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  Death At The Circus

  A Whitewood Witches Murder Mystery

  Agnes Lester Brown

  Blue Lantern Publishing

  Revised edition

  Edited by The Novel Fixer

  Cover and production by Carl Duncan

  Copyright © 2018 by Agnes Lester Brown

  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  [email protected]

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Also by Agnes Lester Brown

  About Agnes Lester Brown

  Chapter One

  Granny Fae cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and lifted her magic wand.

  CODIFULUM VERDUS KOMPUS!

  She thrust the wand in front of her. The wand quivered in the air, pointing at Trixi, the Whitewood witches’ black cat who was sitting on the family altar table, combing her shiny coat.

  Fae held the wand firmly in position for five seconds. Then ten more. Nothing happened.

  No one moved or spoke in the basement that served as the headquarters for the Potion Portal, the Whitewoods’ clandestine potion mail order business. Trixi tilted her head and stared at the women in the room with curiosity.

  All five witches present simultaneously exhaled as Fae lowered the wand, releasing the breaths they’d been holding while Fae cast the spell meant to turn Trixi into a white rabbit.

  “Darn thing doesn’t work anymore,” Fae said in disgust, snapping the wand in half and throwing it into a corner dustbin overflowing with discarded bits of mushroom, dried herbs, and clumps of twigs the Whitewoods used to prepare their potion stock.

  “Say thanks to Trixi for being the guinea pig while you tried out that old wand on her,” Fae’s granddaughter Jasmine said. She picked the cat up and stroked her. Trixi basked in the sudden attention and purred loudly.

  “You should have tried once more, Granny,” Rosie, Jasmine’s twin sister said, trying to sound helpful without bursting into laughter. “Maybe that wand was like an old computer that crashed and needed a reboot.”

  Her mother, Hazel, kicked her under the work bench where they were busy chopping and grinding herbs for the potions they were preparing.

  “I thought you’d ordered a new wand recently, Mother?” Hazel asked, her round, friendly face still red from holding her breath. “Hasn’t it arrived yet?” Hazel resumed filling sachets with potion powders and preparing them to be mailed out to Potion Portal clients. She’d been doing that before she was interrupted by Fae, who got it into her head to dig up and try out the wand she hadn’t used in years.

  “Yeah, I ordered it quite some time ago. Looks like it got lost in the mail, which is a real shame,” Fae said. “Let me go ask Lori if she’s received any packages lately.”

  She shuffled through the cramped basement and went up the stairs leading into the back of the Wholesome, the family’s health food emporium where Lori worked.

  “Lori, has any mail arrived for me, child?” Fae asked the pretty brunette standing behind the counter saying goodbye to a client who’d just bought a month’s supply of ginger tea.

  “Close the door behind you, Granny,” Lori said, looking at the words “No Unauthorized Entry Allowed” painted on it in large, red letters. “We can’t have prying eyes snooping downstairs.” She bent down, opened a cupboard door below the serving counter, and took out a small rectangular box wrapped in brown paper. “This arrived for you earlier this morning, yes. Maybe that’s your new wand.”

  Fae smiled from ear to ear and her eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes, that’s it! I can’t wait to see it.” She wasted no time ripping the wrapping apart and opening the box.

  With eager fingers, she took out the thin, black, tapered stick decorated with intricate carvings from its black velvet inlay. The thicker tip of the wand ended in a small crystal knob, and the thin end had a pointed brass energy concentrator head that was highly polished and reflected brightly in the sunlight as she held it up.

  “The Rolls Royce of magic wands.” Fae beamed. She took out the small square of paper inside the box and, after putting her reading glasses atop her nose, read it out loud to Lori.

  Genuine Faithful Spirit Wand

  Guaranteed To Work Big Magic.

  Employ The Extremely Care.

  Please For To Read Instructions Nicely.

  Manufactured By The Hand.

  The Lightning Witchcraft Company Inc.

  Lori shared in her granny’s enthusiasm as Fae gently put the wand back into its box. “What are you going to do with it?” She was keen to hear the answer. Fae was known as one of the most brilliant spell casters of her generation.

  Fae looked at Lori as if she’d just been asked the dumbest question possible. “Throw some spells, of course. Or did you think I was going to use it to stir a cauldron?”

  Lori chuckled at her granny’s snarky answer. “So what sort of spells? Turn a few bricks into chocolate bars?” She pointed at rows of bottled spring water packed neatly on a display shelf. “Or turn some water into whiskey?”

  A coy look appeared on Fae’s face. “Well, you know, a quality wand is always good to have around. I like to keep it handy for emergencies. A worthy witch always knows when to use it, and when not.” Her eyes twinkled. “That’s, of course, apart from the odd bit of spell casting fun we allow ourselves.”

