Well, there’s no way around this. I have to leave.
I reach for my tea, guzzle down the rest of it, and then shove my notebook back into my bag. I hoist my bag over my shoulder as I stand, knocking the empty glass over as I do so. Everything’s just so crowded in here!
I hurry to right the glass. As I do so I spot a grocery list lying on the coffee table. I pick up a few items on the list: Bread, turkey, green peppers, and, right there in front of my nose, Blackstrap Molasses!
Victoria’s still waiting for me. I yank my gaze away from the list and look over at Rich. He’s sunken into his chair. The lazy boy has the legs up now, and he’s reclined back in it. I have a feeling it would take him a long time to get up. He’s not going to. Victoria will show me to the door.
“Thanks for the helpful information, Rich!” I say. “My office is in the Nugget Building, if you ever want to talk! Or—”
I stop short. Crap. I wish I had a business card to hand him. That would be perfect right now. Alas, I have not ordered them yet. It’s on my list of things to do.
“Or... you could call Marley and give her a message. You have Marley’s number, right?”
“Yes, yes,” says Rich. “I have Marley’s number. Tell her we say hello. We’ve been missing her visits. Ask her if she could maybe come by on Sundays instead.”
“Will do,” I say.
I can feel Victoria’s eyes boring into me.
When we reach the door, I turn to Victoria. I don’t want her to think this is the last of me.
“Victoria, I’m going to get to the bottom of this forged signature,” I say. “Why am I getting the feeling that you don’t want me to? Your husband isn’t confused, and he could definitely eat or take a pill while we chat.”
Victoria presses her lips together. “I know you call yourself a private investigator,” she says. “But that’s just another name for busybody. Things are good the way they are. That will isn’t hurting anybody, is it? Everyone’s happy with the way things are.”
“Not everyone,” I say. “Rebecca feels like she has something stuck in her teeth.”
Victoria gives me a puzzled look.
I shake my head. “Never mind. That’s not the point. The point is—if that will is a forged document, that could be just the tip of the iceberg. First of all, it could mean that Felix wanted to leave the mine to someone else. That could affect everyone involved, including you, your husband, Owen, and even Marley. That property must be really valuable. But even more urgent—from my perspective—is the fact that if the will was forged, it could mean that Felix’s death is suspect. Maybe he didn’t die an accidental death. Maybe he was murdered.”
Victoria’s cheeks turn pale. “You’re getting all that, from one little signature?” she asks me.
I nod. “Unfortunately, I am,” I say. “I’m not happy about it. I’m dreading talking to Marley about it, actually, but it’s the truth. I have a feeling that the signature is just the beginning.”
“Then why not just leave well enough alone?” Victoria asks. “Felix is seen as a hero in this town. He died a heroic death—up in the mines where he belonged. It was a death fitting of a leader of industry. My advice to you is that you don’t go dragging his name—and my husband’s—through the mud.”
I nod. “Thanks for your advice,” I say. “I’d better be going.” Since you won’t let me conduct a proper interview, I think sullenly to myself.
I make my way down the walk way. When I reach the sidewalk, I turn back.
Even though it’s cold out, Victoria is standing on the porch, watching me leave. Her arms are crossed over her chest. A frown is plastered on her face. I see her shaking her head. I can almost hear her muttering from here.
‘This isn’t good. No good,’ she must be saying.
I whirl back around.
Well, Victoria has a point. This isn’t good.
My little fifty-dollar ‘puzzle’ has quickly become something much bigger than a case of a forged signature.
Like I told Victoria, I’m starting to think the signature is just the tip of the iceberg.
I’d hoped that I could solve the ‘puzzle’ in just a few hours, but now it’s clear that won’t be possible.
This case is more involved than I suspected. Like it or not, I’m in it for the long haul.
Chapter Four
I spend the afternoon at the library, in a room on the second floor that’s dedicated to Hillcrest history. There are plenty of documents on display that include Felix Greene’s signature. He was a very active member in the community.
