by Nancy Warren
Luckily, my sharp ears picked up the sound of approaching cars. Sure enough, two police cars pulled into the drive. I stepped out of the pub to greet them. There were two uniforms from Thames Valley Police, and in the second car was the coroner.
We waited outside while they went in and had a brief look around, and then a woman who introduced herself as PC Dunford came out to take my statement and Rafe’s. Obviously, I didn’t tell her my reason for visiting Karmen was that she had sold one of my wedding guests a poisoned version of the elixir of life. I said, instead, that I had purchased some face cream and bridesmaid gifts from her, which was true and easily checkable, and had come back to talk to her about her products because I’d liked them so much. That seemed plausible.
More vehicles began to arrive. Tilda came out of the pub and looked around as though she’d stepped into a nightmare. After giving our names and contact information, we were allowed to leave.
On the drive back to Oxford, Rafe said, “That was very unfortunate.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“I don’t like this, Lucy. I don’t like it at all. That woman sent you poisoned elixir of life and then was herself poisoned.”
I didn’t like where his thoughts were heading either. “We don’t know that she was poisoned. You saw how old she was. Couldn’t she have died of natural causes?”
“No.”
“Okay, she could have been bashed over the head or, I don’t know, smothered or something.” She hadn’t been strangled, because there weren’t any marks on her neck. Or were there? She was so shriveled and her skin so old that there were odd marks and blemishes consistent with aging.
“We’ll wait until the postmortem’s been done, but I want you to be very careful.”
“Why?” It would help if he would articulate what he was hinting at.
“If you were sent poison, and she was poisoned, it’s possible that the killer will try again to finish you off.”
“But why would anyone want to kill both me and Karmen? There was no connection between us.”
He sent me a disbelieving look. “I can think of one obvious connection.”
“Well, okay, we’re both witches. But so is Margaret Twigg a witch and—” Just mentioning her name made me recall that I had seen her driving away from Wallingford as we’d been driving towards it. I turned to him. “Rafe. Margaret Twigg was heading back to Oxford when we were on our way to see Karmen. Remember?”
He kept his eyes on the road but nodded. “Are you suggesting that Margaret Twigg might have killed a rival witch?”
“Not really. It does seem kind of a stretch. But it’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Lucy, this is a reasonably well-traveled road. There could be any number of reasons why Margaret Twigg would be on it, and she was certainly headed back in the direction of her cottage.”
That was true. I was probably looking for trouble where none existed. “Still, if you were looking for a connection between me and Karmen, Margaret Twigg would be one. I don’t think she was very pleased that the Wicked Witch of Wallingford sold a hex to someone in Oxford or that the hex was intended for a fellow witch.”
He nodded slowly. “You think she might have confronted Karmen? That is interesting.”
And then I sucked in breath so hard I choked on my own tongue and started to cough. He looked at me sideways. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. My throat was kind of burning, and my eyes were stinging. It took me a second to command my voice. “Violet.”
He turned to me. “Violet?”
“It was Violet who suffered from the hex.” I smacked myself on the forehead. “And I told her about it. She was so snarky and in such a bad mood when I took the afternoon off to go to Wallingford. And the next day we were in the shop together and I was subjected to all these miserable comments about how nice it was for me to have the afternoon off while she’d been stuck in the shop working.”
“She does get paid for her hours in your shop, doesn’t she?”
“Tell me about it. But she doesn’t see it that way.”
“I understand Violet is your cousin, but she’s never going to make employee of the month, is she?”
He could say that again.
“And today she didn’t come to work.” I could hear again the fake coughing and wheezing on the phone this morning. “What if she took the day off in order to come down here and confront Karmen? What if she killed her?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. She is your cousin. Are you certain she wasn’t genuinely ill?”
I shook my head. “She called this morning and made a big production of coughing and sniffling. Said she had a terrible headache and didn’t feel well and that she’d be spending the day in bed.”
“And you disbelieve her?”
“She was fine yesterday. And then suddenly today, she’s so ill she can’t come into work? She was faking it. But I just assumed she was still mad at me because I had taken an afternoon off without her and she was going to pay me back.”
“That does sound rather like something Violet would do.”
Still, I was really stretching here. “But would she really go and kill the woman who’d put the hex on her? I mean, Karmen didn’t even put the hex on her. She just sold the hex to someone who put it on Violet.”
“It was a very violent hex, though.” Rafe seemed to be thinking. I was thinking, too, and furiously.
I shook my head. “I can’t believe Violet would kill another witch.”
“Perhaps she didn’t plan to.”
I leaned back, closing my eyes and resting my head against the seatback. “I can’t believe two of the witches I’m closest to I’m now suspecting of murdering yet another of our sisters.”
“One could definitely argue that the world of witches will be better without Karmen.”
“Still, we don’t take vigilante justice into our own hands like that. First, do no harm.”
“I do not believe that Karmen lived by that rule.”
That was for sure. And Margaret Twigg would be the first one to want to punish a witch who brought bad magic to Margaret’s own territory.
