Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (18 page)

“What that mean?” Poppy asked.

“Damn if I know,” Helen replied.

~~

Nightingale was seated in front of her computer. She had decided to do some research for Bill
to help him with Joe Schmidt’s murder. The information she might uncover would more likely make sense to her than Bill. After all, he wasn’t too versed on spiritual subjects.

The first thing she did was search for information on rituals.
She found a lot, everything from Catholic rituals to satanic to Santeria. It seemed the Catholics had plenty of ceremonial practices and other religions weren’t afraid to borrow from the former.

Jewish culture had a belief in demons at one time and people used to invoke magic rites to combat demons,
the formulas for such apparently found in the Jewish Aramaic. Haitian and Voodoo practices also involved ritual, she read.

Nightingale looked to her side a
s Chewy entered the room.

“Imagine that, Chewy,
so many rituals. Wonder if they used cats?”

It was common for several cultural and spiritual beliefs to be blended into a syncretic belief system and create a new faith
, she read. Palo Mayombe was one such religion, originating from the African Congo. Apparently it was one of the most powerful and greatest feared form of black magic, Nightingale discovered as she read on.

“Hmm, maybe that’s what that awful black cat was about,” she said to Chewy.

Continuing on, Nightingale found that Palo Mayombe combines the cultural and spiritual belief systems of ancient African Congo tribes with practices of Yoruba slaves and Catholicism.

“Rituals are
used to manipulate, captivate and control a person,” Nightingale read aloud to her cat. “And certainly not for any good purpose, Chewy.”

Then Nightingale came upon the big bang:
they used a cauldron containing a human skull or bones to re-animate a living spirit.

“Oh, my, skulls.” She sat back in her chair to take a breath. “Like all those found around the bookstore.”

Nightingale looked down at her white cat as she cleaned herself with due diligence, her thoughts jumping around like a grasshopper in heat.

Skulls.

What an eerie thought.

Black magic.

Double eerie.

And what does that have to do with the murder of Joe Schmidt? Nothing, as far as she knew. But there had been skulls discovered around the bookstore. What meaning did that hold?

Nightingale had no clue.

~~

“No, we’re not coming home for a while still,” Chloe said into her cell phone. “Michael has a couple more galleries to attend that are displaying his paintings. I’m not sure when we’ll be back. Michael also said something about a quick jaunt to Mexico, Cancun, I think. Just for fun.”

“Oh, well, that sounds nice,” Nightingale said.

“Are you concerned about something?”

“Yes, I am. The skulls we found around your bookstore.”

“Really? Has something else happened? Like, more skulls?”

“Not exactly.” Nightingale wasn’t sure what to say at this point. She didn’t want to upset her friend, but she had concerns about those skulls.

“You see, I was trying to help Bill with the investigation of Joe’s murder. I thought I’d research into rituals because I saw some things psychically that were disturbing regarding Joe’s death.”

“Like what?”

“Well, rituals. Skulls. Like the ones found around your bookstore.”

“So, what did you find out? I’ve wondered about that mess with the skulls. Weird stuff.”

“Apparently there are religions that use skulls during rituals. The Palo Mayombe, for one. They put a human skull into a cauldron to gain power over someone, obviously for bad reasons.”

“Oh, my god, that sounds awful!”

“Yeah, and skulls were found around your bookstore. Lots of skulls.”

“You keep saying that. I’m not responsible for the skulls.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“But it might be a clue as to what Gladys had alluded to, that ceremonies went on in the original building before it burned down. Maybe the ceremonies were related to that religion, Palo, whatever?”

“Well, the information got me thinking that, too.”

“So, what can I do from here? I’m not coming home any time soon…”

“I don’t know, Chloe. I just wanted you to be aware that something weird occurred at your bookstore at some point in time. I don’t know what you can do about it now.”

Silence followed.

“Nightingale, you do whatever you need to do to solve that murder with Bill. Use the bookstore, I don’t care. Go meditate there and see what pops up...”

Twenty-seven

“Skulls? You’ve got to be kidding,” Bill said.

“I wish I was, but I’m not,” Nightingale said, taking a sip from her soda can.

“I can’t stay long, I’m only on a lunch break, but this is bizarre stuff you’re talking about.” He walked into her living room and sat down.

“I know that. And I’ll bet it ties into those skulls we found at the bookstore. Remember, Gladys had said that some weird stuff went on next door to her, way back.”

“But how can that relate to the murder of Joe Schmidt?” Bill threw both arms out to the side as he spoke. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Nightingale answered, beginning to feel annoyed. “I can only tell you what I saw in meditation and what I read online. You put it together. You’re the
detective.”

Bill studied Nightingale’s face.
He didn’t understand much of this spiritual stuff, but he trusted Nightingale implicitly.

“Okay, you told me the information and I’ll log it into my brain, if not a report. At this point we don’t have anything to go on to do anything with.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be happy you haven’t discovered any skulls on your doorstep.”

A slight smile crossed Nightingale’s lips. “Now, that would be something to get upset over.”

~~

“Skulls? What on earth do skulls have to do with Joe’s murder?” Jorie was confused. “He had manure on him. I didn’t see any skulls around.”

“Nightingale saw something about skulls, that’s all I know.” Alex smoothed her hair back from her face with both hands as she stood in the entryway of the community office. “Bill thinks the killing might have been part of a ritual or something.”