He was on the Town Council, the Cemetery Committee, the Hillcrest High School Board, and he volunteered at the hospital. I note more than twenty times where his signature is clear as day. I even snap photos of the signatures, and start a little photo album of them. The signatures look close to identical—
—and totally different than the signature on his will.
Rebecca was absolutely right when she said that the will was the outlier. The different one. The odd man out. I’ve got a forgery case on my hands!
Being in the quiet Hillcrest History room makes me feel sleepy. Luckily, my bike ride home rejuvenates me, and when I get to my apartment I’m able to do a little bit more work on the case.
Turkey helps.
Though we spend a few hours noodling around on the internet, we don’t come up with any significant clues.
At quarter to five, I kiss Turkey goodbye and head out again. This time, I’m heading for my friend Annie’s coffee shop, the Death Café. It’s Wednesday night!
Every Wednesday I meet with my friends. We used to knit and discuss books together. However, lately our meetings have been less about knitting and more about books—well, one book in particular: ‘The Art and Science of Becoming a Witch’, or ASBW as we like to call it.
I keep my copy of ASBW locked up in a safe in my closet, ever since a Fire Witch tried to steal it from me. It’s an original after all!
My friends bring their photocopies of the work, and together on Wednesdays we study the pages and try to make heads or tails of it.
We do a little bit of knitting too, out of habit mostly... and because it’s fun!
I have my tote bag full of knitting supplies slung over my shoulder, along with my messenger bag. Annie promised that I could look through her pattern books tonight. I’m in need of a new project. I finished the project that’s consumed me since the fall—an Icelandic sweater—just last week.
The sun is setting behind the mountains as I pull up to a stop in front of the café and lock my bike to the bike rack. A cold wind whips through my hair, and I rush towards the café door. Even though there’s a closed sign on the door, I pull it open. I know the sign is up because it’s meeting night.
When I step inside, I’m greeted by warmth, shelter from the wind, and the smells of Annie’s establishment: coffee, cookies, and flowers.
She always has fresh bouquets on every table. Zee from Happy Day-Zee delivers them once a week. Last week, bouquets of pink peonies decorated each small, white-clothed, round table. This week, I’m greeted by a colorful sea of carnations.
They look lovely!
Marley and Annie are already seated at a table, chatting away.
Cora has not arrived yet.
I see that Marley’s already looking through a pattern book. Excitement fills me as I rush over to her. “Wait for me!” I say. “Let’s both pick the same pattern. That way we can help each other!”
Marley and Annie look up and smile as I pull out a chair and release my bags.
I skootch in close to Marley and she pushes the pattern book over towards me so that we can both see.
“What do you think about leg warmers?” she asks, pointing to an image on the page.
“We’ve done a bunch of those already,” I say. “I think we should try something new... like... I don’t know... a vest!” I point to a cute vest that has owls on it. The row of three little knit owls are seated on a bran
ch on the chest of the vest. They even have little googly eyes glued to them.
“You would really wear that?” Marley asks, giggling.
“Sure,” I say. “I think it’s cute. Different.”
“Maybe cute for a kindergartner...” Marley says.
I elbow her. “Oh.. Ms. Sophisticated over here.”
“I’m not saying I’m sophisticated!” Marley protests with a laugh. “I’m just saying my outfits don’t usually include eyeballs that move. You know... I don’t think owl eyes really look like that at all.”
“You’ve seen an owl’s eyes?” Annie asks. She reaches down into a basket at her feet. Her head of short white hair disappears beneath the horizon of the table, and when she pops back up she has four more thick pattern books in her hands. “I think I have a book here that has more grown-up styles in it. Let’s see...”
Marley flips the page so that I can no longer be tempted by the googly-eyed owls. As we both scan the next two pages, she says. “I have seen an owl’s eyes actually. I think there’s an owl stalking me.”
I laugh out loud. “What—does it think you’re a mouse? Or a mole or something? It’s hunting for a tasty Marley treat?”
