“None taken,” Glinda said on a sigh. “If she remains in custody, my money would be on yes, by the way.”
“Everyone’s money is on yes,” Colleen said.
It was an easy bet to make, really.
As far as I knew, Colleen was mortal, so I had to choose my words carefully. “Glinda and I both have personal ties to this case. The Goodwins are close family friends of mine, and there’s been some evidence found that suggests Dorothy might be innocent. We want to make sure we do everything we can to ensure Leyna’s killer is brought to justice, whether that turns out to be Dorothy or someone else. It’s a no-stone-unturned kind of thing.”
Colleen slid a sympathetic gaze to Glinda as though she had already decided Dorothy was guilty as charged. “What can I do to help?”
“We’re looking for Carolyn Honeycutt,” I said. “Midthirties, long red hair.”
Colleen leaned forward. “You think she had something to do with Leyna’s death? I saw them together a few days ago. Leyna met Ms. Honeycutt for breakfast here on Thursday. They looked friendly to me. Not, like, at each other’s throats or anything.”
“We don’t know if she’s involved or not,” I said, storing away the tidbit she’d offered. “We’re just fact-gathering.”
“Do you know if Carolyn is currently in her room?” Glinda asked.
“I’m really not supposed to say,” Colleen said, shaking her head vigorously. Then she jerked her chin toward the back of the building. “You might want to stop and say hi to Cookie and Scal while you’re here.”
Cookie and Scal, who lived in an enclosure behind the inn.
“We’ll do just that,” I said. “Thanks, Colleen.”
Glinda said, “Oh, and one more thing. Feif Highbridge. Can you confirm that he’s staying here, too?”
“He is.” Colleen looked left, then right, and nodded. “Funny you should mention him.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, glad he hadn’t lied about absolutely everything.
Colleen said, “Because I saw Leyna Noble with him, too.”
“At that same breakfast?” Glinda asked.
Shaking her head, Colleen said, “It was Thursday night, when he was checking in. I was headed out to the library and passed them on their way in—they were talking about going out to dinner. Harmony might have more information, since she was working the desk that night.”
Dinner. Odd that Feif hadn’t mentioned that.
“Is Harmony around?” I asked.
“She had errands to run all day,” Colleen said. “She should be back tonight.”
We thanked her again, and Glinda and I followed the hallway to the back terrace, which opened up onto a stone patio. Cookie, a beige-and-white dwarf goat, and Scal, a dark-gray miniature donkey, were in a large fenced play yard, surrounded on all sides by shrubs and flower bushes. Cookie was bouncing around stacks of brightly colored tires, mehhing happily, while Scal stood on one end of a teeter-totter like he was king of the world.
Dressed in shorts and a low-cut tee, Carolyn Honeycutt was lying on a lounge chair, her face to the sun, her eyes closed. Her long hair was pulled into a loose bun on the top of her head.
“Ms. Honeycutt?” Glinda said.
Carolyn sat up with a start, blinking against the sunshine. “Yes? Who’re you?”
I grabbed two deck chairs as Glinda gave Carolyn the spiel about being a private investigator and finished with, “We heard you and Leyna were friends.”
I thought it smart of Glinda not to mention that Feif had called the woman a sociopathic stalker.
I’d learned over the years that sociopaths came in all shapes and sizes and from all walks of life. If I’d passed Carolyn on the street, I wouldn’t have noticed anything off about her, necessarily, other than the sadness in her eyes.
I quickly added, “If so, then we’re sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her bra. “Leyna and I have been best friends for almost three years.”
Best friends? Could it be true? Or was she believing her own lies?
“Are you a psychic, too?” I asked even though I knew the answer. I wanted to hear how she described her role with the festival.
“No, sadly,” she said. “It would be amazing to have that kind of ability. I started out with the festival as just a devoted follower. Even back then Leyna was always so very kind to me. Warm and welcoming. She really took the time to get to know me. A lot of the others wouldn’t really give me the time of day, not until Leyna was able to land me a job as a publicity assistant for the festival. I’ve been working with them since. That was about eighteen months ago.”
Funny how Feif had failed to mention that Carolyn worked for the festival, too. He might have lied by omission as much as he had lied to our faces.
He’d really played up the stalker angle, but why would Leyna find Carolyn a job with the festival if she was trying to distance herself, as Feif had told us? It didn’t jibe.
Carolyn dabbed her eyes again. “It was a sad, sad day when Leyna announced her retirement. I still can’t believe she left the group.”
Glinda said, “We heard Leyna retired because she was tired of the travel. Is that true?”
Carolyn swung her legs over the side of the lounger and put her feet on the ground. “Maybe somewhat. Traveling takes its toll. But the main reason she left is because of Feif Highbridge, that sneaky, weaselly snake. I hate that man.”
Glinda and I shared a look. I said, “Feif? What did he do?”
Carolyn’s face hardened. “He broke her spirit is what. When she started talking about being tired of the traveling, he wooed her. Sweet-talked her into staying. Turned on all his charms. And, like a fool, she fell for it. He kept up the act for a while until she kept pushing him to set a wedding date.”
“Wait—they were engaged?” I asked, unable to keep the shock out of my voice.