And then Violet had very personal reasons to want revenge on Karmen.
Chapter 12
I replayed the scene in my mind when we’d found the witch Karmen. Not quite dead. And with her last bit of energy, she’d said, “The book.” I opened my eyes again and turned to Rafe. “What about her last words? She said, ‘The book,’ and then she died.”
“I’ve been wondering that, too. What could it mean?”
“I don’t know. But she was looking right at you when she said it.”
“I’m not sure in her final moments she really focused on anything.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. “What did your friend the don say about that book you wanted to discuss with him?”
He turned to me in surprise, as though I was changing the subject, but I wasn’t sure I was. “You mean that strange alchemy book?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a hobby of his, studying alchemy. It helps pass the time.”
“Is he a vampire?”
“Yes. He is.”
“How come I don’t know him?”
He looked slightly amused. “We don’t all knit. Some of us collect stamps or renovate houses. He studies alchemy.”
“Did he have any ideas about the book?”
“Why are you asking this?”
“Because she looked at you and said, ‘The book,’ and I’m wondering if she could have been referring to that book.”
He paused before answering. “Because we suspect her of being an alchemist, and that was an alchemy book?”
“A spellbound alchemy book. She’s both a witch and an alchemist.” Okay, it was a bit of a stretch, but it was kind of weird that the alchemy book had turned up right around the same time that she was selling hexes to hurt Violet. Now it turned out Karmen had been an alchemist. But then
, Rafe got sent all kinds of strange books. Maybe there was no connection. Still, my intuition was tingling.
“Have you had any other strange and peculiar books come into your life recently?”
He took the turn-off into Oxford. “A very nice first edition of Lorna Doone. And your father was telling me about some scrolls he’d like me to go and have a look at.”
I’d call that a no.
Naturally, my grim work wasn’t done for the day. There were still two men in the tunnels to be magicked into forgetting they’d seen two old ladies attack a middle-aged one and then been confined in a dark tunnel for several hours.
Gran said she could do the forgetting spell, but I knew my magic was stronger.
That made me think about Gran moving away. “Are you sure Gran will be happy in Cornwall?”
“I can’t make anyone happy. All I can do is offer her a place to live where she’ll be safe.”
“Will she be bored, though?”
“Not if she’s kept busy.” He pulled up in front of Cardinal Woolsey’s. “What do you think about buying her a shop to run?”
I glanced at the pretty shop Gran had passed on to me. “You mean franchise Cardinal Woolsey’s?” Look at me, the successful entrepreneur.
“Exactly. We’ve talked about it before. You’d have economies of scale, and your grandmother would have a knitting shop again. It would keep her busy, and you could go and visit her whenever you wanted to. It’s only about a five-hour drive to Cornwall in good conditions.”
I was excited by the idea. “I think it’s brilliant. Now all we have to do is wipe the memories of the men who could cause us all a heap of trouble.”
“We?” He raised his eyebrows in my direction.
“You didn’t really think I was going to leave my grandmother to do the forgetting spell, did you? I’m coming with you.”
He was smart enough not to waste time arguing.
“You were late home last night,” Jen said when I arrived, yawning, in the kitchen the next morning.
“Sorry I abandoned you,” I said, going to the pot of coffee she’d already made. “And thank you for this life-saving brew.”
She laughed. “Hey, you’re engaged. I’m sure you were having a wonderful time with your husband-to-be and lost track of time.”
Well, I’d been with Rafe, but last night’s activities had been anything but romantic. “Do you want to come to the store this morning and hang out?” I felt bad not being a better host.
She topped her own coffee. “I’m taking a walking tour this morning and then I thought I’d take a bike ride. Everyone here seems to ride.”
“Sounds like fun.” I wished I could join her, but I had to talk to Violet. “Let’s have dinner tonight. We’ll go out somewhere fun.”
“Sounds good.”
Jen was such an easy guest and a fun roommate. I was going to have to carve out more time to spend with her.
I gobbled a quick bowl of cereal, dressed in a light cotton sweater hand-knitted by Theodore in a periwinkle color. I wore it with a white skirt and sandals. I wished Jen a good day and then Nyx and I headed down to work.
When Violet arrived a little later, I studied her carefully. Was her demeanor different? Did she wear the guilt of having killed another witch? Had my assistant committed murder within the last twenty-four hours? She certainly didn’t look any more cheerful than she had the last time I’d seen her, but she didn’t look like she had blood on her hands, either.
“Feeling better?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She heaved a great sigh. “All right, I was skiving. I admit it. I needed a day off. Besides, I could tell Meri was dying to work in the shop again so she could fawn all over you.”
“She does not.” Okay, she did a bit. “Anyway, you’re changing the subject.”
“I didn’t know it was a subject. I admitted it. I took a day off. Dock my pay.”
“Violet. What did you do yesterday?”
She must have heard something in my tone that was more than mere curiosity.
She looked quite flustered and busied herself with a duster, something she so rarely did that it immediately made me suspicious. I came around in front of her and took the duster out of her hand.
