“What books?” Glinda asked.
He motioned to the fire. “The ones that are burning.”
Glinda and I both looked toward the fireplace. Sure enough, I could see the remains of something mixed in with the wooden logs.
“Books about black magic and sorcery.” He shuddered and reached for the holy water. This time, he doused himself. “I feel tainted just talking about it.”
They had to be books from Vince’s collection. What was Dorothy doing with them?
“That’s about the time she started to change,” Sylar said. “She became obsessed with those books. She wasn’t eating right. Not sleeping. She lost weight. Her hair started falling out. This stuff was making her sick, and she refused to hear it. The more I tried to tell her, the more snappish she became. Mean as a snake, she was.”
I personally thought that was her regular personality—she’d probably been putting on an act for Sylar for years. Making herself sick, however, told me she’d taken the obsession a little too far.
“I started to see strange things around the house that couldn’t be explained. Like this,” he said, scooting aside to reveal a burn mark in the sofa. It looked like a cigarette burn, only bigger. “There are random burns all over the place. The walls, the ceilings, even.”
I glanced up. Sure enough, there was a charred circle on the ceiling. A perfect sphere.
“Then one day we got into a fight over her obsession, and she waved her hand in my direction, and I went mute. Mute! My lips were moving but nothing was coming out. Dorothy insists I had a ministroke, but I know what I saw. That glare in her eye … It was the last straw. And now she’s in jail for murder? I should have seen it coming, with the way she was talking crazy on Friday night.”
“You saw her on Friday?” Glinda asked.
“I found her up in the damn tree again. She was rambling on and on. Verbal vomit is what it was.”
I could’ve done without that imagery.
Sylar went on. “Her strange behavior has been escalating for months—I should have had her committed. That poor Leyna woman …”
“There’s a chance Dorothy is innocent,” Glinda said. “New evidence has come to light—”
“What?” He jumped up and spun left, then right. His voice went up an octave as he said, “She’s being let out? I thought she was gone for good. I need to get the house cleaned up before she gets home.”
“Seems to me,” Glinda said, “you might want to get the locks changed.”
I wasn’t sure that would stop Dorothy, but it might make Sylar feel better.
Out came the hanky again. He mopped his face. “I need to leave. Leave this house. Leave this village. I’ve been thinking about finally retiring and moving south. Florida, maybe. Or California. Somewhere far, far away.”
I said, “Dorothy’s still being questioned by the police, so you don’t have to leave this very minute.”
“But you do think she’ll be set free?” he asked.
I nodded. “Eventually.”
He sank down onto the couch, deflating again.
“You said the muteness was the last straw. Is that when you filed for divorce?” Glinda asked.
“Hell yes!” he cried, and then coughed. “I mean, yes. I put up with a lot from Dorothy over the years, but she crossed a line I couldn’t overlook when she turned into a demon. A man has his limits.”
A bubble of laughter rose in my throat, and I pressed my lips together to keep it from coming out. This situation wasn’t the least bit funny. Yet …
A man has his limits.
My eyes started to water, and I covered my mouth because my lips were failing me.
Sylar must have seen the tears in my eyes, because he reached over and patted my arm. “I know, I know, Darcy. It’s tragic to lose such a fine woman to the devil.”
I risked a look at Glinda, but she was doing her own version of the lip pressing. I took a deep breath and said, “We should probably go.”
She nodded, quickly gathered some photo albums from the built-in bookshelves next to the fireplace, and we left with a quick goodbye. We were barely down the sidewalk before we started laughing. Great big gales of laughter that had us doubling over. We sat on the curb and tried to collect ourselves.
When we finally came up for air, it didn’t take long for the reality of the situation to sink in.
This went beyond Sylar mistakenly believing Dorothy had become some sort of devil woman.
Way beyond.
The fact of the matter was that Dorothy was practicing black magic. I wiped my eyes and said, “We’re going to have to talk to Vince again.”