“For a few months,” she said. “He’s an excellent con man.”
A lying liar. I sighed, thinking he deserved to have Harper sicced on him.
“Was she the one who broke it off with him?” Glinda asked.
“Yeah. Like I said, she was pushing for a wedding date. She wanted to quit the festival and settle down. She was dreaming of a cute house, brown-eyed babies, a picket fence, the whole nine yards.”
In my mind’s eyes, I suddenly saw Leyna sitting at a toddler-sized table with a little girl who looked a lot like she did. They were having a tea party with little pink cups and saucers.
Taking a deep breath to ease the sudden ache in my chest, I tried to refocus on what Carolyn was saying.
“Leyna didn’t see the light until Feif got her tipsy one night and tried to get her to sign a business contract, tying her to the festival for another ten years. You see, he owns the festival. He knew Leyna, his most renowned psychic, was the moneymaker. He wanted to be her partner, all right—her business partner. She was heartbroken. Crushed. She packed up and left.”
Wow. I’d known he was slimy, but I hadn’t realized quite how much. “I’m actually glad you two stopped by,” Carolyn said. “I heard on the news that someone was taken into custody, but I think they have the wrong person. I think it was Feif who killed Leyna.”
I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Why do you think so?”
“And do you have proof?” Glinda asked.
“Hard proof? No,” Carolyn said on a sigh. “But I know Feif was up to his old tricks. Wooing Leyna, trying to win her back. He told her how sorry he was and how much he missed her, blah, blah. I warned her about his motives, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. She met with him on Thursday, after he got to town.”
“We heard they went to dinner,” I said.
“It was more than dinner.” Disgust crept into Carolyn’s eyes. “She ended up spending the night here with him. I happened to see her sneak out of his room early Friday morning.”
Happened to? Or had she been spying on them
?
Maybe she did have some sociopath in her after all.
Carolyn looked off in the distance. “He played her but good.”
Sneaky snake was an apt description.
“She was crushed yet again when she learned the truth—that he was just trying again to get her back on tour.”
“When did she find that out?” I asked, thinking it was rather amazing that it wasn’t Feif who’d turned up dead.
“On Friday afternoon, he went to see her at Divinitea with a contract in hand, spinning an elaborate excuse for missing their morning meeting.”
“Do you know why he stood her up?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Leyna didn’t give his excuse, but she did tell me he ran down all the reasons they should go back on tour together. Just the two of them this time, playing big arenas. Leyna told him no, demanded he leave, and told him never to come back. I think,” Carolyn added, “it was then that she realized he’d been manipulating her with his affections. Again.”
“No wonder Leyna had him thrown out of Divinitea on Saturday,” Glinda said. “He was back to his old tricks.”
Carolyn nodded. “And it’s why I believe he snuck back in and killed her.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Since Vince gave us the timeline for Dorothy’s adventures at the Stove yesterday, I don’t think we need to go back to Stef’s,” I said. “And I don’t think I’m up for another round with Feif today. My stomach can only take so much of him.”
“Yeah, no,” Glinda said. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”
Before leaving, we’d promised Carolyn we’d share the information she’d given us with the police and promised to look into Feif’s alibi a little deeper.
I pulled open the gate and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Then I vote we call it quits for today and regroup in the morning.”
Glinda shifted nervously from foot to foot. “We could. Or …”
“Go on,” I said.
“Or you could come with me to Dorothy’s house. I want to get those photo albums to make copies for Vince, and I don’t want to go alone. That house gives me the creeps.”
“Because your mother lives there?”
“Probably.”
That made perfect sense to me. “I’ll go, as long as we’re quick about it. The thought of being in Dorothy’s house is already giving me the creeps, and we’re a block away.”
She smiled wide. “I owe you, Darcy.”
“No, you don’t. You’re the one doing me the favor with this case.”
“That’s right, I am.” She laughed and grabbed my arm, tugging me down the sidewalk. “It shouldn’t take long at all. Go in, grab the albums, get out.”
“Are we even sure I’ll be able to get in? I know Dorothy has a hex on her house that hurts trespassers.” My little mouse friend, Mrs. P, still had the scar on her tail from the time she’d tried to sneak in to do some reconnaissance.
“You’re not a trespasser,” Glinda said. “You’re my guest.”
“Are you sure you’re not considered a trespasser?” She and Dorothy weren’t particularly on the best of terms.
Glinda paused for a second, then kept walking. “I have a key. Trespassers don’t have keys.”
She sounded sure of herself, but I could see concern on her face, in tightened lines and pressed lips. I said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Now I’m kind of worried. Dorothy has been acting so strange lately. Paranoid. She probably has that house hexed to the hilt. I really don’t want boils.”
I was starting to think that going inside the house was a bad idea. “Me either. It’s too bad we can’t text Vince to find out.”
“We could always swing by Lotions and Potions on our way.”
Lotions was hardly on the way, but the detour might be worth it. Then another thought came to me. “Or, you know, the phones in his shop work just fine.”
She laughed. “I should have thought of that myself.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, it has.” Glinda pulled out her phone and dialed.