“Well, that’s just crazy. Some maniac came in and killed my Joe for whatever reason,” Jorie said, placing her hands on her hips. “They need to come up with something better than Nightingale seeing skulls and jumping to the conclusion it was a ritualistic murder.”

“I don’t disagree with you. Sounded goofy to me, too.”

Jorie left the building as Alex was locking the doors. She came across Poppy chatting with Helen and Ralph out front.

“She close the office already?” Helen asked.

“Yes, Helen.”

“Told you. You got up too late to make the deadline,” Ralph said.

“That just burns my feathers!” Helen declared. “I need to pay my monthly fee.”

“You’ll have to do it another day, Helen,” Poppy said. “Come, let’s have tea at the Hotel.”

Helen followed after Poppy, muttering under her breath.

“Ralph? Jorie? You coming?” Poppy asked.

They both agreed to come, slowly walking behind Helen and Poppy.

“I guess you’ve heard about the theory the police have come up with about Joe’s death?” Jorie spoke the words with obvious disapproval. “I think it’s insane.”

“I didn’t know it was an official conclusion, I thought th
at skull ritual was Nightingale’s idea.” Helen glanced over her shoulder toward Jorie. “She had a vision or something.”

“
Si,
that what I heard, vision.”

“I don’t know, I just think it’s stupid
,” Jorie stated. “Joe was murdered and the end result sure didn’t look like any ritual to me, not that I’m all that familiar with rituals. But since when does someone throw shit all over a person during a ritual?”

“Yeah,
and where did all that skull business come from?” Ralph asked.

“Hey, don’t you collect skulls, Ralph?” Jorie asked.

“Sure do.”

“Any missing?” Jorie asked.

“Nope, not a one. All safe and secure.”

Jorie
shook her head as she walked. “So the lead detective on the case uses his girlfriend to get information. Who says Nightingale saw anything connected to this case? I think the cops are trying to over dramatize this, sensationalize the murder.”

Poppy was rolling that idea around in her head, not speaking her true thoughts, then she gave in.

“Bill not do that thing, sensation. He not like that.”

“He’s a good man, but he shouldn’t be relying on Nightingale for information,” Ralph said. “She could be
wrong and probably is about the murder. Didn’t somebody club Joe with something? Doesn’t sound very ritualistic to me.”

“Thank you, Ralph. My thoughts, too,” Jorie said. “
By the way, they think he was hit with a rake. I think I should speak with Bill’s superior about this. Bill needs to look in another direction and not listen to Nightingale.”

“Except, she always right,” Poppy said.

“Not this time,” Jorie said.

“Not this time,” Ralph agreed.

~~

Chewy jumped onto the bed, right on top of Nightingale as she was sleeping. Nightingale sat upright in the bed
, sending Chewy careening off the edge.

“Okay, enough shenanigans, little girl,” Nightingale said
sleepily to the white fluffball. “Go to sleep.”

Nightingale lay back down
, attempting to return to sleep, but found she couldn’t. Chewy jumped back up on the bed, snuggling beside her. Nightingale’s thoughts were churning around like an egg being beaten by a whisk. It was then she heard a noise outside her open window. This time of year it was cool enough at night to sleep with the window open and any little crack of a twig could be heard easily.

Chewy leaped off the bed and ran from the room. Nightingale closed her eyes again, waiting for sleep to come.
It never did.

Then the sound of several cracking twigs and rustling  leaves w
ere heard. Nightingale sat up in bed. Someone or something was outside her window. Maybe it was that awful black cat returning to torture her.

“Not this time,” Nightingale said, rising from the bed and grabbing her bathrobe. She collected a
crucifix from her altar and a white candle, which she lit.

Nightingale
walked down the stairs, unlocked the front door and stepped outside, her path lit by the candle,  the crucifix displayed in her outstretched hand. She began to softly sing Amazing Grace just prior to walking around the corner of the house. There wasn’t anything there. Nothing. So, she walked until she stood directly under her bedroom window, made the sign of the cross with the crucifix and turned back around to return inside.

That’s when
Nightingale felt the blow to her head and she fell to the ground. The crucifix fell into the bushes under the window. Someone stepped on the candle when it hit the dirt, extinguishing the flame.

Twenty-eight

Bill stood at the front of Nightingale’s house, noticing the open door to her living room. She hadn’t answered her phone all morning, which was not like her. Then Sheila had called to tell him that Nightingale’s front door was wide open. He drove over to her house immediately
, with two deputies following in another vehicle.

Using
due care, Bill entered the house, his hand hovering near the gun located at his hip.

“
Jack, follow me and Mike, go around the perimeter of the house,” Bill instructed the two uniformed deputies.

Nothing appeared out of order, at first glance. Nightingale was neat, so everything was in its place as far as Bill could tell. When he entered the
upstairs bedroom, he noticed her bedcovers were thrown back, the bed unmade. That was not Nightingale’s normal routine for late in the morning. She always made her bed.

When he entered the kitchen, Chewy was meandering around her food bowl
. The bowl was empty. That wouldn’t be the normal situation, either, for this time of day. Nightingale always kept a little crunchy food in the bowl for the cat. Bill took the cat food box from the cupboard above and shook in enough to satisfy Chewy for a little while.

Nightingale wasn’t in the
downstairs bathroom or anywhere else in the house. Mike appeared at the door and cleared his throat for attention.

“What did you find?” Bill asked.

“A candle underneath the window.”

Bill walked outside with the deputy to the location where he had found the candle. It was below Nightingale’s bedroom window.
He caught the scent of manure as well.