Glinda swiped tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. “I can’t believe Dorothy’s practicing the dark arts. It’s beyond reckless. What does this even mean in terms of the Craft?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
All I knew was that Dorothy wasn’t just practicing black magic.
She was using it to play with fire.
Chapter Fourteen
“Better the devil you know?” Archie said, his beady eyes shimmering with delight.
“Better than the devil and the deep blue sea,” Ve said, chuckling.
“Speak of the devil!” Starla said.
Andreus scratched his chin, puckered his lips, and then snapped his fingers. “The devil’s in the details.”
I shook my head. “I’m out.” I couldn’t think of one more devil idiom to save my life. We’d been playing this game for nearly fifteen minutes now.
“We probably shouldn’t be making fun,” Starla said. “But I just keep picturing Sylar tossing holy water at you and Glinda, and I can’t help but laugh. That poor man.”
“I mean, I can’t blame him for filing for divorce after all that. I’d probably draw the line at Satan as well,” Ve said. “Unless he looks like the actor that plays Lucifer on that one TV show. Have mercy. He’s a beautiful man. I might sell my soul for that.”
Andreus rolled his eyes.
“Tall, dark, and handsome? Yes, please,” Starla said as she shaved Parmesan into the salad bowl.
“Seconded,” Archie said from his driftwood perch next to the island.
I was starting to think I should have canceled Sunday supper. I’d started the tradition a couple of months ago to have a few friends and family over on Sunday nights. It was a nice way to wrap up the week and almost always ended with full bellies and smiles on our faces. Almost always. There was one time when Archie had almost choked on a sunflower seed and proclaimed we’d all been in no rush to save him. It took hours and a game of Scene It to soothe his ruffled feathers.
Ve said, “You can’t say Sylar didn’t give Dorothy a fair shot. I wonder what he’ll do now.”
“He talked about moving south,” I said. “Somewhere warm.”
“Probably not Hades,” Andreus deadpanned.
I rolled my eyes as everyone else laughed.
Archie cleared his throat. “ ‘Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?’ ”
“Batman. And I’m starting to get the heebies from all the devil talk,” I said. “Can we change the subject?”
“That was a gimme, and you’re a party pooper,” Archie said, cocking his head in faux outrage.
I stuck my tongue out at him and wished Nick were here. He’d texted earlier that he’d be late for dinner and not to wait for him, but he hadn’t said anything else about Dorothy. Curiosity was driving me crazy.
Ve glanced at her watch. “No word from Nick still?”
Andreus said, “In the five minutes since the last time you asked?”
Ve made a sour face at him, complete with a pucker.
Curiosity was fairly killing us all, not knowing what was going on with Dorothy.
Andreus bent and kissed Ve’s pucker, and a collective “Ew” went through the kitchen.
“I might hoik,” Archie said.
Starla took a big step away from him.
A buzzer went off, and from the oven I took two
loaves of garlic bread, one plain and one covered in bubbling mozzarella. I set them on a rack on the counter and threw a look at the clock. Harper and Mimi would be here soon. Godfrey had canceled at the last minute with the excuse that he’d forgotten he had an appointment, which I deciphered as meaning he had an emergency Coven meeting to attend. But we were still missing two small guests.
“I’m surprised Pepe and Mrs. P aren’t here yet,” I said.
Archie stretched his wings. “It is quite unusual for them to be tardy when there’s cheesy garlic bread involved.”
“I’m sure they’ll be along any minute,” Andreus said, trying to reassure us all. “There’s been a lot of gossip flying around the village today. They’re probably trying to collect it all to share with us.”
That made perfect sense to me. Gossip was like a second language to the two of them. Or a third, in Pepe’s case.
I lowered the flame on the pasta sauce and stirred. It was a simple recipe of crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, Italian sausage, and spices. Water bubbled in a large pot on the back burner, waiting for me to add the pasta.
“If only we were psychic like that dreamy Feif Highbridge, we’d know where they are.” Archie sighed heavily. “Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.”
I turned to face him. “And slimy, and manipulative, and a liar. Not quite what I consider dreamy.”
