Crimes of Magic: The Yard Sale Wand

  Crimes of Magic:

  The Yard Sale Wand

  (Case 3)

  By Richard L. King

  Copyright

  Copyright 2015, Richard L. King

  All rights are reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form, (printed, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, filming, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance, by name or personality, to real people, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products and services referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  About the Author

  The Crimes of Magic Series

  Foreword

  This book is the third in the Crimes of Magic series. Here are links to the first two Kindle books on Amazon:

  1. Crimes of Magic: The Witch’s Artifact http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00II20DY0

  2. Crimes of Magic: The Wizard’s Sphere http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LW7R7WE

  Chapter 1

  I cranked up the air conditioning in my four-year-old BMW 328i. It was eighty-six degrees outside on this sunny, July afternoon in Portland, and we Oregonians were roasting. I had just finished swimming laps at the pool, and I was looking forward to a cold drink at home. I parked in my spot at the Grey Goose, my house, walked up the steps and went in the front door. As I started up the stairs, Rachel, my favorite tenant, came out of her apartment and said, “Professor, you lied to me!”

  “What? I haven’t lied to you. We’re friends and business partners; we’re honest with each other.”

  “Maybe I’m honest with you, but you lied to me.”

  Remarkably, Rachel didn’t seem as angry as I would have expected if she had just caught me in a significant lie. Her voice was accusative, but her eyes were sparkling, and she seemed calm.

  “When did I ever lie to you?”

  “You told me you were born right here in Portland.”

  “I’ve lived in Portland all my life, at least so far. I’m a native Oregonian.”

  “Well you don’t have a birth certificate from the State of Oregon; so you lied.”

  “Wait a minute, you’re still trying to find out my middle name, aren’t you. You’ve been bugging me and investigating me for several weeks now. You’re just frustrated because you don’t know my middle name, Rachel Elizabeth Chase.”

  “Well how do you explain not having an Oregon birth certificate?”

  “I was born a couple of weeks earlier than my parents expected. They were traveling out of state when I made an unscheduled entrance.”

  “Oh really? Where were you born, then?”

  “I’m not saying.”

  “Come on Professor, you’re driving me crazy. I’ve already discovered that your middle name is Scottish and starts with a ‘C’. You might as well just come clean.”

  “You just can’t stand not knowing everything, can you? I’ll bet that’s why you’re a private investigator—you just can’t rest until you know everything about the object of your curiosity.”

  “It’s Campbell, isn’t it.”

  “I’m not saying.”

  “How about Cameron?”

  “Not saying.”

  “Arggh! Professor, you’re just mean.”

  “It’s almost four o’clock, time for tea. Come on up. A little food will make you feel better,” I said.

  Rachel knows that I almost always have a small meal at four o’clock, that I call “tea.” I usually have coffee rather than tea, but I always call the experience “having tea.” We entered my apartment and headed into the kitchen.

  “It’s a nice warm day,” I said. “How about some iced tea?”

  “That sounds perfect,” Rachel replied, “but I’m not giving up on your middle name. Can we have cucumber sandwiches to go with the iced tea?”

  “Sure thing. Is whole wheat bread OK?”

  “Sure. I’ll eat anything,” Rachel said. “You know, when I lived in Georgia, you had to specifically ask for unsweetened tea. If you just asked for iced tea, you would get super-sweet tea. A lot of times people wouldn’t even have any unsweetened tea available.”

  “I know you were born in New Jersey, and your family moved to Atlanta. How long did you live in Atlanta?” I asked.

  “Three years—my last three years of high school. When I graduated, I moved to Eugene and enrolled in the University of Oregon.”

  “We should be rivals, since I went to Oregon State,” I said.

  “That makes sense,” Rachel observed. “I guess OSU is for engineers. The U of O is for lawyers, so I went there.”

  “If you had gone on to law school, we might never have met,” I said.

  “It only took two summers of interning at the Hastings-Cooley law firm to let me know that I couldn’t stand being cooped up in an office for eight or ten hours a day. I have to get out, see things, talk to people. As an intern, I got to help dig up information on people. That’s when I discovered that I like to investigate. When I graduated from college, I moved to Portland and got my P.I. license.”

  “And the rest is history,” I said.

  I made each of us a cucumber sandwich with whole wheat bread, mayonnaise and cucumbers. I poured two glasses of iced tea, unsweetened of course.

  “I got a call from Caite this morning,” Rachel said after taking a bite of her sandwich.

  “How is our witch friend?”

  “She’s doing real well. She seems to have completely recovered from her tragedy in The Witch’s Artifact Case.”

  “I knew she would,” I said. She’s a strong woman. Does her coven still meet at the Moonstone Crystal and Herb Shop?”

