Karin turned to me, her expression shuttered. “Okay. What exactly does that mean?”
“It means he's worried. About the virikas and their connection to the murders—”
“We don't know there is a connection,” Lenore said.
“And about me getting involved in the murders.” I adjusted the collar of my cowlneck sweater. “He's been working overtime because of all the time he took off when, you know.” When he'd been turned into a living puppet.
They nodded.
I shifted the fern from the center of the table and set it on a counter. “And I'm hardly around. Either I'm chasing virikas or trying to figure out who killed Mathilda and her stepmother.”
“What are you saying?” Karin asked.
My appetite fled. “I'm saying I need to stop and focus on Brayden for a while.” I picked an imaginary piece of lint off the arm of my purple sweater.
Karin nodded, brusque. “And you want us to move things forward.”
“Which really means me.” Lenore brushed a fleck of potting soil from the table. “I live in Doyle, and I'm not working two jobs.”
Karin frowned. “Actually, you sort of do, between the bookstore and your rare books business.”
“Oh, I run that while I'm sitting behind the counter.” Lenore bit into the pizza. “This is good. Why don't we order in more often?”
I grabbed a slice and put it on a plate. “I can still help with virikas stuff,” I said rapidly. “It might take all three of us to get rid of things from Fairy.”
“Where are we on the virikas?” Karin pulled out a mismatched wooden chair and sat.
My shoulders unknotted. My sisters weren't fighting me about backing off the murder investigation. “Well, the water balloons didn't work.”
“I wonder if we could somehow rig our spell water to a hose,” Karin said. “You know, like those liquid fertilizer garden sprayers that you can attach?”
Lenore picked off a pepperoni and popped it into her mouth. “Wouldn't that dilute the spell?”
“You're the potion expert,” Karin said. “What do you think, Jayce?”
My palm tingled. Not now. “It shouldn't matter.” Mouth dry, I closed my fist and rested it on the thigh of my jeans. “When I make magical tinctures, I add a drop of the tincture to any size jar or bottle of water or alcohol. It infuses the entire mixture. Magic doesn't dilute that way, at least not in potions.”
“Hold on,” Karin said. “Are you saying all those measurements in spells are meaningless?”
“Well, no,” I said. “They have an aesthetic purpose. If you’re making a love spell, you don’t want it to smell like sulfur.”
Lenore shook her head. “I still don't see how your idea would work, Karin. We never know where the virikas are going to strike until the last minute. We may not have access to a garden faucet to attach a hose to. And we can't exactly walk around Doyle carrying hoses.”
The tingling ebbed, and I unclenched my hand.
“But it could work,” I said. “I mean, we do know that virikas are attracted to people dying. So, there is a good chance we'll be near a building with water.”
“It's strange they don't hang out at the hospital.” Karin finished her slice and rose to get another from the box on the counter.
“I wonder if it's too far from the town center?” Lenore said. “It's more a county hospital than Doyle's.”
I cleared my throat. “Can we go over what I've learned about Mathilda and Lydia?”
“Why not?” Lenore asked, and I shot her a grateful smile.
“Okay,” I said, “the sheriff arrested Paul Neumark for the murders, but I'm not convinced he did it.”
Karin returned to the table and sat. “Why not?”
“Because I saw him outside Antoine's at the same time as the virikas. They were passing in front of Antoine's on their way to Lydia's house.”
“Which means Lydia wasn't dead yet,” Karin said slowly.
“Thank you!” I slapped my palm on the table, and a bolt of energy flowed through my arm.
The wine glasses rattled.
I grabbed mine and turned quickly away, taking a quick gulp of cabernet and yelped. Its peppery aftertaste had gone full frontal Pop Rocks, as if the liquid had been electrified. Hastily, I set down the goblet.
Stop this. “I told the sheriff what I'd seen — not about the virikas, about Paul being elsewhere. But she seemed to think he had done it anyway.” I’m in control.
“But she must know the time of death,” Karin said.
“Can time of death be determined that precisely?” Lenore asked. “I mean, I know it can on TV, but in reality?”