While she did, I checked my phone for any updates from Nick I might have missed. There were none from him but three from Harper, demanding a progress report. I told her I’d tell her everything at supper tonight.
She texted back an angry face.
I texted back a kissy-face emoji and dropped my phone into my tote bag.
Glinda said, “Vince says we won’t get boils. At worse, there will be a little zap. Less than a Taser, more than static. But in all likelihood, since I have a key, we’ll be fine.”
I was still wondering how on earth I was going to get out of going into the house when we rounded the corner and it came into view. It was a small bungalow, well kept, with a wide front porch and freshly mown lawn. In the middle of the front yard, a fountain in the shape of a large green frog spit water into the air.
“That’s strange,” Glinda said. “There’s smoke coming out of the chimney.”
That wasn’t the only strange thing. “The front door is open.”
I panicked, thinking Dorothy had been released and Nick had forgotten to tell me. I had visions of her lying in wait inside the house, ready to pounce.
“Come on,” Glinda said, grabbing my hand.
“But—” I didn’t even have time to lodge a proper protest before we were up the front steps and through the front door.
No zaps, thank goodness. And no Dorothy, either. At least not at first glance.
“Hello!” Glinda called out.
My gaze flew around the room, trying to take in everything. The air was heavily scented with the smell of burning wood—and something earthy. Sage. Nothing looked disturbed, no furniture was overturned, no tables upended.
I didn’t like the bad juju, as Harper would have called it, so I slowly backed toward the door, certain Glinda wouldn’t mind if I waited for her on the porch.
The door behind me suddenly slammed, and I spun around in time to get soaked with something. Liquid flew onto my face, and I tried not to panic that I was going to get boils in my eyes as I furiously swiped at my skin with my hands, trying to dry it.
“Deliver us from evil!” a blurry man shouted.
I wiped my eyes clear just in time to see Glinda deliver a solid punch to the man’s solar plexus.
Sylar Dewitt gasped for breath as he sank to the floor like a deflated balloon. As he grabbed his chest, he dropped the small container in his hand.
I picked it up.
“What in the actual hell?” Glinda asked as she wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and then took the bottle from my hand.
The bottle had a small cross with golden letters written beneath it. The mystery liquid wasn’t a hex to give us boils.
It was holy water.
* * *
“If I had a gun on me, I could’ve killed you. What in the world were you thinking, ambushing us like that?” Glinda asked Sylar as she handed him a mug of hot tea.
He’d finally caught his breath, but he didn’t look well at all. His hand shook as he took the cup. His face was pale, and perspiration beaded on his forehead.
Of course, he could have been sweating because it was approximately three thousand degrees in the living room—thanks to the roaring fire—but the paleness and shaking were disturbing.
“I was casting out the devil,” he said as the cup rattled against its saucer. “You know, doing an exorcism.”
For a moment, I thought about pulling out my phone to record this conversation, because I knew without a doubt that Harper was going to want a detailed recounting of every word spoken.
I couldn’t blame her—if the roles had been reversed, I’d have wanted the same.
An exorcism.
Have mercy, as Ve would have said.
He said, “You just came in at a bad time. I couldn’t be too safe.”
I skipped the tea. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? What’s with the devil stuff? And the holy
water? And I’m guessing that’s a sage smudge I smell?”
He nodded and his glasses bobbled on his big nose. “I read about it online, how sage cleanses the house of bad energy. That’s where I bought the holy water too—online.”
“You can buy holy water online?” Glinda asked.
“You can buy anything online,” I said to her. Harper had taught me that a long time ago.
Glinda skipped the tea, too, I noticed, as she said, “Doesn’t it seem a little, I don’t know, sacrilegious to get holy water from the Internet?”
Sylar gave up on trying to hold the mug and set it on the coffee table. “If it works, I don’t care where it comes from. I’m a desperate man.”
He looked it, his eyes bright with fervency. He ran a hand over his thinning white hair, swooping it across the top of his balding head. Sweat kept the hair in place better than hair spray ever could. He pulled a hanky from his pocket, and his hands shook as he took off his glasses, wiped them, and set them back on his bulbous nose. He dabbed at his face with the white cloth, sopping up the moisture, and then put the hanky back into his pocket.
“What brought all this on?” Glinda asked, her arms sweeping wide to encompass the fire, the bottle of holy water, and the general craziness of it all.
“Dorothy, of course.” He made the sign of the cross. Twice.
Glinda’s eyebrows were practically in her hairline as she looked my way. I shrugged and said, “I didn’t know you were a particularly religious man, Sylar.”
He said, “You find religion real quick when you’re dealing with the devil.”
Glinda’s eyebrows stayed up. Way up. “The devil being …”
“Dorothy,” he said, as though we were thick in the head.
“Is this little exorcism why you ran away from Darcy and me earlier?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m sorry for being rude, but I’m a lousy poker player. I didn’t want you to know what I was up to. I couldn’t risk you warning Dorothy before I could get the house cleansed.”
“What exactly makes you think Dorothy is”—I coughed—“possessed?”
“I don’t think it,” he said. “I know it. It all started when she brought those books into the house four months ago.”
A Witch to Remember Page 12