  “Yes they do, and that brings me to why Caite called. One of her coven sisters found a wand that she thinks may be magic. She asked Caite if we might take a look at it and see if it really is magic.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I said. “I’d like to take a look at it. The Coriolis will be able to tell us if it’s magic.”

  The “Coriolis” is the name Rachel gave to a device called the Coriolis Disruption Detector. It's a pendulum about the length of my thumb and shaped somewhat like a teardrop. It has two symbols carved into it, and there is space for a third symbol to be written. It has more than one function, depending on the
symbol written in the blank space.

  “I knew you would want to see the wand,” Rachel said, “so I set up an appointment at my office tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I said. “We could meet here.”

  “I don’t like for clients to know where I live,” Rachel replied. “Although Caite is a good friend, and has stayed here at the Goose, we should treat Willow like any other client.”

  “Willow?” I questioned.

  “That’s Caite’s coven sister, Willow.”

  “I hope she’s as nice as Caite,” I remarked.

  “I think you like Caite. I’ll bet if she wasn’t a lesbian, you two would make a couple. She’s your type, isn’t she?”

  “If you mean ‘dark and mysterious,’ then maybe she’s my type, but she’s too young for me.”

  “Too young? How young is too young, Professor?”

  “Well, I guess Caite is about twenty-six or so; that makes her about twenty-four years younger than I. That’s too young.”

  “So how old is old enough, then?”

  “Thirty-three. She would have to be at least thirty-three; and not be a lesbian.”

  “Thirty-three? How did you come up with thirty-three?”

  “I think it has a lot to do with personalities. If Caite were mature for her age, then she could be old enough. If I were less old-fashioned, I might not be too old for her. Besides, there’s a Chinese formula for computing how old a man’s bride should be.”

  “You’re kidding. There’s a formula? I know you’re a nerd, but you aren’t going to use math to pick a wife are you?”

  “Of course not. I just think the formula is interesting and reveals something about ancient Chinese society.”

  “OK, Professor. I’ll bite. What’s the formula?”

  “A bride’s age should be half the man’s age plus eight. If the man is sixteen, the bride should also be sixteen. If the man is forty, the bride should be twenty-eight. And if he’s fifty, as I am, then the bride should be thirty-three.”

  “So I’m two years too old for you, is that it?”

  “I might be willing to relax my standards in certain cases.”

  “As if. I can’t believe I ever take you seriously.”

  “I didn’t think you ever did.”

  “Why didn’t you ever marry, Professor? You’re tall, rich and not bad looking.”

  I liked the sound of “not bad looking” when Rachel said it. For a nerd, “not bad looking” is a compliment.

  “That’s kind of a personal question,” I said.

  “We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. I think we can ask each other personal questions,” Rachel replied.

  “Well, I wasn’t always six feet tall and rich,” I said. “And when I grew this beard after college, I think it improved my appearance. But you know, I’m not very good at talking with women.”

  “You always say that, but I don’t see it. You’re always charming with women.”

  “It’s just an act. I don’t understand women very well, and the prettier a woman is, the harder it is for me to talk to her.”

  “So that’s why you talk to me so much—I’m not pretty.”

  “See! I rest my case. I have just said exactly the wrong thing, like I always do. I find it easy to talk to you even though you’re beautiful.”

  “Beautiful?”

  There, I did it again. I shouldn’t have admitted that I think Rachel is beautiful. I always say the wrong thing. She’s very highly strung, and I could easily scare her away.

  “So, you think I’m beautiful?”

  “I don’t think you’re beautiful. It’s just a fact, not an opinion. I’m just proud of myself for being able to talk to you, that’s all.”

  “You’re sweet, and I think you talk to women just fine. Not everyone thinks I’m attractive, you know. But anyway, I’m looking forward to meeting Willow tomorrow, and I’m sure she’ll be glad to meet you, too.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, also,” I said. “Any friend of Caite has to be interesting.”

  “We should leave here about nine-fifteen in the morning. We want to be sure to get to my office before Willow does. I’ll drive.” Of course, Rachel always liked to be in the driver’s seat, but I didn’t mind.

  “Meet me on the porch at nine-fifteen,” Rachel said as she got up from the kitchen table. “And don’t forget to bring the Coriolis. In fact, you’d better bring your whole magic kit, just in case.”

  “OK,” I said as I walked her to the door. “I’ll be there.”

  I went back into the kitchen to clean up. Rachel had only eaten half of her sandwich, and I was still hungry, so I ate it myself.

  I’m kind of obsessive when it comes to not being late. I was the guy in college who always started his homework the day it was assigned, and I always had it finished well ahead of time. It’s not that I’m gung-ho and energetic; it’s just that I can’t handle pressure very well. Whenever I have a deadline, I feel pressured, so I work to relieve the pressure as quickly as possible. So, true to form, I made sure my magic kit was packed, a good sixteen hours before we had to leave.

