, but that's Mike, all right."