My palm flared. Mind over matter. Stay cool. “I don't know,” I said. “But I saw Paul.” I pointed to a spot on the table. “He was at Antoine's before the virikas arrived at Lydia's house.”
“Have you got a piece of paper?” Karin asked. “This is going to get confusing fast.”
I lurched to my feet and rummaged in the kitchen junk drawer, which was weirdly neat and paper free. “Brayden must have cleaned it out,” I muttered.
“What?” Karin asked.
“Nothing.” I reached into the fern and pulled out a pink quartz crystal. Brushing off the potting soil, I gave it to Karin. “Here. This is Lydia's house.” I hurried to my plants in the alcove and dug out more crystals. “And this small smoky quartz is Paul. And this citrine is Judge Longway.” I set the two crystals next to each other. “They were at Antoine's together. It looked like Paul was chasing the judge. The judge didn't seem to want anything to do with Paul.”
“What does Judge Longway have to do with this?” Lenore asked.
“Why do you keep crystals in your plants?” Karin picked up the brown and gold smoky quartz and brushed it clean with her fingers.
My cheeks warmed. “The judge got Mathilda a restraining order against Paul. Lydia was upset with the judge because Mathilda died anyway. She blamed Paul. And I'm recharging the crystals in soil,” I hedged.
“All at once?” Karin fiddled with her modest gold necklace, a cross.
“How do you know this?” Lenore asked.
“Because I saw Lydia shouting at him on the street,” I said, not meeting Karin’s gaze. “The judge's wife was not happy.”
Lenore snorted. “Evangeline wouldn't be. She's more invested in her husband's reputation than the judge is.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, relieved we were moving off the subject of my crystals.
“It's a standing joke around town. She's bankrolled all his campaigns.”
“Check the local society pages,” Karin said. “Evangeline’s all over them, she and the judge.”
“I did,” I said. “And you're right.”
She nodded once and pointed at me. “About these crystals—”
“Anyway,” I said quickly. “Then there's the roommate, Renee Greer.” I put a thumb-sized wedge of green calcite on the table.
“What about her?” Lenore sipped her wine.
“She's in love with Paul,” I said. “He was dating Renee and dumped her for Mathilda. She says he was with her when Mathilda was killed, but I don't think she's a reliable witness.”
“Okay,” Karin said. “That gives Renee reason to kill Mathilda — jealousy. But why kill Lydia?”
“Maybe Lydia figured it out?” I asked.
“Well,” Karin said, “if it wasn't Paul, then it had to be Renee, right? I mean, who else is there?” Karin stood and wandered from the room. I heard a door close.
“Evangeline was arguing with Lydia,” I said. “It seemed like more than just Evangeline defending her husband.”
Lenore raised a skeptical brow. “You think Evangeline Longway is a suspect?” She picked up the smoky quartz. “And why did Mathilda break up with Paul?”
I opened my mouth, shut it, took a long sip of cabernet. This time, it tasted like cabernet should – smoke, leather, pepper, sweat,
and earth. In other words, cowboy. Yum… “I assumed it was because he was a creep, but…”
“But what?” Returning to the table, Karin brushed dirt off the pink quartz.
“Evangeline Longway said something when she was arguing with Lydia. She called Mathilda a slut.” Which seemed a little personal.
“Was she?” Karin asked. “I mean, I’m not judging. I write romances.”
“Your romances are pretty tame,” Lenore said.
“Excuse me.” Karin stood and moved toward the bathroom.
I frowned. What was with all the bathroom breaks? Was she pregnant again?
“I think I made her mad,” Lenore whispered.
We waited a moment, then Lenore said, “Did Mathilda play the field?”
“I didn't think so.” I toyed with the green calcite. “I mean, not at work. But… when I first met Paul, that day he was waiting outside Ground, he asked me who Mathilda was seeing. I was so thrown by him surprising me, I didn't think much of it at the time. And then later, I guess I assumed he was possessive and paranoid. I mean, Renee must have known if Mathilda had a new boyfriend. She would have said something about it to me or the sheriff. She's desperate to clear Paul's name. Plus, I talked to some of Mathilda’s other friends at Ground. No one mentioned another boyfriend.”