  “Yes, let’s not forget the so-called ‘fun’ you’ve had at our expense,” Lori said. She pointed an accusing finger at Fae. “I remember you turning my very first boyfriend into a troll because you didn’t like his nose ring.”

  “Admit it, you would never have been happy with that scoundrel,” Granny countered. “I’ve protected you from quite a few no-good boys, you must agree.”

  Lori couldn’t argue with that. Fae always had her best interests at heart. She was, after all, Fae’s favorite granddaughter; the one she hoped would one day follow in her footsteps as a legendary witch.

  Soon after Fae received her wand, the family left for home, their potion preparing and mailing done for the day. Lori stayed behind at the Wholesome and unpacked two boxes of soy milk and organic biscuits, occasionally stealing a biscuit for herself to nibble on. She was so engrossed in chomping biscuits and topping off the shelves, she didn’t notice the stranger in a dark trench coat until she felt an uncomfortable warmth behind her.

  She jumped and turned so fast, the tall man in his fifties took two steps back, holding up his hands in apology.

  “Sorry to scare you, Miss. I’ve been walking around Fennelmoore for fifteen minutes without seeing anyone and noticed you here inside the shop. I’m not here to buy any of your interesting merchandise.” He glanced around, intrigued by the health foods, homeopathic remedies and ointments he saw, as if he wasn’t used to being in a health shop. “I merely would l
ike to enquire about someone I’m looking for."

  He took a photo from his pocket and handed it to Lori. A girl with dark hair, exotic features, and haunted eyes looked straight back at Lori. She seemed startled by the photographer, as if she wasn’t expecting to be photographed. A small blemish darkened her right cheek.

  Lori shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve never seen her. Fennelmoore is a small town. If she was around, I’d have recognized those features. Who is she?”

  “She’s my daughter. Her name is Tanya Bond,” the man said. “I haven’t seen her in many, many years and must get in touch. You see, her mother recently passed away, and that prompted me to find her.”

  “Oh, that’s awful,” Lori said and clasped her hands around her face. “I’m really sorry to hear that. If I see her, who shall I say is looking for her?"

  “Apologies, I should have introduced myself.” The man produced a business card. “My name’s Bond, as in James Bond. But my mother decided to call me Irvin instead. My phone number is on there. I’ll be in town for a few days, staying at the Misty Hills Inn.”

  Lori nodded. “Fennelmoore’s a small community, I’m sure someone would have noticed her. What made you come to the conclusion she was here?”

  “She seems to move around often, and last I heard she was heading this way,” Irvin said. He dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Lori felt sympathy for him. She couldn’t imagine how painful it must be, having to locate a child under such circumstances.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find her if she’s in Fennelmoore. Has she been gone long? Were you close before she disappeared?” Lori asked.

  “We were a close-knit family, yes,” Irvin said. “Then she fell into bad company. By the time we realized that, it was too late. Our relationship broke down, and she started avoiding us."

  “I don’t have kids, but I can imagine how that must hurt and how desperate you must be to find her.” She looked at the photo in Irvin’s hand. “Perhaps you should make a few flyers and distribute them around,” she suggested. “There’s a print shop opposite the police station on Main Street.”

  “Good idea, thank you,” Irvin said. “That should help, especially since I’m offering a twenty-thousand-dollar reward to anyone who can tell me where she is.”

  “Wow, that is a substantial sum.” Lori’s eyes widened in surprise. Irvin must really be very anxious to find his daughter. But then she’d do the same if she was in his position and had the money at her disposal.

  “Well, please let me know if you see her,” Irvin said.

  Lori extended her hand. “My name’s Lori Whitewood. And I’ll be sure to be in touch if I see or hear anything that could help you find her.”

  His hand was unusually cold and clammy.

  “Thank you, I hope you can help me find her,” Irvin said and left the shop.

  A thought struck Lori as she watched Irvin cross the street outside.

  What if Tanya Bond didn’t want to be found?

  Chapter Two

  Lori’s special outdoor me-time and meditation spot was at Eagle Rock, a massive, thirty-foot tall boulder that had been lying like a giant soccer ball in the wildflower fields overlooking Fennelmoore since times immortal. She made a point of walking the half mile there whenever she felt bothered or uneasy for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Eagle Rock came to mind immediately after she forced open her eyes this morning and felt her aching muscles after a restless night filled with monsters and demons. Stiffly, she sat up and stared out the window. A flask of coffee, a walk by herself, and an hour of mellowing out would be the best remedy for how she felt.

  Twenty minutes later, she was on her way, pausing only to breathe in the aromatic smells of the herb gardens fronting the houses she passed. Soon she was on the footpath that led to Eagle Rock and, beyond that, continued on to Emerald Forest, another one of her favorite places outside town.