“You have your dreams, Darcy. I have mine,” he said, humor lacing his deep voice.
“A liar? Darcy, did you question Feif without me?” Ve thumped her hand on the counter. “I wanted to go with you.”
Archie puffed his chest. “As did I.”
Both stared.
“I was on official Craft business when I questioned Feif,” I explained. “The two of you drooling over him would have been distracting.”
“For him or for you?” Archie asked. “Methinks you might have been a bit selfish in leaving us behind.”
I jabbed a finger his way. “You’re about to lose your portion of cheesy bread to Higgins.”
Archie clamped his beak closed.
Higgins stared forlornly into the house from his spot on the patio. I was waiting until we were all seated at the dining table before I let him in. Missy sat by the front door looking out a sidelight as though she knew Mimi was on her way home.
Starla said, “For what it’s worth, everyone at the festival I spoke to speaks highly of Feif.”
“He’s their boss. I doubt they’d speak out against him if they want to keep their spot on the tour.” I gave them a quick wrap-up of what Carolyn Honeycutt had told us about the man.
Starla tossed the salad. “Everyone I spoke to also said that Carolyn was an odd duck and if not for Leyna acting as a benefactor of sorts, Carolyn wouldn’t be welcome at all. She makes people uncomfortable.”
That description fit with what Carolyn had told Glinda and me—how the other participants of the festival had treated Carolyn badly. On one hand, I felt terrible for her. On the other, if she was a sociopath, were they right to keep their distance?
“Are you sure this Carolyn is trustworthy, Darcy?” Ve walked around the dining table, laying down silverware. “Seems to me she threw Feif straight under the bus.”
“Honk, honk,” Archie said.
I stirred the sauce. “I don’t have reason to doubt her, and it’s a pretty detailed story to be made up, don’t you think?”
“The best lies are elaborate lies,” Andreus said. “No one doubts a story with many details.”
Feif’s recounting of being stood up by Leyna at the Witch’s Brew had been an elaborate lie. One I wouldn’t have questioned if I hadn’t known Leyna had been at the coffee shop—and Feif hadn’t been.
“You must ask yourself why Carolyn would lie,” Andreus said. “What does she have to gain?”
“On the surface, nothing.” I set the spoon on its rest. “She seems only like a woman mourning her friend.”
“But, dear,” Ve said, “didn’t you just tell us that Feif said she was a sociopath?”
I nodded. “Yes, but you’re forgetting that Feif is a lying liar.”
“But is Carolyn one, too?” Starla asked. “What if she wasn’t as close to Leyna as she made you believe?” She snapped her fingers. “Ooh, what if she offed Leyna because Leyna had refused to have anything to do with her anymore?”
Offed. I tried not to smile at Starla’s enthusiasm, because she was dead serious as she threw out theories. I swore that if the Elder ever planned to hire any more investigators, there’d be a stack of applications. Starla’s would be on top.
“Yes!” Archie cried. “Their relationship definitely has shades of Single White Female.”
I said, “But Colleen Curtis saw Leyna and Carolyn having breakfast together. Laughing. Very friendly.”
“Damn,” Archie said. “I’d forgotten that.”
I cleared my throat. “ ‘The satisfaction of me being right and you being wrong is more than enough for me.’ ”
“Definitely, Maybe.” He bowed. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.”
I smiled, not telling him that quote had been a gimme as well. The bird knew every Ryan Reynolds movie by heart. I just loved pointing out when Archie was wrong, even more when the message was delivered via a movie line. “But, you know,” I said, “Feif did say someone could prove his innocence. Supposedly, a pretty blonde-haired woman returning to the dining room from using the restroom saw him hiding in the hallway of Divinitea right before the alarms went off.” I faced Starla. “Was that you, by any chance?”
“Not me. I’d remember seeing Feif.” She snapped her fingers. “Hold on. I think we can find the answer.”
“Isn’t this intriguing?” Ve asked as she abandoned setting the table and walked back to the island.