Karin returned to the table and nodded at the calcite in my hand. “Then we're back to Paul or Renee.”
“Oh! And I have a timeline of Mathilda’s movements!” I hurried to my bedroom and unpinned the scrap of paper from my tree-shaped jewelry stand. Triumphant, I brought it to my sisters.
Lenore took it and read aloud. “Eleven AM on Main Street, 11:30 at the Lavender wine tasting room, eleven forty-five-ish—” She shot me a look.
“My source wasn't certain of the time,” I said, “but it was before noon. She said Mathilda was getting something from her bin at Ground.”
“And you didn’t see her?” Karin asked.
I sucked in my cheeks. “I guess I was busy, okay?”
“Then twelve at the Barn and Brew,” Lenore continued, “got gas at three, dinner at six… Why is there a question mark here?”
“Because I don't trust Renee.”
Lenore shrugged, her blond hair rippling over the shoulders of her ivory sweater. “And then Mathilda left their apartment at seven and was last seen at Antoine's at eight-thirty. And then we found her. That’s a long gap between leaving her apartment and getting to Antoine’s.”
“What was she doing at Lavender?” Karin asked. “Eleven-thirty in the morning is a little early for wine tasting.”
I snapped my fingers and sat up straighter. “Wait a minute. I remembered something. Evangeline Longway. I saw her going into Lavender.”
“That's not so surprising,” Karin said, “since she owns the place.”
“How do you know she owns it?” I asked, outraged. “I only found out when I did an online search. And I read both she and the judge own the winery.”
Karin rolled her eyes. “Come on. You know Evangeline has all the money in the family. The judge can't afford a winery. Lavender is her baby, and wineries are the ultimate in California prestige.” She sighed, glancing at her water glass, and I knew she was imagining owning a winery herself. Not for the cachet, for the vino.
“All right,” I said. “Are you suggesting Mathilda went there to see Evangeline?”
“No, you’re suggesting it,” Karin said. “Mathilda could have been looking for a new job.”
I sputtered. “What’s wrong with working at Ground?”
“The only way we'll know what she was doing at that tasting room,” Karin said, “is if we ask.”
“You mean if I ask,” Lenore said. “Jayce is taking a breather, remember?”
Karin folded her arms, her hazel eyes narrowing. “About that breather. You said Brayden wasn't happy about the magic.” She picked up the rose quartz. “Is that the real reason you've buried all your crystals?”
“Who says I buried them all?”
“I checked your guest room,” Karin said. “It's been cleaned out. No tarot cards, no crystals, no sage smudges—”
My mouth dropped open. “You searched my guest room?”
“It's a guest room. I'm a guest. So, what gives?”
My skin heated. “Look, I'm taking a break, okay? Brayden needs some normalcy, and I’m giving it to him.”
Karin cocked her head, her expression doubtful. “Are you sure—”
I jerked forward in my chair. “You know what happened last Thanksgiving. You know what that did to him – to us!” I was not going to lose Brayden over magic.
“Okay, okay,” Karin said. “I was just going to ask if you’re sure dialing down the magic is the right approach. That's all.”
Mollified, I leaned back in my seat. “Oh.”
“Anyway, I'll stop by Lavender tomorrow and see what I can find out.” Lenore’s gaze moved uneasily between the two of us. “I assume you'll want to know what I learn?”
I nodded. Just because I couldn't act like a detective, didn't mean I'd lost interest. I'd come too far, and I wanted to know. I just didn't want to play the game anymore.
If only I'd known leaving the game was impossible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I scooted my sisters out of my apartment and dashed into my bedroom. Brayden and I had a date, and I needed to get ready. I dashed on a beigey lipstick and changed into the low-necked emerald sweater.
I hurried outside, the landing light flicking on as I locked the door behind me. Jogging down the stairs, I walked around the corner to Main Street. My bootheels clicked sharply on the deserted road. It was a little sad how dead Doyle was late on a Sunday night, the tourists gone, the locals tucked away in bed.