“I think you’re a little bit big to make an owl snack,” Annie says. She’s placed the pattern books on the table next to Marley, and now she’s getting up from her seat. She crosses the room and moves behind the café counter with the cash register on it. Once behind the counter she begins pouring boiling water into a china teapot that I gave her when the café opened. The teapot was originally Claudine Terra’s.
“I don’t think this owl wants to eat me,” Marley says.
Just then, Cora enters. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is tousled in a very un-Cora way. My friend is usually the most put-together woman I know. A burst of cold air enters with her, and I’m happy when she closes the door securely behind her. She’s carrying her Chihuahua, Blueberry Muffin, in a little carrier at her side. Cora’s first-trimester baby bump is barely visible beneath her yellow pea coat.
Marley continues talking about her new owl friend. “She’s been following me around for two days now. Every morning when I wake up, she’s sitting outside my place on one of my camp chairs. Total stalker behavior.”
“You have a stalker?” Cora asks. She sets down the Blueberry-filled carrier, pulls off her coat and drapes it on the back of the chair. Then she slides into a seat, sighing as she lowers her weight into the chair.
Marley laughs. “Yep,” she says. “She’s outside my van every morning. Just staring at me.”
Cora sounds horrified as she says. “Marley! You need to call the police!”
Marley laughs harder. “It’s an owl! Not a person, Cora. You think I’d be sitting here just casually mentioning a lady who was creeping around my van? I don’t think so.”
“Whew!” says Cora.
Annie returns to the table with a steaming teapot and a little stack of saucers. There are already four tea cups on the table, and as Annie lays a saucer in front of each of us, I match them with tea cups.
“Marley,” I say. “I don’t think that’s normal owl behavior.”
“I don’t think so either,” Annie says.
“Definitely not,” Cora agrees. She starts unpacking her bags, filling the table top in front of her with photocopied ASBW pages, a skein of yarn, and a half-knit scarf. “Could it maybe be a magical owl?” she asks.
“Oh! Yes!” I say. “Maybe it’s trying to tell you something... like communicate with you.”
“Maybe it’s your familiar!” Cora says. She reaches down and gives Blueberry Muffin a pat on the head. Blueberry Muffin seems to be half asleep. Perhaps she’s just waking up from a nap, or maybe just about to start one. Either way, she smiles sleepily to acknowledge Cora’s affection.
“I thought about that...” Marley says. “I’ve been trying to communicate... but nothing happens. We just stare at each other. Sometimes she hoots and adjusts her wings.”
I’m still looking over the patterns. I’ve opened the more ‘grown-up’ book and placed it over the other open one. The styles are really amazing. Very sophisticated. They look like they’re straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine.
“Oh Marley! Look! How about a skirt!” I point to a knee length, A-line skirt in a really nice heather grey. It has a cool zig zag pattern to it.
“The Interlaken Skirt” Marley reads aloud. “I like it”.
Super-organized Cora hands me a sticky note. “Mark it so you don’t forget where it is,” she says. Then she tucks her shoulder-length blonde hair behind one ear as she says, “Marley, when I started communicating with Blueberry it wasn’t because I was trying. It just happened. She started it. I was very surprised. Maybe your owl friend will reach out to you when she’s ready.”
“Maybe,” Marley says. “That would be cool. At least if we were communicating it wouldn’t be so unnerving to see her on my camp chair all the time. Right now I’m just afraid she has rabies or something.”
“Do owls get rabies?” I ask.
Before anyone can answer, Annie speaks up. “Ladies,” she says. “It’s ten after five. I do think we should get started. We have a lot to cover tonight. Did everyone bring their watches?”
I nod as I reach down into my messenger bag and pull out an old watch.
I used to wear it when I was in grade school. My mother gave it to me. It has a pink pleather strap, and Minnie Mouse is at the center. The hands are still; it hasn’t worked in ages.
“I brought mine,” I say, placing it on the table.
“I had to go buy a used one,” Cora says. “Bess has tons of watches in need of batteries over at the Antique Haven, by the way. She gave me this one for fifty-cents.” She pulls out a sleek, silver-strapped watch with a face that’s as small and delicate as a dime.