“Violet. I’m serious.”
“How about, none of your business?” She looked both defensive and guilty. Never a good combination when you’re worried someone’s done something bad.
“Please. You can tell me. I’m worried I know what it is anyway.”
She took a step back. “Were you spying on me?”
“How could I spy on you when I had a shop to run? Minus one assistant.”
“Oh, come on, you can always find a vampire or two to run the shop when you’re not here. Anyway, if you didn’t spy on me, how on earth could you possibly know what I was doing yesterday?”
“Violet, Karmen is dead.”
She blinked at me. “Karmen? Oh, that horrible witch from Wallingford? The one that tried to kill me? Well, if you’re looking for tears of sympathy, you won’t get them from me.”
My tense shoulders began to relax a little. “Are you saying you didn’t go there yesterday?”
“Go and see a woman who tried to kill me? Why would I do that?”
“Revenge?”
Then her jaw dropped. “You mean she was murdered?”
I nodded solemnly.
Now her face grew red, and it wasn’t embarrassment but fury. “And you think I did it?”
Now it was my turn to look foolish. “Well, if you didn’t, why did you look so weird when I asked what you did yesterday?”
“Because I went to talk to William. That’s why.”
Oh, I felt so stupid now. “You talked to William?” That was good that she was taking my excellent advice. I just wished she’d told me right away, before I accused her of murder. “How did it go?”
She grabbed the duster back, and this time I let her flick it at various surfaces and skeins of wool randomly. She seemed to be redistributing the dust and not getting rid of it. Still, I could tell she needed to spend some of her nervous energy, so I left her flapping the duster around. I’d all but accused her of murder. I supposed a little dust flying around my space was the least I could put up with.
“I couldn’t do it, okay? We ended up chatting about your wedding reception, if you must know. He made me taste three kinds of lobster paté. The man sees me and immediately thinks of me as a catering assistant. It’s hopeless.”
It did sound rather hopeless. “I’m really sorry, Vi.”
“Don’t be. I’ll have to get on with my own life, that’s all.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
She flicked a glance at me. “I was also with your mother. You might as well know that too. No doubt she’ll tell you.”
Okay, I was still glad she hadn’t committed murder yesterday, but hanging out with my mother? I couldn’t imagine why. “You promised me there’d be no hen party.”
“I’m fairly certain I never technically promised,” she said. “Besides, she’s your mother. What am I supposed to do? If you don’t want a hen party, tell her.”
Violet was right. It wasn’t fair to make her do my dirty work. “She’ll be so disappointed.”
“She definitely will. Besides, your mother would hardly drag you around bars and nightclubs until all hours, now would she?”
The thought of my mother on a pub crawl was amusing enough that I sat with the image for a minute or two. “So there’s no plan to embarrass me?”
The expression of secret amusement on her face did not convince me. “I’m not giving you any details. The whole point is it’s supposed to be a surprise. But you don’t need to worry.” Then she flicked me another glance. “Too much.”
At that moment, my mother called. I sometimes thought her witch senses were active, but unconscious. I’d just been talking about her, and she called. “Lucy,” she said, “I need you to come shopping with me.”
“Shopping?” My mother was a brilliant archaeologist who cared far more for clothing and personal ornamentation of the Middle Kingdom than she ever cared about her own personal ornamentation. She lived in a uniform of chinos and cotton shirts and boots. She rarely wore makeup and let her hair go. It was so unfair, because she’d been blessed with long, thick, smooth hair, while I had inherited my dad’s crazy curls. He wore his cropped close to his head, but I found it easier just to let mine grow and tame the curls with product.
“And,” my mother continued, “if I can’t buy your wedding dress, then I’d like to buy you a going-away outfit.”
“That’s so nice of you.” I hadn’t planned on a going-away outfit. This very simple wedding was getting more complicated by the day. Still, it was nice for Mom and me to bond. She didn’t acknowledge that she was a witch, so that whole part of our shared experience was denied us. I had very little interest in Egyptology, so that was another big thing we didn’t have in common. We ended up defaulting to things that were not natural to either of us but that we could both tolerate. Like shopping.
Then she said, “And I think we’ll get our hair done. I’ve made appointments for us tomorrow in that darling salon we went to once before.”
“Sure. That’s a great idea.” I’d already asked Sylvia to do my hair for my wedding day. She had a deft touch, and she’d worked with my hair before. I knew I could trust her. But a trim and some shaping before the wedding was probably a really good idea. Mom had clearly not seen the inside of a salon in some time. She had beautiful hair, thick and smooth, and she’d never tried to hide the gray, so it was a pretty salt and pepper but badly in need of styling.
So I agreed that I would meet her at Westgate Shopping Centre the next day.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened all that day. No one died unexpectedly in my presence; the vampires didn’t attack any Oxford pedestrians; no magic intervention was needed. Since I was tired from wiping the men’s memories and generally on edge, this was a good thing.
Jennifer and I joined Pete and Meri that night for a pub dinner and a nighttime stroll around Oxford.