Maybe Brayden was right, and it was time for a change, for the excitement of the big city? But my heart pinched at the thought. I loved Doyle, even if it did roll up the sidewalks at night.
“You don't know anything,” a woman said, her voice a snarl.
Scalp prickling, I froze, one foot lifted. Gently, I placed it on the sidewalk. A block down, music and laughter flowed from Antoine's bar, but the rest of the street was dark and dull and deserted.
“I know enough,” another woman said by my left ear, and I started. Renee.
Turning toward the voices, I faced the stone wall of a 19th century bakery. It had been converted to a tasting room for Lavender winery.
Lavender… Had the first voice been Evangeline's?
Across the street, a roar of laughter burst from Antoine's, drowning out the first voice.
I dug my phone from the pocket of my bronze-colored jacket and aimed its light at the honey-colored stone. One arched, purple door and no windows.
I stared at the wooden door. So where had the voices come from? Had I started manifesting magical spying abilities like John Dee? Was that what Mrs. Steinberg had been hinting? Because that would be totally cool.
Even if I wasn’t doing magic.
I mean, I couldn’t help it if I just magically heard things, could I?
There was a small square cut in the stone, below the eaves. Light shone through the tiny window. That’s where the voices were coming from. I hadn’t sprouted a new magical ability, dammit.
“Jayce?” Brayden's voice called behind me.
My shoulders twitched, and I whirled.
He waved from the other side of the street.
I turned off my phone's light and crossed the road.
Brayden pulled me into a knee-weakening kiss.
“Hey,” I said when we broke apart, breathless.
“You're on time,” he said. “What's wrong?”
“Now that's unfair.” I laughed and glanced toward the tasting room. Whatever Renee and Evangeline were discussing didn't matter. I was handing the investigation to my sisters and the sheriff. Tomorrow. Wait, I'd said I was handing it to the sheriff tomorrow yesterday, which meant I should
have called her today…
“What's wrong?”
I shook myself. “Absolutely nothing.”
“About that Sacramento club—”
“We don't need to go away tonight.” Tugging at a lock of my hair, I glanced again across the street. I didn't see any virikas, so that meant no one was about to get killed. But suddenly, the idea of leaving town for the three Ds, drinks, dinner, and dancing, didn't appeal. “It will be super late when we get there, and even later when we get back.”
“When did you start caring about late?”
“You have to work, don’t you?”
He grimaced. “Yes, but—”
“But nothing. Let’s relax and stay here.”
He frowned. “I don't want us to get into a rut.”
“Are you kidding? Antoine's is never boring, not with you there.” I wrapped my arm around his waist, and we strolled to the bar.
Brayden pushed open a batwing door, and we walked inside.
Eeesh. No wonder the streets were deserted. Not a table was free. Half the town’s twenty-somethings had taken over one side of the bar for a birthday. They wore cone-shaped paper hats and brandished blowout whistles and beers in a Dionysian romp. People stood three-deep at the wooden bar.
I repressed a scowl at Mrs. Raven and Mr. O'Hare, in their odd, old-fashioned clothing. They’d managed to score a table, though as usual, they didn't look like they were having fun. The couple sat, wooden, across from each other.
“I'll get us some drinks,” Brayden said. “You work your magic and find us a table.”
I smiled uneasily. “There's no magic,” I shouted. “Just good old-fashioned luck.” Because I didn’t need to use magic, and I wasn’t going to use the supernatural.
He quirked a brow and vanished into the crowd.
“Oh, boy,” I muttered, scanning the crowd and wishing I had Darla with me. My assistant manager really did have all the luck – a table would have opened for her, and I’d have been off the hook.
Avoiding the party side of the bar, I wove through the crowd of cowboys and bikers and retirees. They nodded greetings and slapped my back.
I paused beside Raven and O'Hare's table. “Hey! Nice to see you,” I lied. Now go away and give me your table. Or tell me something useful. Not that I was investigating the Mystery of Raven and O’Hare. But they were here, and it was only polite to say hello.
Fey: A Doyle Witch Cozy Mystery (The Witches of Doyle Book 5) Page 16