  I usually just put the Coriolis and a few other things in my jacket pockets, but the weather was hot, and I wouldn’t be wearing a jacket. Besides, I had accumulated quite a bit of magical paraphernalia since acquiring the Coriolis.

  I had purchased a small tool bag at an electronics supply store. It was intended to be used to carry tools for working on computers, but it was ideal for my purposes. Besides being tan and black and looking quite manly, it had numerous inside pockets and elastic straps. There was even a spot for putting a couple of electrical meters. I used this spot to hold the wooden box that contained a magic mirror. There was a pocket for the deck of symbol cards and other items that I used to invoke the Spell of Translocation. Even after adding these and other magical tools, I still had room for future expansion. With my kit packed, I could relax and enjoy the rest of the afternoon and evening.

  Chapter 2

  The next morning, I awoke at seven, a little later than usual, and had a leisurely first breakfast of two eggs with cheese on toast and coffee. This was a little larger than my normal first breakfast, but I wouldn’t be having second breakfast at ten as I normally would.

  At nine o’clock, I dressed in jeans, gray polo shirt and loafers. At nine-thirteen, I was sitting on the front steps with my magic bag in hand. Two minutes later, Rachel came out the door.

  “Let’s hit it, Professor,” she said as she ran down the steps and used Fred’s remote to unlock his doors. I rode shotgun as Rachel cranked up Fred, her silver Honda CR-V, and steered him down the driveway into the street headed for her office.

  Rachel’s office wasn’t very far away. It, too, is in Northwest Portland, and we were able to stay on the side streets driving there. Rachel Chase and Associates (I am “Associates”) is located on the second floor of an old brick building in Portland’s Pearl District. The exterior of the building is weathered brick, but the interior has been updated with lots of exposed beams along with the brick.

  Rachel parked Fred in the parking lot, and we entered the building. The first floor has a mom and pop coffee shop with about a dozen tables, an antique/junk shop and a carpet showroom. We went up a staircase to the second floor where there are several offices, including Rachel’s.

  Rachel’s office consists of only two rooms: a small outer waiting room, and her inner office. When she isn’t talking with clients, the door to her inner office is always open so she can tell if someone comes in.

  The outer waiting room has two armchairs, a loveseat and a coffee table. On a sidewall is a counter with a sink, a small refrigerator underneath and three cabinets above. There is a coffee maker on the counter along with an electric teapot and a microwave.

  Rachel’s inner office is about fifteen feet square. The wall opposite the door has a large window with an arched top. Rachel has an L-shaped desk positioned so that she has her back to
the window and she faces the door. The L is to her right and holds her laptop. To her left, against a side wall, is a single wooden file cabinet. In this modern age, most of her documentation is stored digitally. On a table near her computer is a printer/scanner combo.

  “Should we make coffee?” I asked.

  “My bet is that Willow is a tea drinker,” Rachel replied. “Would you put some fresh water in the teapot? If Willow wants tea, we can make some later.”

  “Sure thing,” I said. “We don’t want to use double-boiled water for making tea.”

  “What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

  “You don’t want to make tea with water that has been previously boiled. It won’t have any life left. You have to use fresh water.”

  “What do you mean, it won’t have any life left?”

  “Actually it’s air. If you over-boil water, all the air bubbles out and it tastes flat—lifeless.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Rachel said. “I knew you were a coffee expert, and now I learn you’re a tea expert.”

  “I’m not really an expert, I said, but I do have a friend who is one. Jack Strand owns the Strand Tea Company out in Sandy. All I know about tea I learned from him.”

  “Where did you learn about coffee?”

  “From Starbucks baristas plus a little internet research.”

  “Well, make sure our water is well aired.”

  We needn’t have arrived at the office early, because Willow didn’t get there until ten fifteen. She hesitantly knocked at the open outer door and said, “Ms. Chase?”

  “Come in, Willow, and please call me Rachel.”

  Willow was younger than Caite, she looked to be about twenty or twenty-one. She was about five two, four inches shorter than Rachel, and much shorter than Caite, who is five ten. Willow had short blonde hair and multiple piercings in both ears. She didn’t have any visible tattoos.

  “Willow, this is the Professor, my business partner,” Rachel said by way of introduction. I liked the sound of “business partner.”

  “Awesome,” Willow replied. “Caite has told me about both of you. I’m glad you agreed to see me.”

  “Please have a seat,” Rachel said as she led us into her inner office and pointed to one of the chairs in front of her desk. I took the second chair and moved it to the end of the desk so I could see both women.