  She arrived at Eagle Rock, squinted against the rising sun to gauge the climb that lay ahead, and slowly started climbing the cold, rough surface to the top of the boulder. Once there, she laid out a picnic blanket and poured herself a mug of coffee. She sat cross-legged while the sun warmed her body and the vista stretching out over the valley beyond Fennelmoore soothed her mind. A thin, soft layer of fog started lifting lazily from the landscape at the bottom of the valley, thinning out gradually, disappearing a little with every slow breath she took.

  After having come here for so many years, Lori knew the outlines of Fennelmoore by heart. She recognized every building in town by the shape and color of its roof. The easiest to spot was the village church with its steeple and red brick clock tower that stood slightly off Main Street.

  The oxide red dome of town hall was another that was easy to identify. She imagined the town’s whimsical mayor, Al Riley, already in his office sitting behind his shiny oak desk, no doubt perusing the Times of Fennelmoore, the town’s local rag. The tallest building in town was the three-story Misty Hills Inn, and she was sure that Nick Dupont, the Inn’s industrious owner, was already serving his guests breakfast.

  Her mind drifted to her encounter with Irvin Bond the day before. If what he said was the truth, he was one of Nick’s breakfast guests. While she had great sympathy for him, she also felt a creeping uneasiness when she thought of him. Unless she spotted Tanya in town, there was no reason their paths would cross again, but a nagging voice in her head told her otherwise. Perhaps Grandpa Randolph could throw some light on Irvin in his inimitable way when next the family met with his ghost during the Solstice. But that was still several weeks away.

  Suddenly Lori lifted her head and sat up, leaving her scattered thoughts behind. “What on earth could that be?” she murmured as she shielded her eyes from the rays of the sun and peered intently at Fennelmoore. There was a new structure towering above the houses she hadn’t noticed before, located more or less on the village green behind the Inn. She counted seven white, pointed steeples close to each other and arranged in what appeared to be a circle or ellipse. Each steeple was connected to the other by a line of green, yellow, red, and blue triangular flags that fluttered in the breeze. The rest of the structure was blocked from view by other buildings, arousing her curiosity even more.

  She got up, gathered up her Thermos and blanket and began walking back to town. She had to go look at what was going on at the village green.

  As she rounded a street corner off Main Street behind the Misty Hills Inn, she was greeted by a huge, gaily painted arch lined with flickering lights. Her eyes lit up, and a smile spread across her face as Lori read the words written across the top of the arch.

  Blackwood’s Big Top Wonderland

  The circus had come to town!

  Lori had always been a fan of circuses. While other adults considered them childish, she never outgrew the thrills and spills of circus entertainment and loved the fanfare and boisterous atmosphere. In her head, she was already under the big top, sitting in a ringside seat, eagerly awaiting the opening drum roll of the performance.

  Looking up to the roof of the circus tent she, recognized the seven spires she’d seen from her time atop Eagle Rock. Down below, workers were scurrying around, adjusting tent poles, erecting the ticket office, and carrying chairs into the tent. Caravans and trucks were reversing into a circle around the big top. Already the sweet smell of cotton candy hung in the air.

  She grabbed the arm of a man dressed like Charlie Chaplin as he passed her carrying a pack of large posters advertising the circus.

  “Let me have one of those, I can put it up in my shop window,” Lori said.

  He handed her a copy of the poster, grinned, and tipped his bowler hat. “Thank you kindly. Remember to invite all your family and friends!”

  “By the way,” Lori asked as she rolled up the poster, “does the Circus belong to a Mr. Blackwood?”

  “Sure does,” Charlie Chaplin responded, looking around and then pointing to a suited gentleman standing some distance from them, gesturing
wildly and talking at the top of his voice to another man he was having an argument with. “That’s Rex Blackwood, over there.”

  “Thank you,” Lori said and started walking over to the man. The name vaguely rang a bell and brought a strange excitement over her. Long ago, Lori’s side of the family tree had been Blackwood too. They only became Whitewood after one of her forebears changed the name to avoid being suspected of magic and witchcraft, for which the Blackwoods had been infamous. They hadn’t had much contact with the Blackwoods since then.

  She kept her distance while the two men finished their argument, using the time to scour her mind for memories of Rex Blackwood. She vaguely recalled a distant cousin of Hazel’s who she’d been particularly fond of when she was five or six years old. He used to send her on errands to MacAdams’ general store and rewarded her with chewy strings of licorice, which she loved. The man she saw now was much older, and his hair was thinning, but he still combed his neatly cut, albino-white hair in the same middle path he had back then.

  “You’re not borrowing more money from me, and that’s final!” Rex shouted suddenly. “Do you think I’m some sort of bank?" Clearly determined to end the argument, he turned away from the thin, rigid man dressed in a coattail jacket and top hat who stood with clenched fists by his sides, his mouth a thin line below the heavy makeup he was wearing. As Rex walked away, Lori saw the other man draw his finger across his throat as he stared at Rex with eyes that burned fiery holes in the other man’s back.