Starla stepped into the mudroom, where she dug through her handbag and came back with a mini iPad. She set it on the island, and within seconds, a photo popped up on the screen. It was a shot of Divinitea’s interior, specifically the table that had been reserved for the bridal luncheon. I stuffed down a sudden tidal wave of emotion as my gaze swept over the delicate linens, the fanciful teapots, cups, and saucers, and the flickering flame on the hand-blown glass candle centerpiece.
It was all so beautiful, so perfect. Amanda and Leyna’s attention to detail was evident in everything from the crease in the cloth napkins to the shine on the silverware. Suddenly I mourned more than just Leyna’s passing—but the death of the dream she and Amanda had shared. Amanda had mentioned that she wasn’t likely to reopen Divinitea, but even if she did, it would never be the same without Leyna.
Starla used the pad of her finger to swipe through the images on the tablet. “Here,” she said, tapping the screen. “This is what I was looking for. As we were waiting for you and Harper to arrive, Darcy, I was taking shots of the room and caught this. It would have been around the right time to verify Feif’s alibi.”
The image caught Stef Millet, who was indeed pretty and blonde, walking from the direction of the hallway toward a table for two. The back of Vince’s head was easy to identify, with his long, wavy hair.
“Oh, sure,” Ve said. “Stef was waiting in line for the restroom when I came out of it. We took a second to chat about Darcy’s wedding. It slipped my mind in the chaos afterward.”
This was good information to have. “If Stef can give Feif a solid alibi, then I can cross him off my suspect list for good.”
Starla kept swiping until we had examined all the photos for any other clues about what had happened to Leyna. We found none with the shots from the interior, but when Starla swiped through the exterior shots she had taken, Ve spoke up.
“Wait, wait, go back a picture, Starla dear,” Ve said. “There. Who is that woman?”
The photo was a close-up of Carolyn Honeycutt, taken shortly before Leyna’s body had been brought out of Divinitea. “That’s Carolyn,” I said. “Why?”
Ve’s eyes clouded over with concern. “That
’s Carolyn?”
“Do you know her?” I asked.
“No, I don’t,” she said. “But I’ve seen her, Darcy. When I went to use the powder room at Divinitea that afternoon, I spotted her lurking in the doorway of Leyna’s reading room. When she saw me, she scurried inside the room and sat down.”
My jaw dropped. Carolyn had been inside Divinitea?
Ve continued to stare at the photo. “Carolyn was the client waiting for Leyna yesterday afternoon. I recognize that red hair. Did she not tell you that she was there during the fire, Darcy?”
“No, she didn’t,” I said, feeling foolish for not asking for her alibi.
Starla said, “That seems like a rather big detail to omit.”
“But, look.” I pointed at the screen. “Carolyn isn’t dripping wet—she couldn’t have been inside Divinitea when the fire broke out.”
Ve patted my shoulder. “Who’s to say she didn’t kill Leyna, then hightail it out of the shop before the sprinklers went off?”
Andreus nodded. “Archie may have been on to something with his Single White Female reference.”
Archie’s chest puffed up, and in his haughtiest tone, he said, “ ‘The satisfaction of me being right and you being wrong is more than enough for me.’ ”
I so hated having my own quotes thrown back in my face. But as much as I wanted to argue his point, I couldn’t. Because it was looking more and more as if Carolyn Honeycutt was a liar, too.
And with that, I moved her to the top of my suspect list.
Chapter Fifteen
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Harper asked as she stuck a spoon into a pint of cherry ice cream.
It was nearing nine o’clock. Mimi was upstairs doing homework with the help of some furry companions, and everyone else had gone home. There had been no further word from Nick, and I was trying not to worry. There had been no contact from Pepe and Mrs. P, either, and a call to Godfrey to check on them had gone unanswered. Were they all at a Coven meeting?
“You’re cute?” I said, waving a spoonful of butter pecan ice cream toward her. We were sitting side by side on the sofa, our feet on the coffee table. The patio doors were open, letting in a warm breeze and the scent of roses.
A Witch to Remember Page 13