“I found one that I bought when I first started doing massage,” Marley says. “I haven’t used it in years. Not since I got my Smartphone.” She pulls out a watch with a brown leather strap.
“Good,” Annie says. “And I have mine. Well—Walter’s, actually. It’s not the most attractive looking thing.” She smiles, as she pulls up her knit sweater sleeve to reveal a chunky, sporty, navy blue and black monstrosity on her wrist. “It will have to do. Are we going to go up to the portal to cast our Watch Spell?”
All eyes turn to me. I was the one who came up with the idea for the Watch Spell, after all.
Let me explain.
When Cora, Annie and I discovered that ASBW could actually turn us into witches, we also learned that there was a magical portal into other realms, just past Claudine Terra’s house.
Claudine Terra kept the portal closed to other realms. When she died and was no longer around to guard it, the portal opened up.
It’s been up to my witch sisters and I to guard it, and we’ve done a pretty poor job of it so far, if I do say so myself.
The problem is, none of us want to just close it off. We’ve met magical beings that we love from other realms. Cora’s fiancé, Silas Switchback, hails from the Water Realm. Annie’s good friend Fred is from the Spirit Realm. Of course, my boyfriend Max is a traveler of all realms. Even Azure, an Air Witch who will soon be Cora’s sister-in-law, is growing on us. Alright—she’s not my favorite magical being, but there are times when I don’t hate her.
We’ve met many magical beings that we love, but at the same time leaving the gate open seems to be a recipe for disaster. None of us want to invite trouble into our cozy little town.
So what’s a coven of good-hearted witches to do?
We decided that we needed to really keep an eye on the portal. Last month, we decided that we needed to watch it. All. The. Time.
Turns out... that’s a pretty boring activity.
You can only stare at a metal gate for so many hours before you start to go bonkers.
So I devised a scheme. What if we could cast a spell where we’d be alerted to portal activity? What if we could someho
w hold the beings that wanted to enter until we had a chance to talk to them?
I came up with the idea of magically transforming a watch so it would tell us when someone wanted to cross into the Earth Realm. When we got the alert one of us would go up to the gate and have a friendly (or not-so-friendly, depending on the vibe we were picking up) chat with the being. Then we’d either let them in or tell them ‘sayonara!’.
My coven sisters liked the idea. Tonight, we plan on putting the Watch Spell into place.
All eyes are still on me. I nod. “I think we have to actually be up at the gate to cast the spell. I wrote out the wording as if we were looking at the gate. I hope everyone brought warm clothes?”
Nods all round.
Annie takes the reins again. “Good. That’s decided. We’ll head up to the portal soon. But first, I think we should discuss Cycle Five. Has anyone had a chance to try the spell since we met last?”
Marley places her copy of ASBW on top of the two pattern books we’ve been browsing through. We haven’t settled on a pattern yet, but that’s going to have to wait. We have some studying to do!
Chapter Five
I look down at the beginning of the cycle.
‘Cycle Five: The Vision Spell’ it says.
“I haven’t tried it yet,” I say. “I think I’m afraid I’m going to mess up my eyes.”
“If this spell backfires, it could be really bad,” Marley agrees. “Worse than dust bunnies filling my van.”
“Or sandals in my freezer,” Cora says.
“Or going bald,” Annie says, patting her head. Her short white hair has grown back quite nicely over the past two months since she zapped it off with a practice run of the Banishing Spell. She doesn’t even have to wear a scarf any more.
“Okay... “ I chime in. “We’re all hesitant to pull the trigger and actually try out the spell... but we’re going to have to, aren’t we?”
Annie speaks up woefully. “If we want to move forward, I don’t see any way around it.”
“It’s like mud,” Marley says. Then she sings a nursery rhyme we all know at the top of her voice, “Mud, mud, I love mud! I can’t go around it. I’ve got to go through it.”
A Hillcrest Witch Mystery Collection Page 73
